i’m actually obsessed with ur soft dom faber fics and it makes me think about him with an inexperienced girlie and she’s whining and whimpering bc she’s so full and he’s SO big (in more ways than one) and he’s just shushing her with kisses and praise and telling her she can take it she’s so good WOW
nsfw content below
his glasses stay on, fogging at the corners while he leans in over you, chest pressed down warm and steady against your bare skin, his hair thick and floppy and brushing your forehead, the frame of him a blanket you can’t wriggle out of no matter how hard you twitch and gasp and try to shift your hips away from the slow, careful weight of him inside you. brock’s breathing deep, focused, mouth dragging over your cheek, your ear, his voice soft and so maddeningly gentle it makes your stomach knot up worse than the stretch already has.
"shh... you’re okay. i know it’s a lot," he murmurs, not teasing, not mocking, just watching you melt under him with that quiet, knowing look in his eyes, glasses slightly crooked from the way you’ve been pawing at him without realizing. you’re so wet around him you can feel every twitch of his cock like it’s being carved through you, thick and hot and slow like he's imprinting the shape of himself into your body one careful stroke at a time. it’s too much—he’s too big, he feels like he’s everywhere—and your legs keep trying to close around him instinctively, thighs trembling, but he just cups the underside of your knee and eases it back up with a kiss to your jaw.
“just a little more,” he says, voice like syrup, low and even, “you’re already doing so good for me, baby. you're takin’ all of me, look at that.”
you can’t. your eyes are fluttering open and closed with every inch he gives you, overwhelmed, mind blank except for the pressure of him between your legs and the dizzying warmth of his praise in your ear. you whimper again—high, broken, desperate—and he groans so quietly like the sound physically hits him, like it’s too pretty for him to take. you feel every throb of his cock inside you, the subtle shifting as he rocks forward another inch, another slow glide that pulls the breath from your chest and replaces it with heat so intense your fingertips curl against his biceps.
he’s barely even moving and it’s still so much, the stretch tugging at your insides, your pussy clenching down without meaning to as your body tries to accommodate the width, the length, the impossible grind of him. your walls flutter around him every time he shifts his hips, and he can feel it—of course he can—he lets out this low noise right against your cheek, smiling gently, more turned on by the effort it takes than any sort of rough fucking.
"you feel everything, don’t you," he murmurs, more statement than question, lips brushing yours. "poor thing, i know... you’re trying so hard for me, aren’t you?"
you nod frantically, breath stuttering, and his hand comes up to cradle your cheek as his hips roll again, slower this time, deeper, the tip grinding against a spot inside you that makes your voice break into a choked little gasp. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your temple, then your chin, just soft brushes of affection between the unbearable movement of his cock splitting you open in these gentle, controlled strokes that make your whole body jolt.
“is it good?” he asks, so quiet you feel the words more than hear them. “you’re still so tight around me… you feel me up here, baby?” he follows by pressing down on your lower tummy.
your face burns as you whimper a yes, hands clawing weakly at his back, and his mouth finds your neck again, kissing slowly along your throat like he’s trying to distract you from how deep he’s pushing in, keeping you pinned and still so he can slide every last inch into your fluttering cunt without letting you back away. there’s this aching, sensitive pulse starting to build low in your stomach, not pleasure yet but the start of something heady, and you gasp again when he finally bottoms out, hips flush to yours, buried so full and tight you can’t breathe for a second.
"that’s it. that’s all of me,” he whispers, kissing your jaw like a reward, holding still for a moment so your body can learn the shape of him. you feel so stretched, stuffed, your cunt fluttering helplessly around the girth of his cock, every clench pulling a soft hum from him. he strokes a hand over your side, soothing, grounding, while his mouth keeps finding yours for slow, messy kisses that steal your breath and give it back soft.
his hips start to move again, not hard, just slow and deep and thorough, dragging his cock out almost all the way before sliding it back in so deliberately you feel every inch all over again. the rhythm makes your breath hitch, makes your toes curl, your pussy spasming around him each time his tip kisses that spot inside that makes your thighs jump. it’s too much but you don’t want him to stop, the fullness now twisted up with need, with the unbearable warmth curling tighter between your hips.
he keeps kissing you, keeps whispering soft things—"you make the prettiest sounds," and "there you go, baby, that’s it"—each one coaxing you further into that fuzzy, sensitive place where everything feels thick and hot and so real you want to cry. you’ve never been fucked like this, never been touched like this, and it shows in the way your body clings to him, in the way your cunt tightens with every stroke like it’s trying to memorize the rhythm of him.
he doesn’t rush, doesn’t push you, just keeps rocking his hips in smooth, steady rolls that build the pressure until your back arches and your breath goes ragged. you sob against his mouth, overwhelmed, and he just cups your face and kisses you through it, letting you fall apart so slowly, so gently, every part of you trembling as the pleasure crests like a wave and drags you under. and the whole time, he’s right there—inside you, on top of you, around you—guiding you with soft hands and soft words, holding you open so you can take it all.
