★ THAT BOY IS A REAL PUSSY PLEASER ── spencer "spider" white !
pairing - spider x fem!reader
Spider couldn't stop eating you out every chance he got, whether you two were at school, his place or a party. You could've literally been anywhere and he would still find a way to just get a slight taste, a wise fellow could even say he's pussy drunk. And the thing is that you absolutely love it.
cw: oral (f!receiving), pet names (princess, ange), swearing, semi public sex, maybe some grammar errors
You were so needy all day, aching for some contact, and the fact that you were at a party right now, with no other than Spider, alcohol already in your system, was making this need even worse.
And that's how you found yourself sprawled at the foot of Dusty's bed, dress pulled up to your waist, with Spider between your legs.
"please spider... " you pleaded out, hands gripping the white sheets. The feeling of Spider's breath fanning over your thighs was driving you crazy.
"patience, princess," he said, softly kissing your left knee, his lips then suddenly hovering over your soaking core. "let me have some fun. "
He didn't dive back in, no, he began to slowly kiss your inner things, torturing you. His lips were soft, almost reverent, as he placed a kiss high up on your right thigh. He lingered there, breathing you in, before moving agonizingly slow to place an identical kiss in the same spot on your left thigh.
Moving his head back to look into your eyes, he then placed a kiss onto your clit, over the fabric of your panties, maintaining eye contact.
Your breath hitched, your hand softly grabbing onto his hair. "stop teasing," you pouted, wanting to feel more. He listened, his finger hooking into the sides of your panties, dragging them down to your ankles.
He took both of his thumbs opening up your entrance, pussy clenching around nothing. "fuck, clenching around nothing huh. " he then took his time licking up a stripe. He groaned at the taste, licking again and again. "all this for me?" Your hummed a small mhm, meanwhile your hand tightened onto the sheets and the other onto his hair. A soft, strangled groan pours forward into your cunt, making you toss your head back in ecstasy. Motivating him to lick, once again, faster this time.
“fuck—so good Spider, so good just for me.” pulling his pretty blonde hair, whining. Your eyes began to roll up into the back of your head, already beginning to feel fucked out.
Spider began to lap at your cunt, going from slow to fast and back to slow. Savoring every last bit of your cunts juices. He then added a finger, curling it. You moaned at the feeling, your pussy clenching around his finger, thighs crushing his head, feeling yourself get closer.
He pushed his finger in and out dragging it against your walls, his mouth wrapping around your clit, sucking on it. You screamed out "fuck! feels too good!!" your hips began to move on their own. Spider took this as an opportunity to add a second finger, curving it just right for your back to arch. "hngh—can't take it anymore, " crying out as he sucked your clit harder, fingers plunging deeper in and out, stretching your slick pussy open, as his tongue flicked relentlessly over your swollen clit. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring you filled the room, mixed with the sounds of your whimpers and moans.
"that's it, baby," he murmured against your folds, voice vibrating through your core. He sucked harder on your clit, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. his fingers pumped faster, knuckles brushing your entrance with each thrust. Your walls fluttered around him, gripping tight, desperate for more as heat coiled low in your belly.
You bucked against his face, thighs quivering as they clamped around his ears, but he didn't stop. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady, forcing you to take every lick, every suck, every deep slide of his fingers. The pressure built unbearably, your breaths coming in ragged pants, fingers yanking at his blonde strands.
He groaned into you, the sound low and hungry, fucking you with his fingers even harder. Juices coating his hand and chin, dripping down to the sheets, as he devoured your cunt like a man starved. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling. "i'm going to—"
You shattered, orgasm ripping through you, pussy spasming wildly around his fingers. He didn't stop, still sucking your clit through your orgasm, drawing out every shudder, every cry that tore from your throat. He groaned, lapping up your release as it flooded his mouth, his fingers slowing to a gentle thrust, milking every last drop of ecstasy from your body and cleaning you up with his tongue.
"je t'aime, mon ange." he whispered, pulling out his fingers. He pulled your panties up and dress down. He then stood up and sat on the bed next to you, softly playing with your hair.
"you think Dusty's gonna be mad?" you look up at him, smiling. He let out a loud snort.
In which a tough night leads you into someone in particular’s arms
WARNINGS; Mild Cursing; Slight mentions of Sex; Mentions of Parental Issues.
No mentions of a specific gender
Spider x reader
You felt hot tears pour down your face. This was the third time you had called Sasha. Yet to no avail, she hadn’t picked up the phone. You’d think your best friend would answer in your time of need.
You scrolled to the next person in your contacts list, Missy. After three rings, Missy had finally picked up. “Hey Y/n.”,she answered cheerfully. “Hey.”,you sighed. “Are you home by chance?”,You asked, attempting to choke back tears.
“Uh no I’m out of town right now. I won’t be back till tomorrow”,she said dodgy , like that wasn’t the entire truth. “Are you okay?”,she follows up. “No no everything is okay.”,you lied, trying not to be a bother.
“Um enjoy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”,you sigh before hanging up.
<~>~<~>~<~>
You don’t remember exactly how you got here. All you knew was that you parked your car a few blocks up and ended up outside Spiders Window. You lightly tapped on his window praying that Ant and Dusty weren’t at his house. All you needed was to be even more embarrassed.
Spiders light flickered on before he peered his head out his window to see you standing at the window, face soaked in tears, mascara, and rain water. “Shit. Y/n you okay?”,he asks in a concerned tone. “Can I come in?”,you asked in barely a whisper. He eagerly nods before helping you climb through his window.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to impose, I didn’t know where else to go.”,you said as tears started to roll once again. “You’re not imposing. My mom actually isn’t even here. She’s..uh..out of town“,he says,hesitant yet still glancing at you with that concerned glance on his face.
He eyes the darkened expression on your face, “Are they fighting again?”,he asks only glancing at you slightly. You let out a deep sigh, “Yeah. And it’s really bad this time.”, you wipe your face.
You hated feeling weak. You weren’t a weak punk ass bitch, your words not mine . And you made sure you never cried in front of ANYONE. But when it came to Spencer, for some odd reason all your walls came down. In your eyes nobody knew him like you did. Yea he could be a dick and a narcissistic asshole but it wasn’t completely his fault. And he could be surprisingly sweet when it came down to it.
Your parents always fought. It was what you grew up hearing. But recently the fights had been getting worse and worse. They’d been getting more volatile, sometimes even ending in screaming matches that made you flinch at the mere sound of a raised voice in school.
“I..I can’t stay there. I really can’t Spencer”,you breathed out. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to Y/n. You know you’re always welcome here”,he walks over to you, caressing your arms before engulfing you into a hug. You pulled him tight as you possibly could. Truth be told, he was your safe space. He was who you went to when you needed a shoulder to lean on when it came to real shit.
“Okay your clothes are sopping wet, do you wanna take a shower and I’ll grab you some clean clothes?”,He asks, eyeing the damp sweats that were clung to your body. You just nod up at him with a slight smile. You make your way to his bathroom before getting into the hot shower. This seemed to make all the bad thoughts melt away. It was just you and the water, until you heard the door creek open.
“Ok just coming in to drop off your clothes”, Spider walks in, a hand over his eyes to shield his eyes from you. “Um why are you acting like this is something you’ve never seen before?”, You laugh at the site in front of you.
“Oi, I’m tryna be respectful ya’know “,he shrugs. “I mean you could always join me”,you give a smirk. Spider eyes you,shocked as if he’s considering it and then it looks as if he snaps out of it. “I will be in my room when you’re done”,he says almost tripping over his words before disappearing from the bathroom entryway . “Am I losin my edge’?”,you asked yourself aloud.
You rinse off before stepping out the shower and drying off with the fresh towel he had put out for you. You slip into the seemingly somewhat oversized basketball practice jersey of his and the basketball shorts that felt gigantic. You eyed yourself in the mirror, loving what was looking back at you in the mirror.
You make your way into Spiders room, he’s on his video game, as usual. You glance over at him and he’s already staring back at you. “I reckon you look better in my clothes than me,eh?”, he smiles. “I will admit it looks really good on me”,you smile at the mirror placed across from you beside Spencer’s bed.
“Well in all fairness you look good in everything you wear”, he says looking up at you from his seat on the edge of the bed. You shove him, “oh shut up”, with a laugh. He gives you a wide grin, and the comfortable silence sets in. Your mind starts to wander back to the scene that had unfolded 2 hours previously.
“You wanna talk about it?”, he looks up at you solemnly. You just shake your head no before taking a seat next to him. “Thank you for letting me stay here Spider. Seriously”,you grab his hand. “You know it’s no problem”,He smiles over at you.
“I do have one question though”,he says hesitant as if he doesn’t want to ask. “Hmm?”, you turn your attention back to him. “Why’d you come here? Like I know you said you didn’t have anywhere else to go but I can’t help but wonder.”,he asks.
“Truth is , I did call Sasha and Missy. But Sasha didn’t answer and Missy is out of town. But when I sat and thought about it I only wanted to be around you. You are for some crazy reason I can’t understand, the only person who understands me. And sometimes you’re the only person I can stand to be around.”, you let out a deep sigh.
He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You smirk over at him before crawling onto his lap and straddling him, kissing him deeply. “You are so not losing your edge”,he laughs. Signaling that he heard you in the shower earlier.
I rolled out the dough for my cinnamon buns as Jhené Aiko sang gently, echoing out of the speaker. For the first time in a while i felt peaceful: there was no one to bother me, no one to disrupt my happiness and no one in my space. My boyfriend Isayah, or better know as Zilla Fatu had gotten into an argument just over a week ago and I had been ignoring him ever since, after his questionable actions.
I felt like he had been putting more time and effort into wrestling rather than our relationship and I know it sounds selfish but it was truth. We both had pretty hectic schedules, with him training almost every day and me working at the hospital until the early hours of the morning, sometimes we were never able to see each other but I tried to make it work, I tried to put in the effort.
When I got in from work at 6am, he’d be leaving out to head to the pc. He’d rush past me hurriedly, placing a kiss on my cheek then practically running out the door, hardly acknowledging my presence. This cycle had been going on for weeks and became even worse when he went away for 3 weeks. I’d check in on him everyday, asking how training went, making sure that he was all okay in general. All I got back from him was dry two word answers. This break really made me question our relationship and when he finally got back I snapped. We got into a heated argument and ever since then i’d been giving him the silent treatment.
He’s been trying everything to get me to speak to him but I refuse to break until I receive a true heartfelt apology, which I knew wasn’t coming anytime soon.
Not even 2 minutes later, my peace and quiet evaporated into thin air as the front door slammed shut, letting me know that Zilla was home. With my back to him, I made sure not to acknowledge his arrival as he threw his bag in the closet and made his way to the kitchen, taking a water bottle out the fridge. I turned up the music and went back to my baking, spreading the cinnamon sugar all over the squared dough.
I felt him standing behind me, his eyes burning a hole through my skull. Nevertheless, I continued rolling the buns into a cylinder getting ready to cut them up. Before I could grab the knife, I felt his warm body come up behind me, forcefully pressing me into the counter as him arms snaked around my waist while he placed kissed against my neck. I felt my restraint slow slipping away as he grip tightened and he pressed into me further, causing my breathing to shallow and head to fall back.
Before he went to far and I lost all sense of composure and self respect, I shook him off my and went back to what I was doing, making sure to move to another part of the kitchen. Zilla sucked his teeth, following me over. ‘‘Why you still mad at me ma, can’t we fix this shit?’’ he questioned as his eyes pierced the side of my face. ‘‘We can’t fix shit until you apologize Isayah,’’ I mumbled, turning away from him.
‘‘What I gotta apologize for, I ain’t did nun wrong,’’ he spoke as the anger in his tone grew. I stared at him quizzically, wondering if what he said was a joke before a laugh fell from my mouth. ‘‘Are you fucking kidding me Isayah? You haven’t done anything wrong,’’ I questioned in disbelief. ‘‘For the past three fucking months you’ve neglected our relationship, neglecting me. You don’t make time for us any more especially when you’re away, you don’t even look at me.’’
‘‘Nyla cmon that ain’t true. How you gon’ stand there tryna tell me ion make time for you?’’ Zilla responded back, a sharpness in his tone. ‘‘Because it’s the truth Zay, all you do train then when you get back here it’s like… it’s like i don’t exist no more.’’ I shouted back as I felt the tears pooling in my eyes. ‘‘I don’t have the energy for this Zilla, just leave me alone.’’ I huffed with a deflated tone.
He stared at me for what felt like hours before he scoffed and went upstairs. Once I heard the shower turn on, I finally continued my task, cutting the cinnamon buns and setting them in a dish so they could rise. I tried not to let my talk with Zilla longer on my mind but it was so hard, all I wanted was to fix things so we could go back to normal.
After cleaning the kitchen, I went upstairs to our room to sort out my hair. It’d been sat in two braids for the past week and definitely needed some tlc. So I sat at my vanity, sectioning my hair into 4, soaking it with my spray bottle and added the moisturizer all throughout my hair making sure to finger coil some strands around my face. Before I had the chance to finish, the door to the en suite fell open as Zilla walked out with a towel round his waist.
I kept my focus on my hair as he padded around our room searching for his clothes. I frantically finished my hair then went back down stairs to the living room, not wanting to be in his presence.
As the night stretch on, me and Zilla kept our distance, him residing in our bedroom while I sat in the living watching whatever show I could find. My phone vibrated next to me, letting me know it was time to take the cinnamon buns out the oven. I jumped up from the couch and took them out, letting the beautiful smell flood the house. As I went over to the fridge to get the cream cheese frosting, yet again I felt a cold hand snake around my waist. Zilla held me tight against his body as he placed kissed up and down my collar bone.
‘‘Ma you know i’m sorry, just let me make it up to you,’’ he spoke inbetween kisses. ‘‘Just because you claim you’re sorry doesn’t change anything Isayah, you need to show me.’’ I said gasping for air.
‘‘What you want me to show you Ny?’’ he asked as his hand moved down to my shorts, moving them out the way to rub my clothed pussy. ‘‘Damn she already wet fa me. She missed me that much babe? Did she miss this dick?’’ Zilla teased as his hand slid my panties out the way, rubbing his two fingers along my slit before teasing my clit. The restraint I’d worked so hard to build slipped away before my eyes as I writhed against him, feeling his dick against my back side.
‘‘Zilla’s gonna make it up to you ma, I promise,’’ he spoke eagerly as he spun my around and threw his lips onto mine, engulfing me into a bruising kiss as my arms wrapped around his neck pressing against him. His hands traveled to my ass as he picked me up, carrying me to our room.
When we got to the room, he tossed me onto the bed as a ravenous look fell upon his face. Our heavy breathing filled the room as he dropped to his knees, pulling me to the edge of the bed removing my shorts and panties. He moved his head closer, his hot breath fanning against my pussy before his tongue darted out licking up my slit, taking my clit into his mouth.
My back arched off the bed as my hands made their way to his hair, tangling my fingers within it as I moaned in pleasure. Strained moans fell from my parted lips as my hips grinded against him chasing my nut. ‘‘Mhmm, you so wet for my baby, yo shit leakin down yo thighs. I missed my pussy so much, did she miss me?’’ He asked, lust laced in his voice as he added a third finger making me squeal.
‘‘Uuhuh Zay. Fuck. She missed you so much baby. Don’t stop baby please.’’ I continued to moan as tears fell from my eyes. My body felt like it was on fire as Zilla continued to demolish my pussy, fingers moving rapidly as he suckled my clit non stop.
‘‘Say my name baby, say my name before I let you nut. Let everyone hear who’s makin you feel good right now.’’ He mewled before adding a third finger causing a scream to rip from my lungs. ‘‘Isayah I… I can’t. Please baby I need to come.’’ I shrieked as my legs began to shake around his neck. ‘‘Ny say my name before I stop, you wanna come don’t you baby?’’ He teased. ‘‘What’s my name.’’
‘‘D-Daddy,’’ I screeched as I felt my orgasm rip through my body, causing my legs to shake rapidly as Zilla lapped up all my cum in his mouth, not missing a drop. ‘‘You’re such a good girl baby, cumming all in daddy’s mouth like that. Look at my pussy leakin n shit,’’ he laughed loudly.
‘‘Whatchu want now baby. Tell daddy want you want and make it happen,’’ as he hand gripped my neck, carefully squeezing it as his hand went back to rubbing my clit. I reached my hand out to pull his shorts down but he slapped my hand away immediately. ‘‘Use your words girl, let me hear you say it,’’ humor laced in his voice. ‘‘Fuck. I want your dick Zay please, I need it,’’ I moaned as he kissed me again moving around to take off the last remnants of my clothes as well as his.
My hazy eyes watched him intently as he lined his dick up against my pussy, rubbing it along my slit collecting my juices. I couldn’t wait any longer, I wrapped my legs around his waist trying to pull him closer but he just laughed at me as his free hand reached out for my ankles. ‘‘Look how needy you are baby, you missed daddy’s dick a whole lot huh? Imma show you what you been missing out on, imma do you just right Nya,’’ he exclaimed as he slammed into to me harshly, placing my legs on his shoulders so he could slam against my g-spot. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull as the relentless pleasure engulfed me completely.
Loud uncontrollable moans fell from my mouth as he pounded my pussy, let his hand travel to my neck again adding slight pressure. ‘‘Look at the mess you’re making on my dick baby look at it. This what I do to you ma, this how I make you feel? Good fucking pussy right here,’’ he spoke as moans slipped from his mouth. As I clenched around him, he moaned deeply into my neck as his hips slammed against me erratically. ‘‘Fuck Ny, you gripping me so good, I love this pussy, I love you,’’ he hummed into my neck as his hips snapped up yet again.
The pleasure over took me once again as my legs shook, falling back down around his waist, nails clawed up his back and teeth but down into his shoulder, trying to quiet my moans as gushy sounds echoed throughout the room. ‘‘Don’t hide from my ma, let me here you when you cream on my cock baby, let everyone hear how good I make you feel,’’ Zilla smirked as his hand darted down to my clit, rubbing it gently.
The familiar knot in my stomach began to grown again as I reached out to his torso, trying to push him away as it all got to much. My efforts failed drastically as he pinned my hands above my head, pounding into me desperately chasing his orgasm. ‘‘Don’t run from my now Ny, you wanna act like a big before so you gon take this dick like a big girl now. Tryna scratch up my shit and push me away. Uhuh. I wanna feel you baby,’’ He spoke as his hooded eyes stared me down intently.
Before I knew it, he exploded inside of me, his hips moving uncontrollably as my orgasm rippled through me, causing my eyes to roll back and tears to fall once again. Zilla collapsed ontop of me as we both road out our highs together. I went to wrap my arms around his back but he flinched slightly, remembering the marks that I left on him. ‘‘Shit baby, you tore up my back bad,’’ he laughed as he pulled out of me, both of his flinching at the emptiness we both felt.
Later on, we got into the shower, changed the sheets and got under the covers. ‘‘I am sorry for how i’ve been acting Nya, we gon talk it out properly in the morning. That cool?’’ He asked, hesitation laced within his voice. ‘‘That’s fine Zay, just promise you’ll work on your actions.’’ I pleaded with him as tiredness over took me. ‘‘ I promise you Nyla.’’ He said. And with that, we both drifted off to sleep.
"He's banned from Japan, he's banned from Japan..."
So apparently, at Monday Night Raw, the Belfast crowd was chanting, "He's banned from Japan, he's banned from Japan, Logan Paul, he's banned from Japan."
all of your life, you’d been labeled the “fat friend”, the group’s comic relief, the sassy one with quick comebacks, but never the one desired. as you grew older, your style evolved, you got prettier, more confident but your weight stayed, lush curves that no crash diet or grueling workout could shrink. your mama’s voice echoed in your mind, soft and sure: “baby, none of the women in our family were meant to be small.” you’d learned to embrace it, strutting in tight dresses, commanding rooms, drawing eyes. but the attention wasn’t always what you craved. you’d heard all the clichés: “fat girls keep you warm in winter,” “big girls fuck better and feed you after,” “their pussy stays wetter.” you were no one’s fetish, no one’s secret, no one’s charity case.
flings and fuck buddies filled your past, but a real, meaningful relationship felt so distant. that was until you met zilla, that night at the club, when his hand grazed your shoulder, you braced for the usual. he’s gonna ask for one of my girls, you thought, already half-turning away. but his diamond-encrusted smile locked on you and you only. “can i get your number?” he asked, right there in front of his boys, no vanish-mode dms, no cowardice. your heart skipped, your own smile mirroring his. now, six months later, you were in your first real relationship, with a man who worshipped every inch of you.
you wanted to show him that same devotion. you knew his routine like it was your own: gym at dusk, meal prep in a cooler he’d forget half the time. today, he’d left it behind, so you took it upon yourself to deliver it. the takeout bag warmed your hands as you stepped into the gym, nodding at the receptionist. the massive boxing ring loomed in the center, but the loud, boisterous music and booming voices pulled you toward the weight room.
“shiiit, i know zilla bench ‘bout 450—his girl probably weigh more than that.”
the words slammed into you, a gut-punch that stole your breath. careless laughter erupted, slicing through the air like shattered glass. the takeout bag turned leaden, its heat searing your palm, mocking the ice flooding your chest.
you froze behind a treadmill, half-hidden, the hum of the machine drowning out your shallow breaths. that tone, that joke, you’d heard a million just like it, in high school locker rooms, at college parties, in the sting of “well-meaning” comments that claimed they just cared about your health. your body, your size, reduced to a punchline. the confidence you’d built, the love you’d poured into your curves, crumbled in that moment, leaving you feeling so small and exposed.
you clutched the bag tighter, its crinkle deafening in your ears, and waited. you needed zilla’s voice, needed to hear what he’d say when he thought you weren’t there, when the mask was off. “what the fuck you just say?” zilla’s voice cut like a machete, lethal as he prepared to defend you, silencing the laughter like a guillotine. the barbell crashed to the rack, the clang ricocheting through the gym like a gunshot. you peeked from behind the treadmill, his eyes were molten, locked on the guy who’d spoken, his broad shoulders squared, muscles taut under his tank top. “play wit’ sum safe, uce, ‘cause it ain’t me.”
the gym fell deathly quiet, the hip-hop track thumping too loud, bass vibrating in your ribcage. zilla stepped closer to the guy as his fists clenched, veins popping in his forearms. “keep her out your mouth ‘fore i go in that muh’fucka, dawg.” his boys shifted, some nodding, others stepping back, the unspoken hierarchy clear: zilla’s word was law.
your throat tightened, tears burning, but the weight of it all, the joke, zilla’s rage, the eyes now darting toward your shadow, crushed you. you turned, the takeout bag swinging against your thigh, and pushed through the doors into the cold evening air. it stung your cheeks, mingling with the salt of unshed tears. that joke looped in your head, dragging up every insecurity you’d buried, every mirror you’d avoided, every dress you’d second-guessed. you didn’t wait around for a half-assed, forced apology that would only be given to you because you happened to hear the comment. you just left.
hours later, your apartment was dim. you sat curled on the couch, still in your leggings and oversized hoodie, the takeout bag abandoned on the counter, its contents cold and forgotten. your phone buzzed constantly for the last two hours, zilla’s name flashing, but you ignored it, too sad to face him. the hurt wasn’t just the words; it was the way they’d stripped you bare, made you question if even zilla saw you the way you hoped.
a knock thumped at your door, firm but not impatient. you knew it was him before you stood. opening it, there he was — zilla, still in his gym tank, sweat dried on his brow, his eyes, usually bright with mischief, were heavy with urgency, and as he stepped inside, you noticed his knuckles, red, bruised, split, the skin blistered and angry, fresh wounds. your breath caught. he’d fought him. fought for you.
“baby,” he started, shutting the door, his voice low like he feared breaking the air. “why’d you dip like that?” he leaned against the door, arms crossed, muscles flexing under the fabric, his bruised knuckles stark against his dark skin.
you turned away, hugging yourself, the hoodie serving as armor. “i heard them, zilla. what they said about my weight.” your voice cracked, barely a whisper.
he crossed the room in two strides, hands finding your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. “i handled it. i beat his ass.” his voice was steel, but his touch was soft. “i don’t play that shit and you know it.” he tilted your chin up, his eyes burning into yours. “you’re mine. and i protect what’s mine, physically, spiritually and emotionally.”
tears spilled, hot and fast. “it’s not just him. it’s always—the ‘fat friend,’ the joke, the—” you blubbered through sobs.
“stop.” his command was soft but firm, a warm blade through your spiral. he cupped your face, wiping tears with his thumbs, his bruised knuckles grazing your cheeks, the rough texture grounding you. “i chose you. every day, i choose you. fuck what they think.” his lips brushed your forehead, then your temple, lingering on a tear track.
he took your hand, and led you to the full-length decorative mirror in your living room. “c’mere,” he murmured, positioning you in front of it, his chest pressed to your back, arms encircling you. “look at yourself, ma. really look.” his hands roamed, lifting your hoodie to expose your dreaded rolls, his fingers tracing each one with deliberate care. “point out what i love.” his voice was low, coaxing, as he kissed the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. you hesitated, but his gaze held yours in the mirror, unwavering. “these,” you whispered, touching the rolls at your waist, soft and full.
“fuck yeah,” he growled, kissing your jawline, his lips scorching against your skin, tongue flicking out to taste the curve of your neck. his hands squeezed you, kneading gently. “what else?” he prompted.
“my stretch marks,” you said, voice steadier, fingers grazing the discolored lines on your hips.
he moved in front of you, blocking your view of the mirror for just a second. “mhm,” he murmured, dropping to his knees, kissing each mark, his tongue tracing their paths, slow and reverent, making you shiver. “i love your tiger stripes.” he teased, his cock already hardening through his shorts.
“what do you love about you?” he pressed, hands sliding up to the hem of your hoodie. he tugged it up slowly, peeling it over your head, exposing your bra and the soft swell of your breasts. “fuck,” he breathed, eyes darkening as he took you in. his fingers unhooked your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away, and his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, coaxing them to harden. “these are fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, leaning in, lips closing around one nipple, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue swirling, teasing, sending jolts of pleasure through you. he lavished attention on each breast, kissing, nibbling, making you gasp, your back arching into his touch.
“tell me,” he whispered against your skin, lips trailing to your midsection, leaving a warm, wet path. you helped him pull off your leggings and comfy cotton briefs, his hands sliding back up, lingering on your breasts, squeezing softly. “what do you love about you?”
“my thighs,” you breathed, watching them in the mirror, thick and powerful.
“goddamn right,” he groaned, hands sliding down to grip them, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, his lips brushing your shoulder. “i love when you put ‘em over my shoulders,” he murmured, parting your thighs, his breath scorching against your core as he threw one of them over his broad shoulder. “the way they tremble when i hit that spot.”
his tongue delved, slow, devoted, circling your clit with precision, sucking gently, then harder, his lips sealing around it as he hummed, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. his knuckles grazed your inner thighs, the texture amplifying every sensation as he licked long, languid stripes, then flicked fast, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, clenching around nothing, your moans spilling freely, desperate for him. “taste so fuckin’ good,” he growled against your pussy, his teeth glinting as he pulled back to look at you, lips glistening. “could eat you all night, mama.”
he stood, shedding his tank and shorts, dick hard and heavy, glistening with precome. he lifted you to the couch’s edge, spreading your legs wide. “you ready for me?” his voice was rough with need, eyes locked on yours, searching for consent, for you.
“always,” you breathed, skin buzzing under his gaze, heart pounding in your chest.
he eased into you, unhurried, deep, the stretch making you gasp, walls fluttering around his thickness, so thick it bordered on overwhelming, filling every inch of you. his hands gripped your hips, fingers sinking into your wide hips, pulling you closer with every thrust. “you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growled, lips brushing your ear “made for me, every part of you.” his pace quickened, hips snapping with a rhythm that made your breasts bounce, the slap of skin echoing in the quiet apartment. he worshipped every inch—kissing your neck, your shoulders, your face. “prettiest fuckin’ girl in the world.”
you arched into him, nails digging into his back, catching the taut muscle under his skin, leaving faint nail markings. his thrusts deepened, angling to hit that spot that made your toes curl, your moans spilling faster, louder, raw. his hand slid between you, thumb finding your clit, circling fast, the rough texture sending sparks through your nerves, your body shaking with each pass. “look at you,” he groaned, kissing a stretch mark on your hip, his tongue tracing its silver path, warm and wet. “this body—fuck, it’s everything. i’m fuckin’ obsessed.” his words sank into you, each one a balm against the hurt, a fire stoking the coil in your belly, now burning hot.
“zilla—i’m—” you gasped, the edge so close it scorched.
“go ‘head, pretty girl. take what you need,” he urged, his thrusts relentless, each one pounding deeper, his cock dragging against your walls, sending waves of pleasure that made your vision blur. his thumb circled faster, pressing harder, his lips finding yours in a messy, hungry kiss, teeth clashing, tongue diving deep, swallowing your cries. you shattered, screaming his name, walls clamping down like a vice as pleasure ripped through you, waves crashing against every nerve, your body trembling, sated, your juices coating him, dripping down your thighs. he followed, spilling hot and deep, a guttural groan vibrating against your throat as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you until it leaked.
he didn’t pull away. he stayed buried inside, lips tracing lazy patterns on your skin, kissing every roll, every stretch mark, his bruised hands never stilling, reverent. “i’m sorry, mama,” he whispered, kissing your temple, his breath warm and steady. “i’ma spend every day makin’ sure you know you’re my everything.”
you smiled, soft and sated, fingers laced with his, feeling the rough edges of his knuckles. “you already do.” he chuckled, low and warm, pulling you into his chest, his bruised hands cradling your back.
titsay
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