need to see jack when chubby baby is getting their first vaccines and jack literally wants to die because baby is crying and in pain and he feels like it's his fault even though he rationally knows it's not #getvaccinatedyall
Jack struggles to keep his cool as he watches the chubby, perfect baby you've given him get her shots...
// fic directory // crash!au tag // wc: 2.2k // jack's naked yoga // jack wolfs down ur brownies // tw: needles and a baby in pain, medical inaccuracies, dad!jack is very protective, and his self-confidence suffers from it. He's respectful to his fellow healthcare workers, but his baby is his heart, and he's kinda dying hereâŠJack noooo....but get vaccinated y'all
It's not always healthy, the intensity of him, but today, it's just the thing to make your heart swell.
Jack, considering heâs Dr. Jack Abbot on paper, is more than aware that having his kid vaccinated is just one moment of needled pain traded for the safety of her health. He knows that. He. Knows. That.Â
âŠBut no amount of awareness can do anything to stop him from thinking there are too many cartoon animals on the walls. Itâs an effective lure, sure. Heâll give the clinic that.
For the kid, only, of course. He can see right through the mural of 2D giraffes.
âYouâre gonna sleep so well after this. Gonna tire yourself out from crying, I can see it now.â
Baby sits in your lap with her chubby softness decorating her wrists and thighs as they flap and kick. Usually, the sightâs a tug on his heart. Itâs a bullet now.Â
The needle will feel like a bullet to her. Youâre gonna fucking cry, arenât you? It wasnât even becoming a dad that imploded your emotional regulation, it was her mother to do you in.Â
âYou okay, Jack?â
â...Fine.â
He knows the vaccine matters. Itâs gonna protect her. Itâs necessary. Loving if he wants to lessen the irrational guilt. Itâs not like heâll stop believing in medicine and evidence to get out of watching his daughter get jabbed for a moment.Â
But heâs pretty sure she, a 3-month-old who is busy trying to eat her fist, couldn't care less about how rational getting jabbed in the first place is. She doesnât have the ability to understand medicine, even though you plan on buying her doctor-themed board books. She only knows how to shit, eat, and butcher his insides every time she smiles her gums at him.Â
At best, she knows that Mommy and Daddy took off her cozy sweater for some reason.Â
âItâs too cold in here. They need to turn down the AC.â
âItâs no colder than the Pitt.â
You bounce Chubby lightly on your knee, and she blinks up at you with a dumb trust as your mouth pulls into a thin line.Â
You wouldâve been surprised if Jack wasnât impossible in his paternal panic, but itâs still funny to watch him suffer like heâs next in line for a firing squad. Or something that's as much a march to death.
âYou okay, dad?â
âThis is torture.â
You snort at his very casual, gruff-throated statement. You can only let your head fall onto his shoulder in the second after.Â
âSheâs gonna be fine.â
â...I know.âÂ
Your baby makes a happy little sound, kicking a leg, and itâs ridiculous and endearing how Jackâs face actually pinches with the grimace of his voice. Whether or not he truly does know, heâs telling on himself.Â
The doctor, the pediatrician, comes in with a smile. She looks like the type of MD that was right to specialize in kids' medicine. Sheâs probably survived projectile baby vomit, panicked parents who trust Google, or god fucking forbid, ChatGPT more than anything else. You could throw toddlers who have the strength of ten thousand men in the mix, too.
âŠAnd fathers who are unraveling before he even parks his family in the lot.Â
âThereâs our brave girl.â
Jack could laugh as much as he could shoot himself in the head. He should probably stick with the former. The latter, he would never do in front of you or Chubby. His laughter startles her a little less, heâs sure.
âŠSorry. Bad humor. A bad coping. Could be worse. He could be an asshole and use his own degree the way other parents use Google. That would completely ruin the cordial atmosphere youâve worked hard to create.Â
Dr. Peds does a quick exam and pronounces the baby, in all her softness, as she stares up at her with wide eyes, as healthy and thriving.
She pulls up the tray that the nurse set up before. Itâs got alcohol wipes, syringes, and band-aids with cartoon bears on them.Â
Itâs a mockery, really. If he wants to be even more annoying than he already is about this.
âSheâs on track, quite beautifully, I might add.â
âYay! You heard that, pretty? Youâre the most on track baby there ever was.â
That should soothe him more than it does. It helps a little. Sheâs healthy. As big as she needs to be. Damn right.Â
âAll right, time for the vaccines. Would one of you be okay with holding her steady if she starts squirming?â
Somewhere before, itâd be ridiculous how his stomach drops to his ass. Somewhere, he didnât have to have the most perfect kid in the world. He wouldnât have it any other way.Â
Still, that truth doesnât keep his insides where theyâre supposed to be, and thatâs where he canât even stop himself from shaking his head sternly and once.Â
âNo.âÂ
You turn your head toward Jack as the pediatrician stills.   Â
âWellâŠI was just going to say we could always bring the nurse backââ
Jack forces a slower breath out of his lungs.Â
âNo. I meanâI can. Obviously. Sorry. I justââ
He looks at Chubby.Â
Sheâs pushing the back of her foot against your stomach, knawing on the forearm you hold her with.Â
âI can. Iâm just preparing for the kid to hate me.â
Heâs not gonna look at you, because he doesnât have to. He knows your face is softening, and although heâs sure itâs not with mockery or surprise, thereâs already too much heâs experiencing in this happy-animal-painted room to handle that youâre more than aware his love can curdle into guilt.Â
But of course Kiddo is. She was the one to ruin you first. Why wouldnât she know how youâre burning when she was the one to set you on fire in the first place?
âSheâs not gonna hate you, Jack.â You turn to the doctor. The other, more rational doctor. âIâll probably be worse than him, sorries in advance if I start crying when she does.â
âItâs all understandable.â
You know how to set the kid down. You settle her in position on the exam table, and the paper crackles under her precious baby weight. She tilts her head at you.Â
Heâs fucking condemned.Â
âJack, come here.â
He listens, coming over to the table, because youâre unfortunately the easiest thing, person to obey. Besides him, when youâre in the mood to obey and be nothing but something for him to love and take care of and be ruined over for the rest of his life.Â
Jackâs even allowed you to ruin him with a plump, little, toothless extension of yourself.
He places his hand over her arm, gently, while you murmur calming claims at her cheek.Â
âŠHow does she feel so small? Sheâs bigger. Sheâs as big as sheâs ever been and will only get bigger, but beneath his palm, baby feels so fucking tiny. Even after these weeks of feedings and diaper changes and midnight panics, where he has to make sure her chest is rising.Â
âŠCan she feel my hand shaking? Can Chubby feel how weak her dad is?
Dr. Peds swabs one thigh. Jack swallows when the kid startles at the cold, face scrunching.Â
âAlright, here we go.â
The syringe is ready too quickly, and the first injection happens in the seconds after.Â
The sound that comes out of his kid is immediate.
Outraged and terrified.
Jackâs nose flares, and his sights harden on her as her little body goes rigid with eyes squeezed shut.Â
He might as well have been shot. He'd rather be fucking shot.
The doctor moves efficiently to the point where sheâs already on to the next one, and Jack has to keep holding still while his little, crazy girl screams.
âI know, I know, I know, baby. Mommy knows.â
While you keep telling her âI know, I know, I know,â in that brokenhearted mommy voice that makes him want to make way to the stool and rope. If he werenât so dramatic, he could just admit that your pain, harmonizing with hers, just makes everything worse.Â
His face is probably white. Whiter than it usually is as he commits to his math of psychosis and the need to never not be guilty.Â
He knows this is love. Prevention of what could hurt her thatâs been in practice for decades, but those cries shoot right past rationality and into the fucked place underneath his skin, the place that keeps score of the suffering of the people he loves.Â
You and her. Robby occasionally. Itâs a small population.Â
The second the Doctorâs done with the bear band-aids patched on her thighs, Jack pulls his hands. You scoop the kid up, and sheâs screaming so hard that sheâs not really breathing between her shrill sobs.
Her little, rolled legs kick furiously, and her face is blotched with tears and snot. You press your cheek to hers, rocking and bouncing with what Jack can name as instinct.Â
Dr. Peds leaves, and when she does, Jack turns his head to find hisâyour, his and your baby looking at him with her wide, teary eyes.Â
Sheâs probably too overwhelmed to realize sheâs focusing on her dad, itâs not a look of accusation. It canât be. Sheâs too young for that.Â
But itâs practically judgment of God. Hell. Even worse. He stopped caring about what the guy thinks of him a long time ago, but heâll always care about what baby does. And unlike a judgment raining from whoeverâs up there, thatâs not a punishment.Â
âYou wanna go to Daddy, pretty? I think youââ
âI think sheâd like to stay away from these hands for a whileââ
âDonât be insane.â
He is. He knows he is. Maybe one day that will help to keep his heart out of his throat every time she cries. One day. When pigs fly.
Really, you have to bite back the laugh thatâs trying to rise through your sympathy for Dad Jack.
âLook at her, you think sheâs giving me a look of love?â He tilts his head down. âDid Da-da betray you?â
âYouâre so funny. Ha. Ha.â
You basically force Chubby into his arms, and with how quickly you do it, he doesnât have the energy to drag the guilt out to the point where he invents some excuse as to why he canât hold her.Â
âShe knows nothing except that sheâs mad, Jack. Thatâs it. And I think even if she was old enough to realize what just happened, sheâd probably forgive you.â You kiss her cheek. âBut youâll never get old, right? Right.âÂ
Slowly, his one broad palm cups the back of her head, the other spans her back, patting. He kindaâŠfolds in how he always does. His shoulders hunch and his chin drops.Â
âYouâre fourteen pounds of tears. Did I do that?âÂ
Itâs meant to be a joke, but it breaks the way her screams do as she presses them into his collar. It lessens into hiccuped distress with her hands curling into dimpled fists against his chest.Â
âDid Dada do that?â
Go ahead, sweetheart. Grab onto Dad. Hurt him at the same time. Do whatever you want.
With how heâs only focusing on the way he breathes into the back of your and his daughterâs head, Jack doesnât know that his eyes glassing over gets you almost more than her crying did.
âIâm sorry, beautiful.âÂ
Jackâs blaming himself, even though youâre sure he knows that the baby has no idea what happened. You donât know how youâll stop him from carrying an awful amount of guilt. One day, youâll love him long enough to. You just wish how harshly you love him, as a man, doctor, and dad, would make it so much easier.Â
âDadâs sorry.âÂ
âJack.â
You rub slow circles over his back. Chubby gives one last cry that you think is the last, which is proven true by the next moment, made up only of miserable sniffling. She pouts.Â
You smile.Â
â...I think sheâs forgiven you.â
You may not be able to lift the load of guilt that heâs built his body for today, but you can meet him in the middle.Â
She hiccups again, but now sheâs rooted her face in his chest. Sheâs simply seeking comfort from her dad, and he adjusts to her instantly. He murmurs under his breath and rocks her.Â
You watch them, and your heart swells to the point it might explode into overwhelmed mommy confetti. Stupid, but Jackâs the one who was so eager to make you a mommy in the first place. SoâŠ
âYouâre getting a brand new toy after this. Me and Mommy think you deserve compensation for such terror.â
âYou donât think youâre spoiling her?â
âSays you. Youâd be feeding her ice cream for lunch and dinner if she could have it. I'm gonna catch you sharing your popsicles with her once she hits the six-month mark. You'll enjoy that, huh, baby?"
âŠYeah. Dadâs so right.Â
Babyâs head settles heavier on him. He kisses her head again, soft now. Soft. Okay, and over the guilt. Maybe thatâs it. Itâll just take the two to beat it out of him.
With love, of course. Sheâs half of you, and if sheâs anything like you, youâre sure she has all the love for her dad in the whole wide world.Â
âIâll remember this on your wedding day. Not that youâre ever getting married.â
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Paring:Â executive chef!jack abbot x chef de partie! fem!reader
Summary:Â Late nights in the kitchen can take a rather interesting turn.
Tags/warnings:Â smut (mdni), semi public sex (it's the kitchen of a restaurant), unprotected p in v (please don't), oral f!receiving, brief finger sucking, power imbalance (he's her superior), yes chef (that's the warning), author (me) can't cook for shit and it shows, my reference was "the menu" tbh
A/N:Â Shawn Hatosy for Quinn, what a great day for horny and annoying people. English is not my first language and this was not proofread (I hate proofreading smut). Enjoy!
masterlist
Every movement is measured. Spontaneity stopped being a part of the equation a long time ago. But passion? That's still there, or you wouldn't be working in the best restaurant of Pittsburgh.
Cooking is an art as much as it is a science.
You like to think that there's a secret third element, but you can't pin it down. You just know that you have it.
Everyone can follow a recipe, chop some ingredients, and throw them in a pan. The result might come out well in the end, but it doesn't compare to what you and everyone else do in this kitchen.
From the outside, it might look like complete chaos â with all of the shouting, the people crossing paths, and the nervous energy, so thick that it feels like one of the flames could make everything burst at any moment.
But once you find yourself in the eye of the hurricane, you memorize the patterns. Everyone has a designated station and task. You will never find one person in charge of the appetizer and the grill. That would not end up well.
The inner organization is extremely hierarchical, which is essential to keep things moving smoothly.
At the very bottom you have the Kitchen Porter, who's in charge of maintaining things as clean as possible. It might sound like an easy task, but it's not. You would know, considering that's where you started. Then you worked your way up to Commis Chef, who's in charge of helping one of the Chefs de Partie â specialized in a specific sector of the kitchen.
About a week ago, you finally got promoted as Chef de Partie, and your next goal is to become the Souce Chef, second only to the actual chief in command of the kitchen: the Executive Chef.
They're the ones who pick the menu, dictating what everyone else will do, and that gives them a great power. The greatest of them all, in the culinary world.
You're working on prepping your station, when you feel the energy of the room shift. Even before you hear his voice, you know the Chef just walked in.
"Hello, everyone."
"Good evening, Chef," you all respond simultaneously, your voices blending together.
Then the routine starts.
The Executive Chef â Jack Abbot, as you found out only after a few months you started working here â begins to walk around each station as he illustrates the menu of the evening.
He doesn't spend too much time at a singular station. If everything's alright, he'll just give you a quick nod. And if he sees something that's out of place, you'll know by the look he'll give you.
Some Chefs you worked with in the past would take advantage of every excuse possible to start shouting at people, almost as if they took pleasure in the glassy eyes they would cause.
Instead, Abbot rarely raises his voice, but his silent disappointed glances have a much more devastating effect. Especially on you.
Once he gets to your station, you avoid his gaze, knowing way too well what meeting his eyes does to you. Instead you start polishing one of the already extremely clean knives, and wait until you see him nod from the corner of your eye to finally start breathing again.
After everyone has gotten the Chef's approval, the show begins.
You totally immerge yourself in your element, and for the rest of the evening, all you think about is making the best meals you can possibly make.
Cooking always manages to make you feel alive, and the thrill you get while you're in the kitchen is what makes worth it giving up on having the same experiences as people your age.
You rarely get days of, and when you do, you would much rather spend them at home than in a crowded bar.
This lifestyle is not for everyone, and that applies also to the people around you. Your job has been the cause of many arguments with your past boyfriends, and, ironically, it was what helped you get through your break-ups.
You realize how deep you've fallen when the shift has ended and you find yourself looking for excuses to stay longer, dreading having to enter you empty apartment and face how lonely you are.
The kitchen is almost empty at this point, and the few people left are clearly trying to finish as soon as possible. They're talking about their plans for the weekend, and when they notice you standing by your station â cleaning a spot that has already been cleaned by a Kitchen Porter â they ask if you want to join them.
You pretend to think about it, but your mind was made up as soon as the words came out of their mouths.
They don't take it to personally. They just tried to include you to be nice, but every single one of your colleagues knows that your job is your life.
Once you're alone, you start gathering all of the ingredients to try recreate a sauce you've tasted in a restaurant abroad you've been to a few months ago, during one of your rare vacations.
Taking advantage of the fact that you're alone, you put on your headphones, playing an old rock song that manages to isolate you from the rest of the world.
When you're done, you dip your pointer finger in the sauce, having a taste, but there's something off, and you can't tell what is it.
As you're trying to figure out if maybe you should have added some paprika, you hear a noise behind you. You quickly take off you headphones before turning around and finding Abbot standing by the backdoor of the kitchen.
His arms are crossed over his chest, and the white t-shirt he's wearing â with the short sleeves rolled up â makes his freckled biceps look particularly good.
You expect him to be furious at you for being in the kitchen after closing time. Instead, he grabs an apron and starts walking up to you as he puts it on.
The muscles of his arms stretch in a delicious way as the ties the apron, and it's distracting enough to make you forget for a second about the situation your in.
"Chef, I-" you gulp, suddenly feeling your mouth dry. "I'm sorry. I just- It's that I don't have the right supplies at home, and I-"
You suddenly stop talking when he's now standing in front of you, way closer than usual. The proximity makes your brain short circuit, and a heavy feeling settles deep in your stomach.
"Can I have a taste, Chef?"
You almost let out a whimper at the sound of his gruff voice, and you're pretty sure you'll think about him calling you Chef for the next couple of months â or maybe for the rest of your life â as you touch yourself late at night.
It takes you a moment to regain control over your own voice before you finally say something.
"Yes, Chef."
Something shifts in his eyes, but you don't have enough time to think about it before he, without moving from his spot right in front of you, extends his strong arm by your side, his warm skin brushing over yours, and dips his finger in the bowl. He puts it in his mouth, and while maintaining eye contact, he licks it clean.
You have to bite your lip to avoid letting out any sound, but a part of you thinks that's exactly what he wants.
He notices the way you look at him. He must have noticed by now. You tried to be discreet about it, but over the months, the forced proximity that often formed in the kitchen only made your crush grow stronger.
He then smiles at you â that smile that makes you go crazy, the one where he only lifts one side of his mouth.
"You can guess what's missing, can't you, Chef?" he asks, and his condescending tone makes you clench your thighs.
"Yes," you mumble.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Chef."
He gives you a nod, a satisfied look settling on his gorgeous face.
You turn your body to face the counter, and you can feel the air move around you as Abbot moves his face above your shoulder, to be able to get a good look at what you're doing.
This is not the first time you've found yourself in this position. He often does that with his Chefs, and you still remember how warm the skin of your face got when he first did this to you.
But now it feels different, and the fact you're the only people in the kitchen might be why.
After thinking about it for a moment, you reach for the paprika, but stop before putting it in when you hear a sharp tsk above your shoulder.
Abbot's warm breath hits your cheek, and you have to restraining yourself form rolling your eyes right to the back of your skull in pleasure when he speaks.
"You're sure that's the best approach, Chef?"
You shake your head, not trusting your own voice, and put back down the paprika. The last thing you want is to disappoint him, so you try to think harder.
You remember the sauce having a spiciness to it, but it was warm and welcoming, making you crave a second taste.
"Focus on the feeling, not the taste," he intervenes, almost reading your mind.
Then it hits you: cumin.
Without hesitation you add some and mix it, but before you can taste it, Abbot beats you to it.
He gets some on his thumb, and when you turn around to see his reaction, he, instead of moving his hand up to his mouth, moves it in front of yours.
"Open up," he commands, looking down at you with an invitation in his eyes, almost daring you to do it.
Your lips part slightly, and he slides his thumb inside your mouth.
The taste explodes in your mouth, and despite all of the different spices, the taste of him overpowers them all.
You roll your tongue around his thumb, maintaining eye contact, and when you're done, you take his hand in yours and let his finger slide out of your mouth with a slight pop.
When you've completed your little show, the gravity of what you just did hits you. You're not sure how you got so bold. All you know is that you shouldn't have. Â
But then, just when you're starting to think that he's the one who initiated this whole... thing in the first place, Abbot takes your face in his callused hands and pulls you in for a kiss.
Your lips part immediately as you let out a moan that you've been suppressing ever since he showed up looking this good, and he takes advantage of it by sliding his tongue and starting to explore the insides of your mouth.
Your taste mixes with the cumin, making his tongue tingle slightly, but to be honest, he's pretty sure it's the natural effect you have on him.
The kiss intensifies when you bite his lower lip, becoming more passionate, if that's even possible.
A string of spit connects your lips as you try to pull back to get some air, but he's not having it. His mouth follows yours, like a predator stalking his prey. His lips seem to be bruising yours, but you don't care.
The whole kitchen could catch fire and you still wouldn't care as long as his hands â which have moved low on you hips, getting dangerously close to your ass â keep squeezing you like this.
His low groans and your desperate whines echo through the otherwise silent kitchen, making you crave more. You want to feel his skin on yours.
Your hands move on his back, and blindly look for the knot of his apron. Abbot understands what you're trying to do, and once you undo the know, he momentarily brakes the kiss to take the apron off.
Next, you want to take off his shirt, but before you can sneak your hands under the fabric, he places his hands back on your hips and turns you around.
"Your turn," he whisperers in your ear before taking off your apron as well.
Goosebumps cover your arms, and the warmth in you belly becomes impossible to ignore as his hands sneak under your shirt and his palm cups one of your tits from over your bra.
His lips begin trailing kisses from your jaw to the point where your neck meets your shoulder, occasionally biting the delicate skin before licking it.
Your knees threaten to give up any moment now, so you have to put both of your hands on the counter to regain a sense of stability. But it doesn't last long.
Abbot moves one hand past the waistband of your jeans, and places his digits over your soaked panties.
You can feel him smiling against your neck, and it only grows bigger when he moves your panties to the side, and drags one finger from you needy hole up to your sensitive clit. It draws a high pitched moan out of you, and you feel the earth beneath you shake.
He keeps teasing you with his fingers, even sliding one in just to torture you, and before you can complain, you hear him take a step back, before he places a hand between your shoulder blades, and pushes you forward, so that you're bent over the kitchen counter.
You help him unbutton your jeans, and slide them off together with your underwear. The cold air hits your wet core, only to be replaced by Abbot's warm breath, once he drops to his knees.
"Fuck," you hiss after his mouth connects with your cunt.
"You're the best thing I've ever tasted," he says against your pussy, making your hole clench around nothing.
He begins to eat you out like a man starved, and the sensation is so good that you don't even try anymore to bite back your moans.
The heavenly sounds slipping out of your lips only seem to turn him on further, so he slips in two fingers, determined to make you cum at least once before he even begins to think about his own release.
The combined sensation of his mouth and his fingers quickly bring you over the edge.
You don't have much time to recover after your orgasm. Behind you, Abbot raised himself back to his feet, and is now unbuttoning his own jeans and freeing his painfully hard cock.
"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of bending you over this counter and fucking you in my kitchen," he says.
You're about to respond â or at least, that's your intention â but before you can get even a syllable out, he slides inside you and knocks any coherent though out of you.
What's left of you is a moaning mess, who's now babbling nonsense about how good it feels.
He's pounding inside you with a steady rhythm, and it feels like you will never get enough of him.
You push your hips back to meet his thrust, and in response, he tightens his hold on your hips with one hand â which will probably leave some bruises â and takes a handful of your hair with the other.
"Am I making you feel good?" he asks mid thrust, as his cock is kissing your cervix so nicely.
"Yes, Chef" you whine out, resting your boiling cheek on the cold counter.
After being called by his title, he lets out a guttural groan, beginning to bury himself impossibly deeper inside you.
You won't last long you realize, as you feel your second orgasm coming closer, and you think the same can be said about him.
The hand that was in your hair moves around your throat. He drags you up so that your back is resting against his chest, and begins kissing you deeply.
It takes you both a few more thrust to fall over the edge.
His hot cum spills inside you, painting your insides, and you are quick to follow, making the prettiest sound he's ever heard.
He rests his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, as he tries to catch his breath, and you try to do the same, after having the best orgasm of your life.
How you'll manage to keep working in the same kitchen where that happened is something that your future self will have to deal with.
A/N: This was the fic! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, even if it's criticism (as long as it's constructive). I love talking with you angels, so my dms and inbox are always open!
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Why hello there, so you've stumbled upon my masterlist! Welcome! This is the second one. You can find the original linked below. The first one hit its limit, plus back from hiatus, so on top of a new name and fresh work, you get a new Masterlist!!
Due to my blog being strictly 18+ it's safe to assume there is NSFW content, be it some sort of drugs, smoking, liquor, smut, etc activity. So if you're curious if it is or isn't, click the fic, and read the trigger warnings provided in the fic.
Masterlists
âșOriginal Masterlist
âșHannibal Masterlist
âșHenry Cavill Masterlist
âșStranger Things Masterlist
âșAaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist
Divider & Header Credit to @nyxvuxoa
âșThe Terminal List - Ben Edwards - White Knuckled & Low Battery - Request
âșHemlock Grove - Roman Godfrey - Perfectly Imperfect - Request
âșAmerican Gods - Bilquis - Worship Me - Request
âșYou - Love Quinn - Take em Off - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Boys - Soldier Boy - Fuck The Quiet Game - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Stand - Randall Flagg - You Should Be So Lucky - DARK!FIC
âșThe Boys - Soldier Boy - Where You Belong - Request
âșOuter Banks - Rafe Cameron - Back Off Asshole
âșSons of Anarchy - Jax Teller - Can You Come Over? - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Boys - Soldier Boy - Kama Sutra - Smut Prompt Request
âșElvis (2022) - Elvis - The Company He Keeps - Request
âșThe Invitation (2022) - Walter Deville - Beg For It - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Bikeriders (2024) - Benny Cross - Be My Old Lady - Smut
âșThe Fall Guy (2024) - Tom Ryder - Begging You - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Bikeriders (2024) - Benny Cross - Backseat Pleasure - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Bikeriders (2024) - Benny Cross - Under Pressure - Smut Prompt Request
âșThe Bike Riders (2024) - Benny Cross - Feel Good Tears - Smut Prompt Request
Summary: You try to keep your mind distracted from the fact that Loki has his cock inside you.
Pairing: Asgardian Prince Loki x Female wife Reader
Word Count: over 1K
Warnings: EXPLICIT. 18+ only. Cock warming. P in V penetration. Edging. Dominant Loki. Slight degradation. Slight voyeurism. Spanking/pinching.
The soft blue of the canvas walls in your study. The light when your curtains catch rays from the sun as you're snuggled in bed next to Loki.
Loki. The thought of him made you squeeze your pussy tighter, earning you a spank on your upper thigh.
âI apologize, your highness,â you whispered meekly. Loki didnât respond. The only sound answering you back were papers rustling and the rhythm of his signature with his pen. He continued with the chore Odin had set for him to do, overlooking writs and pardons. Signing off on ludicrous expeditions that Thor wanted to go on.
You inhaled deeply. You returned to thinking about mundane items in the room to distract you from the fact that Loki had his aching cock inside your swollen cunt.
The veins of gold on the marble pillars. You had followed them like a path leading up into the ceiling of Lokiâs study.
Loki.
Another quick slap on your other thigh this time. âOhw,â you submissively let out. âI apologize, your highness.â
âYou naughty girl. You do know I can feel you every time you squeeze around me,â he warned without stopping to do his work. âYouâre tight enough as it is, darling. Then, to have you grip me so firmlyâŠâ he sighed. âWhat are you thinking about?â
âYou, husband. Always you,â you yearned. With your answer, you squeezed around him one more time, unable to help the feeling of his weight inside you. That earned you a pinch on your thigh.
âYou wicked little thing. Iâm trying to work! And here you are tempting me. Squeezing me. Trying to get me to move, arenât you darling?â
âNo, my love- your highness. I didnâtâŠâ
âHush now. No more excuses. Or Iâll never finish with this blasted paperwork, and then youâll really be punished.â
You took a deep breath to calm your heart. It was not fair how he asked you to do the impossible. How could you lie here on his desk, with his cock buried deep inside you, and not want to feel anything? Not to move- Not to get him to thrust further into you-
His hips were searing into your skin. With each passing moment, you could feel his cock grow heavier and hotter.
This was not what you expected when you tempted him earlier. You were always successful in your wiles. Loki never hesitated to give you whatever you wanted, whether it be books, baubles, or even his body.
But this might be a lesson learned in being careful of what you wish for. He regretted that he was busy with work. He tried to reason with you and convince you that he would be with you as soon as he was finished.
But it wasnât enough for you. A primal need had seized your mind, and you needed him right away. Thatâs when he sat you on his desk, slightly agitated. âA great ruler will find a way to compromise,â he smirked, releasing the fasteners of his trousers. âA greater husband would find a way to please his wife,â then he sank himself deep into your wet cunt.
Now, here you both are, hours later, impaled on his desk as he finishes his appointed duties from this morning.
<Pinch> âOw,â you yelped. âIâm sorry, Your Highness.â
âPrincess. Iâm done asking politely. I wonât be able to play with you the way you desire, the way you deserve, unless I finish this task,â he growled. âBehave!â He gave one final warning, and you went back to trying to distract yourself from this sweet edging.
The lovely shade of pink peonies in bloom. The smell of roses and morning dew as you strolled through the garden with Loki, hand in hand. Footsteps on the cobbled groundâŠfootsteps?
Loud and prominent footsteps approached the doors of Lokiâs study. And for the first time, you purposefully sat up to hide yourself from being caught.
Loki halted your shoulders and pushed you back down. âStay. Put,â he growled.
âBut-â as you were about to make your argument, Thor burst through the door, calling after his brother. His heavy march and the loud clanking of his armor cemented your humiliation with each step. The only thing you could do was to turn your head the other way and hide your face from the shame youâre about to be put in.
âLoki, father wishes to speak to you aboutâŠoh.â Thor's brief pause was enough to turn your skin flushed. The heat prickled around you, heightening your senses and shortening your breath. âSo, this is where the princess has been?â
You could hear Thorâs smile widen with each word. You closed your eyes and held perfectly still, hoping that Thor would just walk away. How mortifying to be found so wanton and lascivious on your husband's desk. With his cock twitching inside you. âMother has been asking where she had run off to. Or rather, what has been keeping her occupied.â
âThe princess has been nothing but devoted and accommodating in helping me with my work, I assure you. So, if you wouldnât mind just letting us be, I can finally finish this damned task father had charged me.â
âBrother, you know better than to be playing with your toys while working. You so easily get distracted.â You could hear the crinkle in Thorâs smile as his callused finger grazed your cheek. You inhaled a quick breath, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Your skin tingled, not having been touched by Loki in so long. Thorâs curious fingers trailed down your neck and onto your heaving chest, where Loki had ripped your bodice earlier.
A sharp slap to your breast sent Thorâs hand away. âFind your own wife to play with and leave mine alone!â Loki threatened.
Thorâs hands went up in defeat. âYou were never one to share. Even when we were children,â he laughed.
Loki hovered over you, caging you in between his strong arms. âLeave,â he snarled.
Thorâs laughter could be heard with his retreating footsteps. âIâll be sure to tell father that you are diligent in your task. And I shall tell motherâŠthat I have not seen you, princess.â Thorâs promise was a small gift. He would be discreet, which left you at ease.
You turned your head at the sound of the door closing- catching the last visage of Thorâs cape before the double doors closed once again. You exhaled a sigh of relief. A deep breath you didnât know you held inside.
âDo you miss him already?â Lokiâs words brought your stare abruptly to his. You didnât realize how close he had been, blocking your body from Thor.
âI beg your pardon?â you asked, confused and insulted.
âI asked if you miss him already. You looked so longingly when he walked away.â
âItâs not him I miss! Itâs not him I think about!â
âYou let him touch you.â He growled.
âYou left me on your desk!â you argued back.
âSo desperate to be touched. I could feel you squeezing when he laid his hand on you.â You could see the anger in his eyes. Â You could hear the jealousy in his voice.
âI wanted your touch!â You yelled out to him. Banging your fist to his chest. âYour kiss! Your fingers. Your-"
Loki plunged himself deeper into you, pausing your tirade. You gasped out in pleasure. You didnât think there was any more of him to fill you. But here he stands, connected securely to you.
âI can't take any more, Loki. Please. Please, dear husband.â Loki pulled out slowly. You could feel every inch and drag torturing you. You felt defeated. He surely wouldnât give in to you now. Not after his envy consumes him.
âThis?!â He thrusted himself back into you. âIs this what you want?â Â You moaned so loudly, arching your back against his desk. He pulled your hips over the edge, holding onto your thighs. With a deep grunt, he drove deeper. Again.
And again.
And again.
Papers crumbled in your hands, grasping to hold on. The air in the room got heavy from his breathing. He pushed your thighs further open, sinking deeper and grinding against your sensitive lips. Loki lifted his face to the heavens, his lips saying a silent prayer for the feel of your tight cunt around his girth. âYou are mine, princess!â he growled with his clenched teeth. He grabbed the edge of the desk above you and used it as leverage to thrust deeper and harder. âSay it!â he commanded.
âY-yours,â you stammered through your foggy mind. The sensation he was giving you left you thoughtless and meek. It wasnât long before your orgasm spread throughout your body. Your legs shook, and you were breathless and dizzy from the screams and moans you let out. Â
His hips bucked hard against yours. With shallow breaths, you moaned out his name, not caring who mightâve heard you. You squeezed tightly around him, and Lokiâs face contorted to the sweetest pain. A few more thrusts and he stilled, letting his spent drip on the inside of your thighs as you came around him a second time.
Loki looked at you victoriously. He wiped the hair off your face as he leaned over your spent body. âIâll make sure you remember who you belong to,â he threatened so sweetly before he seized your mouth in a hard kiss. âNow, give me another one, princess.â
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you catch your best friend spencer touching himself and far from being embarrassed, it only turns him on even more. if only you knew he had been dreaming about this moment for his entire fucking life and that he has even planned for it to happenâŠ
cw;; (letâs act as if spencer and reader are the same age (consensual 18) in high school
really perv!spencer, dark themes, spencer uses readers body without implicit consent (i donât know if it counts as cnc since later we find out she doesnât mind), somnophilia (if you squint), INDECENT use of cum, stalker behavior, use of masculine sex toys, breeding kink, mommy and daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), sub and dom spencer, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m), voyeurism (?), dacryphilia, violence (not towards reader), dirty talking, hair pulling, blood⊠MINORS DNI OR IâLL COME FOR YOU!
@cafekitsune âs separators
Spencer was obsessed with you. Not in a lovely kind of obsessed âthat tooâ but in a really perverted way. His sick infatuation commenced a warm summer, when you and him, best friends since freshman year, had ended up staying up late in your house for a movie night. Your parents were no where to be seen, and being scared of spending the night alone, you invited Spencer for a sleep over.
Everything was perfect. Little snacks, the newest film in D.C in tape and a cozy sofa in which the two of you silently rested as you stared at the tv. That was until you had fallen sleep on the other end of the sofa, loose and extremely short pijama pants letting your lace panties show and nipples erect due to the coldness of the night underneath your tight and white tank top. He found himself stating for far too long, instead of bringing up on your body the blanket that you both had been shared, his eyes taking in just how beautifully exposed you were.
Full honesty? He didnât even remember how his dick had gotten that hard nor how it had ended on one of his hands, palm slick in precum as he thrusted in it, bottom lip in between his teeth and soft moans and groans scaping his lips. But he didnât care. He came so hard that night that he swore he saw stars on your living roomâs ceiling.
After that, he of course felt awkward and embarrassed of himself around you. Masturbating to his sleeping best friend, and just mere inches away from you? Jesus Christ. Though that remorse quickly went away when he found himself sinking deeper in that sickness under your name.
He relished in that pretty tears of yours when you cried about another stupid boy being mean to you and dumping you against his neck, your tits fully pressed to his chest and whimpers making his cock push against his jeans, even more when that same guys were the ones crying and begging for him to stop as he beat the shit out of them.
He liked to see you cry, but if it wasnât because of him, he wouldnât have it. He sent a couple of them to the ER, but they were too scared to get a couple more bones broken if they ever spoke up,â and also, who would believe them if they said that the slender nerd of their class was the one that beat them upâ so he always got away with it. In no time, the guys were fucking terrified of even glancing at you, leaving you all to himself. Like it had to be. You were his, or youâll be.
You were always complaining about things of yours disappearing, âFuck! I cant found my chapstick.â him shrugging even when he knew that he was, in fact, the thug. Then, heâd go back to his house and open the last drawer of his desk â which he had under keyâ and take the same chapstick out of his pocket to push it inside along with the other things he had stolen from you: lipgloss, necklaces, bracelets⊠Panties.
He loved them. He almost had a collection of them, of all types; cotton, lace, thongs⊠He loved the ones that he stole from the dirty laundry the most, whichâs crotch he could push against his nose and lick as he fucked his fist. Getting to taste and smell your slick always drove him crazy.
Another thing Spencer loved to do was take photos of you. He had albums and albums of polaroids for the two of you, being both on the pictures or just you. He loved to watch them from time to time: you smiling, you singing, you dancing, you blowing a kiss to the camera, jumping in the pool, petting a stray cat⊠Being simply you.
But he also had some photos that were exceptionally and just for him. Some of them were flashes of your body in those little and pretty bikinis you always wore in the warm summers, some other of your naked body âfacing away from the door of your bathroomâ when you changed, you eating ice cream with cheeks, lips and tongue stained in the vanilla treat, some of you sleeping, some others of the panties and little skirts that youâd wear. He even had one of you resting asleep on his lap, lips parted and against his hard cock. He saved some of them on his wallet in case he ever had to take care of a boner when he hung out with you.
He was in love with you. Sickly in love. Sickly enough to take some of those photos of yours and cut out your face just to tape them to his porn magazines. Some of the pages had even stuck together due to his cum.
And you were just so unbelievably oblivious of his infatuation that you always left the window to your room unlocked in case he ever wanted to sneak in in the middle of the night to stay with you if he ever felt lonely in his empty house. At first, before his infatuation appeared, he would sneak in from time to time when the loneliness became too strong for him to handle, cuddling with you and leaving first hour in the morning. Now? Now he snuck in almost every goddamn night. To cuddle, to watch you sleep, to be able to hold you close and even to take advantage of your heavy slumber. He had licked his cum out of your fingers when he had used your hand to masturbate, having to hold in his moans and whimpers. Other nights, he would get under your covers and part your thighs just to push his head in between them, face against your clothed cunt as his hips buckled against the duvet, tongue flattening against your heat and moaning when your thighs would unconsciously squish his head.
He loved it when you played with his hair, groaning when youâd pull from it when heâd tickle you, and laughing when youâd scream at him for using your good conditioner after a pool day. He was obsessed with your little lotions and expensive shampoos, using them as lube to fuck his hand while he showered in your house, using then his cum to fill the tubes, evening out the difference.
He would steal food from you in the cafeteria, using your own fork or spoons just to be able to have your spit in his mouth. Youâd always whine about it, but he never stopped, so you eventually stopped caring, giving him full access to it when you were full.
Spencer considered himself to be a man with clear tastes when it came to sexual preferences. He would love to fuck you to his liking, to sink you into submission and to get you to call him daddy. He thought of himself as a dominant kind of person rather than a submissive one, but that changed when in one of his numerous wet dreams it was you the one who choked him and fucked him, using him like youâd use a fucking toy. He had woke up with a raging orgasm as from his lips fell the word âmommyâ.
Was he a pervert? Absolutely. Would he ever speak up about his feelings for you? Absolutely not.
Heâd prefer to die with a boner than ever telling you he loved you. He was just terrified of the thought of you pushing him away or ever hurting your friendship.
So after a day full of what he thought of âteasingâ, since it always involved you dressing in one of those incredibly short skirts or staring at him for too long as you sucked on one of the lollipops that he always bought you, he would come to his house and enter his room with a full tent in between his thighs. He would pull out of the back of his closet his fleshlight and spray one of his pillows with those little bottles of your perfume that came as gifts with the bigger version just to bend his other one and push the fleshlight in it, fully lubed and ready for his cock to fuck into, just like that pretty pussy of yours. And thatâs what heâd do, fuck his stupid little toy with his face fully buried on the perfumed one as he imagined you under him, ass up and chest pushed against his bedsheets. His pace was needy, harsh and deep, from his mouth, dirty talking spilling. âYeah, take my cock you slut, fucking take it.â âThatâs a good girl for daddy.â Those were always the best orgasms, making him fill the toy to the brim when he couldnât found himself to stop. Too pussy drunk even when it wasnât your pussy what he fucked in between whimpers.
He sometimes would leave his houseâs and bedroom door open with the dream of you someday catching him red handed.
But they were all just dreams, they werenât supposed to fucking happen in real life. Yet, there he was, and so were you.
That day he had come with a really painful bonner in between his thighs. Youâd been sitting on his lap for a whole goddamn hour since your classmates from class B had borrowed most of your chairs to hang prom signals, leaving you without a place to sit and using your best friend as a chair. The problem was not only that, it was the fact that youâd be adjusting every five minutes and the fact that he had found himself being completely ignored by you as you talked with your best friends, laughing with them and jumping on his lap when the jokes were too good. Well, he was not being completely ignored, since one of your hands, had found his hair and slowly massaged his scalp, every now and then pulling at his hair when you played with his locks, his hands trembling on your thighs âwhich spread sideways across from his â thumbs circling your soft skin.
The fact that you were using him. The fact that he felt used by you and only you, was what had him gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to buckle against your ass. But Spencer was a good boy, so he just stood sit and went through that delirious torture with not a word coming out of his mouth. He felt like breathing once again when you got up from his lap when the bell rang, notifying the students that the day had ended, but still choking when he no longer could smell your cologne or felt you flush against him.
âFuckâŠâ he whimpered when he plopped on his bed, his palm pushing hardly against his pulsing and leaking cock, precum staining his jeans and underwear. He had pulled out from his closet his fleshlight, since he felt that his hand would not be enough today. He had to fuck himself. âPlease, fuck me, pleaseâŠâ he was a babbling mess when his tip pushed inside the lubed toy. âUse my cock, baby⊠Use meâŠâ he found himself whimpering at his mind scenario, in which you would ride him relentlessly, his dick reaching deep enough to hit that sweet spot that youâd torture to make yourself cum all over his cock. âFuck, mommy, fuck, feels so good⊠Ah, faster.â he was a babbling mess, his hips rutting upwards against his hand movements to fuck his cock deeper in his toy.
âSpence!!!â you had called from downstairs as you opened his unlocked front door. Spencer always left it that way for you to come and go as you pleased. You were smiling, in between your hands a copy of a book he had been dying to read for months and for which he had cried after finding out that it had been sold out. After seeing just how badly he wanted it, you had been fighting with sharp nails to get a hold on one of the limited edition copies that had gone on sale in the cityâs center, where you had rushed just as classes finished and where you had killed your savings in the dib. âI have a surprise for you!!â you chanted, locking the door behind you and jumping excitedly, frowning when you didnât hear and answer from him. âSpencer?â you called out again, the soft sound of his voice reaching you from upstairs. You took off your shoes, a smirk growing on your lips when the idea of giving him a scare came to mind. Up the staircase, you were like a ghost, slowly approaching his room and mumbling, though you froze when a moan got to your ears. Your skin went pale and your cheeks heated up when needy whimpers followed up right after, as if all the blood under your skin had ended up pooling there.
âFuck, just like that. Faster, pleaseâŠâ was he with someone? Your chest heaved at the thought of Spencer fucking with some random girl that wasnât you. Youâve liked him for years on end, since the first time that he held you as you cried your heart out after your first breakup. But he never seemed to look at you in any other way that wasnât friendly, so, at the end, âbeing too scared to speak up about your feelings in fear that it would break your friendshipâ you had decided to bury them as deep as you could inside you, believing that he had to be just what he was; your best friend.
Even though you knew it was wrong, you slowly approached his slightly open door, peeking in in need to see who was he fucking, promising yourself that youâd leave once youâve taken a glance. But all that went to hell when you found out he was not fucking anyone but himself, back against the mattress, bare chest rising and lowering slowly as his hips fucked upwards, inside his clear flesh light. Your eyes widened and your legs trembled when from his lips new groans and moans fell. Spencer was fucking touching himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck⊠You needed to get away from there. Yeah, thatâs what youâd do. Youâd go back to your house and forget all about it⊠Or thatâs what you thought, instead finding your feet glued to the floor as you watched.
He looked so hot and pretty all needy⊠Eyes closed shut and mouth agape in gasps, glasses crooked, eyebrows pushed together as his head fell back against his pillow, hair messy all over it. His hand was slow, pushing the toy down on his cock in deep and harsh strokes. You could almost perfectly see his long and thick dick, his thrusts making the lubeâs wet sounds fill the room. âAh, fuckâŠâ his voice was low and so broken you felt your panties damp in your slick, you were so turned on that your free hand cupped your cunt, making you almost moan if you hadnât bit down on your bottom lip.
Your fingers had started to push against the lace of your panties underneath your plaid skirt, freezing on your clit when a new babble came from inside the room and your best friendâs lips. âFuck, y/nâŠ, mommyâŠ, please, fuck, fuck, fuckâŠâ your eyes widened, not only becauseâŠ, fuck, Spencer was fucking that goddamn fleshlight with you in mind doing so, but because he had called you mommy too. Surprisingly enough that only turned you on even more, a needy moan tearing your throat before you could push it down to your chest. Spencerâs movements stopped, his gaze moving to his opening door just to see you standing there, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and book in hand.
He quickly pushed away the toy, cursing under his breath when he sat up, a pillow hiding his hard and leaking cock, which was twitching at the sight of your trembling legs. âFuck, y/n, IâŠâ he didnât even know what to say. You had caught him, caught him fucking himself with his goddamn fleshlight, and even worse, caught him moaning your name. He felt sick to the stomach, but at the same, so turned on too. You had caught him⊠Finally. And who knows how much time you had been listening and peeking at him while he pleasured himself. He had to hold back a whimper at the thought of it. âHow much did you hear?â he cursed when you didnât answer, cheeks reddening and cock twitching under the pillow, leaking against his thigh.
âMommy.â you said, making his head snap back to you, a frown on his face, eyes widening when you let the book fall from your hands as you stepped in, closer to his bed.
âWâŠWhat?â fuck.
â âMommyâ. Thatâs what you called me.â you smirked, eyes falling to his lap when he pushed the pillow further down. âWho would think that Spencer, the Genius Spencer Reid, would be so goddamn dirty to even leave the door unlocked for anyone to see as he fucks himself. And even worse, have a mommy kink.â he stuttered as he shook his head.
âItâs not what it seems like, IâŠâ
âYou what?â you pushed, thumb and index gripping his chin so his eyes would find yours. âAre you gonna deny that you were touching yourself while thinking about me? That you were calling me mommy and whimpering for me to fuck you faster?â he moaned at your words, half-lidded eyes full of lust staring at your full and rosy lips. âMmh? Answer me.â you ordered and he whimpered, your pussy clenching when he shook his head and cried out a ânoâ. â âNoâ what?â your lips brushed against his, teasing him to get out of him what you wanted.
âNo, mommy.â you pulled his hair when he tried to kiss you, making him groan against your lips as you clicked your tongue. âPleaseâŠâ he pleaded, hands rocking the pillow on his lap.
âOnly good boys get a kiss, Spence.â
âIâm a good boyâŠâ he was so gone that you almost laughed, so needy for pussyâŠ
âOh yeah?â he nodded, his tongue dampening his lips, hips thrusting upwards towards the pillow that covered his naked body. âThe why donât you show me?â he shivered when your lips latched to his neck, your tongue pressing against his skin in open mouth kisses that led to his ear. âWhy donât you show me how good you are and let me watch you fuck that pretty toy of yours, hm?â he moaned, muttering a âfuckâ as he nodded, making you smirk. âThen go ahead, baby, let me see.â you pulled away as he pushed the pillow off his lap, dick twitching below a pool of precum that dripped from his tip.
In the state he was⊠He would do anything for you. He would even fuck himself stupid if you said the word. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. Anything for you.
He moaned when you sat down on his deskâs chair, skirt rolling up and letting more of your soft and beautiful thighs show. His hands were shaking when his fingers gripped around the clear silicone or his toy, whimpering when he noticed your eyes on his twitching dick.
You had seen dicks before, but none of them was as beautiful as Spencerâs. It was big, with a great large and just the perfect girth, large and thick enough to have you limping for a few days after a good fuck. And you knew he could give it to you, that he would fuck your hard and needy, deep enough to have you drooling over yourself as you came over and over again. You would love to drool and choke on it too, outline the veins on his shaft with your tongue and take him so deep on your throat youâd need to swallow when he came in your mouth. âAw, poor SpenceâŠâ you cooed at his twitching cock, red tip and tight balls. âCaught about to cum. It must really hurt, doesnât it baby?â he nodded, tears on his eyes due to your teasing, chest rising in heavy breaths. âAre you gonna cum on that cup for me to drink, hm? Want me to drink your cum, Spencer?â he moaned a breathy gasp, and you smirked to his reaction. He liked that.
âYes, yes, yesâŠâ he muttered, almost begging for it. The thought of you swallowing his cum making him go crazy. He whined when his leaking tip brushed against the artificial hole, his lip being tortured by his teeth when you parted your thighs, panties exposed and damped lace for him to see. âFuckâŠâ he cursed, bottoming out into the wetness of the fleshlight in a deep and large stroke, almost cumming at the sight. âFuck, fuck, fuck.â your hands came down your body, your left resting on your breastsâ hard nipples pushing against your shirt, which you pulled and pinched in between your fingersâ and your right sneaking in between your thighs and below your underwear, whining when you felt just how wet you were. âShit, y/n.â
His dick was twitching like crazy with every new and fast thrust of his hips, pleads falling of his lips. âI need you. Need you so badâŠâ âPlease mommyâŠâ âIâm gonna cum, iâm gonna cumâŠâ
âOh yeah? You gonna cum?â You clicked your tongue when he nodded, chuckling at his behavior. âLook at how pathetic you look.â he whimpered when you had made your way back to his side, standing in front of him and making his head fall backwards when you harshly pulled on his hair, making his hips stutter and breathy whines rip his throat. âHold it. I havenât even told you where to cum yet.â he cried when you pushed down your thighs your panties. âFuck, you are too fucking loud.â you said and he had to squeeze his dick to not come when you pushed your damped panties into his mouth, slicked crotch flat against his tongue. His muffled begging only made your pussy wetter, his eyes full of tears that seemed about to fall when he could take a taste on just how sweet you were. He choked on the lace when you startled his legs. His eyes fell just as your free hand did, straight to your core, where your fingers dug on your wet folds and parted them for him to see thin strips of slick connect them and just how swollen your little pink bud was, hidden under its hood. âHere. Cum on my pussy.â you said, leaning on the skin of his neck to suck a hard hickey on his flesh.
You didnât even had to say it twice, his hand quickly throwing away the fleshlight to cum all over your folds and clit, muffled groans and moans filling the room when his white and heavy gropes painted your core in white, his mind all foggy and pussy drunk just by the simple contact of your cunt on his tip. You hummed as you stroked his hair, open mouth kisses being splattered across his chest. He was still fucking hard. âGood boyâŠâ you cooed, loving just how fucked out he seemed, moaning when you sat on his cock, his length in between your wet folds and his tip bumping against your clit.
âFuck, fuck, fuckâŠ.â he cried out with your panties on his mouth when you rocked your hips against his. Thatâs all it took for him to cum for a second time, right after his first orgasm.
You moaned, feeling his dick twitch and nails dig on your ass, your pussy sliding too easy due to the amount of his cum that coated it. âYou came again, baby?â he nodded, his cock quickly getting hard again to your humping. âFuck, SpencerâŠâ you pulled your panties away from his mouth, wanting to hear his groans. âLook at you, making a mess of my cunt.â
âFuck, y/nâŠâ your name sounded so wonderful falling from his lips⊠âPlease, can I⊠Can I clean it for you? Let me clean it for you, pleasepleaseplease. Iâll make you feel good, I promise, Iâll be goodâŠâ you pulled his bottom lip with your thumb, warm skin under your fingertips. âI promise. I promise mommyâŠâ your thumb brushed your own lips when he leaned in, pupils blown and need on his hazel thin irises. He looked high. And he was, high on his favorite drug: you.
You nodded, giving in, and gasped when he had your back pressed against the mattress in just a matter of seconds, lips all over the skin of your neck and exposed collarbones, his hands leaving your hips to bump against the bottom of your tank top, fingers so desperate to see your tits that dug too hard on the piece of clothing enough to tear it up. You moaned when you felt the fabric give out, his hands cupping your exposed breast and biting hickeys on its flesh in between groans, muttering a âThe prettiest tits Iâve ever seen, fuck.â. You were tugging on his hair as he played with your tits, biting your nipples and teasing you for a couple of minutes before slowly lowering his lips further down on your stomach, bumping with your skirt, which he quickly discarded it away on his bedroom floor. He pulled away to look to your fully naked body, hair messily spread on his pillow âthe same he had fucked multiple times while thinking about youâ, lips swollen due to constant biting, half-lidded eyes and flushed skin. He moaned, dick twitching, âcause you were so goddamn perfect. Perfect for him.
He didnât waste time in parting your thighs âwhich he took his time with, and of course he would, he had been dreaming about making them bleed for years nowâ, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking hard on the skin, making you whimper and tug on his hair. âSpencerâŠâ you whined when he bit down on your flesh, making your back arch at the incredible pleasure the pain inflicted made you feel. He was so drunk on your skin⊠He could spend his whole life kissing it that he would never get fucking tired of it. But his teasing was making your pussy clench and tingle. You needed his mouth on it now. And he seemed to get it when you pushed him further against it, his hands taking your now fully marked thighs to pull them above his shoulders as he sunk on the mattress, stomach flat against it and fingers gripping at your flesh. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue pushed in between your covered in cum folds, flattening in a long strip and bumping against your clit. Both of you moaned, him due to just how much he had dreamed about the taste of your pussy âwhich he had tasted before, but only clothedâ and you to how many times you had touched yourself with his mouth in mind. His name falling off your lips on a whimper had his hips rocking against the duvet as he ate you out sweet and slow.
It was only when his fingers found their way to your entrance that he started to eat you just like you needed and he always dreamed of: rough, needy and hungry. You were screaming his name when his fingers pushed inside you, quickly fucking the shit out of you and curving to hit your g spot as his tongue circled your clit. Spencer knew how to use it, really well. So well that he had you tipping the edge in less than ten minutes. He was like a starved man, burying his face in between your thighs unable to get enough of you and your sweet taste, of the mix of the two of you in his tongue. âFuck, Spencer, IâŠâ you babbled, thighs twitching as you pulled harder on his hair. He knew you were close by how moans fell of those pretty lips of yours over and over again. âIâm gonna cum, Iâm gonna cumâŠâ you cried out, Spencer crushing your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his fingers.
He moaned, begging for it. âPlease cum on my mouth, mommy. Please, let me have it, please mommy, pleaseâŠâ you whined when his tongue gave just one last stroke to your clit, dissolving in the hardest orgasm youâve ever had, whimpers against your cunt as Spencer drank every last drop of it all, helping you ride out your orgasm as your sweet moans filled his bedroom.
You mewled when once youâve come down from your high, his tongue licking you clean as hips rutted on his wet sheets, seconds away from coming when you called from him. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy as you sat up. He looked completely gone. Half-lidded eyes unfocused, messy hair due to your tugging, swollen lips and wet chin. âPlease, just a little bit more, mommyâŠâ he begged, needing to go back in between your thighs. Needing to taste you and make you cum again on his mouth. âPlease, I need itâŠâ your eyes fell to his twitching and leaking cock, and then, to the dampness of the sheets where he had been rocking against. You clicked your tongue as you took him in your hand, making him gasp.
âIâll let you choose where to cum next, Spencer.â you said, your other hand coming to his cheek to rub the flush on his skin. âI could let you eat me out again and let you cum all over the sheets all by yourselfâŠâ his balls tightened to the thought of it, feeling cold when the hand that cupped his face left him to fall in between your thighs, spreading you open for him to see. âOr you could cum inside of me.â his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips thrusting into your hand in anticipation. âWhat do you say, Spence? Where do you want to cum, baby?â he was almost hyperventilating, whimpers falling of his lips as he leaned on you, eyes on your own.
âInside.â he found himself to mutter, unable to think, not when you were offering him the chance to fuck you raw and fill you up. Just the thought of it had him reeling.
âOh yeah?â you whispered against his lips, him nodding slightly, bewitched by your minty breath connecting with his own. âYou wanna cum inside, hm? Gonna let me use your cock too?â you gave him a sweet smile when he moaned, furiously nodding. Leaving a little peck on the corner of his mouth, you fell backwards on your back once again. âThen come here, Spence.â he was fast to top you, your thighs parting to receive him there, hands on his neck when he leaned in, eyes asking for permission to kiss you, which he didnât even need since you were now entering your tongue in his mouth, making him groan. Fuck, he could come just with that. With your tongue on his mouth, your body against him and the thought that you were only letting him fuck you to seek your own release. He moaned on your open mouth when you took his dick to align it with your entrance, which twitched at the feeling of his tip. You needed him, and you needed him now. âFuck, baby, please fuck me Spencer, please, pleaseâŠâ you whimpered, and he didnât wait to push inside in a deep and fast stroke. You both moaned, foreheads against the otherâs as he bottomed out.
âFuck, so tight, mommy, so tight⊠Shit. Iâm gonna cum.â your head had fallen backwards in gasps, giving him full access to your neck, which he kissed and sucked, leaving new marks. He was so big you felt like splitting in half, but not in a painful way. His stretch had you delirious, his tip brushing against that sweet spot that would make you come in a matter of seconds. Your nails dug on the skin of his back, making him groan. The two of you were taking your time, him getting used to the feeling of your tight and warm walls trying to milk his twitching dick and you to the feeling of his heavy and big cock sitting inside your wet cunt, spreading you to edges youâd only dreamed of getting to. He groaned against your neck when you started to unconsciously rock against him. âPlease y/n, can I fuck you now? Let me fuck you mommy, please? I need to⊠I need toâŠâ
âGo ahead, baby. Be a good boy for me and let me use your cock, alright?â he whimpered at your words, and in less than one second he had you gripping to his back for dear life and losing yourself in between moans. âOh fuck, yeah Spencer, just like that baby, shit, fuck me, fuck meâŠâ
He was just feral. Thrusting in you with just cumming in mind. His hips were pushing against yours in a hurry, hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering as you thrusted yourself on his cock, just as desperate as him. He was too pussy drunk to even kiss you straight, spit dripping down your chin at the messy made out. âFuck, y/n, mommy, shit, so good, feels so good, fuck, I love it, love your pussy, ah shit, love you mommy, loveyouloveyouloveyouâŠâ he was a mess. Both of you were. His thrusts had you drooling on the pillow, back arched and eyes squeezed shut, too lost in the pleasure, in him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release with every new deep and harsh thrust, making your nails dig up on his back, probably leaving marks.
âFuck, Spencer, fuck, Iâm close, shit, Iâm gonna cumâŠâ you whimpered on his ear, making him fuck you harder.
âCum on my cock, mommy, please, please⊠Use me. Use meâŠâ he begged, and then you could only feel yourself cumming over and over again. It was all too much, but too good at the same time. So good that had your soaked cunt gushing all over his dick as he fucked you dumb, his hands pulling on your nipples and teeth digging so hard on your neck that draw blood. You were seeing fucking stars in the ceiling.
The only thing that you seemed able to coherently form was his name, which you chanted like you sang your favorite summer song. âSpencer, Spencer, SpencerâŠâ
âShit, Imma cum, Iâm cumming so fucking hard⊠Gonna fill your pussy mommy, gonnaâŠ, fuck!â his thrusts became sloppier. âIm gonna cum, iâmcummingiâmcummingiâmcumming.âhips thrusted one, two, three more times before his dick twitched inside of you, filling you so full you choked on air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when some of it spilled out. He was whimpering âmommyâ over and over again in between cries against your neck, thick gropes of cum painting your insides in the purest white.
âShit, fuck, Spencer. So goodâŠâ you moaned, rolling your hips at the feeling of fullness. You were fucked out, brain dead on the cock that had just gave the best sex of your life. You were trying really hard to come down from your high and calm down your breathing. âSpencer!â Though you really couldnât even do that, since you found your head being hardly pushed against his pillows and back arched with your chest against the duvet when he pulled you up from your ass, his newly hard cock ramming inside of your full of cum pussy. You cried out when his hand came down on one of your cheeks in a hard spank that had you whimpering.
âYou didnât think I was done with you, were you, âmommyâ?â you could hear the teasing in his voice. âIâm sure you really enjoyed having your way with me, didnât you?â you couldnât really comprehend how his mentality had switched so drastically fast, but you were no one to whine about it. If a submissive Spencer had you cumming so hard on his cock, how would a dominant fuck you out? You felt your pussy clench around his dick in anticipation. âWell, I hope you did, âcause now is my fucking turn.â
