summary: Peter Parker knows something inside him is changing, and it gets harder to fight it every night. Then there’s you, who happens to be the one it won’t leave alone.
note: i am so hungry, and i hope this will also make you all full of peter. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!
Walking home alone with too much alcohol in your system makes the city streets feel a little less lonely at night. You stumble slightly over the curb while you check your phone for the time. Spiderman is out there swinging between the buildings somewhere above you. You know he exists without ever trying to follow where he goes. Seeing him on the news occasionally is enough for you. You keep walking down the sidewalk until footsteps drop from the rooftops above you. Tonight feels like an ordinary walk home before someone bumps right into you. Peter is fighting bad headaches that won’t go away no matter what he tries to do about it. His arachnid genes are acting abnormally lately and pushing past his human side in ways he can’t control. He spends his nights searching for a cure because the animal instincts keep taking over his thoughts. Stress makes the biological changes worse tonight since his mind is already exhausted, and seeing MJ kissing another man at her housewarming party earlier today makes it worse.
Watching her with someone else triggered something feral inside him, and it doesn’t help that no one remembers who Peter Parker is anymore. His arachnid instincts take over as he drops over the street before he bumps right into your path. Organic web shoots directly from his wrists instead of mechanical shooters before it wraps around your waist. He grabs you with him to swing around until both of you are up on a rooftop. You don’t know Spiderman personally for him to do that so you think you are in danger as he lands on the roof. The spinning motion, together with the drinks in your stomach, creates a terrible feeling by the time you reach the top of the building. You immediately bend over to throw up all the alcohol in your stomach right onto the roof. He watches you puke before he lets out a loud laugh. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand while he just looks at you and shakes his head.
That first night didn’t end up so terrible because Spiderman brought you home safely after you threw up on the roof. He even apologized for grabbing you off the sidewalk before he left you outside your building. Running into him once feels like a simple coincidence when you think about it the next morning. He knows he doesn’t mean to keep doing it, but he saw you walking home alone weeks later and decided to give you another ride across the city. Happening twice is already something unusual, yet a third or fifth time tells both of you that this is no longer an accident. He can’t control the urges yet since he hasn’t managed to suppress his arachnid genes. Everything that happened on that first night opened his eyes to the idea of trying again. He isn’t actively searching for another girlfriend, though he feels open to the possibility now. He doesn’t understand why his arachnid side feels so protective over you whenever you are out late at night.
He isn’t stalking you by any means, yet his senses alert him whenever someone gets too close to you on the street. He has no idea why his biological instincts react so strongly whenever you walk home alone after a night out. The urge to check on you keeps happening without any clear explanation. Maybe he even programmed your details into E.V so his tech tracks you whenever the cameras catch you walking by yourself. E.V notifies his mask display whenever you leave a building late at night so he can make sure the streets are clear. He tells himself it’s just a safety measure to keep you out of trouble. You never actually saw each other face to face during any of those times E.V watched over you from above. He waited up on the roofs while you walked down the pavement. You only knew he was around when he decided to drop down to pick you up for another ride home. Those repeated trips across the city happened several more times over the past few weeks.
Neither of you talks about why he keeps showing up whenever you are out late. His arachnid side feels satisfied whenever he drops you off safely at your front door. He never fails to bring you home after you finish drinks with your friends. Tonight tests his patience because the alcohol in your system makes you act way too clingy. You wrap your arms around his shoulders instead of holding onto him normally while he takes you above the street. You press your face into his neck right over his collar. He tries to ignore the way you rub your nose against him as he moves between the buildings. “Don’t move around so much up here,” he grunts while he checks the distance to the next roof. You ignore his warning before you inhale the scent of his suit right against his throat. Your mouth opens against the material as you leave small pecks along his neck. He tenses up when your teeth bite down on him through the fabric.
His senses are already too sensitive tonight, so your mouth against his neck distracts him. His web misses the next building after your teeth catch him by surprise. “F-fuck- what are you doing?” he curses as he brings you closer against his chest. Both of you almost fall before he shoots another web to find support and avoid touching the ground. “You smell good,” you mumble against his throat while your teeth nip at him again. He manages to get both of you across the rest of the blocks without falling again. He lands on the floor of your balcony before he sets you down. You refuse to let go of his shoulders even after your feet touch the ground. His arachnid side reacts badly because your mouth keeps trailing over his neck. “Stop biting me,” he warns you as his hands hold your waist. He backs you toward the wall of your apartment while his breathing turns ragged behind his mask. “Mmm- no,” you say before you tug him closer by his shoulders.
He looks down at you with his chest heaving while he tries to control his urges. He raises one arm while he keeps you against the wall of the balcony. A line of web shoots from his wrist toward the knob of your balcony door. It sticks to the handle before he pulls his arm back to slide the door open. He wants you inside because standing out here makes everything too complicated. You ignore the open door while you keep your arms around his shoulders. Your hands leave his shoulders before you reach up toward his mask. You try to pull the red fabric up over his chin so you can look at his face. His right hand leaves your waist before his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from lifting it higher. He pushes your hand away from his face while he looks down at you. “Don’t do that,” he warns you as he shoves your wrist back down between your bodies. You try to reach for the mask again with your other hand, but he blocks you easily.
“I can’t let you see me,” he tells you while he keeps your hands away from his head. The alcohol in your system makes you stubborn, so you push your hands against his chest in frustration. You hate that he stops you every time you try to see who hides behind the mask. “That’s not fair,” you complain while you try to wiggle your wrists away from his fingers. He keeps you against the wall while your feet kick slightly against the floor. “You always pick me up and bring me home, but you won’t even show me your face,” you whine as you bump your forehead against his shoulder. He watches you throw a tantrum before he finally lets go of your wrists to guide you through the open balcony door into your living room. He swats your hands away whenever you try to touch his chest again. He walks you backward across the floor while he watches your face. “You’re too drunk tonight,” he tells you as he tries to keep some space between your bodies.
You ignore his warning before you wrap your hands around his arms. “I’m very aware of what I’m doing,” you complain while your fingers caress the fabric of his sleeves. He tries to shake you off, but you refuse to let go of him. You look up at him while he keeps walking you backward across the room. “Don’t you want a reward for keeping me safe?” you ask him while your hands move up to his shoulders. He shakes his head immediately before he tries to remove your hands from his suit. “You need to sleep,” he answers while he pushes you toward your bedroom hallway. You hate that he keeps rejecting you after everything he did for you tonight. You stop walking backward so you can look up at his face. He pulls the bottom of his mask up just enough above his chin to leave his lips exposed so he can catch his breath. You stare at his mouth while he tries to get you to move again.
You lean forward quickly to try to kiss his lips. He catches your shoulders with his hands before your mouth can touch him. He pushes you back away from him while he turns his head to the side. “No,” he warns you as he holds you at arm’s length. You stumble backward into your bedroom while you look at him in disbelief. “Why won’t you let me thank you?” you whine before you try to step toward him again. He acts quickly by shooting a thick line of web around both of your forearms to bind your wrists together behind your back so you stop grabbing him. You stumble back a step until the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you sit down. His hands reach for your ankles before he starts taking your shoes off your feet. He tosses your shoes aside while he tries to ignore the way you keep staring down at him. You spread your legs wider apart on the edge of the mattress to get his attention.
He tries to ignore what you are doing while he drops your second shoe onto the floor. You lift your right leg before you place your foot right on his shoulder. You use your leg to pull his shoulder closer toward the bed. He shakes his head at you while he kneels on the floor between your knees. “Why are you acting like you don’t want me?” you whine while you pout down at his mask. He lets out a loud sigh before he leans forward between your knees. He drops his forehead right against your thigh with his shoulders tensed up. The mask is rolled up above his chin so his mouth is uncovered. His exposed lips touch the fabric of your pants while he rests his head on your leg. “You’re making it really hard for me to behave tonight,” he warns you as his chest rises against your knees. You feel his breath through your pants while he keeps his forehead on your thigh. He tries to control his arachnid side before he does something he can’t take back.
You feel the web that binds your arms together behind your back. The alcohol makes you bold, so you lean your chest closer toward his face. “I wouldn’t mind if you tied the rest of me up with your web,” you tease him while you nudge his shoulder with your foot. He lifts his head from your thigh to look up at your face. His jaw tightens after he hears what you want him to do. “Jesus- don’t give me ideas like that,” he mutters before his hands reach up to hold your hips. He pulls you closer to the edge of the mattress until your thighs surround his chest. He refuses to back away from you now that you invited him closer. “I can’t do much with my arms tied up anyway,” you tease him while you look down at his exposed mouth. He looks at your face before his hand reaches up to grab your ankle. He removes your foot from his shoulder and sets your heel down onto the floor between his knees. “Are you really going to leave me here like this?” you ask him before you nudge his side with your leg. He shakes his head as he kneels on the floor in front of you.
“This is some freaky shit you’re doing tonight,” you joke while you watch his jaw tighten. He keeps looking at you like he is trying to figure out how far you are going to push this. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he warns you while his jaw tightens behind his mask. He keeps his head down as he tries to ignore the way you lean toward him. “If you won’t untie me, then at least help me get my pants off,” you complain while you tilt your chin down at him. You don’t really care about changing your clothes tonight. You only want to make it look like you need help so you can see how far you can push his patience. He looks down at your lap before his thumbs touch the waistband of your pants. He knows you are trying to mess with him, but he refuses to back away from the bed. “Come on, do the belt first,” you chuckle while you wiggle your hips slightly on the mattress. He looks up at your face while he kneels on the floor between your knees.
You watch him hesitate before he reaches for the front of your waist. Both of his hands move to the belt around your pants so he can undo it for you. He removes the belt from your waist. He drags the strap free while you keep your attention on his exposed mouth. He drops the belt onto the floor before his hands return to the sides of your waist. “You took the belt off, but you aren’t going to unzip them?” you complain while you shake your head at him. You start pulling your wrists apart behind your back while he kneels in front of you. “What the fuck is that about?” you ask him while you try to push your hips forward on the mattress. You manage to tear through some of the web around your hands even though it doesn’t come off all the way. You keep pulling your wrists apart while you wait for him to answer you. He hears the web tearing behind your back while he kneels between your knees. He doesn’t try to stop your hands from moving because he is just letting you have your fun.
He ignores what you are doing behind your back while his thumbs move to the top of your pants. “Just stop moving for a second,” he tells you before his fingers pop the button open. He pulls the zipper down until your pants open wide at your waist. You spread your legs wider on the edge of the bed so he can take them off. You wait for him to lean closer, but he surprises you by moving away instead. He crawls backward on his knees two steps away from the edge of the mattress. He pushes your knees together with his hands before he grabs the waistband of your pants. He pulls the pants all the way down your legs in one motion until they slide off your ankles. You smirk down at him because he stripped them off you so easily. “You can look,” you tease him when you notice him turn his head to the side. Your smirk grows bigger as you watch him avoid looking at your red panties. “I’m trying really hard to be responsible here,” he mutters while he looks away from you.
He keeps his eyes away from your waist while he drops your pants onto the floor beside him. “You don’t always have to be the good guy,” you tease him while you wiggle your knees on the edge of the mattress. You pull your wrists apart harder behind your back while you wait for him to look at you. “They match your suit,” you point out as you lean your chest forward. He turns his head back toward you before his eyes drop down to your red panties. He doesn’t mean to stare, but your words make him look anyway. “I knew you wanted to see,” you laugh while you keep working your wrists apart behind your back. He shakes his head at you while he kneels on the floor between your feet. “You’re not helping my case here,” he groans before he looks up at your face. You stretch the last strands of web behind you while you watch him hesitate. “Take them off,” you tell him as you tilt your chin down at him.
His jaw tightens while he tries to ignore what you want him to do. “It won’t hurt anyone if you do,” you add while your shoulders twist on the bed. His human side wants to back away so he doesn’t take advantage of you. His arachnid instincts fight harder against him because every second near you makes him want to stop holding back. He keeps his mouth shut while his hands hover over his knees. You force your wrists apart until the web snaps behind your back. You bring your arms forward so your hands sit in your lap. The web still covers your fingers and wrists, but your arms are finally free. You grin down at him while you show off what you did. He scoffs at your face because you look so proud of yourself. “You know I let you do that, right?” he asks you while his mouth almost forms a smirk. You ignore his excuse before you rest your hands against your thighs. “I’m stronger than you thought,” you boast while you look down at his exposed lips.
He shakes his head while he reaches forward to touch your knees. You lift your hands to grab his mask again, but he tilts his head back away from your reach. “Keep trying that, and I’m going to tie you to the bed,” he warns you while his hands move up from your knees to your waist. He looks up at your face before his thumbs hook over the waistband of your red panties. “Yeah? With your web?” you smirk down at him as you open your knees wider against his sides. You ignore what his hands are doing at your hips before you grab the bottom of your shirt. You pull the top over your head in one motion and toss it across the bedroom floor. Taking off your shirt leaves you sitting on the mattress in only your underwear and your bra while he kneels between your feet. “Jesus- I told you to stop making this worse,” he mutters while his jaw clenches below the rolled fabric of his mask. You reach your hands behind your back to undo the clasps of your bra so you can take it off too.
He raises his right hand before a line of web shoots from his wrist right onto the center of your bra. He yanks his arm backward so the web snaps the clasps open behind you and pulls the bra away from your chest. He catches the bra with his right hand and throws it into the corner of the room. “I told you not to be stubborn,” he warns you while he drops his right arm back to your waist. You cross your arms over your chest to cover yourself because you didn’t expect him to strip you like that. Your face heats up while you look down at his exposed mouth in surprise. You look up at his eyes through the mask and think they look like they are turning black. You blame the dark room and the bad lighting for making his eyes look so strange. He knows it isn’t the lighting because his arachnid genes are fighting harder to push past his human side. His animal instincts want to take over now that you are sitting unprotected in front of him.
Both of his hands return to your hips before his thumbs hook into the waistband of your red panties. You push his hands away from your waist before you crawl backward toward the middle of the mattress. He gets up from the floor while he watches you get to your feet on the bed. You hook your thumbs into the sides of your panties to push them down your legs. You kick the red fabric off your ankles before you throw it right at his chest. “I can take them off myself,” you tease him while you stand naked in front of him. He catches the underwear with one hand before he lets it drop onto the floor. He tries to avoid looking right between your legs, but his arachnid side takes over. He raises his wrist before a line of web hits your stomach. He yanks his arm backward to pull you off the mattress and into the middle of the bedroom. The web lifts you up so your feet leave the floor. “What the fuck- are you serious right now?” you laugh while you kick your legs in the air.
He ignores you before he lifts his other wrist to send another web around your right forearm. He attaches the other end to the ceiling so your right arm stretches above your head. He casts more web across your waist before he connects the ends to the walls to keep you in place. The web holds you high enough so your hips align with his waist. You yank your free left arm around to see what he will do about it. He releases another line of web around your left wrist before you can swing at him again. He pulls your left arm upward before he attaches the end to the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. Both of your arms spread wide open above your head while the web wraps down to your elbows so you can’t pull your hands down. “Are you going to fuck me like this, spidey?” you tease him while you try to wiggle your hips against the web. He watches you test the hold before he shakes his head at your consistency in trying to get into his pants.
“You wanted me to tie you up,” he grunts before he sends more web across your chest and hips. He attaches the ends to the walls around you until you have nowhere else to go. Your legs dangle in the air while your feet hover above the floor. He aims his wrist at your right leg to put web around your thigh before he lifts your knee up to the side to connect the end to the wall. “Like what you see?” you tease him while you look down at where his eyes drop. He ignores your joke before he raises his left wrist to release more web around your left calf and ankle. He pulls your other knee upward and attaches that web to the opposite wall so your legs spread wide apart. The web bends your knees back until your feet hang high off the bedroom floor. Your entire body hangs in the center of the bedroom right at his hip level with your knees bent back. The web covers your forearms before it wraps around your waist to hold your body up in the air.
Your bent legs hang open so your chest and your cunt are exposed to his eyes. He steps right between your spread knees while he looks down at your waist. You can’t move your limbs away while he stands right in front of you with his mask rolled up above his mouth. “You’re not so talkative now,” he mutters while he looks at your face. You try to wiggle your hips against the web, but it holds you tight in the air. His suited hands reach toward your thigh where the web wraps around your leg. His hands trail slowly over the web while you watch his mouth open slightly. “What’s wrong, spidey? Are you going to leave me here like this?” You laugh as you push your hips forward. His hand leaves your thigh before his palm slaps hard against your exposed cunt. “Ah-! F-fuck-” you gasp while your thighs flex against the web. He watches you react to the slap while his head tilts to the side. “I told you to stop testing me,” he warns you before his hand rests against your inner thigh.
He lifts his left hand between your legs before he presses his covered palm right between your legs. He rubs his palm over you while you try to push your hips forward to meet his hand. The web around your waist holds you in place so you can’t grind against his palm. “Is this what you want?” he asks you while his fingers trace over your wetness. You nod at him while you pout down at his exposed mouth. “You can’t tie me up like this and not give me anything,” you complain as your knees pull against the web. He hums at your answer before he rubs his palm harder against your cunt. “Nnngh-” you gasp while you try to close your legs, but the web keeps your knees apart. He watches your mouth open while he keeps working his hand between your thighs. You try to move your hips again, but the web holds your waist in the air. “You’re really asking me to do this?” he asks you while his teeth clench below the red fabric.
He slows his hand down between your thighs while he waits for your answer. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to do all night,” you answer while you look down at his face. He stops rubbing your cunt before he pulls his hand away from between your legs. He takes a step back from your feet before he turns around so his back faces your body. He reaches for the shoulders of his suit and starts pulling the fabric down his chest. You watch him peel the top half of the suit off his back while he stands in the middle of the room. “What about the mask?” you ask him as he pushes the suit past his waist. He keeps his back turned toward you while he steps out of the bottom half of the suit. “The mask isn’t coming off,” he tells you while he drops the suit onto the floor. He wears only his boxers and the red mask over his head before he turns around to face your spread knees. He brings his right hand back between your legs without the suit in his way anymore.
He brushes his middle finger down your folds while his thumb presses against your clit. You bite your lower lip and try to wiggle your knees, but the web around your hips stops you from moving closer. He raises his left wrist and shoots another band of web around your right thigh to stop you from moving around. “Ah-! Why did you do that?” you whine as the web wraps tight around your leg. He ignores your complaint before he slips two fingers inside your cunt. “You look adorable tied up in my web like this,” he tells you while he watches your mouth open. You try to push your hips forward to take more of his fingers, but the web holds you back. “Yeah? Adorable enough to actually fuck?” you tease him while you look down at his face. His lips curve up into a smile below his mask before he pushes his fingers deeper inside you. “Nngh-! F-fuck-” you gasp as his fingers move inside your wetness. He watches your chest rise and fall while he keeps his hand between your thighs.
“You’re so desperate tonight, you can’t even wait five seconds,” he mutters while he curls his fingers inside your entrance. He pushes his hand deeper between your legs while you look down at his mask. “You’re still holding back on me,” you complain while you try to move your knees against the web. He steps closer between your spread legs and brings his face right next to your neck. His exposed lips press against your throat before he speaks against you. “I’m only doing this for your own good,” he whispers while his fingers work inside your cunt. It’s been years since the last time he touched someone like this or actually had sex with anyone. That’s the main reason he’s been holding back as much as he can all night. His arachnid side wants to swallow his human genes so his animal instincts can take control over his actions. He knows he’s on the edge of breaking if he keeps touching you like this.
He pushes his fingers deeper between your thighs while he listens to your breathing change. You squeeze your cunt tight around his fingers while you look at the top of his head. “So do you want me just to moan spidey all night since I don’t know your real name?” you taunt him as you try to move your hips. He pushes his thumb hard against your clit before he drags his tongue across your neck. “Haaah-! m-mfffh-” you gasp as his mouth leaves your throat before he lifts his head to look at you. He licks his own bottom lip while he thinks about whether he should tell you or keep quiet. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers inside your cunt while he stares at your face through the mask. You look up at his covered face where only his mouth shows below the red fabric. “Don’t you want to hear me moan your actual name?” you ask him before you squeeze your cunt around his fingers again.
You can’t push your hips forward to get his hand deeper because the web holds you in place. He sighs through his nose while his jaw moves under the mask. “Peter- you can call me Peter,” he mutters while he curls his fingers inside you. There are thousands of guys named Peter in New York, so you wouldn’t know who he really is anyway. He knows that if he ever takes the mask off to show you his face, then he will just have to keep you by his side so you never tell anyone. You hum when you hear his name while he keeps moving his fingers between your thighs. Your clit starts to throb against his thumb, so you close your eyes and let your mouth fall open. “Mmn- ahhnn-” you breathe out while your head tilts back against the air. He lifts his left hand away from your side and brings it up to your chest. His palm cups your exposed breast while his fingers roll your nipple between them.
He squeezes your breast while his other hand works inside your wetness. “You really know what you’re doing with those hands, Peter,” you tell him while you open your eyes to look down at his mask. He scoffs under his breath because he knows you’re just trying to talk him into fucking you now. Hearing his name from your mouth sends a rush straight down to his cock, so his arachnid side reacts before he can stop it. An embarrassing but small amount of web shoots out from his wrists. “Looks like someone else can’t hold back anymore,” you tease him while you laugh at the white string on his wrist. He pinches your nipple hard before he drops his hand away from your chest. “Ah-! sh-shit-” you gasp while he reaches his hand down to the front of his boxers. He grabs his cock right through the fabric while he stares up at your mouth. “See? I told you that you were just as desperate as me,” you laugh while more slick coats his fingers inside your cunt.
He sighs through his nose before he slips his hand under the waistband of his boxers. He strokes his cock inside his shorts while he watches you try to close your legs. “Stop playing around and take those off,” you complain while you watch his hand move under the fabric. You try to wiggle your hips forward to reach him, but the web keeps you in place. “You want it so bad? Come over here and get it,” he teases you while he keeps his fingers working inside your wetness. You glare up at his masked face because your arms are stretched above your head. “Oh, that’s right... You can’t move because you’re tied up,” he mocks you while he curls his fingers inside your cunt. He watches you try to pull your knees together against the web. “Nngh-! p-please-” you whine out while your hips try to push against his hand. He never stops pumping his fingers between your thighs while his other hand strokes his hard cock inside his shorts.
You shake your head at him because he won’t do anything besides finger you. It frustrates you that you can’t even wiggle your knees away from his touch. “Poor baby... Are you getting impatient?” he laughs while he looks at your pout. He pushes his fingers deeper between your wet folds while he watches your mouth open. “I hate you so much,” you mutter while your cunt squeezes around his fingers. He smiles below his rolled-up mask before he slows down his hand between your legs. “Mhm, you’ve been good enough for me tonight,” he tells you before he pulls his hand out of your cunt. He lifts his wet hand up to his mouth to lick your slick off his fingers. He watches your cunt clench around emptiness while he uses both hands to push his boxers down his hips. He kicks the shorts off his feet away from him across the bedroom floor. You watch him stand naked in front of you with only the red mask covering the top of his head. “Never fucked someone like this before, Peter?” you taunt him while you look down at his cock.
You arch your back against the web while he steps closer to your spread thighs. “Never had someone tied up like a toy without their legs around you?” you ask him while your knees pull against the web. His exposed lips curve into a smirk because he knows you always have to be a smart-ass. He steps closer to your spread legs before he slips his right hand through the web to hold your leg. He uses his free left hand to guide his hard cock right between your thighs. He rubs the head of his cock up and down against your wet folds without pushing inside you yet. “Hah- wait- P-Peter-” you gasp out while he slides his length over your clit. He looks down at your face while you try to push your hips forward against the web. “Shh- quiet down for me,” he whispers before he starts to push his cock slowly between your lips. His left hand guides him inside until his length is deep enough to fill your cunt before he drops his hand and stops pushing forward.
He brings his hand up to your face while you tilt your head to rub your cheek against his palm. “Mmf-” you whine while you lean into his hand. He watches you through the white lenses of his mask while you close your eyes to bite your bottom lip. He looks at the way your face reacts to him opening you up, and he likes seeing you tied up for him. He pushes his hips forward again to slide the rest of his cock inside you. You breathe through your open mouth once he pushes all the way inside your cunt. You open your eyes to look at his covered face because you want to see what he looks like right now. Your eyebrows knit together while tears start to gather in the corners of your eyes. “Oh god- haaah-” you moan while you feel him push your cunt wide open. He squeezes your thigh before he leans forward to rest his forehead against your neck. He starts thrusting his hips back and forth while the web holds your body up.
“You take me so well,” he grunts against your throat while he picks up his pace. He brings his hips back so only the tip of his cock is inside you before he slams himself forward to bury himself deep again. You try to move your knees, but the web forces your legs wide open. “P-peter… please, let me see you-” you beg him while he thrusts fast and hard inside your cunt. He ignores what you asked before his teeth bite down onto the side of your neck. “I told you no- jesus-” he mutters against your throat while his hand squeezes your thigh tighter. He moves his other hand from your cheek to the back of your head so he can tangle his fingers in your hair. He forces your head back while he keeps pumping his cock in and out of your cunt. You cry out against his shoulder while his hips slap against your thighs with every thrust. His lips trail up from your throat to your jaw before he presses his mouth against yours. You close your eyes while he kisses you hard enough to force your teeth apart with his tongue.
He bites down on your bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth and lets it go to spit right onto your lips. “Mmmph- you’re so-” you moan after he does that, and his tongue licks your lips. He pulls his face back to look at you before his right hand reaches down to snap the web around your right thigh. He pulls your freed leg up against his side so your knee rests beside his hip. The new position lets him push his cock deeper inside your cunt while he holds you close against his body. He watches your face through his white lenses while he keeps moving his hips forward. His left hand rests tangled in your hair behind your head to keep you in place. Your cunt clenches tight around his cock, and his fingers pull back on your hair hard enough to make your scalp burn. His shaft throbs inside your wetness while he watches your mouth fall open. “Do you want your other leg wrapped around me too?” he asks you while his hips slam into your thighs.
You nod at him while you try to move your left knee against the web. He keeps holding your right thigh with his right hand while he raises his left wrist to shoot two fresh bands of web over your arms. It gives your arms more support in the air before his left hand snaps the web around your left calf. He guides your left leg over his waist so both of your thighs wrap around his hips. He grabs both of your hips with his hands while you float in the middle of the room. “You know how good you look right now?” he asks you before he thrusts deeper inside your cunt. His fingers dig so hard into your hip that it hurts your flesh like he wants to devour you. “Nngh-! o-ow- Peter that hurts-” you complain while your hips rock against his cock. He looks down at your face while he slows down for a second. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he tells you while his thumbs push harder into your waist. He leans in closer to your ear to bite it, but it’s just an excuse to be closer to you.
“You’re going to take it like a good girl,” he whispers before he lifts your legs off his waist and puts your ankles up onto his shoulders. He looks down between your bodies to watch his cock slide in and out of your wet cunt. His enhanced hearing picks up every single noise in the bedroom while he speeds up his thrusts. He listens to the wet squelching of your cunt and the loud slap of his hips against your thighs. Your ragged breaths are loud in his ears while he pushes his cock all the way to his pelvis. He holds your ankles on his shoulders while his hips work faster inside your wetness. His fingers caress up and down your calves while he thrusts deep inside you. You get closer to the edge every time he pushes all the way in. You don’t tell him you’re about to cum, but he feels the way you pulse around him. The wetness drips down his shaft while you squeeze him tight. You need to hold onto him while the pleasure builds, so you tug hard against the web around your arms.
“I need you- p-please let me hold you,” you whine while your toes curl against his shoulders. He turns his head to the side to bite down hard onto your calf. He pulls his cock back until only the tip is left inside you before he slams all the way deep again. He fucks you so hard that the web around your body starts to break. The broken pieces weigh you down, but the rest of the web holds you up in the air. He moves his hands away from your legs to tear right through the bands around your waist. His arms wrap tight around your body while he brings you against his chest. “I need you right here with me,” he grunts before he buries his face into your neck. He thrusts deep enough to reach that spot inside your cunt, and it makes you cum instantly. “Nngh-! o-oh god-” you moan while your wetness coats his cock. He feels you cumming around him and his arachnid instincts take over his head. His enhanced strength makes it effortless for him to walk forward and break right through the remaining webs to carry you.
You wrap your arms around his neck before he walks both of you toward the bed without ever pulling his cock out of you. He gets onto the bed so he can lay you down on the mattress and hover over you. Shredded web clings to your arms and your thighs. “You came around me so fast,” he mutters while he looks down at your face. You nod at him before he slowly starts to thrust inside your cunt again. Your hands leave his shoulders to grab the bottom edge of his mask. You push the fabric all the way up over his head to see his face finally. It scares you because his eyes are pitch black instead of human. You open your mouth to react, but he grabs both of your wrists with his hands. He pins your arms down hard onto the mattress beside your head. “Come on- you wanted to see me so bad,” he smirks while he stares down at you. You try to pull your hands out from under his palms, but he keeps smirking at you.
“You’re not even human- you’re a d-demon,” you gasp while you stare up into his black eyes. He ignores what you called him before he thrusts his cock deep into your cunt. “Ahhhnn- f-fuck-” you moan out loud even though you just tried to insult him. He watches your mouth fall open while he keeps his body pressed over you. “Shh- it’s just me,” he mocks you with fake sympathy while he holds your arms down on the bed. He raises his wrists to shoot web right over your forearms to bind them to the bed so your arms are spread wide open again. “You have such playful hands,” he tells you before he lets go of your wrists. He gets up onto his knees between your spread legs before his left hand grabs your waist and his right hand reaches up to grope your breast. “Are you scared of me now?” he asks you while his fingers squeeze your nipple. You shake your head quickly on the pillow, but he smirks down at you from his knees. “You really should be,” he tells you while his right hand squeezes your breast. He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, and his fingers play with your nipple.
His left hand slides down your side to reach between your legs. You try to twist your bound wrists against the mattress before his right hand leaves your chest. He raises his right wrist to shoot an extra layer of web right over your hands. “Stop fighting me, or I’ll shut your mouth for you,” he warns you while his left hand finds your wet clit. He pinches your clit hard enough to make you whine. “Ah-! nn- please-” you beg him while you shake your head on the pillow. You don’t want to piss him off because he keeps staring at you with those black eyes. You spread your thighs wider for him in response, and he takes a deep breath. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you while a smirk forms on his face. He slams his hips forward with more force, and his left thumb rubs back and forth over your clit. He doesn’t care that you just had an orgasm minutes ago because he keeps rubbing exactly where you are most sensitive.
“Mmf- hahh- it’s too much-” you cry out while your cunt clenches around his cock. His right hand goes right back up to your chest to grab your other breast. He squeezes the soft flesh while his hips slap against your thighs. “You look so fucking perfect like this,” he grunts while his thumb flicks over your tight nipple. You want to touch his body badly, but the webs keep your hands pinned to the bed. “Nngh- let me hold you- p-please, Peter,” you beg him while you twist against the web. He looks down at your wrists, and he keeps thrusting into your wetness. “If you want to touch me, then just break free,” he challenges you while he keeps his hands on your body. You stop struggling because you know exactly what he will do if you manage to escape. “Nn- you’d just tie me down again,” you complain while your hips rock up to meet his thrusts. He chuckles above you before he leans all the way down over your body.
He pushes his mouth right against yours for a quick kiss, and he trails his lips down your neck. He moves over to the breast that he neglected earlier to drag his tongue right across the tip. “Oh god- haaah-” you moan out loud while his wet tongue licks your nipple. He moves his face back a few inches to look at you again. “You can try to break free all you want because I don’t bite,” he whispers before he drops his head back down. He wraps his mouth all the way around your nipple, and he bites down hard on the sensitive peak. “F-fuck- ahhhnn-!” you scream out while your back arches off the mattress. The bite makes your cunt squeeze tight around his cock. You thrust your hips up against him while he sucks on your breast. He grunts out loud before he shoves his hips forward to push you deeper into the mattress. He thrusts his cock as deep as he can go while he keeps his teeth pressed into your nipple. His mouth works over your bud while his left hand rubs your wet clit.
His right hand squeezes your other breast before his cock slams deep into your cunt. Having all his attention on your sensitive body pushes you over the edge again. You tear your wrists right through the webs to free your hands from the mattress. You throw your arms around his shoulders so you can tangle your fingers into his hair. You drag your nails down his back while your hips thrust up to welcome every deep pound inside your cunt. “Fuck- yes- mmn- right there,” you moan out loud while you arch your back off the bed. He sucks hard on your breast to take whatever he can get from you. He slams his hips forward faster to match your needy movements. The thought of breeding you takes over his head. He wants to pump all of his cum as deep as he can reach inside your cunt. He feels his balls tighten because he gets closer to cumming with every hit. “I’m going to fill you up so much,” he grunts against your chest before he bites your nipple one more time.
He lifts his mouth from your breast to leave wet kisses up your neck until he reaches your shoulder. He sinks his teeth right into the curve of your shoulder before he pulls away to look at your face. He watches your eyes roll back while his left hand pinches your clit and his right hand pinches your nipple. He rubs his thumb faster over your wetness while he shoves his cock all the way to the base. “You feel so fucking good around me, don’t you?” he praises you before he leans all the way down. He pushes his mouth against yours to force his tongue past your lips. You open your mouth for him so he can taste you while his hips slap against your thighs. “Mmmph- ahhh-” you whine right against his mouth while you kiss him back. The urge to cum gets too close for him to think straight. He doesn’t even notice that his fingers slow down on your clit or how his thrusts become sloppy.
He can feel his cock throb deep inside your wetness. He knows he won’t last another minute before he cums inside you. He bites down hard on your bottom lip until he tastes blood on his tongue. He keeps his teeth there the exact moment his cum starts shooting deep inside your cunt. “Mmf- f-fuck-” he groans against your lips while he empties himself inside you. He leans his forehead against yours while his hips keep moving. He feels how close you are to another orgasm, so he slows his movements down to be gentler. You push his face away to tug on his hair until he opens his eyes. You look up at his face to see that his eyes are normal again. He realizes he is finally back to normal. He moves his hand away from your clit to rest his palm on the mattress beside your neck. He continues to roll his hips between your legs before he leans his forehead against yours again. “I- I’m sorry,” he whispers over your mouth.
You close your eyes to caress his back while you listen to his heavy breaths. “Why are you sorry?” you ask him while your hips move with his thrusts. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he answers you. “I was too rough earlier, and I wasn’t myself,” he mumbles right against your lips. Hearing that makes you bite your bottom lip before you grind your hips up against his cock. You breathe hard against his mouth to share his air before you lean up to kiss him. “I can handle you just fine,” you tell him between soft pants. He moves his face away from yours after he hears that. He wonders if someone can actually take that side of him without getting hurt. His left hand squeezes your chest gently while his cock pushes deeper inside your cunt. He closes his eyes as he feels the wetness coating his shaft. He wants to give you a second orgasm, so his hand balls up into a fist to twist the bedsheets beside your head.
He takes his time to slide all the way out before he pushes back in. “Haaah- oh god- yes,” you whine out loud while your cunt squeezes his cock. You cum hard around him, and he throbs inside you the exact second he feels it. He drops all his weight onto your chest to hide his face in your neck. “That was my first time letting that part of me out,” he whispers against your collarbone. You trace your nails over his shoulders to comfort him. “Let’s hope it was worth it,” you tease him while you wrap your arms around his back. He shivers against you, and his cock twitches deep inside you. He drags his teeth over your collarbone before a ragged exhale leaves his mouth. His body melts completely against your chest, and he refuses to pull out. You let your fingers wander down his sweaty spine while he nuzzles your neck. “More than worth it,” he mumbles back.
warnings: smut (oral, fingering, p in v), dbf, age gap (reader is in her 20s), slight brat tamer!frank, soft!dom frankie, teasing, pet names, some praise, english is not my first language
summary: Frank came to pick you up after a party but you refuse to get into the car because you “don’t need a babysitter anymore” so he has to tame you
a/n: ugh i love age gap for jon bernthal’s characters sm
3.7k words - not proofread
“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”
His voice startled you, making you turn around. You were currently walking home from a friend’s party. It was a cold October night, and you were only dressed in a short dress and tights. The jacket around your shoulders wasn’t doing much to help with the cold either.
You rolled your eyes and turned back around, continuing to walk down the street. Frank pulled up next to you, matching your pace.
“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you.”
“Fuck off, Frank. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You sure act like one.”
“Oh my God.” You stopped, turning toward his car. “You don’t always have to crawl up my dad’s ass and come get me whenever he sends you. I don’t even live there anymore.”
“Your dad didn’t send me.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I saw you walkin’.”
“And?”
“And it’s two in the mornin’.”
You scoffed. “So?”
“So it’s two in the fucking mornin’, you’re alone, ’s freezin’, and you’re dressed like… that.”
You looked down at yourself, then back at him. “Wow. Thanks. Really makes a girl feel good about herself.”
“That ain’t what I meant.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
He let out a slow breath, already losing patience with you. Not because you were arguing, because Frank could handle arguing. It was because you were pretending you didn’t know exactly what he meant.
He got out of the car and walked to the passenger side. “Get in the car.”
You stared at him. “No.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m literally fifteen minutes from my apartment.”
“And?”
“And I can walk fifteen minutes.”
Frank looked past you, down the empty street, then back at you. His jaw tightened.
“Yeah. You can.” You blinked, caught off guard by the agreement. “But you ain’t goin’ to.”
You rolled your eyes. “Frank–”
“No.” He opened the passenger door. “I’m not arguin’ with you ‘bout this.”
You sighed dramatically but walked over to the car anyway. “You know you’re not my dad, right?”
Frank’s mouth twitched slightly. “Yeah, I know.”
He shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side. When he got in, he glanced over at you, taking in the fact that you were still shivering despite pretending you weren’t. Without saying anything, he turned the heat up.
By the time Frank pulled up in front of your apartment building, you were already half-asleep.
You hadn’t meant to be. You’d spent the entire drive pretending you weren’t tired, staring out the window and occasionally making some sarcastic comment just to prove you weren’t affected by him picking you up.
But the warmth of the car, the quiet hum of the engine, and the fact that you’d been awake since early that morning had caught up with you.
Frank glanced over when he put the car in park. “You awake?”
You opened your eyes immediately. “Yeah.”
He raised an eyebrow. He got out of the car before you could argue and walked around to your side.
“I can get out myself.”
“I know.”
You rolled your eyes but let him help you out. Your legs were stiff from sitting, and the cold air immediately hit you again.
The two of you made your way inside the building, and by the time you reached your apartment door, you were moving slower than you wanted to admit.
“You drunk?” Frank asked, watching you try to put the key in.
“I don’t drink, you know that.” You finally managed to line up the key, unlocking the door. Frank stood in her doorway after she entered, leaning against the frame.
“Close the door, it’s cold,” you told him and he took a step inside, not quite sure if you meant for him to come in or stay outside. But he came in anyway.
“You should get some sleep, kid,” he said as he watched you take off your jacket and boots.
Your face immediately hardened. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
Frank stared at you for a moment, sensing the anger in your voice.
“What?” He asked.
“You heard me.”
His brows pulled together slightly. “Since when’s that bother you?”
“Since always.”
Frank pushed away from the door, his expression changing. “Where’s this comin’ from?”
“You’ve always been treating me like a child, Frank,” you said, your voice getting louder. “I’m all grown up. I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t need you!”
“You think I don’t know you’re not that lil’ girl anymore?” Frank took a step closer and you didn’t answer. “You think I don’t see the woman standin’ in front of me?”
The words caught you off guard, but Frank didn’t let you look away. “I know you can handle yourself. I know you don’t need me to come save you.”
“Then why are you here?” You gritted through your teeth.
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You’re givin’ me attitude ‘cause I came to pick you up?”
“I’m giving you attitude because you treat me like I’m helpless.”
“No.” His voice sharpened. “I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘cause it’s two in the mornin’ and you’re walkin’ alone in the cold.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like I can’t.”
Frank stepped closer.
“Stop puttin’ words in my mouth,” he muttered and you went quiet. “I never said you couldn’t take care of yourself.”
“Feels like it.”
“No, you don’t get to do that.” His voice dropped. “You don’t get to throw a fit ‘cause I’m worried about you and then act like I’m the asshole for carin’.”
Your mouth opened, but he kept going.
“You’re actin’ like a brat because someone is tryin’ to protect you.”
Your expression hardened. “Don’t call me that.”
“What? A brat?” He scoffed. “You sure as hell are one today.”
“Fuck off, Frank,” you said, turning away to walk to your bedroom, planning on leaving him standing so that he would see himself out.
But Frank has had enough. He grabbed you by your shoulders, turned you back around and pushed you against the wall. His right hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“You do not tell me to fuck off,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy. “You hear me?”
Your heart picked up its pace and you stared at him, more surprised by his reaction than anything else.
“You’ve givin’ me attitude this whole evening. Do we need to do something about that?”
His fingers felt like fire on your face. He mustered you up and down, reading every micro reaction, searching for anger in your eyes.
All the anger that had been fueling you moments ago seemed to disappear. It was still there somewhere, buried underneath frustration, but it wasn’t as loud as it had been before.
Frank inched closer, his hot breath on your ear now. His raspy breaths drowned out the pounding noise of your heart.
“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. I’ll leave and I won’t come back,” he murmured, waiting for a reaction while still holding your face firm in his hand.
The knot in your chest tightened. He was so close you could smell his cologne, and fuck it smelled good.
For weeks, months, maybe even years, you had imagined what it would be like if this tension between you finally snapped. You had spent so much time convincing yourself that it was one-sided, that Frank only saw you as someone he needed to look after. You had never really allowed yourself to consider the alternative.
Your lips parted, but no words came out.
You could feel the warmth of his hand against your skin. The steady rise and fall of his breathing and the way his eyes stayed fixed on you, waiting.
Frank wasn’t pushing, which made it even harder for you to decide. If he left now, things would go back to normal.
Or at least you’d both pretend they had.
He’d still pick up your calls. You’d still see him whenever your dad invited him over. You’d still sit across from him at family dinner and try not to notice the way his sleeves rolled up his forearms or the way his voice always softened when he spoke to you.
And you’d spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you hadn’t told him to go.
The thought settled heavily in your stomach.
Frank’s thumb shifted slightly against your jaw, barely moving, but it was enough.
Your gaze dropped for a split second, catching on his mouth before you could stop yourself.
The air between you suddenly felt too warm. You swallowed hard, your pulse racing for an entirely different reason now. Every instinct told you to say something. To break the tension before it swallowed you whole.
“I–“ You started, words drying out in your mouth. You swallowed. “Stay.”
Frank looked at you. His hand remained where it was, rough and warm against your skin, but the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly, like he hadn’t expected that answer. Like he’d been preparing himself to hear something else.
The room had gone completely silent. The only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen and your own pulse pounding in your ears.
Frank finally leaned in to kiss you, slow and gentle at first, but as you let out a small whine, he got rougher.
His hand that was on your face a moment ago, now wrapped around the back your neck, thumb pressing into the side of your throat. His other hand found your hip, pushing you into himself.
You were trapped between the wall and him, his calloused fingers finding the skin at your hip under your shirt, gripping hard. A desperate moan came from your throat as he separated from your mouth and started kissing your neck.
“You’ve been a handful today,” he muttered between kisses and little bites. “Let's see if you can behave now. You think you can do that for me?"
You nodded, words getting caught in your throat. Frank leaned back to take a look at you.
“Cat’s got your tongue, dollface?” He asked, amusement in his voice. “Look at you. All quiet now.”
You swallowed, feeling his thumb on your neck. You didn’t dare to move your hands. “‘M not,” you muttered, voice unsure to which Frank let out a small laugh.
“How ‘bout you get on your knees and show me what else that mouth can do except talkin’ back.”
You didn’t break eye contact as you sunk down to your knees. Frank raked his hand through your hair, softly caressing you before grabbing a fistful.
His other hand worked on his belt until you reached up your hands, giving him a quick look, asking for permission. He nodded and you unbuckled his belt all the way. You unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along his underwear.
He wasn’t fully hard yet but he was big and you were unsure if he was going to fit. His thumb slipped past your lips, padding at your tongue. You looked up at him through your lashes, sucking on his finger, and he sighed. You could see how his dick was growing at this sight.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said, slipping out his thumb. “Hands on your back and open your mouth, princess.”
You did as you were told, mouth wide open with your tongue sticking out, drool pooling at the tip. He loosely stroked his cock a few times before he slid it in your mouth with a muted grunt. It laid heavy on your tongue and you could feel his veins pulsing softly.
Relaxing your jaw as best as you could, you let him fuck into your mouth. His hand was still in your hair, pulling your head back for a better angle.
Tears started forming in your eyes as he went deeper and rougher and you struggled not to gag on him.
“That’s it. Atta girl,” he praised you. Low moans escaped your mouth. Frank rested his free hand against the wall behind you for stability, grunting at the vibrations from your voice.
He came down your throat with a rippled moan and pulled out of you. He let go of your hair. You wiped your spit and his cum off your chin, licking it off your hand while looking at him.
He swallowed, catching his breath. “I swear, you drive me fuckin’ crazy, girl.”
He pulled you up with ease. Frank was incredibly strong. You’ve caught yourself looking at his broad shoulders and prominent biceps countless times over the years, silently fantasising about him holding you down with those muscles. You almost drooled at that thought.
You were pulled into your bedroom. “Strip. And get on the bed,” he motioned while getting rid of his own clothing. He lost his pants completely and stripped off his jacked and shirt, his body on full display now.
Countless scars covered his skin, remnants of a life most people couldn’t even imagine. Some were thin, faded lines. Others were thicker, more jagged, impossible to ignore. You still weren’t quite sure how he’d survived everything he’d been through.
Each scar told a story Frank would probably never tell. You remembered catching glimpses of them over the years. A scar peeking out from beneath a collar and another when he’d rolled up his sleeves. He’s been at your parent’s house with a broken nose and black eyes countless times. Little reminders that there was so much about his life you would never fully know.
You found yourself wondering what they felt like beneath your fingertips, how different the raised scars would be from the rest of his skin. But you wouldn’t dare moving from your spot. Not without Frank’s permission.
You kneeled on the bed, naked. Your hands rested on your knees as you waited for Frank to give you instructions. The humiliation was just slightly present in your head. Those thought have been pushed away by arousal.
“Look at you all obedient now,” he said walking up to you. Your eyes wandered down his body, hard cock on full display for you to admire. You thought back to just minutes ago, how full your mouth felt, the taste of his cum on your tongue. You squirmed on the bed, heat pooling in your stomach.
“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you.” His rough hand caressed your face before giving your cheek a soft tap, your eyes flicking up to him. “Got you all drunk on my cock, huh?”
You nodded, licking your lips.
“Words, dollface.” His thumb brushed over your lower lip.
“Yes– Frank, please.”
“Atta girl,” he praised. “Lay on your stomach for me.”
You did as you were told, rolling onto your stomach, ass on full display. You brought your hand to your mouth as you watched him move to you. He sat down next to you, his hand caressing your back before massaging your butt. You let out a quiet gasp, looking at him through your lashes.
His hand suddenly came down with a harsh slap, making you squeal. You felt heat pool down in your core as his calloused hand striked your other cheek roughly.
Frank moved to grab one of your pillows, tapping your butt. “Ass up, baby.” You raised your hips a little and he pushed the pillow under you. Your ass now higher in the air. Frank crawled behind you onto the bed, leaving kisses on your lower back and ass. His slight stubble was scratching your skin.
“You got any idea what you do to me?” He mumbled against your back, his fingers drawing tiny patterns just below your ass, dangerously close to your cunt. You let out a whine. “Easy, sweetheart.”
He slid his pointer finger through your folds, making it slit with your juices. Frank smirks at the wetness. “You this wet from just sucking’ my cock?” You heard him say with a slight chuckle, to which you whined and buried your face in your pillows and hands, face red with embarrassment.
With his finger still running through your slick folds, he plants feathery kisses on your ass. Your hips bucked against his hand, trying to get friction.
“Tell me what you want, dollface. Talk to me.”
You bucked your hips again. There was no way coherent words would come out of your mouth.
Frank pulled back his hand, making you whine at the loss of contact. “Where’d my mouthy girl go? You gotta use your words, darlin’.”
You squirmed at his words. You could feel yourself dripping onto the pillow underneath you. “Please, Frank.”
“Please what, baby?” His finger rested at the rim of your lips and you tried moving against it.
“Touch me, Frankie. Please.” The desperation in your voice made him smile. He planted a kiss to your ass before his finger dove into you.
“There you go. Atta girl.”
His finger started pumping into you while his thumb pressed against your clit, running circles on it. The direct contact of his long fingers where you wanted them the most had you wanting to scream, but you push your face into the pillows, letting out a quiet muffled sound.
Frank could feel you pushing back against his hand. “Let me hear your pretty sounds.”
You wish you had a comeback but there was nothing but moans and sighs coming from you once you laid your head to the side.
Just before your orgasm started building up, Franks fingers were gone from between your legs. You pushed back, whining desperately, trying to chase the feeling but he had other plans.
In an instant he flips you on your back, he has your wrists pinned above your head. “Sorry, darlin’, but you ain’t comin’ that easy today.”
“Frank,” you protested and he chuckled.
“You been a real brat tonight,” he said. “Gon’ get treated like one.”
He pushed our thighs apart with his legs, settling between them. You moaned when his tip brushed your hole. He shushed you with a kiss, licking into your mouth and you tried to concentrate on that but a loud gasp escaped your mouth when he was fully inside of you. Frank let out a deep groan. His fat cock stretched you out like you’ve never felt before.
“You good? Yeah?” He asked and you nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your breathing.
“Look at me.” You opened your eyes, trying to keep them steady on him. “That’s it. There you go. My pretty girl.”
“I need you, Frank,” you whispered after a while of him not moving. You tried meeting his hips but he held you down with ease.
“Yeah? Thought you said you don’t need me?”
“No, Frank–“
“Maybe I should go home, no?”
“No, no, no, Frank, please–“ you begged. “I need you. I need you so bad. I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll be good for you.”
“That’s what I thought.” He let go of your wrist to grab your breast as he started moving, slow and deep. You could feel every inch of him, every vein pumping against your walls and you groaned loudly.
His lips pressed everywhere he could reach. Your mouth, your cheeks, your throat, leaving little nibbles here and there. He moved his mouth to your breast, kissing and sucking until deep purple marks appeared.
“Frank,” you gasped between moans and wrapped your legs around his waist as if you were scared he’d get up and leave.
“You got any idea what you’re doin’ to me?” He picked up his pace, his cock leaving you breathless with every thrust. Your hand disappeared in his hair, fingernails raking at his scalp.
“Fuck, please,” came out of your mouth before Frank started fucking into you hard. Your headboard banged against your wall as he grunted into your ear. His raspy voice whispered words into your ear but you couldn’t hear them through your ecstasy.
You could feel your lower stomach tense, heat traveling through your core. “Frankie, I need–,” you whined
“You need to cum? Yeah?” His voice low and breathless. “Cum for me, baby.”
Your orgasm washed over you, hard, a loud moan escaping your mouth. Frank continued pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own orgasm. You trembled underneath him, mind still a bit clouded.
“Hol’ on for me, baby, ‘m almost there.”
He finally pulled out of your sensitive cunt and you watched him as he grabbed his dick, stroking it a few times until he came onto your stomach with thick robes of cum painting your skin.
Sitting back for a second, Frank watched you as you tried evening out your breathing. Your head was thrown back into your pillow and eyes were closed. He moved and you were thinking he’d get a towel to wipe you clean but you felt him on your cunt second later.
His tongue licked over your puffy clit and his arms pushed apart your thighs that closed almost on their own, trying to save you from oversensitivity.
“Frank, I can’t–“
“Shh, baby. You can,” he shushed you, his tongue sliding through your wet lips, lapping at your clit. It didn’t take long for you to come again, squirming against his face.
Tears were running down your face from being fucked out and overstimulated. Frank came up to you, brushing hair out of your wet face. “You okay, baby? You hurt?”
“Jus’ sensitive.”
He planted a light kiss on your lips before he went to grab a towel to wipe his cum off of you. You squirmed when he wiped around your cunt. “I know, sweetheart, ‘m sorry. All done.”
He laid down next to you, pulling you into him. “You sure you’re okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?”
You turned your head to look at him, hand reaching to caress his cheek. “T’was perfect, Frank.”
“Good,” he smiled and pressed his lips against yours. “Now y’know what happens if you keep bein’ a brat.”
“That’s not supposed to keep me from talking back now, is it?” You giggled.
⊹ jack abbot makes you ride him while you finish fighting
warnings: 18+ minors dni! unprotected piv, established relationship, multiple positions ( spooning, prone, cowgirl ) fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, biting, jack jealousy-bating, jack provoking overandover again, angry sex!!!! lots of name-calling, hair pulling/tugging, light spanking, literally them using sex to take out frustration ⊹ notes: ANDDDDD POST BYE !!!!!! queued her
pettiness was your strong suit. it was – in fact – one of the reasons why jack had fallen for you in the first place, back when it had been aimed at anyone but him. he’d found it utterly delightful, his little menace that could hold grudges like a steel trap. it’d turned on him now.
you’d folded into the far side of the bed, facing the wall, your spine all stiff. you’d stormed in here twenty minutes ago mid-argument and claimed the bed like a fort, and you’d been lobbing grievances over your shoulder ever since, even as jack finished getting ready in the bathroom, even as the water shut off and his footsteps came and went.
“and another thing,” you announced in the direction of the wall. “if it were my work thing, you would not call that a date. you’d call that watching me work. which is what this is. so don’t act like you’re being romantic – ”
“are you done?”
you were, in fact, just getting started. if all went according to plan, you would’ve continued this after the event (you weren’t that petty) and been mad in his ear allllll night long, lullaby-ing him to sleep with a list of all his wrong choices; you would’ve named a problem for every hour in a sweet sing-song voice.
you made your first mistake by glancing over your shoulder at him; shirtless, slacks open and belt dangling, hair still slightly damp, standing in the doorway like he had all the time in the world and no fight to lose.
it was, frankly, a cheap shot to show up looking like that in the middle of an argument you were winning.
he raised a brow, then shook his head before he crossed the room in three long strides and climbed in behind you. his fingers went straight to the hem of the t-shirt you’d put on after finishing your makeup and pulled it over your head. you made a sound of protest, but lifted yourself up just slightly to let him do it. answer enough, you supposed.
he tossed it aside, and his hands were immediately on you, sliding down your ribs until one hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying, while the other dipped lower, cupping the curve of your ass and giving it a squeeze that made you inhale sharply.
“still mad?” he asked, leaning in for his mouth to brush against your shoulder blade. his hand kneaded at your hip, moving to the soft inside of your thigh.
“yes,” you said, but it came out weaker than before. “jack – ”
your words stopped as his hand moved from your hip to your breast, gathering the weight under his palms before his thumb came up to brush against your hardened peak.
“hello? cat got your tongue?” he said through a snort, pulling you flush against him, chin going into the curve of your neck. he ground his hips against you then, letting out a low breath through his mouth. he pushed a fist into the mattress by your ribs, caging you in. “what d’you wanna talk about?”
“i’m serious, jack,” you said, trying to force your voice even. “you wouldn’t call it a date.”
he hummed, fingers shamelessly sliding down as he said, “come on, baby. if you wanna keep talkin’ about this, you gotta do better than that.”
“do better – ” you let your neck turn back to face him, and he immediately tilted his head down, his tongue peeking out as he tried to bite back a grin. “ – my points are good enough.”
he ducked and caught your mouth, teeth nipping at your lip the same second his fingers slid under the lace. he smiled into the kiss, fingers running down your folds. you pulled away immediately, going to face the wall again.
“did this happen when you called me a smug asshole?” he circled the pad of his finger once over your clit, causing you to shudder slightly against him. “or when you decided i’m a liar?”
“jackass,” you muttered.
“real creative.” he shifted behind you, other hand going to shove his slacks further down his hips, freeing his cock. he pulled back slightly, and wrapped his hand around himself, stroking once – twice – before pressing the head of it to the curve of your ass. he exhaled once through his nose, intertwining his fingers through yours and moving them around him.
“i’ve been like this for the last twenty minutes,” he supplied casually, then groaned when your fingers instinctively moved around him.
“i’m still mad at you,” you said, but you were already moving your hand because you did also want him inside you. it’d been too long.
he rocked himself into your hand. “yeah – okay. let’s fix that, too, while we fix this.”
he moved to his side, lining himself up between your thighs before fitting himself in between. his fingers slid down your underwear again, fingers grazing over your folds before pressing down on your clit.
his fingers continued circling, while two others slid lower, the hard line of his cock pressing heavy against your ass each time he rocked forward.
“can’t call this a date,” you muttered, even as your breathing picked up.
“no?” he murmured. “this won’t do?” he nodded absentmindedly behind you, then his fingers came up just to slide down your underwear over the curve of your hips and down your thighs until the lace was sitting at your knees.
“two weeks – missed this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, and immediately pressed back into you, sliding his cock fully between your thighs now, the head of him dragging through your folds with every roll of his hips.
“also, it is a date – i’m takin’ you – ” he said, angling his hips so his head notched against your entrance. “ – as my date.”
“it’s not.” you pushed your hips back against him.
he tutted softly, hand holding the base of him as he pressed his tip against you, just enough to make you feel the pressure of the stretch starting, then pulled back.
“impatient,” he murmured, doing it again.
“we don’t have time,” you shot back. “just put it in – ”
“yes, ma’am,” he breathed out, amused, and angled himself to sink into you with one slow, sharp push. his entire body went rigid the second he bottomed out, a groan rumbling in his chest as the stretch hit you.
a broken sound came out of your throat before you could swallow it, after two weeks of nothing. your walls instinctively clenched around him, and his grip on your hip went bruising-tight.
“fuck, been so empty haven’t you?” his forehead dropped to your shoulder blade. “sorry, sweetheart. forgot you just needed me like this.”
you tried to glare, albeit at the wall, but your hips pushed back to take the last inch of him. “shut up.”
he just laughed softly, already pulling back to go again. “i know i’ve been thinkin’ about this every night.”
your teeth grit together to hold back the moan, your fingers twisted into the sheets as your body clenched around him on instinct, spine arching even while you fought to stay rigid.
“so mad at me – shit, huh?” his fingers came up with some tremor to your shoulders, pulling you into him even further as he slid in. “just ‘cause you missed this, baby? should’ve asked hours ago instead of arguin’ with me about tonight.”
your hips moved back to bury him to the hilt, causing his palm to tighten on your shoulder with a groan. “no, i missed you,” you said sharply. “you, asshole.”
his breath shuddered, and you felt him nod against your skin. “makin’ such sweet words sound so mean.”
he punctuated his words by moving his hand down to your spine and shoving you forward, forcing your chest flat against the mattress. he followed you down, pinning you completely – chest-to-back, hips locked tight against your ass – prone. his knee nudged yours wider, letting him sink even deeper on the next stroke.
he blew out a sharp, deliberate breath into your ear. “can’t run that mouth so easy when i’ve got you like this, can you?”
“are you trying to shut me – ” you started, words coming out into the pillow.
“huh?” he dipped his head to the side to meet your smushed face, brows rising in amusement. his forearms came up to rest at the curve of the back of your neck. “sayin’ something?”
you twisted just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, still trying to form the argument – something about obligations and dates and missing him so much – but the words stayed half-formed when he pointedly drove in particularly deep and your breath left you in a sharp, broken sound.
he watched your face with a small, smug smile, not slowing.
“yeahhh, that’s what i thought,” he muttered and kept fucking you. his mouth brushed the shell of your ear. “poor thing, can’t even finish a sentence. needed this, huh?”
“i did not – ”
“mhm, lying now, too – ” his forearm flexed, fingers coming out to absentmindedly brush your hair out of your face. “thought i was the liar.”
“don’t touch me,” you muttered, turning your face into the pillow again.
“stop squeezing me so tight then,” he said through a rough pant, thrusting up once meanly.
“i’m not kidding – ” you said, firmer now. “it was a – fuck – shit thing for you to do.”
“mhm.”
“i’m not being unreasonable.” you had to grit your teeth together when one of his palm came down to knead the side of your hips. “a date is you and me – your being a shit boyfriend when i haven’t – ”
your words cut off with a sharp gasp as he rolled the two of you in one irritated motion, keeping himself buried as he put you on top. his hands clamped hard on your hips, pushing you down until you were seated fully on his cock.
the sudden shift punched the air from your lungs, and before you could steady yourself, he was already driving up into you.
“jesus, you just can’t let up,” he muttered, eyes locked on where you were taking him. “wanna look at you ride me while you keep running that mouth.”
“getting tired, old man?” you raised a brow.
he shook his head softly, fingers reaching out to rub over your clit.
“old man, shit boyfriend – m’fucking you and letting you argue.” he pressed a harder circle, pausing only to come down on your ass in a sharp slap suddenly, making you gasp. “giving you everything you need at once, and i’m a shit boyfriend.”
he reached out to press his palm flat just below your navel.
“can’t take me on a date – ” you used his chest to pull yourself up, then come down, “ – though.”
his eyes flicked up to your face with a small, strained smirk as his fingers pressed down firmer on your stomach.
“it is a date,” he said, as he drove up hard to meet you on the next downward slide. his other palm flexed on your hip to keep you down as he pushed up even further. “fuckin’ – nice event. you. me. dressed up.” he took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as your nails dug into his chest. “sounds like a damn date to me.”
“it’s work,” you shot back. “you’re just calling it a date so you don’t have to feel bad about cancelling.”
“i didn’t cancel – anything.” his hand came up to push into your hair, pulling your face closer. “i invited you. you want me to leave you home, huh?” his jaw was tight as he tugged your hair back slightly. “things happen. plans change.”
“i don’t want to watch you work, i want to spend time with you,” you managed, surprised by how even your voice came out, considering.
“christ – ” he used the grip on your hair to keep you close, foreheads nearly touching. “actin’ like i signed us up for a week in the desert. it’s dinner. you don’t wanna go?”
he leaned to press your forehead against his. “don’t. imagine alllll the women who’ll try to talk to me, huh?”
“asshole,” you breathed out, nails digging into his shoulders now as you lifted and dropped again. “asshole.”
he snorted through his nose, tugging once on your hair before letting go, leaning back down onto the pillow. “keep ‘em coming, baby. keep punishin’ me for havin’ a job while you’re sittin’ on my cock.”
his hand went to your thigh, spreading on wider so he could push up even deeper.
“you want time with me?” he muttered. “this is time. right now. i’m in you. you’re on me, and you’re still finding ways to be pissed.”
he tilted his chin to catch your lips between his teeth. “you want me to yourself at dinner? i’ll fuck you in the bathroom if you want that, too.”
“this isn’t the same and you know it.”
“isn’t it?” he sat up further, both arms going around your back so your chests were flush. “because from where i’m at, i’ve got my girl riding me, calling me names, and still taking inch like she’s been starving for it. feels pretty damn close to spending time together.”
“principle – ” you tried to say, words cutting off as your hands got distracted to tug at the short hairs at the nape of his neck harshly.
“principle’s pretty shit when i can feel you’re close,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours.
“yeahhh,” he breathed out, feeling you clench on him as your thighs started to shake. “we’ve got ten minutes and if you wanna finish this fight, you finish it on my cock.”
“won’t make it better,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to push through the building pressure – chasing it, pushing it away. “you still – jack – made this whole thing about you – ”
your sentence broke off into a sharp, helpless moan as the orgasm crashed into you. jack didn’t let up, if anything he held you down tighter, hips rutting up against you as you came.
his eyes were trained to your face, pupils thoroughly darkened. “aw, i’m sorry,” he cooed, fingers coming up to brush the hair off your face. “you were in the middle of tellin’ me off. don’t let me interrupt you.”
you opened your mouth to keep going, voice still shaky, and jack’s arms slid up your back to pull you down flush against his chest, crushing you into him so your face was buried in his chest.
“please finish what you were saying,” he muttered against your ear, one forearm caging you in. he let out a soft snort when you only whimpered, then added, “i’ll help. you were saying i was making this whole thing about myself.”
“you always – always do this. make everything about you and then act like i’m being difficult,” you – well, lied.
jack groaned low at your words, only spurred on even more.
“i do? y’really think so?” he mused, almost conversationally. his hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit and pressing there, holding the pressure while driving up in one-timed strokes that made you gasp. “i make everything about me?”
“you do – ” you started, but the words dissolved when he pressed his palm flat against your lower belly, the pressure from both angles sudden and overwhelming, making everything tighten impossibly.
you groaned into his neck, and he tilted his face to the side to press his lips along your hairline.
“yeahhh, clearly i do.” he pressed a kiss to your ear, almost tender. “it’ll make me feel better to know you’re sittin’ all mad throughout the dinner you don’t wanna go to filled with me.”
𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 🗒️ ﹕ peter parker 𖬺𖬺 afab!reader ﹐ explicit sexual content ﹐ just abt 3k words of pure porn ﹐ strong language ﹐ fingering ﹐ unprotected sex ﹐ size/strength difference ﹐ rough touching / manhandling ﹐ light praise ﹐ slight overstimulation ﹐ dirty talk
𝓕𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝓯𝐢𝐨 📑 ﹕ the ending is a tad bit trash ‘nd there might be some if not a lot of mistakes but genuinely don’t blame me , blame ryder , he got all needy 4 attention ‘nd kept interrupting me sooo LETS ALL BLAME RYDER 🦄
Peter never quite remembers how strong he’s gotten.
Oh, he definitely notices—the way his shoulders fill out his hoodies now, the way his biceps strain against his sleeves when he’s swinging through the city, the way his body moves with a predatory grace he’s still not used to. But in the heat of the moment? When his mind is fogged with you? It slips his mind entirely.
Like now.
You’ve got him pressed against the wall, your body flush against his, your hands pinning his wrists above his head like it’s nothing. His breath is hot against your lips, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven bursts as he tries—and fails—to keep up with the way you’re devouring him. Little sounds escape him, soft and needy, vibrating into your mouth like a secret he doesn’t even realize he’s sharing. His fingers twitch in your grip, not struggling, but testing—like he’s surprised he’s letting you do this at all.
And you have had an easy time of it. Too easy. Because Peter, for all his newfound muscle, is still Peter—distracted, flustered, lost in the way your hips roll against his, in the way your teeth graze his bottom lip. His mind is short-circuiting, his body moving on instinct, his strength forgotten in the haze of want.
But then like a flip of a switch he remembers.
One second, you’re in control. The next, his hands slip from your hold like they were never trapped at all, his fingers digging into your waist with a bruising grip that has you gasping. And oh God the way he lifts you, like you weigh nothing, like he’s been dying to do this. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, your back hitting the mattress a second later, Peter following you down without breaking the kiss for even a breath. His hips settle between your thighs, his weight pressing you into the sheets, and you arch into him with a moan, because fuck—the way he’s suddenly taking what he wants is obscene.
His hands slide up, rough and calloused from years of gripping webs and brick walls, to grip your thighs, prying them open wider, and you whimper into his mouth. The sound seems to snap something in him—his kiss turns hungrier, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he’s starving for you, his hips rolling down— and then, just like that, the confidence is gone.
His body goes still. His lips pull back just enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours, his chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. His fingers, still tangled in the hem of your shirt, tremble.
“D-Do you—uh—mind if I—?” His voice is wrecked, rough and uncertain, his eyes darting between your face and the fabric he’s this close to ruining. The contrast is maddening—this boy who just manhandled you onto the bed like it was nothing, now stammering like a virgin.
You smile, slow and sinful, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him back down. “Yes, Pete,” you purr, your voice dripping with amusement and need. “You can take it off.”
His eyes darken at the permission, his hands finally move, his fingers curling into the fabric before yanking it up, up, over your head.
The second your shirt hits the floor, Peter’s lips leave yours like he’s been starved of the taste of your skin. His mouth trails down your jaw, hot and wet, his breath hitching as he presses open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear—the one that makes your toes curl every damn time. His hands follow, sliding up your sides with a reverence that has your pulse spiking, his calloused fingers trembling as they hover just millimeters from your breasts.
Of course he hesitates.
Of course this boy—man, now, though he still doesn’t see it—freezes like he’s afraid he’ll break you.
Your hands cover his, your fingers lacing through his as you guide them upward, pressing his palms against the weight of your breasts. His breath stutters against your collarbone, his thumbs twitching like he’s not sure he’s allowed to move. But he eventually does. His fingers flex, his grip tightening just enough to make you whimper, his touch gentle but firm, kneading you like he’s memorizing the shape of you. A low, needy sound rumbles in his chest, and you can feel the way his cock jerks against your thigh, like even that part of him is surprised by his own audacity.
You let go of his hands, finally trusting him to keep touching you, and slide your palms up his arms instead. God. The muscle beneath your fingers is ridiculous—thick, hard, earned. Every swing through the city, every near-death experience, every second of his double life has carved him into something new, something stronger. And fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever felt.
You’re so distracted by the way his biceps flex under your touch, by the way his skin burns beneath your fingertips, that you don’t even notice the way his other hand has slipped behind your back…
Until the clasp of your bra gives.
The fabric loosens, the straps sliding down your shoulders, and then his hand is underneath, his palm cupping your bare breast, his thumb circling your nipple with a precision that has your back arching off the bed. The first brush of his skin against yours is electric, and when his thumb flicks over the sensitive peak, you gasp, your hips bucking up into him like your body’s begging for more.
Peter groans, the sound raw, his mouth latching onto your neck like he’s trying to drink you in. His hips roll down, his cock grinding against you through his jeans, and you can feel the way he’s shaking—not from nerves, this time, but from restraint. Because fuck if he doesn’t want to pin you down, to devour you, to ruin you.
But this is Peter.
So instead, he whispers against your skin, his voice rough with need: “Fuck—you’re—is this okay?”
And you laugh, breathless and desperate, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Harder,” you demand.
“Harder—yeah, okay yeah,” he whispers, his voice rough like gravel under your fingertips, then his thumb and forefinger close around your nipple, pinching just shy of pain. The sensation shoots straight between your legs, and the sound that tears out of you is obscene—a broken, needy mewl that Peter swallows like he’s been starving for it. His lips crash back onto yours, his kiss bruising, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he’s claiming you, like he’s finally remembering he’s allowed to.
And just like that, the tables have turned.
Because you—you, who had him pinned against the wall not five minutes ago—are now the one struggling to keep up. His fingers are everywhere, his touch relentless, and your brain short-circuits as his free hand slides down, lower, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shorts like he’s been dying to do it. The fabric parts, his palm cupping you over your panties, and fuck—the way he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are, how desperate you are.
“P-Peter—” Your voice is a whine, your hips jerking up into his touch like your body’s begging for more.
“Yeah?” His breath is hot against your lips, his voice a sinful mix of cocky and sweet, like he’s proud of himself for making you fall apart but still terrified he’s doing it wrong. His fingers press against your clit through the damp fabric, circling, teasing, and your nails dig into his shoulders. “This okay? Feel good?”
You nod, your throat too tight to form words, your vision blurring as his touch intensifies, his thumb grinding down just right.
“Words, baby.” His voice is firm, but there’s a tremor in it, like he’s holding on by a thread. And fuck—the way he says it, like he’s earned the right to demand them from you, like he’s finally stepping into the man he’s becoming—destroys you.
“Y-Yes—fuck—” The words stumble out of you, broken and breathless, and Peter rewards you by increasing the pressure, his fingers rolling over your clit in slow, deliberate circles. His lips trail down to your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin as he murmurs, “That’s my girl. Gonna make you feel so good—”
And oh god—you believe him.
This is the Peter you’ve been wanting—the one who takes what he wants, who owns his strength, who drowns you in pleasure until you forget your own name. His fingers hook into the wet fabric of your panties, his touch burning as he slides them aside, and his skin finally meets yours.
“Fuck.” The word is a prayer, a curse, torn from both of your lips at the same time.
His fingers are rough from years of gripping webs, of clinging to life by a thread, and the contrast of his callouses against your soaked, sensitive skin is heaven. He explores you like he’s mapping you, his touch hesitant at first—of course it is—but then his confidence surges, his fingers parting you, stroking you, learning you in a way that has your back archingoff the bed.
“P-Peter, please—” You’re begging now, your voice raw, your body aching for more.
And god—the way he smirks against your skin, the way his breath hitches like he’s just as undone as you are.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice dark with promise.
Two of his fingers sink into you in one smooth motion, and your head snaps back into the pillows, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Fuck—his fingers are thick, his digits stretching you just enough to make your toes curl, and when his palm grinds against your clit, the dual sensation has your vision whiting out for a second.
Because God, Peter knows what he’s doing.
His fingers curl inside you, dragging against that spot—the one that makes your breath hitch, your back arch, your nails rake down his shoulders like you’re trying to anchor yourself to reality. His thumb circles your clit in slow, maddening strokes, his touch firm but gentle, like he’s memorizing the way your body reacts to him. And his eyes are glued to your face, searching, studying, like he’s desperate to know if he’s doing this right.
And oh, he is.
“F-Fuck, Peter—” Your voice is a whimper, a plea, your hips rolling up into his touch like you’re chasing something just out of reach. “Need you—please—” The words tumble out of you, broken and breathless, and Peter swallows them like they’re the only thing keeping him alive.
Because fuck—how is he supposed to say no to that?
His fingers slide out of you with a wet, obscene sound, your body clenching around nothing, aching for him to fill you back up. He brings his hand to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick every last drop of you from his fingers, his groan vibrating against his skin as he tastes you. His lashes flutter, his pupils blowing wide, and for a second, he looks drunk—high even—on you, like he’s never tasted anything so good, so addictive.
“Fuck—” The word is torn from his throat, raw and desperate, as he shoves himself off the bed, his hands fumbling with the button of his jeans like he’s forgotten how to undress. You whine at the loss of his touch, your body thrumming with need, but the sight of him—flustered, desperate, stripping for you like his life depends on it—has you biting your lip so hard you taste blood.
Your own hands hook into the waistband of your shorts, shimmying them down your hips along with your panties, the fabric sticking to your soaked skin before you kick them off. The cool air hits your bare, aching flesh, and you spread your thighs wider, inviting, daring him to look—to see what he’s done to you.
His jeans and boxers pool around his ankles, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing, the tip already glistening with precum. His breath hitches, his eyes locked on the way your hand slides down yourself, your fingers circling your clit, teasing yourself because you can’t wait anymore. The sight of you—spread for him, touching yourself, needy for him—has his cock jerking, a bead of precum dripping onto the sheets.
Peter crawls back onto the bed, kicking his pants off properly, his movements clumsy with need. “You look—fuck—so pretty,” he whispers, his voice rough, like he’s barely holding on. And then his lips are back on yours, his kiss hungry, desperate, like he’s starving for you.
His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers wrapping around his throbbing length, and you feel the heat of him, the pulse of his cock as he runs his tip up and down your slit, collecting all of your wetness. The sensation is teasing—torturous—and when he presses just the tip inside you, testing, waiting…
“Peter,” Your voice is a warning, a beg, your nails digging into his back.
When he finally sinks into you—all of him, deep, stretching you in a way that has your breath catching in your throat, your nails digging into his back—Peter freezes.
His entire body goes still, his muscles locked like he’s afraid to even breathe. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, his skin burning against yours. For you, he tells himself. It’s for you—so you can adjust, so you can breathe, so you can—
Fuck.
Fuck, he’s lying to himself.
Because the real reason he’s not moving is because if he does—if he so much as twitches—he’s going to cum in two seconds flat. And Lord, would that be embarrassing. But the way you clench around him, the way your walls pulse and squeeze like they’re begging for more, like they’re trying to drag him deeper—it’s torture.
And worse—he can feel it. All of it. His spider-sense is screaming, every nerve in his body alight with the heat of you, the tightness of you, the way you fit around him like you were made for him. It’s too much—overwhelming—and he’s drowning in it.
“Peter, move.” Your voice is a whisper, a plea, your hips rolling up just a fraction, testing, teasing.
His entire body shudders, a broken sound escaping him into your neck. “J-Just—give me a second—” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin, his fingers digging into your hip like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
But you’re done waiting.
With that, you lift your hips, fucking yourself on him since he clearly won’t do it. The movement drags him deeper, and the sound that rips from his throat is obscene—a whimper, a moan, something raw and needy. His grip on your hip tightens to the point of pain, his fingers bruising your skin, and fuck it hurts so good.
That hand drags downward, his touch rough as he trails down your thigh, his callouses scraping against your skin. And then his palm slides under your knee, pressing your leg upward, opening you wider for him. His hips push forward, driving himself deeper, and the angle—fuck—the angle makes it feel like he’s hitting something new, something impossibly deep, like he’s fucking you into your soul.
The way he’s manhandling you again, the way he’s taking what he wants, the way his control is shattering—it has you clenching around him, your walls pulsing, milking him, begging for more.
His breath hitches, his hips stuttering as he finally—finally—starts to move. “Fuck—” The word is a curse, torn from his lips as he pulls back, slamming into you again, his rhythm erratic, desperate. “Y-You—fuck—you’re gonna—”
His voice breaks, his words lost as his hips snap forward, his cock hitting that spot inside you that has your vision whiting out. And oh—the way he groans, the way his forehead presses against yours, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s fighting for control—he’s gone.
Like he’s really gone.
The last remnants of his shyness, his hesitation, his Peter-ness—shattered. Like a dam breaking, like a switch flipping, like the boy you knew has been replaced by something feral, something hungry, something desperate to claim you. And definitely you’re here for it.
His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that has the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall. His tip hammers against your g-spot repeatedly, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that has your toes curling, your back arching, your vision blurring at the edges. And his hand is holding your leg up, pressing it to your chest, opening you wider, going deeper, like he’s trying to fuse you together.
His lips crash onto yours, his kiss sloppy, desperate, his words spilling out of him like he can’t contain them, like he needs you to hear them, to know them. “You—fuck—you feel so good—” His voice is rough, raw, his breath hot against your mouth. “So good—do you—do you feel good?” His hips stutter, his cock twitching inside you as he waits for an answer, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.
And you do. You feel amazing. But your brain is mush, your body alight with need, and the only thing you can manage is a nod, a whimper, a broken sound that has him groaning into your mouth.
“You look like you do—” His voice is wondering, awed, like he can’t believe he’s the one doing this to you. “Yeah you do—so pretty—so fucking pretty—” His hand tightens on your leg, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back, slamming into you again, his cock dragging against that spot that has you seeing stars. “And so tight—so fucking tight—good God—”
The words tumble out of him, unfiltered, like he’s drowning in you and the only thing keeping him afloat is the sound of his own voice, the feel of your body clenching around him.
It’s intoxicating.
You can’t speak. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but feel—the heat of him, the weight of him, the way he’s fucking you like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp as you pull him closer, deeper, harder. And oh—the way he responds, the way his hips stutter, the way his cock jerks inside you.
It’s madness.
Pure, delicious madness, you never want it to end.
Because this? This is the Peter you crave—the one who takes what he wants, who manhandles you into the perfect position, his hands rough and possessive as he bends you to his will. The way he grips your thigh, yanking it up to your chest, opening you wider for him—it’s perfect. The way his hips slam into you, driving deep, hitting that spot over and over until your mind is blank and your body is singing—it’s addictive.
And even now, even as he fucks you like he’s starving for you, even as his breath comes in ragged gasps and his skin burns against yours—he still checks in. His lips brush against your ear, his voice rough but tender, “You okay?” like your pleasure is the only thing that matters. His eyes flick to your face, searching, studying, like he’s memorizing every whimper, every gasps, every shudder of your body beneath his.
It’s too much—this boy, this man, this perfect mix of ferocity and care—and fuck if it doesn’t make you ache for him even more.
( +18 ) mdni / smut headcanons. afab!reader. inspired from the song seven by junkook ft. latto ; how peter would fuck you throughout the week. established relationship. praise. power exchange. multiple orgasms. oral sex (both receiving). deep-throating. body worship. light hair pulling. multiple positions throughout the week. neck kissing. petnames. overstimulation. wrist restraint (with webs). creampie.
reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!
MONDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ Peter has you laying on your stomach, ass up in the air while his strong hands are holding your position, not letting you move one inch. His cock is buried deep inside your leaking pussy, balls slapping against your clit which is already sensitive from multiple orgasms. His stamina will always surprise you, especially when it comes to fucking you right. Moans are echoing in the room, bringing embarrassment to you, due to how much noise you are making. Peter groans loudly, praising you quietly for how good you are taking him. It lasts for hours, forming sweat on your skin, muscles aching afterwards.
TUESDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ One of his hands is in your hair, fingers curling to the back of your head as you take more of his fat cock inside your mouth; deep-throating him. Peter hissed at the feeling, “Ah—Ah, yes, just like that, baby…” His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you, your nose pressed against his base for a second as you gag and pull away. Thick threads of saliva are connecting his mushroom tip to your lips. A smile breaks on your face and Peter blushes. “You're so pretty like that, taking all of me.” You don't reply, just take his shaft back inside your mouth, curling your tongue around his girth.
WEDNESDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ Peter's strong hands are buried into the fat of your thighs as he keeps you against the wall, nails scratching at your skin each time he lowers you onto his fat cock, your pussy hungrily squeezing him. Your juices are mixing, creating squelching noises that echoes in the room, soon followed by moans. Your hands are running through his hair, pulling on it so hard that Peter curses. “So good! You're so good, baby. S—Shit!” His forehead presses against your shoulder as his bulbous head rubs against your g-spot, making you wetter than you were before.
THURSDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ His hands are strong as they part your thighs open wider to give him a better access to your sloppy cunt. Moans are leaving your mouth without any shame; the pleasure is too much for your body and the bed creaks when you squirm around once more. Peter is too busy burying his tongue past your folds, licking your juice that is also coating his chin and lips to mind the noises you are making. On the contrary, his fingers tightening around your thighs are almost saying for you to get louder. His tongue circles your clit, lips sucking onto it as you finally come in his mouth.
FRIDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ “Please, move… Please, baby!” Your boyfriend whines in your ear as your pussy just squeezes him tightly, your breasts pressed against his pectorals as you get slowly into position, squirming on his lap. “Don't be so whiny, Peter.” You tease, starting to slowly lift yourself up and down on his cock, juices leaking to his balls which makes them stick to your ass. Peter gasps, strong hands grabbing your hips as you ride him with focus. He doesn't realize but he's using his strong hands to lift you up, using you like a toy but you don't mind, your muscles aching less. “You feel so good! So good... Shit.” He cries, cock twitching inside you.
SATURDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ The sheets are sticking to your side as sweat dampen the fabric after so many efforts; it's your third orgasms already and your inner-thighs are a mess you can't ignore. Peter's torso is pressed against your back, one of his hands holding your left leg up just for his cock to stretch deeper inside you. The smell of sweat, sex and perfume hits your nose, making you more fuzzy than before. Your boyfriend whispers praises in your ear, kissing your neck with each thrusts of his hips; “You're doing so good for me.”, “I told you I'd... fuck you right.” or even, “My girl... My pretty girl...” with groans mixing to his voice.
SUNDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ You can't help but try and tug on your wrists but Peter's webs are stronger than you imagined, especially now that he mutated. After all, you asked for it, saying it would add spice and God, it does. Your back is creating a dull thud each time Peter thrusts inside your leaking pussy; his thick load dripping already from a previous orgasm but he couldn't help himself from bringing you closer to climax for a third time. His mushroom tip rubbed your g-spot, strong hands holding your calves in the air so he had space to fuck you. Cries escaped your mouth, moans mixing with his whines as you both came at the same time, his semen filling you up once more.
CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Hints of Arachnid! Spider-Man. Peter Parker has a scent kink. Lowkey stalker! Peter Parker. Also low-key primal kink if you squint. Oral (f! receiving). Overstimulation tease at the end. Little dialogue. Peter is a munch and nobody can tell me otherwise. Reader doesn't know that Peter is also Spider-Man. Written w/Tom Holland's Spider-Man in mind.
A/N: Hi! This may come as a huge surprise but I think I caught the Spider-Man bug. This is completely new for me and it's nerve-racking to be writing for a whole new character, but I just couldn't stop thinking of Tom Holland's Peter Parker after watching the new Spider-Man movie. I wrote this quickly and I'm posting this before I go watch the movie again tonight, but I hope this is enjoyable and makes sense since it started as one thing and ended as another thing lol. Anywho, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. <3
⟢ NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST
When it comes to your scent, it brings Peter to his knees.
He doesn’t necessarily know why he likes your scent so much or why he’s obsessed with it, but it’s something as simple as breathing to him. When Spider-Man saved you months ago from a piece of falling concrete from a nearby building on your way to work, he never seemed to forget about you. Your pretty curls and the sound of your voice when you reiterated your gratitude stuck with him for a while, along with the lasting scent of your perfume and your shampoo.
Those familiar notes of orchid and coconut didn’t hit his nose again until he bumped into you one early morning at a local deli, sipping on your coffee while holding onto your shoulder bag. You didn’t know of his second identity then, but you gave him a kind smile and struck up a nice conversation with him, giving him your number afterwards in case he wanted to chat more. As you handed him the wrinkled receipt with your messy handwriting, Peter was trying to figure out what lotion you used, savoring the smell of it and fighting the urge to follow your path when you walked out of the door.
Peter took that offer happily, speaking to you as if he’d known you for longer than you expected. Even as you two got to know one another, he’d scope you out when you didn’t think he was there or paying attention. At parties and nights out at the bar with friends, Peter would follow your path from a healthy distance, only coming to interact with you when he was sure he could make it look like a natural occurrence instead of a case of accidental stalking. Wherever you seemed to go, Peter was somehow nearby, either by coincidence or by design. He would be in the same vicinity as you or watching you from the buildings above, tracking you to the point of making sure you made it home. It got so bad that he’d pause his nightly patrolling to take a whiff of you from your bedroom window as he hung over the ledge where you couldn’t see him.
It was always you and your damn scent that made his head spin.
You’ve noticed that when you got more involved with Peter, he was a bit more reactive than other guys. As nice and sweet as he always was to you on your dates, Peter was more sensitive to your touch. Goosebumps would poke out of his skin and the hair on the back of his neck would raise every time your hands were on him, even if the touch was accidental. He ran hotter than most, firm in all the right places, and his floppy curls and warm brown eyes tantalized you more with every passing day you spent together.
Still, there were things about him that took you by surprise.
After another successful date, you brought Peter upstairs to your apartment. His mouth collided with yours the second the front door closed behind you, effectively pinning you to the nearest wall with his body weight. The bouquet of flowers he brought you were dropped carefully on the console table by the entrance, and you hastily dropped your purse and jacket to the ground.
In a mess of hands running over your frame, Peter digs his face into your neck, nipping and biting at your skin and squeezing your hips as you walked backwards. You land on the bed in a heap, giggling from the impact as Peter busies himself with taking off your boots and jeans. Your top goes over your head and falls somewhere on your bedroom floor, leaving you in just your bra and underwear, all for him to appreciate.
Peter takes you off guard the next second and wordlessly sinks to his knees, leaving a trail of kisses from your calf to your bare thigh. Brushing his fingers over your skin, he brings himself closer to your center, his eyes damn near widening at the way the lacy fabric clung to your body.
This isn’t the first time you and Peter have messed around, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it’s definitely the first time you’ve seen him do something like this.
Shamelessly, he nuzzles his face into your pussy and takes a deep breath, groaning to himself as he did. He sniffed you again a few times after that, smelling you as if his life depended on it, mouthing at the now soaked fabric as you watched from where you were perched up on your elbows. The grip he had on your thighs tightened with every inhale he took, your natural musk brought his heightened senses into overdrive, and he was about to lose himself until your voice brought him out of his trance.
“Peter, what are you doing?” you asked breathlessly, subconsciously grinding your hips towards his nose, craving more of his attention despite the new territory you were both crossing.
“You smell so good, always have,” he mumbles out bashfully, licking at your core and taking hold of the delicate lace to move it to the side. “Just let me have this. Please. You’ve been driving me crazy for so long, I need this.”
You couldn’t refuse him when he was begging so nicely, his usually warm chocolate eyes now carry a darkness to them you weren’t used to. With a nod of your head, Peter dives back into your cunt, his nose and lips growing wet with your slick the more he sought from you. An audible rip fills the room along with your gasp as your panties tear from Peter’s pulling, the tattered fabric crumbles to the ground with the rest of your clothes. He didn’t stop to acknowledge what he did, the only thing he was focused on was indulging in tasting you properly, and he wasn’t going to waste anymore time waiting or holding back.
The next thing you felt was his tongue licking a broad stripe up your pussy, a moan of his name punches out of your chest and fills the four walls of your room. One of your hands come to grip on the curly strands of his hair, and Peter groans against your wet skin, slurping at you with more intent. The more he licked at you, the messier he got, and when trying to take another glance at him working so diligently, the sight made you clench around nothing.
You could have sworn you saw Peter with fully black eyes just now. Maybe you were imagining things, maybe it was just all in your head. When Peter moves his lips to suck at your clit hard, you toss your head back and your spine curves against the mattress as you keened loudly. Two fingertips press into your entrance before plunging deep inside you, finding that one spot that drives you crazy with ease.
You struggled to breathe or focus on anything else other than Peter’s mouth on you. His fingers thrust into you at the same time he sucked your sensitive nub, while his other hand squeezes at the fat of your thigh so hard you think bruises would form. In some sick part of your head, you’re hoping his touch leaves their own marks for you to admire later.
The orgasm that’s been building since the start of your date quickly creeps up on you, molten heat swirls in your lower belly and threatens to spill out faster than you’d like. Peter didn’t seem to mind, parting from you to take a breath and coming right back to you on the next exhale. He curves his fingers with just the right amount of pressure that it sends you falling off the edge so suddenly you can’t control it. You could feel yourself gush over his fingers and mouth, opting to hold the top of his head as you struggled to ground yourself, bucking your hips against his face to prolong the high you were riding.
Your thighs continued to shake on Peter’s shoulders while you tried to catch your breath. A whimper comes out of you when his fingers slip out, his plump lips kissing at your sensitive clit almost in an apology. He pulls away to glance at you, his eyes glossed over and half lidded, and right now he looked a mess; flush from the neck down with the bottom half of his face covered in your arousal from his chin to his cheeks.
Peter looks over at you and doesn’t bother with wiping his mouth. Instead, he licks at his bottom lip in an attempt to get the rest of whatever you left behind. He’s breathing hard through his nose and stroking your thighs affectionately, staring between your face and your twitching cunt with a small dorky smile.
“You can handle another, right?”
He blurts those words out like it was the most simple of questions. Here you were, still processing the release you just had, and Peter was ready to offer you another orgasm, or however many orgasms he wanted to give until you were satisfied. A grin similar to his crept up on your face, your cheeks grew warm at the thought of feeling that ecstasy over and over again, and from the look on Peter’s face, he didn’t have plans on stopping any time soon.
You laughed and nodded your head once more, laying down flat on your mattress and spreading your legs wide. Peter took that as an invitation and began riling you back up with wet kisses on your inner thighs, coming up to where you craved him most. The scent of you was the most poignant here, mellowed out with hints of sweetness that Peter could still taste on the back of his tongue. His nerves had seemed to calm down a bit since earlier in the date where he grew antsy with the urge to touch you from your perfume alone.
He wants your scent to mark him, to claim him as yours to have and nobody else, and he’ll surely try his hardest to make sure it happens.
pretty when you cry, act three coming soon! find part one HERE !!
He’s not gone.
The Mustang is parked at the edge of the parking lot, and you can see the muscle in his jaw ticking from here, but he’s waiting diligently.
You know that he’d never leave you stranded at the studio. Not with Craig, and certainly not with Smurf. You hug your shawl tighter around you, and start the walk. You don’t even get a noise of greeting as you slip into the passenger side - the only movement he makes is to glance over to make sure you’ve put your seatbelt on before he starts the engine.
Andrew Cody must be the only man in Los Angeles who’s concerned about seatbelts, but he’s a stickler for it.
Hands pressed together in your lap, it takes everything in you to stop the tears from earlier resurfacing.
a/n: sorry, y’all the brain worms got to me. had a vision of trying to be playful about the whole doctor role play thing and jack being like. no no you started this, and I’m finishing it. i hope you enjoy it!
credits: gif credits to @/frankslangdons and divider by @robinavitchslut <3
The long night was finally giving way to day, the sun just barely peeking its head over the horizon. It was somewhere around 5AM–in that in-between post-3AM insanity, but pre-morning rush lull. The emergency department was precariously balanced on a knife's edge, one minor inconvenience, or trauma, from tipping back into full on chaos. You were almost at the finish line, the end in sight so long as nothing catastrophic happened.
As it stood, the night had been rough enough–mainly due to the sheer volume of patients you'd seen over the past 11 hours. Food poisoning from a family reunion rolled in shortly after the shift began, followed by alcohol poisoning from a bachelorette party, then a drunken bar fight that continued into the ER, where security had to separate two grown men who were arguing over which sports team had the better logo.
Barely an hour ago, three codes simultaneously racked the department, tying up almost every doctor and nurse and leaving the department in a bit of a frenzy. Two of the codes resolved themselves fairly quickly, but the one you were working on, a pediatric cardiac arrest, lasted nearly two hours. All three patients survived, thankfully, but you were still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your heart still ticking a beat too fast.
The supply closet was a welcome reprieve from the endless chatter and beeping of the ED, the mundane task of restocking crash carts a soothing balm to your overworked mind and muscles. You were still catching your breath as you assessed the carts, taking note of what needed to be refilled and what was already well stocked.
Boots scuffed across the linoleum in the hallway beyond, eventually stopping at the open door. A second later the metallic click of the latch rang through the small closet as the door closed.
You were plucking vials of epinephrine off the shelf in front of you when a familiar presence makes itself at home at your back, large hands falling to your hips with a quick squeeze. A fond smile crossed your lips and you eased into your boyfriend's warm embrace, letting your head fall against his shoulder.
"You did good back there," Jack said, pressing a kiss to your temple and smoothing his hands up and down your sides. His hands were warm, even through your scrubs and undershirt, and you could already feel your heart rate slowing, syncing in time with his.
"So did you, that little girl's lucky she had such a good doctor working on her," you said, turning around in his hold and leaning back against the shelving unit. Every time you saw Jack felt like the first, cheeks heating and butterflies erupting at the sight of him. His hazel eyes were tired, but no less beautiful than they always were; the lines around his eyes a little more pronounced than usual, the night taking its toll in the contours of his face.
Your fingers brushed against his warm skin, tracing the sun-worn lines along his neck, the freckles dotted between them creating the most beautiful constellations. It was hard to believe sometimes that you called this man yours, that he looked at you with such reverence and adoration.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, "Which reminds me, we have a serious problem," you said, schooling your face into a serious expression, eyes hard and lips slightly down turned.
"Oh yeah? And what would that be?" he asked with a wry smile, knowing that he was going to be drawn into one of your shenanigans again. Not that he minded, he usually benefited from them. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, slow and sweet, his nose brushing your cheek as he deepened the kiss.
You relented for a moment, sinking into the kiss. Your nails scratched through the curls at the base of his neck eliciting a purr-like noise from him. You grinned into the kiss then pushed him back slightly before he could get carried away.
Fixing him with a stern glare, you sighed exaggeratedly, "You're too sexy when you're in doctor mode."
He barked out a laugh that echoed loudly in the too quiet closet and shook his head at you, "That's your serious problem?"
"Yes, I'm serious! It's a problem! I can't be ogling my doctor when I'm supposed to be taking care of patients. It's a real liability issue, could be dangerous for patient care," you said, really trying to sell this problem of yours.
And it was true that he was so fucking hot when he was in the zone, calling out orders, laying out treatment plans–hell, even just watching him teach med students, with that patient but firm tone, correcting where necessary and praising when appropriate, had wetness pooling between your thighs.
The sheer competence in bringing a patient back from the brink of death was astounding. The look he got after a patient was stabilized–the pride, the relief, the hint of fear that crossed his face was breathtaking. It took everything in you some days not to drag him out of the trauma bay and have your way with him. The demons won out the one time he came in with his SWAT team, the combination of seeing him in uniform and the terror of knowing he was shot at commingled in your core and you were on your knees in this very closet in a matter of minutes, sucking the life out of his cock.
But it would never really compromise your ability to care for patients–you both knew that. You were one of the best damn nurses in the entire hospital, and Jack would stake his medical license on your ability to work through damn near any condition. You were his right hand for a reason–and it had nothing to do with your romantic relationship. But it was fun to play sometimes, to rile him up in the way only you could.
"Okay, okay," he said, still laughing, "How do you propose we solve this very, very serious problem?"
You tapped your finger on your chin, taking your time in 'thinking' of a solution.
"Mmm, I was thinking maybe the sexy doctor could make a house call. Y'know, give me a little one-on-one time, get it out of my system. I've been aching real bad, too, think maybe he should take a look," you said finally, peeking up at him from beneath your lashes and biting your lip.
His eyes darkened a fraction, and he stepped forward, closing the little distance that was between you and pressing your front flush to his chest. Goosebumps prickled up and down your arms, warmth spreading through your body and radiating down to your core. You whimpered softly as he shifted his weight, his crotch unintentionally brushing against your cunt.
His voice was low and rough when he spoke, "Oh yeah? Well we can't have that, can we? Where're you aching, baby? Show me."
You swallowed, breath coming out ragged, "Well, Dr. Abbot, it started here," you said, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your lips. His thumb rested on your bottom lip, and he brushed over it lightly before tugging it down, your mouth parting with it. He pressed forward, thumb briefly running along the line of your bottom teeth before settling on your tongue, pushing down gently.
You moaned at the salty taste of his skin, mouth widening and saliva pooling in your mouth, dribbling out of the corners of your mouth at the intrusion. Jack's eyes were trained on the sight, the irises of his eyes almost completely obscured by his blown pupils.
"Fuck, honey, you just love having your mouth filled, don't you?" he asked, pushing his thumb in further until he hit the back of your throat, muscles contracting around the digit, "Doesn't matter if it's my cock or my fingers, just need something to keep that pretty little mouth full, huh?"
You nodded and whimpered around him pitifully, unable to do much more.
He kept his thumb there for another minute, just watching the way your tongue twitched, the rivulets of spit drooling from your lips.
When he finally removed it, his thumb and your chin were thoroughly spit-slick. He wiped at the corners of your mouth, gathering the spit there, then brought the digit up to his lips and sucked it clean.
"Y'taste so good, baby, can't help myself," he said with a devious grin, "where else're you achin'?"
Your breath caught in your throat, your words coming out stuttery, "m' a-aching pretty bad here, t-too, Dr. Abbot," you said, dragging his hand down to your neck, where it sat loosely around your throat. Your fingers curled lightly around his, applying the smallest amount of pressure–just enough to make your breath hitch.
He tightened his grip a fraction more, then tilted your neck to the side, exposing the soft skin there. His other hand pulled your scrub top and undershirt to the side, and his lips latched onto the curve of your neck, biting and sucking at the flesh.
You gasped, hand flying up to bury itself in his hair. Your eyes fluttered closed as little whines and whimpers escaped your lips.
"So sensitive," he whispered against your neck, laving his tongue over the mark he made once more before pulling back and giving you an expectant look. What else?
Dazed and little floaty, you continued guiding his hand down until it cupped your breast. His other hand moved to your other breast, and squeezed the flesh between his large hands. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, though they were buried under layers of scrubs, undershirt, and bra. You could feel the barest hint of pressure where he circled them, enough that they hardened into peaks, taut against your bra.
You moaned and arched into his palms, wishing you could feel the roughness of them against your bare skin.
He chuckled at your desperation, pinning you back against the shelves. One hand remained on your breast, while the other grasped your chin, tilting it up to look him in the eye, "Anywhere else?"
You bit your lip and nodded, sliding the hand on your breast down your body and under the waistband of your scrubs and panties, until his hand was cupping your bare mound, "This is where it aches the most."
His eyes didn't leave yours as his fingers parted your folds, sliding through them with ease. A half-feral groan ripped through his chest, his forehead pressing against yours. His fingers just barely brushed over your clit before sliding back down to your entrance.
You whined and bucked your hips against him, searching for something to grind against.
"Oh, baby," he said, "You really are aching, aren't you? Your pussy's soaking wet and I haven't even done anything."
The tips of his fingers breached your entrance and sat there, unmoving–just the tease of his thick fingers filling your cunt.
"Please, Dr. Abbot, need you to take care of me," you whined, rolling your hips forward, trying to force his fingers deeper.
"And maybe if you're lucky, if you alleviate my aches, I'll sit on your cock later," you said, using all the bravado you could muster up–which, admittedly, wasn't much. You were too far gone, too needy for him to act like you didn't want him just as much as he wanted you.
Jack raised his eyebrow, a dark laugh falling from his lips, "If I'm lucky? Baby, I distinctly remember you beggin' for my cock just the other night," he said, pushing his fingers to the second knuckle and curling them, "had you cryin' on the bed, whining for Jackie's big, fat cock to fill your cute little pussy up, didn't I?"
Your cheeks heated at the memory, the sound of your pathetic mewls and gasps echoing in your ears as you did, indeed, beg for his cock. You slapped a hand over your mouth to avoid those same sounds from spilling out now, as Jack's fingers pushed in to the hilt, the heel of his hand settling on your aching, puffy clit.
His fingers hooked against that soft, spongey spot that had sparks exploding through your body. Your thighs trembled around his hand and your hips ground clumsily against his hand.
"Well, I guess the tables have turned," is all you can come up with as he stroked that spot relentlessly. Jack knew your body like the back of his hand, knew just the right pressure and motions to get you to the finish line in no time. He preferred to take his time, but he never turned down the opportunity to make you cum hard and fast.
Your eyes closed, your body on autopilot as it chased release. The waves were cresting, your orgasm within reach. Just a few more thrusts, a few more rolls of your hips and you would be there.
He sighed, shaking his head at you, "You know, I probably shouldn't make you cum before I've done a proper examination. Can never be too careful about your health, baby," he said, removing his fingers from your pussy before your brain could catch up.
Your eyes shot open, chest heaving as your orgasm receded. A high pitched whine escaped you, "no no, please, Jack, pleeease," you said, gripping his wrist and trying to pull it back toward your cunt to no avail.
You looked up at him with wet eyes, frustrated tears pricking the corner of your eyes, "you're mean," you pouted.
"Shh, sweetheart, trust me, I'm a doctor. We'll get you all sorted out at our appointment later, yeah?"
Your brows furrowed at that, your mind still a little hazy. A question sat at the tip of your tongue, but before you can ask it, he's reaching up for something on the shelf above you, body pressing impossibly close to yours in the process. A second later he's pushing a hospital gown into your hands.
You're still confused, the gown doing little to illuminate his meaning.
"What's the look for, sweetheart? You started this game, don't tell me you want to stop now?" he said with an evil gleam in his eye, "Dr. Abbot will see you for a very, very thorough exam after shift."
There was a muffled commotion outside the door, no doubt another trauma rolling through–no doubt requiring Jack's attention.
"Duty calls, baby, see you out there," he said, giving you one last peck on the lips before he's gone.
The end of shift comes quicker than you anticipated, between a new batch of traumas rolling in and your standard caseload of patients taking up your attention.
You were waiting at central, bag slung over your shoulder, when Jack approached, looking apologetic.
"I think I'm gonna be a little longer, I just want to make sure Emily gets up to peds sooner rather than later. Shouldn't be too long," he said, "I'm sorry, baby."
"No worries, I'll hang around. Mr. Hauser's IV needs to be changed in 20 minutes anyway," you said, a yawn sneaking out halfway through.
He shook his head, "Nah, you don't need to wait around for me, and Lena'll bite my head off if I keep working her nurses overtime," he said, laughing a little nervously, recalling the last time he asked a few nurses to stay late, "Day shift's got it covered. Go home and shower, get something to eat."
"Plus," he said, slipping his finger under the chain of your necklace and tugging you closer, "I want you on my bed, in nothing but that gown when I get home."
You nodded and whispered lowly, "Yes, Dr. Abbot."
You took your time in the shower, the hot water easing the persistent ache in your muscles. After drying off and lotioning your body you slipped into a lacy pair of panties–Jack's favorite, the back cut high enough that your cheeks were practically bare, with a little bow in the center.
You dug around for the gown you'd snuck into your bag, pulling it out and holding it out in front of you. You gnawed on your lip as you considered it. Your intention hadn't been to enter into a full-fledge role play scenario, but you couldn't deny the way your tummy swirled in anticipation.
You slipped the gown over your head, the polyester feeling rough and scratchy against your skin. You left the back untied for easy access–you assumed you wouldn't be wearing it for long, anyways–then sat at the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands and awaiting Jack's arrival.
You didn't have to wait long for him. About 10 minutes after you've settled on the bed, the door to your bedroom opened, and Jack came strolling through. His hair was damp, and he'd changed out of his scrubs, now wearing a tight black shirt and cargo pants. He stopped at the dresser and pulled out a fresh scrub top, pulling it over his head before turning to address you.
"Good morning, miss, I'm Dr. Abbot. I hear you've been having some aches, is that correct?" he asked, dragging the upholstered chair from your vanity over to the bed and sitting down. He folded his hands between his knees, fixing you with an assessing stare as he waited for you to respond–the picture of professionalism.
"Oh, yes, Dr. Abbot, I've been aching really bad," you said, putting on a whiny affect. And it wasn't untrue, your cunt had been aching since your release was denied two hours ago, your clit throbbing for attention.
"Yeah? Well let's try to fix that, huh? I might have to use some… unconventional methods, but I think we can get you right as rain in no time," he said, hooking his stethoscope in his ears, "I'm going to start with listening to your heart, okay?"
You recoiled before he could reach you, "You are not using that on me. God knows what's on it," you said, nose wrinkling at the thought of the dirty hospital germs that probably coated the stethoscope.
He sighed, breaking character for a minute, "This is my backup, the one that's been sitting untouched in it's case for over a year. That okay?"
His voice was low and reassuring, instantly setting you at ease. You relaxed a bit and nodded.
He tugged your sleeves down, the gown falling around your hips and leaving your chest exposed. One hand settled on your ribs, right under your breast, while the other held the chest piece in place on the left side of your chest. You gasped as the chest piece made contact with your skin, the cold metal causing goosebumps prickle up your arms.
Jack murmured a quick apology before focusing on the sound of your heart. The hand not holding the chest piece stroked the underside your your breast, so close to your aching nipple without actually touching it.
"Your heart rate is elevated. You nervous?" he asked, a suppressed smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
"A-a little, I've just never had a doctor be so… hands on," you played along, biting your lip shyly.
He titled your head up, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, "There's no need to be nervous, honey, I'm gonna take real good care of you," he said, brushing your bottom lip softly.
"Okay, I trust you, Dr. Abbot," you whispered, breath catching as his grip tightened on your chin.
"That's it, that's my good girl," he said, his hungry gaze belying his professional demeanor. He was just as affected as you were, but he was committed to this act.
He started moving the chest piece down your chest until it covered your nipple, the pebbled flesh perking up at the coolness of the metal.
"Good, good, you're so responsive," he said, eyes focused on the hardening bud. Then he flipped the chest piece to the smaller side and traced it around your nipple in slow circles. His thumb flicked over your other nipple, then rolled and pinched it between his fingers, going back and forth between those motions until you were letting out a steady stream of whines and whimpers.
"S-sorry, Dr. Abbot, it just feels s-so good," you moaned, arching further into his grasp. Your thighs rubbed together, your clit begging for any sort of relief and finding none–just the slick slide of your arousal spreading across your inner thighs.
"That's okay, it's important that I hear how your body reacts to me," he said before dipping down and wrapping his lips around your other nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. The duality of sensations–cold metal on one side and molten heat on the other–had you feeling dizzy.
"Feeling good? That ache goin' away yet?" he asked, abandoning the stethoscope and switching sides. He devoured your other nipple, giving it the same sinful attention–licking, nipping, and tugging between his teeth.
You shook your head, "Need more, Dr. Abbot," you whined, hips bucking off the bed at a particularly hard suck.
He released you with a wet pop, his chest heaving and pupils blown wide. You glanced down and saw his cock was hard, straining against the confines of his cargos.
"Yeah? Okay, then, lie back and spread your legs for me, sweetheart."
You did as he said, scooting back until you were lying back on your elbows and your feet were propped up on the mattress. You removed the hospital gown where it had pooled at your middle, leaving you in just your skimpy panties.
The snap of latex gloves rang though the bedroom, and a moment later Jack was on his knees between your legs, spreading your thighs open.
He ran his gloved finger over the soaked gusset and tutted, "I'm afraid these are going to have to come off," he said, slipping a finger under the waistband and tugging them down your legs–then pocketed the scrap of lace.
"That's not very professional, Dr. Abbot," you pouted, "You keep every pretty girl's underwear?"
He chuckled, shaking his head lightly at you, "Only the one's that are a major pain in my ass," he said under his breath.
You gasped and sent him a playful glare–which went completely ignored by him, his attention solely focused on your exposed and dripping cunt laid out in front of him.
"Now I'm going to examine your vagina, is that okay?" he asked, running his hands up and down your thighs.
"Yes, Dr. Abbot, please," you breathed out, the anticipation killing you at this point.
He stretched your thighs open wider and ran two fingers through your folds, spreading your abundant arousal around. The feel of the latex against your wet folds was so different, his fingers gliding through your wetness so smoothly, the roughness of his calloused fingertips obscured by the gloves. The clinical feel of it made your tummy twist in a mix of excitement and anxiousness.
"God, you're so, so wet. That's good," he said, the words thick in his mouth. His thumbs parted your lips, revealing your puffy little clit and tight hole. He was entranced by your pussy, the way your slick dripped down your thighs and your hole clenched around nothing. His thumb swiped over your clit briefly, a flash of contact where you needed it most before fading away. Your hips raised up to chase it, but his hold kept to pinned to the bed.
"Everything looks perfect," he said, running his thumb up and down your vulva, circling around your clit on each pass, "Such a perfect, pretty pussy." He was so close that you could feel his hot breath against your cunt, each exhale sending a tingling zap down your spine.
His thumb slid down a little further and circled around the tight ring of muscle there, applying the barest amount of pressure as he rubbed it. You gasped and squirmed at the unfamiliar touch, your cheeks heating up fiercely.
He chuckled lightly at your reaction and removed his thumb, "We'll check that at the follow up exam," he said, then notched two fingers at your entrance and pushed in slowly, "I'm going to do an internal nerve check now."
The intrusion steals the breath from your lungs, his thick fingers stretching you out so deliciously. For the first time since the storage closet, it felt like there was some real relief to the ache you've been carrying around.
A broken moan ripped through you when he hooked his fingers, expertly finding your g-spot and rubbing against it mercilessly with the pressure that made your toes curl and your vision white out. Your walls clenched hard around him, your greedy cunt sucking him in deeper.
"Good girl, let it all out. Let me hear you," he said, curling his fingers harder and rubbing tight circles against your throbbing clit. The rubbery squeak of his gloves mixed with the wet schlick of your wetness as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the sound so obscene you felt a little embarrassed.
The coil in your core wound tighter and pinpricks radiated through your body, your orgasm approaching with a vengeance, furious at being previously denied.
"Please, Dr. Abbot, please make me cum, I–fuck, pleeeese I need it," you cried, rocking your hips recklessly against his hand, the movements clumsy and uncoordinated.
He alternated between scissoring his fingers and curling them against your g-spot, "Go ahead, sweetheart, cum for me, you're gonna feel so much better when you cum," he said, the want thick in his voice and his professional tone almost completely abandoned.
He deepened the pressure on your clit, rubbing the nub relentlessly, and with a final crook of his fingers, the coil snapped, your orgasm washing over your in violent waves. You thrashed as the waves of pleasure rolled through you, your veins white hot and burning, toes and fists curling into the sheets. Your mouth hung open in a perpetual 'o', a deafening moan, groan, or some other such mixture of sound reverberating through you.
Jack worked you through it, keeping up the steady pressure until you were a whimpering mess and your hips were retreating from the friction rather than chasing it.
His latex-clad palm was soaked with your release when he pulled away, and he wasted no time licking a thick stripe through your mess, "fuck, honey, I could drink you up," he groaned, his eyes wild as he took in your debauched form, panting and boneless on the bed in front of him.
He shucked the gloves off and gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You squealed at the sudden movement, mind still hazy from the earth shattering orgasm you just had.
"Now–fuck–now I just need to check the elasticity of your vagina," he said, shoving down his pants and boxers in one go. His cock stood proud–long and thick, beads of pre-cum dripping down his shaft. The tip was flushed red and begging for attention.
"I don't give a fuck what you call it Jack, but I need your cock inside me now," you whined, pawing at his shirt, pushing it up his chest until he took over and threw it off. Your hands roamed the newly exposed skin, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his pecs and trailing down the planes of his stomach.
"Okay, baby, 'm gonna take such good care of you, gonna fuck this pussy so good," he said, pushing your legs up to your chest and lining his cock up with your entrance, swiping the tip through your messy folds before pushing into you with one deep thrust.
"Please, Dr. Abbot, I've been aching for your cock all night," you cried, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he split you open, the slight burn giving way to mind-numbing pleasure as he dragged his cock back, leaving just the tip before slamming back in. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward harshly, his heavy balls smacking your ass with each punishing thrust.
"Fuck, I'm so full, Dr. Abbot, you're so deep," you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts, but failing half of the time. He was fucking you so hard that you were seeing stars, his cock dragging exquisitely across every nerve in your cunt, each thrust lighting a fire across your oversensitive body.
"That's it, my girl, knew you could take it. Pussy's fuckin' made for me, tight little thing stretches right around me, fuck, squeezes me just right," he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh where he gripped your thighs.
"J-Jack, fuck–"
"No," he growled, his pace slowing, "That's not my name right now, is it?"
"Dr. Abbot," you corrected quickly, breathlessly, "my pussy was made for you, Dr. Abbot."
"That's right, baby. Fuck, you're such a dirty girl, aren't you? Letting your doctor fuck you stupid," he said, picking the pace back up, doubling his efforts now as he felt how close you were–your pussy contracting wildly around him.
The wet slap of skin against skin echoed throughout the room, intermingled with your wanton moans and Jack's deep grunts.
He shifted forward a bit, forearms bracketing your head, and pushed your legs further up, fucking into you even deeper. His cock rubbed up against the depths of your cunt, and the neatly trimmed patch of curls at the base of his cock brushed against your clit, delivering delicious friction to the sensitive bud.
"Right there, Dr. Abbot, don't stop please, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum," you chanted, eyes squeezing shut as the coil snapped, your back bowing off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. Fire zipped through your veins, radiating from your core to the tips of your toes and the top of your head. Your cunt pulsed rhythmically around his cock, greedily sucking it back in.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful when you cum," he grunted, eyes now trained on the spot where your bodies connected, a creamy ring coating the base of his cock. The remnants of your orgasm and the way your pussy milked his cock sent him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he emptied his load into you.
He stayed buried in you for a moment, pressing soft kisses to whatever heated bits of flesh he could reach. Your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, not pushing him any deeper but keeping him close. You ran your hands through his sweaty curls, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck every once and a while.
"That wasn't too much, was it? I didn't go too far?" he asked hoarsely, brushing your hair out of your face and caressing your cheek.
You shook your head immediately, "not at all. It was so fucking hot," you said honestly, assuring him that you loved every moment of it.
You laid in comfortable silence for a moment before your cheekiness got the better of you, "I'm not sure if you completely alleviated the ache, though. Might need to go a couple more rounds to make sure it's fully gone," you sighed dramatically.
He huffed a laugh at you, "Like I said, pain in my ass," he said, shaking his head.
You ignored that comment, knowing that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
"Ooooh, maybe next time I can play nurse," you mused, a dopey smile on your face as you teased him, "y'know, I could take your vital signs, assess your symptoms–oh! I could even wear one of those slutty little nurse's dresses."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, and continued, "I mean, I could even give you a sponge bath, you are my old man, after all."
You squeaked when he delivered a sharp slap to your thigh, then giggled at the disgruntled look on his face.
"You're just full of it this morning, aren't you?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Old man, huh?"
taglist: @ficcyyfics @realwhoreforfictionalmen
a/n: thank you for reading!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3333
need a pope smut where he makes reader sit on his face and he just can’t help but touch himself while he eats you out
─── FAVORITE POSITION
SUMMARY: There are some days when Andrew just can't get enough of you. So if that means he wants to fuck you silly on his cock and then have you cumming in his mouth right after, so be it.
WARNINGS: slight dirty talk, oral (female receiving, face sitting), masturbation, Pope just loves to be buried in your cunt <3
AUTHORS NOTE: from the bottom of my heart, thank you for sending this in, something about sitting on Pope's face is so brain melting to me hehe
PAIRING: Andrew Pope Cody x Reader
MAIN MASTERLIST
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
"Andy...oh, fuck. Andrew, I'm gonna cum!"
He's got you right where he wants you; fucked out and dumb on his cock, spluttering out whines and profanities. Your cunt clenches around him, desperate to milk him of his release but he's not ready.
He wants his fix—a full fix. He's had a generous dose of your pussy sucking him in, of your tits bouncing in his face and his teeth around your pebbled nipples.
And as much as Andrew loves when you cum around him, when you squeeze his cock so tight it sometimes almost makes him black out, he wants you cumming in his mouth tonight, instead.
A shriek of a gasp tumbles wetly off your lips when his grip on your waist lifts you off the length of his cock, settling you on his rigid abdomen instead.
He hates to do it to you, he really does. But some sick part of him soars at the sight of your teary eyes and desperate pout. Call him a sadist but watching and feeling you rub your sopping pussy over his stomach almost makes him bust.
"Andy—wh—"
"I know you wanna cum, angel." He coos, pawing at the supple skin of your hips and dragging you closer until you’re making a puddle on his chest. "But I wanna taste you when you do."
You're rising slightly on trembling knees when you look at him through bleary vision; the precipice of an orgasm clouding your gaze and fucking with your head.
There's a darkness that washes over Andrew's eyes when he shuffles down the bed slightly, when his head rests against the pillows instead of the headboard, when your cunt is hovering just inches over his face instead of his chest.
He's just so fucking hungry for you. A lust that blows his pupils black and has your blood burning hot beneath your skin.
Pope reaches for your ass, grabbing sensual handfuls and kneading once, twice, before finding your hips again.
"Yeah?" You whisper, and although your voice is hoarse from moans and cries, there's an undeniable twinge of excitment laced within it.
"Yeah. Come on, baby. Sit on my face, let me taste you."
You don't need much more convincing to let him guide you down to his face, his head lifting to close the distance as his hot tongue wipes through the strings of your arousal.
A gasp slips from the back of your throat when he swirls his tongue around your entrance, when he dips it inside and massages it against that part just before your g-spot.
Pope can't help but whimper into your pussy, the taste of you so intoxicating he doesn't know how he'll ever function again without it staining his tongue every moment of every day.
His grip on your hips tightens and he's pulling you closer until his head is sinking into the pillows and your cunt is suffocating him entirely. He doesn't know why he's never suggested this before, why he's never thought of it.
The sounds of your desperate whines above go straight to his aching cock, the rocking of your hips against his mouth enough to have him releasing a hand on you in search of himself.
He wraps a fist around his length with a tight grip when your clit rubs against his nose and you're panting words of filth and praise. Pope doesn't think he's ever found something more erotic in his life than this moment.
His fist begins to move, pumping in quick successions—needy and desperate and mirroring the pace of your rolling hips. His stubble is scratching at your inner thighs, no doubt going to leave a burn but all you can do is tangle your fingers in his curls and tug.
The beg lands heavy in his balls, has his entire body stiffening. It's a split second decision he makes to abandon your needy little hole and wrap his lips around your puffy clit instead. A wise one, by the sound of your fucked out cries and trembling body above.
He's going to cum at the taste of your own release filling his mouth and Andrew holds not one ounce of shame about it. He rubs the flat of his tongue against your nub quickly, sucking on the hood at the same time and suddenly, all you can do it make choked noises and scratch helplessly at his scalp.
Andrew knows you're cumming because you're gushing into his mouth and all over his face; sobbing out his name and how much you love him and just how fucking good he makes you feel.
It's an intense mixture of it all that has his cock twitching and balls tightening until he's spurting hot ribbons of cum all over his hand and abdomen.
And with the overwhelming release that seizes his lungs, Andrew finally realizes it's been about three and a half minutes since he heaved a full enough breath.
But he's gentle when he releases his cock and slowly eases you off his face to sit on his chest again, lungs gulping down air while you do the same. He keeps his palms on your waist, can tell by the sticky sheen on your skin and daze in your eyes that you're stuggling to keep yourself up right.
It's bleary when you blink down at the literal man of your dreams, when the golden glow of the nightstand lamp glistens against his cum-soaked face.
The sight alone has your cunt quivering.
"Jesus Christ, Andrew." You pant through shallow breaths. "Where did that come from?"
He has the audacity to look sheepish, but doesn't divulge that it's now his new favorite position. “Dunno, but I wish we'd done that sooner."
His reply pulls a laugh from deep in your chest, the sound causing his heart to soar as his cock softens to something limp and heavy against his thigh. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of the sound of your happiness.
You reach out for his hand, finding something sticky when you meet his skin and he pulls away quickly, catching his mistake with a grimace while you fight the smile at the fact that he got himself off to eating you out.
"We need to shower."
You could've predicted that—his post-nut clarity, if you will. As soon as the high of his orgasm begins to mellow, he's always quickly reminded of how sticky and sweaty your bodies have become.
He's also overwhelmed that with every inhale, all he can do it smell the scent of your pussy that's seeping into his pours.
It's all a bit too much for him and within half a minute, he's carried you into the shower and is washing you both clean.
summary: as an omega and holder of one of the high seats of mr. le bail's council, you find yourself wanting a mate to grow your family and powerful status. when you invoke a special "mating clause," you pray the alpha of your dreams, Titus Danforth, will find you first.
tags: alpha!titus danforth x omega!reader, alpha/beta/omega au, slight spoilers for the ron2 movie but nothing major outside the trailer clips, possessive titus, canon typical violence, murder, mature themes that go with the alpha/beta/omega universe including: scenting, knotting, biting, mating, breeding kink (additional tags: fem!masterbation, oral!fem!receiving, hard sex, piv-unprotected sex), afab reader, 18+ NSFW MDNI
notes: another one of @oxalaia-quilombensis and i's joint fanfics! absolutely anything she touches, she brings the level of smuttiness and taste that I would be unable to do myself :) MY TAG LIST IS CLOSED BUT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN, please enjoy!
word count: 10.8k
The swell of your estate held the powers of the world.
Your larger-than-needed study had been transformed from your desk and small seating area to a resemblance of a half-circle, chairs all facing the small, elevated space near the back. One chair sat on the upper lip, and you were all but draped in between its two armrests. Your spine pressed straight against the chair, your leg crossed over the other, and your hands gently folded at your lap. You gazed around the room as your fellow high families mingled together, loudly discussing business as though this were an ordinary meeting.
In the past two months, the council had met only once, the result of Grace Le Domas winning her game and wiping out her entire family. Due to that, she’d invoked a difference clause than the one you were currently waiting to announce. By dawn after that particular meeting, she and her sister had been killed, and the Danforths had been reinstated as head of the high families, gaining the seat back mere hours after it had been taken away. You had not been in attendance, but you’d seen the way Titus Danforth forced Grace out of hiding only to kill her first and then her sister. His acts of dominance throughout the hunt had impressed you, another reason why you’d specifically asked for his attendance.
When he’d walked through the door, your insides sang at the waft of his papery-money and patchouli scent that screamed alpha in a way that had your stomach flipping and core pooling. With his salt-and-pepper curls and thick stature, his presence alone seemed to command the room, even if you were technically the one with power. You watched as he tried not to smirk every time someone glanced at the Le Bail sigil ring on his finger.
While the rest of the families, the ones lucky enough to be promoted after the demise of the Wilkinsons, the Rajans, the Wans, and the El Caidos, vied for information as to why you’d gathered them in the first place, Titus seemed to not care. He drank from a whiskey glass and failed to join any boisterous conversations. Although, he did make it a point to catch your gaze every few minutes, his hazel eyes meeting yours in a stare that only ended when you looked away each time.
You slunked into your chair, and your fingers tapped rhythmically against the other. To get your meeting started, you only needed one more person to make it official, and you knew he was ever one for dramatics.
A sudden three knocks on the study door had your eyes chasing the sound towards the back of the room in time to see the Lawyer walk through, only followed by a shorter woman who carried the large, ancient black book that was always present during any meeting. As he walked, he caught the eyes and flared nostrils of those in attendance. Unlike everyone who presented with a second gender, gaining a special scent unique to their person, the Lawyer held no scent nor seemed to have the specifics of a second gender.
His burning blue eyes met yours, and the corners of his lip stretched into a smile. He did not acknowledge anyone else in the room as he walked past, a rude gesture to some, but the Lawyer was notorious for carrying out the will of Le Bail without stopping. And today, you were a part of that will. He stopped within a foot of where you sat and outstretched a hand for you to take.
His fingers curled around yours warmly as he spoke. “Mr. Le Bail remains to be very happy with you.”
“All thanks to his good fortune and blessing upon me,” you said, the words familiar on your tongue, your honeycomb and orange scent blooming at the praise.
You’d been in Mr. Le Bail’s circle of high standing for years. His blessing had been bestowed after your first hunt, the one that ended with you, an omega, standing in the middle of a blood bath of alphas and betas. You’d won your hunt against the odds towering over you. And you hadn’t cowered, hadn’t rolled over and offered your body as a means of survival. You’d taken lives, and Mr. Le Bail acknowledged your commitment to his cause.
You became untouchable.
Suddenly, hunts weren’t an obligation to join; they were a choice, and for the most part, you chose to stay out of them. Besides, you made sure to stick to the quota of sacrifices written in your personal contract, something not available to the rest of the families. You’d been leading as head of the Du Pont family for five years after your father, mother, and older brother died, their bodies bursting into a red, gooey mess. Their sentence had been given after you’d turned them in for a break of contact. Your lack of hesitation and allegiance to your benefactor over your family made Mr. Le Bail very pleased.
To show his gratitude, he’d given you a personal clause for when or if you ever wanted to replace your family members.
For a few years, you waited, wanting to build something for yourself, because at the end of the day, alphas, especially males, always found ways to disappoint you. Each one you thought might be a contender turned out to be someone you’d rather ask Mr. Le Bail to wipe off the face of the earth than ever think of giving him a bond. However, the first time you had the pleasure of setting your eyes on Titus Danforth, you had the feeling that he could be yours one day. His attitude and petulance made room for him to grow, and you knew that he’d be a fine alpha once he got out from under his father’s thumb. After winning back the high seat, his twin alpha-sister, Ursula, had taken more of the business side while Titus continued to have an affinity for hunts and smaller jobs that dealt with the darker parts of his family’s contract. When you’d been introduced during a smaller gathering, you swore Mr. Le Bail gave deep approval of him with just a touch of your hands.
Suddenly, your want to build your family and empire had Titus Danforth at its center. You wanted him in your nest; you wanted to wear his mark on your neck; you wanted to carry and give him his heirs. Upon those deep-rooted desires, you contacted the Lawyer, asking that he trigger a meeting of the high counsel as more of a complementary act.
The Lawyer let go of your hand and turned around to face the room. “Thank you all for being here on such short notice,” his voice carried loud enough that everyone quieted down to listen. “Since we have some . . . newer families, and this is the first gathering since you all have been promoted within the circle, I will introduce myself and then the others. I am the sole attorney for Mr. Le Bail and the Le Bail organization, which is led by a council made up of the heads of six families: the Danforths, the Bellinis, the De la Vegases, the Kassels, the Frasers, and Miss Du Pont.”
Everyone’s eyes turned towards you, and you simply smiled.
“The reason you all are here is because Miss Du Pont has decided to invoke a clause of her own.”
“Is she allowed to do that?” the head of the Bellini family questioned with a sneer. “I thought that contracts were only triggered by death or Mr. Le Bail himself.” His eyes trailed down your body with disgust. “Especially since she’s an omega.”
The Lawyer stared at him boredly and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You’d be better off knowing to hold your tongue, or, if you must, use the proper respect when addressing Miss Du Pont.”
Near Mr. Bellini, Titus scoffed loudly before taking a sip at his glass. “Are you a fucking idiot?”
“Excuse me?” Mr. Bellini questioned, head whipping toward the other alpha.
Titus gestured up towards you. “Do you even know what Du Pont stands for?” He hummed contemplatively. “Probably not since you’ve already painted yourself as an imbecile, so let me spell it out for you. It’s French for of the bridge, and that omega you’re staring at happens to be part of the bridge right to Mr. Le Bail. So I’d think twice about speaking your mind around her when she’s more than capable of cutting out your tongue and feeding it to you.”
You rolled your shoulders to ease the building tension that formed while Titus basically defended you and sang your praises. From the corner of your eye, you could see that the Lawyer was also less miffed about being interrupted than he would have been if it hadn’t been Titus who’d done it. You understood that since Titus took the high seat, he’d been in talks with the Lawyer about certain things, and maybe the two of them had grown to share a mutual respect for the other.
The Lawyer huffed loudly, drawing attention back to him. “As I was saying, Miss Du Point asked me to call this meeting of the High Council out of courtesy to announce that she has, as is her right by Mr. Le Bail, invoked her mating clause.”
At his word, the alphas sucked in a large breath as they now looked at you with eyes filled with hunger and want. You, on the other hand, were only concerned with one hazel set. To your liking, they were set right on you, swimming with hunger but twinged with something deeper. Your hips shifted to release any heated pressure you could find.
“As per her clause given directly from Mr. Le Bail in an attest to his blessing upon her, Miss Du Pont has chosen seven eligible alphas between the ages of twenty-five and fifty from the higher and middle families of the inner circles.” The Lawyer snapped, and his helper brought over the book. He flipped through the pages and stopped near the back. “I will read the rules out loud before announcing the names.”
He held the book out to read, and it seemed as though everyone was at the edge of their seats.
“While the mating clause is active, a hunt from sundown to sunrise will be held on the Du Point estate. During this particular hunt, the alphas of Miss Du Point’s choosing will compete against each other to show their worth and status. They will be given permission to hurt, maim, or even kill the other alphas if the situation sees fit. Alphas are not permitted to use any alpha commands while hunting.”
“And who will we be hunting?” you heard one of the sons from the De la Vegas family ask.
The Lawyer went to reply, but you beat him to it, only offering a one-worded answer.
“Me.”
A pin drop would have boomed in the silence that followed. In his seat, Titus straightened slightly, and his eyes never wavered from your figure.
“Yes,” the Lawyer confirmed, “the alphas will be hunting Miss Du Pont. But I shall add that if any harm comes to her, Mr. Le Bail will be most . . . unhappy.” He scanned the room to get his point across. “Moving on, the alpha who finds Miss Du Pont by sunrise will be chosen as the winner. However, if she is not found, she also reserves the right to pick an alpha of her choosing.”
He glanced over at you, needing to get your approval to continue. You nodded slightly.
“To aid in the hunt and encourage a match between Miss Du Pont and an alpha, she will take a heat-inducer before the hunt starts. And the seven chosen alphas will be given a rut-inducer as well.”
A few rumbles began to fill the air as scents deepened with lust; Titus, however, continued to stay silent.
“Now that the rules of the hunt have been read, I will now announce the alphas chosen to participate.” He handed the book back to his helper and took your list from her other hand. “From the lower families, who have already been sent an invitation, we have Arthur Howard, Enrico De Borja, Sima Yoa, Charles Orsini, Rhodes Ashford, and Byron Coventry.”
“That’s six?” Mr. Bellini pointed out.
“Glad you’re capable of fucking counting,” Titus shot back, but his grin was unmistakable behind his glass.
The Lawyer also fought back a grin, but he hid it better than Titus.
“And for the one alpha chosen from the high family . . .”
You watched as most of the sons and even some of the fathers sat up a bit straighter. It was almost laughable the way they believed themselves to be eligible for your hunt, especially since all of the fathers already had a mate and family. No one seemed to catch onto that there was only one alpha in their midst who held the power of the world in a single ring on his thick finger.
“Titus Danforth.”
Like the cocky son of a bitch he was, Titus held up his glass towards you in a grateful manner, but the way his scent overpowered the rest told you that he was more intrigued and interested than his appearance allowed. Around him, though, the rest of the families stood in an uproar; one even had the notion to start stalking towards your seat, but he stopped right at the edge the moment you felt a burst of flame from behind you, the light of his outline illuminating your skin.
The Lawyer pocketed the list and clapped his hands, bringing the room back to order. “This is the will of Mr. Le Bail. If you have any qualms, you are always welcome to bring them directly to him.”
A few of the alphas looked downright terrified. Titus continued to look smug.
“This meeting is adjourned,” the Lawyer announced, holding out a hand for you to take again.
You quietly slipped your hand in his and rose from your seat. Once the alphas looked calm enough to pass by, the Lawyer led you through their throngs. You avoided eye contact with each of them, and their gazes filled with growing resentment and lust did little to throw you off. Yet, when you dared to look in Titus’ direction, his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel his eyes on you even when you left the room. You let go of the Lawyer’s hand once the door shut behind you, leaving enough time for you to be gone once the families began to vacate the premises.
"Would you excuse me for one moment?” you asked.
“Of course. I’ll be in the lobby, and we can go over the final details over dinner,” he responded, already heading in the direction of the front door. He’d been over enough times to know his way around.
You turned to the left and made your way to the small, hallway bathroom. Once the door locked with a click, you leaned your head against the grain, allowing yourself to breathe in normal air without the conflicting scents in the room. While your chest slightly heaved, you slowly dipped your fingers below the waist of your pants. Instantly, you were met with a wetness you knew you’d had since Titus entered the study.
Before your father was sent to hell, you would have been disgusted to have such a reaction to an alpha, let alone just his scent. That was something your father had instilled in you, a reflection of his resentment in having an omega offspring. Your first heat had been spent alone and in pain, and your father only said that it would build character to show that you could never be weak.
But oh, did Titus Danforth make you pathetic.
Your bottom lip crushed between your teeth as you gently circled your enlarged clit, the swipes gliding easily with your slick. You didn’t know if the alphas had left, but the need to relieve pressure had you not caring. A small moan-turned-whine ripped through your vocal cords, and your unoccupied hand slapped across your mouth to muffle the sounds. Your thighs tightened around your hand, and you bent over when you dipped a finger into your core. The added digit had your stomach tightening and your fingers speeding up. You tried your best to stay quiet, but as you reached your climax, a true whine slipped through the slots of your fingers, inner muscles contracting steadily around your finger.
You were left panting against the door, knowing you’d taken far too long for a normal bathroom break. Quickly, you tried to compose yourself, patting down your shirt and wiping some of the dripping slick on a random towel you tossed to the floor. The only evidence were your pruned fingers and slightly sickeningly sweet scent.
With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door and stepped back out into the hall. However, you didn’t even make it two steps before you ran into something solid enough that you jolted off balance. Twin hands clamped down on your upper arms and held you steady, and one small sniff told you exactly which alpha had caught you after a moment of self-pleasure.
“Titus,” you breathed as you looked up into his hazel hues.
If he hadn’t smelled you through the door, you were sure he had now by the way his nostrils flared with each breath he took.
Instead of answering, Titus continued to stare down at you until his gaze caught onto your raised hands that hand planted firmly on his chest after he caught you. His right hand released your arm in favor of grabbing the hand that, moments ago, had been stuck down your pants. He brought it up to his face before leaning in, nose trailing up each finger, chest puffing out in deep inhales of your scent.
If he were any other alpha, you would have wrenched out of his grasp and slapped him across the face. But this was Titus, the alpha you’d been dreaming of only to wake up in a puddle and heat at your core, the alpha you wanted to build something with.
Titus surprised you even further when his tongue darted out and kitten-licked at your fingerprints, the hot muscle contracting around your skin in languid motions. He never broke eye contact through his ministrations of cleaning you up. Once you were sure all remnants of slick had been lapped up by his tongue, he pulled away. By now, his scent was overpowering, but all it did was send another rush of need and want for him through your body.
You thought he might kiss you with the way his face suddenly leaned in towards yours, but he stopped inches away from your lips, hot breath fanning over the tip of your nose. His hazel eyes were blown, and you were sure yours reflected his as well. If Mr. Le Bail hadn’t graciously given you the contract, you would have offered for him to take you there and then against the walls of your home.
But you had to follow the rules, play the game. And Titus knew too.
His mouth parted slightly. “I just want you to know,” he whispered, tone promise-filled, “it’s going to be me, omega, . . . who gets you.”
Your jaw tipped up to the point your lips could have almost touched, and you smiled. “I look forward to it, alpha.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Titus felt insatiable.
It had only been a week since he’d had a taste of you, and the memory of your slick burned at the back of his throat every time he recounted the scene with a hand wrapped around his cock under the cover of night.
He never knew how addicting an omega could be. All the women he’s ever been with were betas; he didn’t possess the patience to deal with the neediness of the fairer secondary sex or even with alphas for that matter—his own need for control made bedding the latter an exhausting affair. But now he was different, now he craved to have you again, drinking your scent and slick straight from the source.
That specific brand-new craving washed over his body in waves as he stood with the rest of the lower families. The simmering heat of an upcoming rut due to the pill he’d swallowed almost thirty minutes ago, per the hunt’s rules, made his desires for you almost uncontainable, especially with how it warred with his disgust for the rest of the half-paked alpha pups that littered your study. But he knew he’d be able to act on both feelings as soon as they were all set free into your land. Then, he’d be able to make his disdain for these boys known in a much more visceral way.
But he couldn’t help but think you’d done this on purpose, choosing to put him, an experienced alpha well in his prime, right in the middle of six alphas who probably didn’t know where to stick their knots. Easily, he’d be able to take each and every one of them down if the situation called for it, and he prayed that it would. His teeth itched with the want to sink them into deep jugulars and feel the slick of blood along his gums. His eyes grazed across the small crowd, and an unpleasant feeling crept up his throat when he couldn’t find you. Obviously, he knew you were probably preparing and wouldn’t even put yourself in the middle of this flock while pre-heat settled into your body.
Smart girl.
He took another sip from his drink, the alcohol giving him a pleasant buzz to wash out the growing scent of pre-rut stink from the others. One in particular, however, had him almost gagging from it: Byron Coventry and his scent of wet leaves and sour apple. He was one of the most pathetic excuses an alpha Titus had ever come across. He wanted to break his little neck every time Byron opened his mouth, vulgar fantasies about you spewing from his teeth. But Titus kept himself in check; he was better than the rest, and he had nothing to prove. He knew he was the perfect mate for you, would even bet that Mr. Le Bail was also in contempt.
He blessed whoever was listening when he spotted the Lawyer slowly making his way to the front of the study, the same place he’d been a week ago as he announced your clause to the rest of the high families.
“Attention please,” he announced, effectively quieting the room once again. “The sun will dip below the horizon in approximately ten minutes. Miss Du Pont has been given those moments as a head start. Please take this time to prepare yourselves and whatever you have brought.” He steeled his blue eyes. “And just remember, if Miss Du Pont is harmed in any way . . . well . . . let’s just say you won’t see tomorrow. I know you all are very familiar with how Mr. Le Bail punishes those who break his rules.”
The small crowd of seven scattered soon after, Titus going directly for his war hammer he stowed in the corner upon his arrival. Its heavy metal was a comforting weight in his palm. With it, he had never lost a hunt. He twirled it once before resting it over his shoulder.
“What are you going to do with that old man? Knock her unconscious?” Bryon called out while shoving his guns into their holsters at his waist. “I’ll tell you that omegas are much sweeter when they’re awake to squirm a bit, especially when they get to fight back. Makes it all worth it when you get to just take them.”
Titus rolled his eyes and scoffed. “This is going to go right through your skull.” His voice carried an assuredness that sent a visible shock and shiver through Byron. He stepped away and placed his glass back down onto the bar.
The next seven minutes were tortuous, By now, every breath Titus took singed his nose as the overwhelming reek of rut permeated the air. Every so often, small growls would slip through clenched teeth, and Titus wondered if someone would explode into a violent frenzy before the hunt could even begin until the Lawyer reappeared at the entrance to the study this time. “The alphas will be let out one at a time, starting with the youngest and so on.”
“The old man is going to fall behind,” Byron jeered with a snort.
The Lawyer squared his shoulders. “Mr. Coventry, I can assure you that Mr. Danforth is more than capable. Do note that he also has never lost a hunt in the thirty plus years that he’s been a part of Mr. Le Bail’s circle. Not only that, but he also holds the highest seat of the council.”
Titus stood a bit straighter, and the rest went silent as they lined up. Titus stood directly behind Byron, even though there was a twenty-year gap between them. He lowered his head toward the younger alpha’s ear.
“If you even think of taking her by force, I will hunt you down well after all of this is over and personally escort you to the gates of hell myself.”
He straightened as though nothing had happened, but the tell-tale whiff of fear further curdling Byron’s repulsive, aroused rotten scenet had Titus smirking.
Just as Titus was the last to be left in the study, the Lawyer held out an outstretched hand, stopping him mid-step, to which Titus cocked a questioning eyebrow. Without saying anything, the Lawyer withdrew something tightly wound from his pocket and gave it to Titus.
“A small gift, if you will,” the Lawyer stated with a wink. “Miss Du Pont sends her regards.” He stepped aside from the door and let Titus through.
The handful of fabric Titus kept in his palm taunted him to unravel it as he walked. Before he could venture too far into the open grassy field that led to the forest licking the edge of your estate (much like his own), he paused, set down his war hammer, and brushed his thumbs over the fabric to straighten it out. His mouth went dry when he realized what he was holding. Another brush of his thumb came back wet, and Titus brought the digit to his mouth and sucked, the sweetness of your slick latching onto his tastebuds.
He’d already been half-hard before under the effects of the inducer, but the smallest taste of you had his cock fully swelling and throbbing in his pants.
You’d given him your underwear, and the thought of you running around with your cunt bare under whatever you were wearing had him pushing the fabric into his back pants pocket and stalking through the field with a fire under his steps. Tall grass flattened underneath his black hunting boots. Once the softer ground turned into hard dirt covered in leaves and twigs, he slowed his steps, taking deep breaths as he walked further. At the entrance, an onslaught of honeycomb and orange made him dizzy but also impressed. In attempts to throw the alphas off, you’d wiped slick across the bark of random trees in different directions.
His chest finally rumbled at the thought of such a skilled omega, one that would be on par with his alpha.
Not knowing where to start, he continued to step into the trees, their crowns shadowing him from the moonlight. He could smell a few alphas on his path, but they either dimmed or stopped abruptly. A few sticks snapped, and his head would whip in that direction, nose flaring to pick up any scents, but he knew you were too smart to be wandering around. By now, you probably had already found a place to hide, somewhere only you knew since this was your land. Instead of having the upper hand, the ball was in your court.
Titus set out to find running water, a stream perhaps. Fresh water meant you could cross and mask your scent in the ever-changing bank, the mud helping to mask footprints. His ears picked up the sound of a trickle to the right, and he turned in the opposite direction. You would have also known that alphas would first go for the water, the oldest trick in the hunting book. If you were any normal prey, he would have had you in minutes. But you were practically his equal, the two of you holding some type of the highest blessings from Mr. Le Bail.
By three hours in, Titus hadn’t found so much a trace of you, and he was starting to believe that you would be the one to last the entire twelve hours until sunrise. However, a small chirp from a couple yards in front of him had him pausing, war hammer poised in his hands. Another twig snapped, and he caught his first voice of the night.
Only, instead of belonging to you, it belonged to someone entirely different, someone Titus had been keeping in mind to silence his bloodlust.
“Come out, come out, omega,” Byron sang too loudly into the quiet atmosphere. “I know you’re close. That cute little noise you gave out—” He chuckled deeply. “Means your body is just begging for me.”
Titus ground his teeth, and his jaw clenched tightly. His fingers gripped around the war hammer’s shaft to the point of white knuckles. He kept his steps soft, eyeing where sticks lay in his path, careful to step over them.
“You smell so fucking sweet; I bet you’re just waiting to roll over and present. You’re going to feel so good around my dick. My knot’s been begging for sweet pussy for so long, and to think, the next one is going to belong to Mr. Le Bail’s pet.”
Much to Titus’ horror, another soft chirp sounded at the same audible tone as Byron’s voice, meaning you and he were too close for Titus to be comfortable with. In any other circumstance, Titus would leave you to it; he’d seen the way you took down each and every alpha and beta in your hunt while barely looking like you’d broken a sweat. But this was entirely different. You were under the effects of a deepening preheat, something you’d gone into willing to find out which alpha would fight to keep you safe. And Titus would rather cut off his hands than let an alpha like Byron Coventry lay his eyes on you like this, let alone a singular finger.
Thankfully, the man seemed to enjoy hearing himself rather than looking out for his safety, giving Titus the perfect cover to get in closer. Your thick scent grew sweeter the more he walked, and he wondered how long Byron would be able to control himself with the heavy pheromones of a fertile omega swimming in the air. Even Titus could feel his own self control waning.
Byron gave off a low growl, and he continued stalking through the forest like a child having a tantrum. “Fucking show yourself. If you’re waiting for that old man, I’ll tell you now that you’ll be so disappointed with an alpha like him. I bet he couldn’t even get it up, much less pop a knot.” His torso twisted desperately. “I bet Mr. Le Bail is disappointed with you. He took pity on a sad, family-less omega. It’s a shame really that you’ll lose his favor the moment you mate with someone. You can’t be his if you belong to someone else, and baby, you’ll belong to me.”
Like a whistle, a whine cut through the air like a knife, and Titus knew he had to act now. He threw caution to the wind and leaped out into the small clearing where the moonlight reached through the leaves. He’d been successful in getting an ambush on Byron, the younger alpha’s knees crumpling as Titus’ greater weight tackled him to the ground.
Titus was met with a hard hand against his jaw, but he was faster. He wrenched the hand off and pinned the wrist down into the dirt. While Byron desperately tried to claw for his guns, the ones currently in the holster Titus ripped away from his belt and threw it behind him. Without looking away from Byron’s now terrified face, Titus leaned over and grabbed his war hammer, the sharp, pointed end facing the side of the younger alpha’s head, right above his ear near his temple. By the time Titus pinned him fully, his scent had deepened from papery-money and patchouli to a full forest singeing with fire. He leaned over and straddled Byron’s chest, knees digging into his arms to keep him still while holding Byron’s face toward the side, cheek down into the forest floor.
“I did warn you,” Titus whispered, “that I’d put this right through your skull.”
He didn’t even wait for a reply before brutally shoving the sharp end straight through Byron’s head, the tip cracking bone and giving way through brain matter like a hot knife through butter. Titus didn’t relent until the point came out the other side. Blood instantly spurted, thick drops hitting Titus’ chin and cheeks and neck. He closed his eyes and listened fully to the way Byron squirmed in the last attempts of his body fighting back, his soul not knowing that his brain had just been decimated. His huffs of anguish and small jolts were a full symphony to Titus’ ears. He kept a firm grip until Byron’s life force oozed out completely just like his blood and brain had. Once he was sure the alpha would never rise again, Titus pushed up from the ground, spine straightening as he went quiet, only his panting remained the only sound in the air. He grabbed onto the war hammer shaft and yanked the pointed end out, Byron’s body following before slipping back down to the earth.
Titus knew he was dead, but that didn’t stop him from swinging his weapon over his shoulder and bringing the mallet end back down. Byron’s face gave way under the force, the rest of his skull and skin splattering across the ground. Titus straightened as he stood to his full height, ears alert to catch the smallest noise from where you hid.
“Come on, omega,” he whispered. “Tell me where you are.”
He was gifted with another chirp directly in front of him. When he looked over, he met your wide but pleased gaze, the bottom of your face hidden by a tree that gave way into a divot in the earth. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had a nest of some sort, but his curiosity would need to be pushed aside for now. Even from where he stood, he could tell that you were beginning to fade into the beginning stages of your heat.
Without waiting, Titus rushed over, and you gave him yet another chirp in return at his eagerness. His senses swam when he finally halted in front of you, dropping down to his knees to be at your eye level.
You whimpered loudly when his scent finally hit your nose, finding key hints of a metallic twang you knew well to be blood. You’d heard the short-lived dual between him and Byron, and Titus would personally be rewarded for taking him out. And now that you had him on his knees in front of you, you weren’t going to let him go like you had to last week after he’d found you in the hall.
“Titus,” you whimpered.
He shuffled on his knees until he slightly hovered over you but still kept his distance. Unlike most, Titus had read the clause and understood that even if he had found you, you still held the ability to refuse his advances. It would hurt him, yes, and he’d have to lock himself away to ride out his rut, but if you did, he’d stay to make sure no other alpha found you before dawn.
He waited for you to say something, but all you did was chuff and hook your ankles into his strong forearms, thighs contracting as you began to pull him inward.
“If you don’t do something,” you hissed, “I will get myself off and make you watch.”
Titus responded with a warning growl that had your head tilting back to bare your neck once the sound met your ears. He took a hold of your ankles and secured them around his hips.
“No need to get so nippy,” he scoffed. “I’ll give you what you want, but you need to say please. Manners are important after all.”
You echoed his scoff, making sure to push it to a louder degree. “I bet you’ve never said fucking please once in your life.”
He tsked while his hands busied at the dirtied hem of the dress you wore. “You’ll be surprised to know that I have, in fact, said please on multiple occasions.” He looked up into your eyes. “Let me hear you say it.” He paused with a deadly smirk. “Please.”
Saliva pooled around your tongue, and you quickly swallowed it down. “Please.”
“Good girl,” he muttered before fully lifting your dress to display your bare lower half. He didn’t even attempt to hold back the groan building in his throat at the sight of your moonlit, glistening heat.
Without the added layer, your scent was so thick Titus could taste it on his tongue.
“You’ve been like this since your headstart.” He didn’t pose it as a question since your slick-soaked underwear were still stuffed in his back pocket. “Just sitting here, waiting for an alpha to come find you and—”
“Waiting for you,” you interrupted, not once flushing in embarrassment at your confession. “There was never going to be a different alpha, Titus. It was always going to be you no matter what.”
Titus set the hem of your dress to drape across your lap, and in the next breath, he leaned forward until his mouth met yours in a searing kiss. There was no time for lazy motions since your heat was building with every moment, so Titus impatiently mouthed wetly at your lips. Your hands planted themselves on both of his cheeks while he bent so low you didn’t have any other choice but to slowly lean back against the earth. His size towered over you, and he could easily kill you right then and here; the thought had your hips bucking wildly into his, and you moaned loudly against his teeth. He ripped back at the feeling, saliva dripping from his mouth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, “I need to taste you.”
A high-pitched whine flew from your lips as he leaned back in to mouth and suck at your scent gland. He didn’t dare break the skin, knowing your bed lay waiting back at the estate to grow a bond, but he did allow himself to lick hotly across it.
“T-Titus—fuck—please, I-I need—”
He nipped carefully at the skin next to the gland. “I know what you need.”
His right hand glided across your hip and over your thigh to dip near your core. The first brush of his fingertips against your outer folds had you keening. In return, Titus rumbled, the two of you communicating at the deepest instinct possible. He slowly dragged his fingers through your slick until they pressed into the hardened bud of nerves that sent lightning ripping up your spine. In a gentle yet firm circular motion, he fiddled with your clit, drawing out more moans from the depths of your lungs.
“Titus!” you screamed out into the forest.
“There she is,” he muttered, lips moving downwards, hips folding to allow him to get his face near your core. Before going any further, he took the largest inhale possible and moaned deeply. He had half a mind to run his chin and cheek through your slick, wanting to get your scent embedded into his pores.
But that was something for a different time.
Now, he needed to finally taste you right from the source.
His tongue peaked out from his lips and dragged upward from your fluttering hole to your clit, the pressure making your back arch beautifully. He drank and drank and drank your slick like a dehydrated man in a never-ending desert. Each swipe had his mouth full of the scented and sweetened lubrication that your body pumped out in preparation for you to take a knot—his knot.
Just the thought had him groaning, and the vibrations almost sent you over the edge. You needed to hold onto something, and your fingers quickly found his curls and yanked at his roots. The sting seemed to spur him on, so you pulled harder, keeping his face buried between your thighs.
“Titus,” you panted heavily. “I need—fingers—oh, fuck, finger, please!”
“So polite,” he spoke into you with a smirk and raised eyebrow. “I knew you could do it.”
He gave you exactly what you wanted in the form of his thick pointer finger slipping into your innermost parts. If he were an inexperienced alpha, he probably would have cum from imagining your oh-so tight muscles contracting around his cock.
The additional pressure and finger thicker and longer than your own had you catapulting towards your climax.
“So fucking tight,” he grated, finger thrusting in and out in wet squelches. “How am I even going to fit my knot into here?”
“Titus, I’m close; I’m—” you squealed. “Alpha!”
Without warning, Titus thrust in and curled both his pointer and middle fingers against that soft spot deep inside and sucked hard on your clit simultaneously. You had no warning. You howled with a dropped jaw as you came, eyes rolling back deeply into your skull. Your back arched completely off the ground, but Titus pressed you back down with a large hand splayed across your lower belly. He kept up his thrusting but softened his licks into savored movements as you came down from the high. He only stopped when you pushed a hand against his forehead, a silent signal that you needed a minute. With a wet pop, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He shoved both of them in his mouth while maintaining eye contact with you, your slick permanently etching into his tongue.
Once done, he leaned back over you for another wet, opened-mouthed kiss. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, he fed you the lingering taste of your sweet, honey-like arousal. His other hand cupped your cheek, holding you in place against him. Your skin felt scorching and feverish against his fingertips, and it dawned on him that the orgasm he just gave you hadn’t been enough to hold off your heat. No, instead, it’d been the spark to light the inferno within your belly.
And now he was here, cock straining against his pants and body being consumed by a rapidly approaching rut with an unmated omega seconds away from a full blown heat beneath him. He swiftly yanked the hem of your dress back down before gathering you into his arms. With cracking knees, he staggered off the ground into a standing position.
You whined confusingly at the sudden change in position, completely out of it due to your overtaking heat, and he gently hushed you with a soft rumble of his chest.
“I need to get you back,” he growled, taking a large step in the direction of your estate. His hands held you tightly against him. “Need to fuck you; need to knot you; need to have you baring my mark by sunrise.”
His words added fuel to the already burning fire in your core, and you couldn’t help the anticipating whimper that followed. Because the moment Titus got you back to your room, to your nest, all cards were off the table and he was free to take you as he pleased, to take you as his mate.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
You curled further into Titus as he practically kicked down the door to your master bedroom.
Getting back to the estate had been thankfully uneventful. Either the Lawyer knew enough to send the rest of the alphas packing, or the utter stench of Titus’ possessiveness that infected your scent had them backing away without a second thought.
Whatever it was though gave you and him a clear path with Titus stopping at nothing until he got you where he wanted. He had carried you the entire way, but after he closed the door behind him with his foot, he set you down.
“Strip and get in your nest,” he uttered, making sure no trace of alpha command seeped his timber.
You obeyed without thinking, instincts taking completely over the longer you drank in his scent. The dress ripped off in one try, leaving you completely bare. Goosebumps raised across your flushed skin. Your bedroom had been prepared, much cooler than normal, to combat your elevated temperature while you went through the highs and lows of your heat. The cooled air pebbled your nipples into stiff peaks as you walked over to your nest, knees hitting the soft blankets while you crawled into the middle.
Behind you, Titus locked the door and double checked for any weaknesses, instincts roaring at him to keep you protected, keep you all to himself. Under no circumstance would he allow anyone—alpha, beta, or even omega—to interrupt the two of you. After making sure the lock would hold, he turned back around to the sight of you outstretched across the sheets looking straight out of his most dirty dreams, right hand already swirling around your clit, fingers barely dipping into your hole with legs spread wide while your left hand pinched and grabbed at your breasts.
Titus began peeling off his muddy and bloodied clothes as he walked closer. He kept his boxers on even if he knew they’d be off in moments because he needed you to want this, to want him, and more importantly, to beg for it. Even if his alpha screamed at him to take, take, take, he wouldn’t dare enter your nest without permission. He stood next to the bed near your torso, watching and waiting for you to let him in.
Through lidded eyes, you looked over and mewled, “Alpha, please. Need you in here with me.”
That’s all he needed to scramble through the blankets of your nest.
Titus immediately took his place over you, slotting his hips between your legs and beginning to grind against you. Your thighs parted wide for him automatically and wrapped around his waist.
While Titus focused on covering your neck in as many marks as he could at the moment, your fumbling hands reached for his length, eager to get what you’d been truly craving. A whine, high pitched and pathetic, left your lips when your way was blocked by his underwear. The material was already soaked through, covered in the tantalizing scent of your slick mixing with his precum.
“C’mon, darling,” Titus’s low voice rumbled through you where his lips were pressed to your neck, right over your scent gland. You longed for his teeth to sink in, and your incisors itched to leave your own mark on his neck. You wanted to be his and you wanted him to be yours. “Tell me what you want.”
“Titus!”
“Mmm,” he hummed, his cock throbbing at how you so deliciously said his name. He was still mouthing over your scent gland but being careful to keep his teeth to himself. “Use your words.”
Your mind was growing fuzzy, the burning heat that left you aching for him was starting to hurt. You were so empty. If he didn’t hurry this up, you’d have to take matters into your own hands, and you knew in your frenzied state, you’d be unable to satisfy either of you.
“You, need you,” you were pawing at the fabric that kept you from what you really wanted.
“And what do you need from me?”
“For you,” the frustration and neediness you were feeling sharpened your senses for just a moment. Your hand squeezed around his length through his briefs. “To claim me.”
Titus groaned at the pressure and the aggression sharpening your scent. He loved to see you deadly and dangerous, a beautiful juxtaposition to your omegan sweetness.
“I will claim you-”
“Now,” you squeezed harder, your voice dropping into a growl. “Don’t be a fucking pussy. I thought you were a big, strong alpha. Maybe I should have found someone else to get the job done.”
“Shut up,” Titus’s hand closed over your neck, fingers digging into the sides.
Your lips opened, dying to egg him on, but no words came out. The sheer force of his command had rendered you speechless. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. Yes. This was what you needed. You wanted your alpha – and he was yours, there was no doubt about it – to take what he needed from you. He was the most powerful man in the world, an alpha who made other men tremble in their boots, and you wanted to see him become a slave to his baser instincts, with no choice but to indulge in everything you had to offer him. You wanted him to take it, to make you his.
“Oh, so that’s what you wanted, huh?” Titus laughed as your clarity faded away, your eyes glazing over and your chest heaving with every gasping breath. “You want me to command you? To take control? To make every decision since your empty little brain is too dumb to do anything except beg for my knot?”
Though your paralyzed vocal chords wouldn’t let you make a sound beyond a pathetic whine, your lips moved, pleading inaudibly.
Yes, yes Titus, please.
His hips jerked forward, rutting into your hand. “You want me to fuck you until you cry while you just take it like the good omega you are?”
Titus’s order was wearing off, allowing a squeak that vaguely resembled a ‘yes’ to fill the minimal space between your bodies. His chest rumbled as he hummed in delight. The fingers wrapped around your neck loosened and lifted as Titus backed away from you. He settled on his knees between your spread thighs, knocking your hand away from where you were halfheartedly trying to stroke his cock. Under normal circumstances, Titus would have scoffed and berated you for such a pisspoor attempt at pleasing him, but with his rut looming on the horizon, the clumsy squeezing was working him up much more than he’d like to admit.
He carefully pried your hands away from him, holding them tight. Head tilting, he took a moment to look over your body. You were flushed and panting, staring up at him with desperate eyes and a hungry expression. Your nipples were hard and your breasts heaved with every breath. His eyes trailed down, taking in the softness of your abdomen, the flare of your hips, and the perfectly soft, bare skin between your legs, baring your cunt to his hungry eyes. He’d have to hide your razors in the future, but for now he was grateful to see every inch of you. You made the perfect picture of a needy omega in the throws of heat.
Letting go of your hands, he slid his own over your thighs. His mouth watered at the silky smoothness of your skin beneath his palms. He wanted to trace every inch of you with his tongue, but right now there were more pressing matters.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he patted the outside of your thigh.
“No,” your ability to speak was returning. “Titus, like this-”
“Get on your hands and knees,” he let the power seep into his words as he shuffled back on his knees. “And I will give you everything you desire.”
You were unable to resist the order, and your body was turning over before you could protest. Even though you’d chosen the blankets specifically for their softness and comfort, the fabric grated against your skin, shooting unpleasant sparks through each of your nerves. Nothing felt as good as his skin on yours.
“Please,” you whimpered. You settled into position, shaking arms struggling to hold up your body. The emptiness in your cunt was terribly painful now at this point.
“Present.”
You let out a loud and obscene moan as Titus forced you into position without lifting a finger. The arch in your back deepened, hips tilting and thighs spreading wide to give Titus the perfect view of where you needed him the most. Your arms gave out, your face pressing into the blankets against your will, but god did it feel good. Despite the contortion and the strain it should have caused your muscles, it felt so good, like this was how you should always be. Like any other placement of your limbs was unnatural and wrong.
He knew that the combination of your heat, his commands, and the eroticism of the situation the two of you found yourselves in were the driving forces behind your obedience, but it still stroked his ego. A beautiful omega, a powerful woman in your own right, bending over for him and begging for his touch. It was addictive. Titus knew he’d crave this everyday for the rest of his life and, after he claimed you, he’d be able to have it.
“So good for me, omega,” his hands cradled your ass. You whined at the touch, trying to push back into his touch, but he tutted at you. “Stay still, darling.”
“Titus,” you turned your head so your cheek pressed against the mattress. Titus’s command to present meant that you were unable to lift your head up, but you still tried your best to look over your shoulder at him. “Please, it hurts!”
“Shh, ok,” his knees nudged your thighs open wider as he took his position behind you. The throbbing tip of his cock parted your folds, stroking through them from top to bottom. You mewled, but the hand on your ass kept you from trying to push back. “You want me to claim you as mine?”
“Yes!” Your fingers tangled in the sheets.
“You want to wear my mark?” Titus’s hand moved, tracing your spine to curl around the back of your neck. His thumb swiped over the swollen gland there. “Right here?”
“Yes!” Every point of contact between your bodies burned.
“And you want me to put my heir right here?” His hand glided down over your back and around to your stomach until it stopped just over your mound, pressing into the skin.
“Yes, Alpha, please!”
His words were whipping you up into a frenzy, your muscles twitching as you held your position. You needed him more than you needed air.
“You want me to mount you and fuck you and fill you up until you can’t think about anything but my cock?”
“Yes, yes, Titus-”
“Then take it.”
Titus thrust forward, sinking in until his hips met your ass. The entire length of his cock buried inside your cunt, barely inflated knot included.
Your eyes rolled back into your head, mouth falling open as your legs shook. Finally having that empty ache soothed was enough to push you over the edge. You came, your shaking legs spreading even wider to accommodate his body pressed behind yours. You were too far gone for words now, mewling and drooling as your eyelids fluttered. A pleasant buzzing filled your ears, almost drowning out Titus’s groans at your tightening and spasming walls.
“God, fuck,” he panted. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing against your cervix and forcing a sob of pleasure from your throat.
He had taken the edge off, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until the entire world could see his mark on your neck and his child growing in your stomach.
Titus had the presence of mind to give you a moment to adjust. He thought he was showing you some kindness before he lost all of his self control as his rut took over, but that was the last thing you needed. His hands had found their place on your hips, holding you steady, but he could feel you trying to push back against him.
“Greedy little thing,” Titus withdrew, slowly dragging his hard length along your walls until only his head remained tucked within your core. He slammed back in, your body jolting forward from the force of his thrust. “I tried to be nice, but you just want it so bad, huh?”
Titus’s body folded over yours. His chest slotted against your back, pressing you further into the sheets and pinning you down. The change in angle had you gasping. He was rutting deep into you as he growled and groaned. It felt blissful to have him piston in and out of you while his body covered yours.
“S’this what you want?” One of his hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back and to the side to bare your neck to him. He nosed over the skin, his warm breath ghosting over your scent gland sent shivers down your spine.
You let out a garbled moan that might have been a yes. His teeth scraped over the gland and you tightened around him again, walls trying to suck him deeper.
Titus chuckled, his other hand moved up to slide two of his fingers between your lips. They closed around them immediately, your tongue sliding between them, stroking along them like you longed to do with his cock.
“Silly little baby,” Titus’s tone was mocking, but he was breathing nearly as hard as you were. “Just needed something in your mouth.”
His teeth clamped down on your shoulder, inches away from where you longed to feel his fangs pierce your skin. Even if it wasn’t a true claiming bite, the pain was still blissful, mingling with the extreme pleasure of his unceasing thrusting into your cunt to throw you over the edge once again.
“Yes,” he didn’t slow down, even as you cried out around his fingers and your nails ripped through the sheets as you scrambled for something to tether you to reality. You held on, the sound of the fabric tearing joining your desperate noises and the obscene, wet pops of his rapidly swelling knot being forced in and out of your entrance. Through your rhythmic clenching, it was almost painful to be stretched so wide, but you needed to feel it grow even bigger. “Cum on my cock. Just like that.”
Despite his hard and fast thrusts taking the edge off your heat, the emptiness within you was growing more and more demanding. You needed his knot so badly.
“Knot!” The plea clawed its way out of your throat, muffled and barely coherent around his fingers. “Knot, please Alpha!”
“Don’t you know better than to speak with your mouth full?” Titus growled into your ear. The low vibrations of his cruel words rumbled through his body into yours.
“Please, please, please,” you were crying, fat tears rolling down your cheeks to mix with the drool leaking out around his fingers, until he pulled them out. You were finally able to speak, but the only words you could force out were some jumbled variations of please and Alpha!
“Yeah?” He was getting close. The knot at his base growing more and more every second as he worked himself up to the edge. “You need your alpha’s knot?”
“Yes!” You tried to reach back to grab at him, but Titus’s hands caught yours, holding them together in between your bodies. He was bigger and stronger than you and you were unable to free yourself. “Please! Please, please, please, please.”
“I’ll give you what you need,” he was breathing hard, thrusting even harder into you as his knot grew. “Be a good omega and cum on my knot. C’mon, you can do it.”
With one final thrust, he bottomed out. His knot swelled to its maximum size, locking him deep inside you. Titus’s teeth sank into your scent gland. His canines broke the skin, a swell of your sweet blood coating his tongue and gums, and both of you came together instantly. You could feel the bond snapping into place while his cock twitched and emptied deep into your cunt.
Titus’s groans were muffled into your flesh, but your moans flowed freely, intertwined with pleasured purrs that rumbled through your chest. Your body jerked and thrashed beneath his as the sheer amount of ecstasy blazing through your bloodstream rendered you nearly mindless. Through the bond, you could feel his pleasure, too, as it solidified, your minds and souls linking. It only worked to drive your own orgasm into overdrive.
You sobbed his name, squeezing hard around his knot. Every throb of his cock spilled more and more of his release into you, until you felt too full. Titus’s cock was big on its own, but with his knot the size of your fist filling you up as well, all of the cum he was still pouring into was stretching your body beyond the limits you’d thought possible.
He still hadn’t let go of your neck, but he’d released your hands, and they flopped to the mattress. Your strength was sapped, all of your energy going to the involuntary milking of your inner walls clenching tightly around his knot.
“A-alpha,” you whimpered. “Too–too full!”
“Oh, fuck,” Titus’s teeth finally withdrew from your gland when his hand traveled down to settle over your stomach. The skin of your normally flat stomach was slightly distended, a combination of his cock, his knot, and the obscene amount of cum he’d pumped into you. He groaned, and you whimpered in response when his cock jerked and another, new wave of his spend spurted out. “Fuck, omega, you’re so full of me. Such a good omega for taking it all. You’re going to give me a pup in no time.”
A wave of tremors washed over you. Your knees slipped against the blankets that were slick with sweat.
“Let’s get comfortable,” Titus gently maneuvered your locked together bodies until the two of you were laying back to chest. He curled around you, making sure to avoid tugging on his knot. “We’ll be here for a while longer, darling.”
Lying down took the pressure off your muscles, allowing you to fully relax and enjoy the comfort of your new mate’s embrace. Despite the discomfort you still felt—especially as his release still trickled into you—you couldn’t help the contented purrs that continued to rumble through your chest.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” the sound reverberated through your body into his, echoing through your bones and lighting up the most base instincts in Titus. He longed to make you purr like this for him every day for the rest of his life. “My pretty little mate.”
He leaned back enough to eye his mark. It was red and angry and the perfect shape of his teeth, but it was his—you were his. After a lifetime of waiting for a mate, and after a week of waiting to claim you, there was no doubt that he’d be yours for life. His tongue darted out and lapped hotly across your raised skin, drawing a pleased hiss from behind your teeth.
“Mine,” you happily sighed. “My alpha.”
The two of you lied there, basking in the warmth of your shared bodies, hands wrapped around each other and clinging to wherever you could reach. However, it didn’t take long for the quelled, white-hot neediness to grow and simmer back under your skin. Even before Titus’s knot had gone down, your hips began rocking against him, shooting a fresh wave of pleasure through you both, the feeling much more intense than it had at the beginning. The bond was to thank for that.
“Easy,” Titus grumbled. “Knot’s not gone yet.”
“Don’t care,” you gasped when it notched firmly at your hole, allowing a small glop of his and your mixed essence to spill, aiding in the short back and forth thrusts you were trying to pull out of him. “Need you again; need it to take.”
Titus laughed lowly, already in the process of rolling you back over to hover over your spine. “Oh, it’ll take, omega. By dawn, you will be carrying our heir.” His hips jerked, and he pushed his cock back in, his knot disappearing from view into your cunt. “I’ll make sure of it.”
NSFW ⟡.· ft. jack abbot + fem. reader. he loves his babygirl. no doubt about it, but he’s always been strict about you not teasing him while he’s at work, you’ve always liked pushing his buttons though, and when you disobey, someone has to put you in your place. abbot mocks you through it, implied age gap, mean! jack abbot, brat taming, pussy spanking, daddy kink, dumbification, slight dacryphilia. 3.8k.
shawn hatosy hyperfixation is like an infection and i have been infected. first time writing for papa abbot, reblogs + comments are always appreciated. ^_^
abbot isn’t known for his patience. he wasn’t level-headed or calm; sure, he doesn’t crack easily under pressure—any feelings of unease or stress he keeps close to his chest. jack could offer advice; he could talk a resident through a complicated procedure because surgery was taking too long to respond to their page; he could talk about hard and complicated issues using his personal experience, but he wasn’t patient.
you’ve recently developed the frustrating habit of pushing jack’s buttons: you teased, you pushed, you wanted, and while he was more than willing to give, that sentiment only stood when you listened.
you knew better than to send him that. jack knows you do, but knowing doesn’t take away the want to do it.
jack had felt the vibration of his phone inside his pocket as he spoke to ellis, though he didn’t open it then. working night shift in the emergency room meant dealing with the shit you don’t see during the day. it was hard finding time to answer a message from his girlfriend mid-shift, but jack knew you well.
you got pouty if your message sat unanswered in his phone for too long. the last thing he wanted was to come home to see your doe eyes glittering with hurt.
once he finally had a moment to spare, he stepped away from the traffic of the floor, intending to check his phone quickly, expecting a sweet message from you. once his screen lit up, your notification sat on top of a mountain of unnecessary email notifications from newsletters, appointment reminders, and useless travel deals he wasn’t going to take. you had sent him a picture captioned with: ‘i miss you so much, daddy. i couldn’t help myself :(‘
that alone made jack’s shoulders tighten. while he was all for fun and teasing, he had always told you not to send him risky texts when he was at work. not simply because the lives of others sat on his hands; no, he could handle the weight of the world while making sure a person had the best chance to live. he was simply impatient, and if he got turned on while you weren’t there, he disliked the action of waiting.
if all goes to shit mid-shift, he would have to stay for much longer than intended to try and help the transition from night shift to morning shift, which meant spending more time away from you.
after a second of trying to think of what you could’ve possibly sent, he found himself opening the text, despite knowing it would just piss him off. once the picture loaded, the sight of your heavy tits spilling from under your shirt filled his screen, with your hand reaching down between your thighs.
jack felt his body heat up, warmth coming to his neck as he tightened his grip on his phone, jaw clenching tight as he stared at all the little details of the picture, noticing his sheets, your lack of panties, and the small smile curved on your glossy lips. with a frustrated breath, he typed back a quick response.
‘You know I don’t like it when you tease me at work.’
your reply came quick; you had learned early on that if you message him back fast enough, there’s a higher chance of maintaining a brief conversation another before he had to get back on the floor.
‘what are you going to do about it?’ your reply read.
an amused scoff left jack’s lips. who did you think you were? a brat, that’s for sure. of course you just wanted to irritate him; he could see right through you. jack knew you better than anyone else you knew, and he was no better, so your little bratty scheme was effectively working.
‘Just you wait until I come home.’
he typed back with a heavy breath, leaving his lips before shoving his phone back into his pocket, both hands moving towards the back of his neck as he laced his fingers together and rolled his shoulders before he spared a quick glance at the floor. trying to focus on his job while the mental image of you needily rubbing your clit remained in the back of his head felt like his own personal purgatory. he could imagine it vividly: you nuzzled against his pillow with your hand between your thighs, practically humping nothing to soothe the warm ache inside your belly.
bratty girl, eager for daddy, but painfully insolent.
you knew how to push jack’s buttons so well you could be considered an academic with the level of skill that goes into riling up your older boyfriend.
you only wished you could see him, with his jaw locked tight as he continued his work in the emergency room while the idea of you festered inside his brain. jack always looked so good when he was irritated; it only made you miss him more.
his bedroom was a constant reminder of him, from the prescriptions littered around his nightstand down to the yellowish-brown boots he wore when he volunteered for the pittsburgh swat team. with a soft sigh, you plopped down against the bed, curling up against his worn bed sheets before you moved to press your head against his pillow. the smell of his shampoo, sweat, and cologne occupied the air; you moaned to yourself. your delicate hand moved down your stomach before pressing between your thighs as you waited for jack.
already fantasizing about what he would do to you when he arrived back home.
“j—jack—!” you cried out, your tone high-pitched and desperate.
you lay on your side, his sheets rubbing against your sticky skin as the pad of his fingers worked vigorous circles against your sensitive clit, his touch making your body feel feverishly hot. jack lay behind you, his body warm against your back while his free arm lay beneath you, his free hand gripping your breast tight as he kept you pinned against him while he groped you.
his firm chest and soft belly pressed against your back as he nuzzled his face against the curve of your shoulder, his scruffy stubble rubbing against your soft skin as he glanced at your side profile. jack savored the sight of your pretty face while his fingers toyed with the sensitive ball of nerves between your thighs, feeling your body twitch and jolt against his, considering the proximity between you two.
his fingers were thick, his skin coated glossy with your slick, while your hips rolled against his hand desperately, from both the want you had for him and the desperate need you felt for more friction.
“you’re so wet, baby.”
jack cooed, squeezing your chest while applying more pressure against your nub, making your body jolt from the increased pressure applied to your poor clit. you let out a soft sound, barely a gasp, before a breathy moan left your glossy lips. “jack..” you whined; the sound of his name on your lips made his body feel hotter than it was.
“what’s wrong, baby? isn’t this what you wanted?” he taunted, watching you squirm as he continued to toy with your slick pussy, glossy from all of the attention it’s been receiving through the night.
your eyes were shining, sparkling under the dim yellow light of jack’s lamp, his curtains drawn to keep the sunlight out.
as you mewled, your hand moved to rest above his over your chest, fingers shaky as you tried—pathetically—to pull yourself together. the difference in hand sizes was painfully obvious at such a stark comparison. you babbled small words, mostly whimpers of his name, while he made more of a mess from your aching cunny.
jack knew you like the back of his hand; he knew how you bounced your leg when you sat still for too long, how you fiddled with your fingers if you wanted to ask him something but you were too shy, and how you bit your lip when you were deep in thought. he knows he knew you better than anyone, which meant that he knows exactly where to touch to make your brain feel fuzzy.
his hand remained firm, squeezing your chest, fingertips brushing against your hardened nipple to make you tense, before he pulled his other hand away from your cunt. the loss of touch earned an immediate sound of disapproval from you.
“w—what? — why did you stop?” you grumbled, squeezing his hand to accentuate your frustration.
“you really think you’re going to get off after not listening to me?”
jack rasped, the hand that left your clit moving to rest briefly on your stomach before he moved it towards the back of your knee, pushing your leg up to spread you open for him, his heavy dick sitting against your inner thigh as he shifted slightly from behind, angling his body to get better access to your drooling cunt. pushing his available knee up, he tugged you closer, moving his arm from beneath you to rest under the nape of your neck while his hand moved to tangle itself in your hair.
you kept yourself spread open for him as he threw his thick arm over your stomach.
“w—what?” you stammered, for a moment not understanding what he meant.
you were so turned on that it made your memories feel distant, and for a second you forgot how you had gotten yourself into this situation. the memory of your brattiness hours prior refreshed in your mind slowly, and before you could babble out an excuse for your behavior, a sharp spank hit your drooling cunny; the stinging pain that followed afterward made your body jolt.
“what?” jack repeated, drawling out his words mockingly.
“ow!” you yelped.
your thighs twitched; your first instinct was a meek attempt to close your legs to ease the lingering sting.
jack was quick to stop your motion, though. his strong hand caught the back of your knee, then forced your leg up as before.
“jack—!” you wanted to argue, telling him this wasn’t fair.
“what’s wrong, baby?” he mused. “i thought this was what you wanted?”
before you could think of a reply, another sharp spank was landed against your aching pussy, making you wince from the sting.
“please,” you whimpered; the words that had come to you just a second earlier were forgotten under the touch of his hand.
“please? for what?” he replied, uninterested in your whines. “what have i always told you?”
you frowned; he was scolding you, like he always did when you acted out of line. biting your tongue, you huffed, letting your silence be enough of an answer. you didn’t want to get scolded; you were a big girl, and despite wanting to act as if the resistance was because you wanted to seem independent, the true reality was that you wanted to egg jack on.
your little act of defiance didn’t impress the older man, which earned you another spank on your cunt, harsher than before. this time, your body acted faster, and as you cried out from the sting, your thighs slammed shut.
warmth came to your eyes as the sting made your nerves surge, jack tsked, his hand wrapping around your thigh once more before yanking your legs open.
“you asked for this, sweetheart,” he reminded, keeping his grip on the back of your thigh tight as you squirmed.
“m’sorry, daddy,” you said quickly, hoping to butter him up to lessen his tension.
daddy could be so mean sometimes.
“it’s too late for sorry now, baby.”
he crooned, moving his hand away from your leg, trusting you would keep yourself spread open for him, to wrap his fingers against his hardened dick, his hand working up and down his shaft in slow pumps.
his words earned a whimper from your lips.
he could be charming, clever, and pampering, but if jack wants to be mean—or if you push his buttons far enough—he can be really mean. while you loved getting out of your place by your daddy, you always seemed to forget how harsh he could really be.
feeling his dick press against your drooling cunt made your stomach flutter; his cock was big, almost too big. the first time he fucked you, he made you cum twice while he stretched you out, just to make sure your pretty little cunny was ready. the girth of his cock was almost unfair too, with pretty veins curling around his shaft that make your brain melt when they rub against your walls.
jack pressed himself against your back, making sure to keep you close as he peered over your shoulder to glance down between your spread thighs.
“what has daddy always told you?” he repeated, tone softer, though you knew better than to think he was going soft on you, the older rasp of his voice making you squirm.
finally deciding to stop misbehaving—mainly because you wanted to feel him inside you—you pouted, leaning your head back against his thick arm. you glanced to your side to look at him.
“you tell me not to tease you while you’re at work.”
your tone was muted, the words spilling behind your pouty lips, because you don’t like admitting when jack is right.
“and what did you do today?” he asked, clearly rhetorical.
“i teased you..” you answered begrudgingly.
“and what happens when pretty girls want to act like brats?” he continued, tone authoritative, as if he was teaching a kid a lesson, before leaning closer to press a kiss against the side of your neck.
“they have to be put in their place,” you replied softly.
“good job,” jack praised, voice rough despite his tauntingly soft tone, as you reveled in his praise—you let yourself believe maybe he would let your behavior tonight slide, settling to fuck you while babying you the way you liked. feeling jack slap his hardened length against your pussy, you felt a shiver go down your spine in anticipation.
those hopes of getting let off easy felt possible as jack brought the tip of his cock against your aching cunt, pushing your glistening folds apart before aligning himself carefully.
that hope came to a crashing stop as you felt jack’s thick, heavy cock slam deep inside you.
bratty girls don’t earn gentleness.
the sudden intrusion dragged out an involuntary cry from your lips. the force of his hips making your ass made your body jolt, his dick was girthy, pushing apart your warm, slick, walls to make room for him. as his cock settled inside you, the tip pressed against your spongy cervix, the fibrous organ warm and welcoming despite his force, your cunny has taken his cock too many times to count, by now your body was conditioned to take his length without much stress. though when you and jack first started having sex, he used to coax you gently, sliding in inch-by-inch while your eyes got glossy from the stretch.
a heavy groan left jack’s chest as he felt the firm grip of your walls around his girth, moving his arm to rest over your abdomen. jack caged you in against his chest before drawing his hips back and shoving himself inside.
his thrusts set the tone. his cock rubbed against your gummy walls as he pushed his hips back; you let out a breathy sigh before his length was shoved back inside you. jack’s dick hit your cervix again, and again, and again; his breathing became heavier, his eyes shutting tight, the creases of his crow's feet deepening at the motion.
you were putty in his hands; the idea of being silent was laughable as his cock battered your sensitive pussy.
the sounds that left your lips were a disarray of moans, pants, and cries of his name.
“ja—jack, m’so full!” you whined, lips parted in an ‘o’ shape while your body bounced with every sharp thrust of his hips. his cock made your brain numb; every ridge, every vein that pressed against your spongy walls made your toes curl.
at your cock drunken words, jack felt his stomach tighten hard, hearing you mewl such desperate lewdities turned him on more than he wanted to admit.
hearing his baby girl cry out because of him was one of the greatest pleasures he got when he fucked you.
“yeah?” he panted, his face pressing against the hollow of your shoulder, your skin sticky against his as he continued to slam his hips against your own.
“i thought you didn’t mind when daddy filled you up?”
he taunted, moving his arm from your stomach down to your slick clit, pressing his finger against your hardened bud to see you shudder. you nodded at his words, despite knowing he was actively making fun of you.
“that’s what i thought,” he crooned, sucking in a heavy breath as he continued to toy with your clit, your leg spread, making sure jack had access to your messy cunt as he fucked you.
your eyes felt warm as he continued to use you, your body shivering from the overstimulation that came from his attention. jack glanced over at you, shifting you so he could get a better look at your pretty face as your eyes glossed over with tears.
his lips curved. “what’s wrong, baby?”
you whined, your eyelashes clumping together from the wetness in your doe eyes. “it’s too m—much,” you babbled, words tumbling past your lips.
“too much?” he pressed. “poor baby, can’t handle daddy?”
you nodded, eyes glazed over as his cock battered your cunt, his tip knocking against your cervix over and over. “mmm,” you whine, too cock drunk to reply; you felt your mouth salivating while warm tears bordered your lash line.
jack’s hand moved from your overworked clit to your face, reaching over your body to turn your head to the side, making you face him properly. “use your words, baby; you know daddy likes well-spoken girls,” he cooed, voice soft despite the harsh shove of his hips. your tearful gaze met his, your eyebrows furrowed upward while your lips parted, trying to find the words to express yourself.
“you’re too big ‘n’ s’rough, my cunny can’t take it—!” you finally said, words slurring like a drunken sailor as he stared down at you expectantly.
fuck, you always sounded so pretty like this, practically incoherent from his cock.
“yes, you can. you can take daddy. you’ve done it before, haven’t you?” jack murmured, pressing a kiss against your tear-stricken cheek.
you whimpered, your walls tightening around his heavy dick at his softened words. while you loved when jack was mean, you couldn’t help but melt when he babied you while he shoved deep inside you. yours cunt tightened around jack hard, making the older man grit his teeth.
there was a knot in your belly you hadn’t noticed before, tight and warm, straining inside you with every push of jack’s hips against your ass.
gasping, your body tightened as a sudden push of his hips led to his cock pressing hard against that gummy little spot inside you that made you see stars. a long, drawn-out moan of his name left your lips as your back arched against his torso.
seeing this, jack let out a heavy breath, his grip on your body tightening to pull you closer as he continued to hit that spongy spot harder, harder, and harder, and before you could even try to mutter a warning about how close you were, that tight knot inside you snapped. your eyes shut, eyebrows pinching together as you cried out his name.
your already tight walls squeezed around jack’s heavy cock, the squeeze felt unforgiving as your hips rolled against him, your body instinctively twitching as you rode out your much-wanted orgasm.
locking his jaw, jack let out a grunt beneath you, pushing your hips forward to better his angle into your drooling cunt before working his cock past your tense walls.
“did i say you could come?” jack berated. “since when do brats get to come before daddy lets you?”
your eyes were half lidded, your body shaking from the aftermath of such a hard orgasm. your nerves were on overdrive, and your brain was foggy; the only reply you gave him was a shaky moan.
he moved his arm, the one he had under your head, to wrap around your delicate neck. putting you in a headlock as he continued to abuse your cunt.
his arm was heavy, his freckled skin brushing against your face as you rested your head against his forearm, your hands moving to pathetically grab at his muscular arm.
“is your head that empty?” he grunted. “can’t even speak, huh?”
you shook your head, a little whine leaving your lips as jack pumped himself inside you, your pussy milky from all the slick. the sight of you like that made jack’s body tense; you were so messy, so dumb over his cock, and seeing you like this—cock drunk and stupid made his body feel sensitive, his dick twitching inside your messy insides.
keeping your body molded against his own, jack chased his orgasm with more vigor than grace, his pace becoming less concentrated and more desperate with each pump of his hips.
with a choked groan, jack’s hips pressed against your ass, burying himself deep inside you as ropes of sticky cum left his twitching dick. his breathing shook as he rolled his hips against you slowly, savoring the feeling of his orgasm as he made sure to fill you up with every last drop of cum.
you moaned; the warmth that filled your belly made your stomach flutter with butterflies as your legs shook, jack’s arm loosened around you, and your hand found his, fingers intertwining as you felt warm in your belly.
jack let out a heavy breath, shuddering as he moved his hand to grip your thigh, keeping your legs spread as he finally slipped out of your cunt. finally he guided your thighs together before he pushed himself up by his elbow. his hand moved over your breast, guiding your body to lie on your back to see your glazed-over eyes.
“how are you feeling, baby?”
he softened, giving your chest a small squeeze before his hand pushed some of your hair out of your face.
you looked over at him, eyes half lidded and shimmering, before you nodded, still too drunk on his touch to think of a verbal response.
jack’s lips curved before he pressed his lips against your forehead, his kiss soft against your skin before he pressed his lips against your own. “you’re still a brat, y’know?” he mumbled against your lips, earning a soft noise from you before you reached up to rest your hand against his shoulder, squeezing the muscle before you kissed back.
“m’sorry,” you finally answered, words raspy after the cacophony of noises you made earlier.
jack pulled back, looking down at you knowingly. no matter how many times you whimpered apologies for your behavior, jack knew it wouldn’t last long. you were always finding ways to push his buttons, but he would be lying if he said he disliked it.
after all, jack would always love his bratty girl.
popebride, 2026 ⧽ i hope you enjoyed! ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ tags: @aangelheartt @xom4yy @tearsofjoyandsorrow1
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