18+ | bunny hybrid!reader spending easter with 141:
price: this man is dressing you in the sweetest little gingham shorts to show off your fluffy tail, getting you to hop around his cottage yard to find the eggs he’s hidden for you. he’s too old to play games, so he’s content to watch from the porch as his cigar smoke curls in the spring sunshine
gaz: similar to price, he’ll be spending it with you outside. the bastard loves to show off, so he’ll pick a popular park to have a picnic with you, making sure everyone can see your bunny ears are real and not just a headband. might even enter you in a stupid hop competition just so you can beat them all and be his winner (which he will be sending to soap)
soap: he’s a family man, what can he say? he’ll have you in scotland, playing with all of his nieces and nephews — arts n crafts, egg hunts, and he even lets his niece trace your ears on a paper so she can cut them out and wear them like yours. any chance alone he’s murmuring in those fluffy white ears about how nice it would be to have wee bunny!hybrids bouncing around you all with his ridiculously blue eyes (“think about it, bun, hey?”)
ghost: sorry, it’s not gonna be cute it all. he relishes in the fact that a bunny’s tail isn’t actually a fluffy ball. he unfurls it before holding it up to thrust into your sloppy hole, squishing your ears together with his other hand like fuckin’ reins. “so tiny f’me, god—look at you—“ your back is practically bent it half towards him with his two holds on you, completely merciless to his filthy slams inside you
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at a sweltering cody family pool day, pope ends up with you in his chair. your squirming quickly turns into a private torment as pope tries to hide just how hard you're making him
PAIRINGS pope cody x bunny!reader
WARNINGS 18+ MDNI explicit sexual content, pre-relationship pining, lap sitting, male arousal, internal sexual thoughts, male masturbation, semi-public arousal, dub-con undertones (naive reader, power imbalance), protective pope, obsessive pope, objectification, sheltered reader, reader wears a bikini
WC 1.3k
The sun is brutal today. Molten and punishing in the way it beats itself flush against the concrete, the pool water, the bright lacquered edges of the pool chairs until everything looks bleached out and overexposed.
Pope can feel it working at him, needling into the back of his neck, gathering sweat under the collar of his shirt, making the dark arms of his sunglasses burn where they hook over his ears.
He’s not particularly fond of heat like this — bodies gone sluggish, thoughts slow-cooked to mush — yet he refused to budge from his corner.
Stubbornness is a religion, and today’s sole article of faith is you: sweet and oblivious and in need of a sentry. So he sits, muscles held in a punishing lock, letting the sun roast him alive if that’s the tax of keeping you in his sights.
You hover in the sunlight wrapped in a frosting-white ruffled bikini, bows resting over the triangle top covering your breasts like little ownership tags he hasn’t signed yet. Fabric scoops and skims, herding his attention along curves he’s memorised only through clothing until now.
A dull ache starts low in his belly, half-chub straining, but he holds himself rigid. Steel spine, locked jaw. Want is allowed; acting on it is not.
You do that little lost-kitten swivel, glancing around as your pretty features twist with frustration when the lack of seating dawns on you.
The yard is a disaster from Craig’s get-together last night. Mud-slick loungers flopped belly-up, broken or littered with party debris fermenting in the sun.
One dented chair left, and he’s welded to it. Deran sprawls on the other, drooling through a hangover coma.
“There’s nowhere else to sit…” That faint tremor in your voice shreds what little discipline the sun hasn’t already scorched. You shift, ankle to arch, looking unsure. “Can I sit with you, Pope? Just for a bit. ‘M feet hurt.”
It’s absurd how fast he armors up. Tendons braced, breath cinched, eyes slitting as if your question carried a knife. Fight, flight, freeze. The third floods his limbs with concrete.
He clears his throat and forces his fingers to unkink from the chair arm before they leave imprints.
“Here,” he mutters, half risen, knees popping like bad fireworks. “Sit —”
But your hand flattens against the broad plate of his shoulder, forcing him back down before he can peel himself from the wicker.
“No, it’s okay,” you insist, shrugging as you slip backward into the cradle of his spread thighs, cotton-candy ruffles kissing his lap. “There’s plenty of room. You don’t have to get up.”
His eyes widen to saucers.
Plenty of room, you say. Not from where he’s sitting. Every inch of space is suddenly packed with scent, sun-oil, and the knowledge he can’t shift an inch without grinding up into you like a savage.
You’ve practically asked the lion to hold still while the lamb curls up against its teeth, and the lion is trying — Christ, he’s trying.
You melt back against him with a contented mmph.
He clamps down molars down on the inside of his cheek. Penance, placeholder, something to do that isn’t rut forward. Blood tastes copper-sharp.
His fingers skim the satin slope of your waist, panic-brake, hover. Move you? Move himself? He can’t decide.
He ends up abandoning the controls altogether, drops hands to his thighs and squeezes them into prison knots.
You wriggle again, your bikini bottom skating over the swell inside his shorts. Heat knifes through him, the reaction instantaneous, biochemical, a syringe of adrenaline straight to his cock.
A rifle ready to shoot before the target appears.
“Knock it off,” he says under his breath, the words clipped, strangled almost.
You tip your head a little, like you’re about to ask what he means, and he feels a fresh wave of panic go through him at the thought of you turning around, of those wide doe-eyes on him while he’s like this.
“Quit squirming,” he adds quickly, trying to weld the sound into irritation rather than plea. “Just… sit still, yeah?”
Your shoulders hitch a light shrug against his ribs. “M’trying to get comfy. You’re all stiff.”
Of course he fucking is.
Stiff everywhere, especially where you’ve parked.
You can’t feel the full shame of it, must think it’s the chair ridge or a clump in the cushion or maybe the twitch in his thigh. Something harmless. Something simple enough to match the sweet, bubble-wrapped world you keep your thoughts in.
“Stiff’s the least of it,” he grunts, staring dead head. “Keep moving and I’ll end up launching you into the deep end for your own good.”
Biggest lie he’s told all week. One glimpse of you climbing out of the pool, bikini plastered, water sliding down your skin, and he’d be the one going under, drowned in his own boxers.
Your palm flattens over his knee. “That’s not very gentlemanly.”
“Never claimed I was a gentleman.” His hand covers yours, calloused thump sweeping once over your knuckles before retreating.
You give a breezy little hmm then shift once more, extending your legs until your toes point past the chair’s end.
He’s forced to tip back with you. Your head now resting near the firm plane of his lower stomach while your shoulder blades pillow against his lap.
You glance up, upside-down smile curving. “You always act like one with me.”
He does. Unintentionally, maybe.
You’re forever finding chilled water bottles materializing beside your lounge chair, phone charged because he jacked his own cord to keep yours alive, car warmed and idling on nights the temperature dips. The universe rearranged in small ways so your path stays smooth.
It’s disorienting. He’s spent most of his life running rough, letting silence and the hard set of his jaw do the talking. People read him as cold, and he’s been fine with that; cold keeps questions away.
You still get that too — he can’t thaw completely — but around the frost are these bewildering warm fronts.
He keeps waiting for you to notice the contradiction, call him on it, shove him back into the fortress he knows. You never do.
You squint up at him, lips parting as if to ask what gears he’s grinding now.
This angle gifts him a perfect panorama of soft cleavage rising and falling, generous curves swaddled in white. The bows ride the upper swell like little white flags, fluttering each time you exhale. A faint sheen of perspiration beads at the valley in between them, catching the light, sliding downward. His gaze follows, pulse kicking so hard it bruises.
One thought, just one, of how they’d feel in his palms and his cock knocks again: attention.
You frown a little. “Did I lay on your phone or something? Feels kinda… hard.”
You wiggle experimentally as if testing the theory.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He needs to lie. Fast.
“Keys,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. “Forgot to take ‘em outta my pocket.”
He nudges your hip a fraction forward, as if adjustment might erase the evidence throbbing beneath you.
“Oh — big set of keys,” you giggle. “Must be heavy. Sorry, I’ll try not to lean on them.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to sound casual. He’s not sure it works. “Keys can take a little pressure.”
He’s not sure that would work either.
“Seriously, Pope, that thing’s huge. Bet it knocks against your leg when you walk.”
You don’t know what you’re saying. He has to remind himself of that over and over and over because it’s becoming increasingly hard (no pun intended) for him to not picture those words under different circumstances.
One where you look up at him where you’re planted on your knees, face smushed against his thigh as trails of drool dribble from your mouth.
He counts backward from ten.
At six he’s pulsing. At four he’s harder than when he started.
“Gotta grab somethin’ from the house,” he mutters, palming your waist to slide you forward so gently you sigh inside of question.
Two strides later he’s inside, door thunking shut. Cold water, cupped and splashed, hisses off his cheeks. Doesn’t put out the fire.
He braces both palms on the sink, zipper already down.
Quick, brutal strokes on his dick while the image of white bows sticks to the backs of his eyelids. His orgasm shudders through him in thirty silent seconds.
When he reappears outside with an orange soda, he looks every inch the silent guardian again. Except for the bloom of color on his cheekbones that won’t quite fade.
MARIA NOTE shoutout to @romantic-insomniac for this simply brilliant idea 🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷 kissing ur brain so hard rn
tw: 18+, size kink, pet play, degradation, praise, dacryphilia, rough sex, mentions of breeding
you should have known better than to let toji take you home after the party. dressed in your little bunny costume, fluffy tail pinned to the curve of your ass and ears twitching every time he leaned in close, he had that look in his eye all night. sharp and hungry, like he already owned you.
he sits back on the couch now, broad shoulders relaxed, spreading his thighs so wide it makes your stomach flutter. his voice is deep and teasing, curling around you like smoke.
“c’mere, bunny. hop on over.”
your body obeys before your brain catches up, crawling across the floor on shaky hands and knees. you feel ridiculous, ears bouncing with every movement, but his smirk says he likes it that way. when you finally kneel between his legs, he grabs your chin, tilting your face up.
“look at you,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into your cheek. “all dressed up like a dumb little pet. you want your master to take care of you, huh?”
you nod too fast, desperate, and he chuckles low in his chest. the sound makes your thighs press together, heat pooling between them.
his hand tangles in your hair and he drags you closer, pushing your face against the hard outline straining his sweatpants. “kiss it.” the command is rough, no room for disobedience. you press your lips against him, trembling.
“good girl,” he praises, before suddenly yanking you up into his lap. the roughness makes you whimper, but he only grins, pulling your costume down until your breasts spill free. he palms them greedily, biting at your neck hard enough to make tears prick your eyes.
“mm, so soft… my little bunny’s built just for me.”
you can barely catch your breath before he is pushing your panties aside and sinking into you with one brutal thrust. you cry out, clinging to his shoulders, ears askew and fluffy tail brushing against his stomach with every movement.
“fuck, so tight,” he groans, snapping his hips up into you. “you’re cryin’ already? barely started, sweetheart.”
his words make you sob, but you cannot stop grinding down on him, chasing the drag of his cock deep inside you. every thrust forces a high-pitched whine out of you, your voice breaking.
he smacks your ass, the sting sharp and hot. “louder. let everyone know my bunny’s getting ruined.”
your body arches, ears slipping down as you moan helplessly. he drags you down hard, forcing every inch inside, until your belly feels full and stretched.
“that’s it,” he pants, lips curling into something cruel and possessive. “gonna stuff you full ‘til you’re bred like a real bunny. you’d like that, huh? being nothing but a dumb little thing for me to fuck and fill?”
you nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks, babbling out broken pleas for more.
his hand cups the back of your head, forcing you against his shoulder as he fucks up into you rougher, deeper, until your vision blurs and your thighs shake.
“mine,” he growls into your ear. “my bunny. my dumb, sweet pet. i’m gonna ruin you.”
content warning: 18+, MDNI. smut - cockwarming, oral (m. receiving), pope finishes on readers face, use of petnames (pope calls reader bunny, baby, silly bunny, sweetheart)
a/n: i’m only about to finish season 2 of animal kingdom and this is my first pope fic, so i’m sorry if pope is ooc here :p not proofread, lmk about any mistakes!
masterlist
pope had been out all day working a job to then drinking with his brothers, and all he wanted was to come to his bunny.
his boots dragged against the wooden flooring as he came in through the front door at 1 AM. he discarded of his jacket and shoes before heading towards your shared bedroom almost on instinct.
“bunny? you awake?” he called out softly, poking his head into the room while opening the door quietly.
pope was met with the sight of you curled up under the sheets, blink sleepily at him. “hi, popey. i wanted to wait for you.” you yawned.
you almost didn’t catch the frown that graced pope’s chapped lips. “you didn’t have to do that, sweetheart.” he cooed lightly, sitting down beside you on the mattress before brushing the hair off from your forehead.
“i know i didn’t have to.” you shrugged, shifting to nuzzle your face into his lap. “how was the job? everything go okay?” you asked, eyes flitting up to meet his soft ones.
“yeah.. it was fine.” he sighed, watching you settle dangerously close to his crotch. “got a good haul.” he mumbled as you practically pawed at his growing bulge.
“what are you doing? it’s late. you should sleep.” pope scolded, but he didn’t make any sort of move to push you off him. “i want you.” you whined. “i missed you all day. i just wanna taste.”
pope thought for a few moments before readjusting his position on the bed until he was sat against the headboard. “okay, bunny. only cause i missed you too. promise you’ll sleep?” he asked, receiving an eager nod from you.
he lifted up his hips to pull down his jeans and boxers, pumping himself a few times to get hard enough for you to suck him into your mouth.
you gave his tip a kitten lick before taking it into your mouth, lips already wet as pope gathered your hair out of your face for you.
he groaned when you got about half way down, the rest of his length thickening up, making you whimper against him. you were already struggling to fit all of him in your mouth.
“too much?” pope asked, rubbing your back soothingly. he hummed when you nodded weakly. “that’s okay. just take what you can.”
the next few minutes were filled with pope telling you about his day while you suckled on his throbbing cock, saliva dripping from your lips and onto his pubic bone.
pope didn’t even notice you had fallen asleep until he looked down to see your eyes closed, face peaceful while still sucking on his cock.
“silly bunny couldn’t even stay awake while sucking my cock.” he whispered to himself, his tone condescending yet loving at the same time.
he only slipped himself out of your mouth right as he was about to cum. he groaned deeply as came onto your face, your swollen lips and cheeks covered in his sticky release only making him throb harder.
he made sure to clean up your face with a wet cloth before tucking you in properly under the sheets, kissing your forehead before cuddling up beside you.
i cannot stop thinking about that scene where garrett calls hanna a “drunk bunny” oooghhh that was so hot… just imagine you being all worked up and trying to tease garrett only to be like “just a sec bunny”
just him calling you bunny tldr
I love that scene too bc you can tell how much he wants her but is holding himself back (hot consent king!!) And maybe it’s just my own size difference *thing* (which is going off like crazy with him) but the thought of a big, tough, hulking guy like Garrett calling you his bunny is just…mmhm. Well. Wait, what was I saying??
garrett graham x fem!reader
cw: 18+ mdni, smut piv sex, brief cock-warming, v fingering, oral f!receiving, he cums while eating you out <3
masterlist
It started as an offhand comment one day.
You were kneeling next to Garrett on the couch, pressing soft kisses to the side of his neck, running a hand up and down his thigh while he tried to focus on his video game.
With his roommates away for the weekend and the normally crowded house all to yourselves, you had been counting on some quality time alone with your boyfriend.
And you were getting impatient.
When you sighed dramatically for what had to be the hundredth time, he chuckled at your exasperation. “Someone’s feeling needy, huh? Just give me a second, bunny.”
Caught off guard by the new term of endearment, you let out an almost imperceptible gasp.
When he glanced up from the screen and noticed the subtle change in your expression, his eyebrow lifted as a cocky smirk overtook his face.
“Oh, you liked that huh?”
Before long he had you naked and quivering in his lap, your soft thighs straddling his waist, fingernails gripping his broad shoulders as you slowly sank down on him, swearing you could feel each ridge of his thick cock as it stretched you open.
Taking your time to adjust to the sensation of almost impossible fullness, you let out a satisfied sigh. But before you could start to move, his big hands held you in place, firm on your hips as he gave you a devilish grin then picked up his controller to resume his game.
“Now be a good bunny for me and wait.”
Since that day he’s used the nickname to tease and torment you, saying it’s a fitting one because you’re so soft and sweet.
He likes how just whispering it into your ear when you’re alone gets you all worked up and whiny. How it makes your pussy drip for him. You can pretend you don’t like it, but knows you do.
He’s obsessed with the sweet way you whimper when he has you underneath him in his bed, rubbing slow circles over your clit with his thumb before stretching you out on his fingers to get you ready for him.
“Cum for me, bunny,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours until you gush all over his fingers, leaving your pussy a sweet, sticky mess that he loves to clean up with his tongue.
“Taste so good, bunny,” he groans, voice muffled by your pussy, big hands holding you open while you squirm beneath him. “Could eat you all day long.”
With his curly head buried between your soft thighs, he’ll greedily lap up every last drop of you like he’s starving, grinding his hips against the mattress while savoring in your exquisite taste.
Sometimes when you pull on his curls just right and let out the softest little moan, he’ll cum long before he’s ready, rutting into the sheets and leaving them a soiled, tangled mess.
“Look what you did to me, bunny,” he’ll gasp under his ragged breath with a smile, lips shiny to match the gold chain around his neck. “You’re going to have to make it up to me later.”
And you definitely don’t mind ;)
a/n: my apologies for any errors. i wrote this in an ovulation fever dream after reading your ask 😵💫🤍 thank you for sending this in!!
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The sun had climbed high, but time meant nothing. I was faced down in the forest dirt, ass up, trembling and exposed. The wolf’s knot was still locked deep inside me—fat, swollen, pulsing so hard I swore I could feel it bulging through my tummy.
Every little grind of his hips made me cry out, not even words anymore… Just squeaks, sobs, broken whimpers spilling into the grovel. The slick between us was endless, soaking my thighs, dripping down to the ground. Every move made a sticky, obscene squelch, as though our bodies weren’t separate anymore, but fusing together at the knot.
The beast leaned over me, heavy, scenting the top of my head like I was already marked. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re gone, aren’t you? My pretty bunny’s brain all melted from knot.”
I twitched, back arching as another orgasm ripped through me without warning, my body clenching and fluttering around him, milking him harder. My cotton tail quivered against his stomach, twitching helplessly as more slick gushed out, making the sounds between us wetter, filthier.
“You keep leaking, keep milking me,” he growled, claws pressing into my hips until I squealed. “Pathetic little thing can’t stop, can’t help yourself. You’ll take every rut I’ve got until you can’t even breathe without my knot keeping you open.”
I whimpered, tears streaking down my cheeks, my body shuddering violently in overstimulation. I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, couldn’t beg—just twitch and squeak while he kept grinding inside me.
“Good prey,” he whispered, his tone almost tender in its cruelty. “Stay knotted. Stay ruined. You’re mine until I decide you’re empty.”
And as the squelching rhythm dragged on—wet, sticky, endless—I realized he meant it... I wasn’t going anywhere. Not until the scary werewolf was finished breaking me apart.
omg i've been thinking abt rabbot x bunny reader and they're so pervy with her😵💫
like robby is so out right mean and condescending always calling her a clumsy rabbit when she does something he doesn't like or pulls her ears when when she's trying to watch tv. Sometimes when he's had a long shift and he comes home to his bunny sleeping he takes her right there : (( she used to be a brat and complain abt it but now she just turns and kisses him since her little bunny brain is so foggy from his touch
jack on the other hand is so sweet: (( he'll always coddle and spoil her with gifts and affection he even took her to a sex shop to buy her special toys ! only thing is he'd put them within her reach when both men are at work and watch on the cameras as she touches herself: (( he even shows robby knowing she'll get punished when they get home
rabbot x reader, bunny!reader, mean!robby (but jack is definitely playing into it)
you can’t help it! you’re just a dumb bunny, after all! jack says that with affection, robby with a hint of derision.
you can’t help that you need something inside you constantly. robby sighs in the middle of the night often when you climb on top of him, rolling your hips over a very involuntary tent in his pants.
he likes to slap you. “bunny can’t even fucking control herself.” you whine, unable to see through the dark, the haze of your own need. you press against him, skin burning. “dada…” he lays back lazily, makes a show of yawning. “well, c’mon, sweetheart. we don’t have all night. dada’s gotta go to work and be a productive member of society.” a large hand pats your hip, all the encouragement you need. you furrow your brow and grab his cock in both hands, attempting to shove it inside you. “easy, bunny. easy.”
after particularly hard days, robby will grab you. even if you’re just on your tummy, watching a show, gnawing on a carrot shaped chew toy. he pulls you against him. you’ll thump one foot against the carpet, and receive a firm pull to your ears. you yelp out, ears flattening, cowering :(. he just flicks your cheek. “bend over.”
jack, on the other hand, lives for coddling you. “can’t be mean to her, man. ‘s not like she can help herself. just wired that way.” he holds you in his lap, toying with your clit. “you’re built to be needy, aren’t you?” you nod desperately. jack pets your head, then shoves your face down into a cushion. “see what she’ll do if you’re just a little nice to her?” he produces a plug with a cotton tail at the end, swipes between your pussy lips, and eases it into you. you squeal, but do not fight. you whimper. give a little kick of your foot.
jack even brings you special treats. whipped cream. all you have to do to earn it is bend over and let him fill you. and you want to be filled anyway!!! sometimes robby will come home to you under jack, on the dining table. jack throws his head back, and robby points a finger at you. “look at what you do to jackie. now he’s gonna be all frustrated at work.” jack ruts into you, pressing kisses to your soft face. “such a good bunny.”
jack leaves toys out on your bed when he decides to pick up an extra shift during the day. it’s not malicious. he wants you to feel good! you take the rabbit, the plug, and use them, crying for your daddy.
it is not malicious when he shows robby the camera app, where you fuck yourself in full view of the blinking red dot. but rules are rules. and you’re technically not supposed to touch yourself without jack or robby supervising. robby unmutes the camera. “dumb little bunny. stay where you are.” your heart speeds up. you squeak. jack’s voice comes through. “but you looked so sweet breaking those rules, sweetheart!”
: ♥︎ content WARNING : jason todd × bunny!reader, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, praising, crying, begging, +18 MDNI. LINK DIRECT TO MATURE CONTENT!
: ♥︎ summary : Jason wants to push his girlfriend to achieve a specific thing he’s seen in porn videos.
: ♥︎ doll notie note . . . yep, edited this old rafe blurb and posting it again, so what?
Jason had a mission, and he wasn’t backing down. He’d seen it in those grainy porn videos late at night—girls soaking the sheets, trembling—and he was hell-bent on making his girlfriend do the same. She was sprawled out on her bed, legs spread wide, her body glistening with sweat. Her sheets were already a mess, damp with her arousal, and her breathing was ragged, her voice hoarse from moaning. Jason’s fingers were buried deep inside her, his wrist aching from the effort, but he didn’t care. He’d made her cum six times already, six fucking times, and still, no squirt.
He wasn’t stopping until he got it.
“Jay, please,” She whimpered, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as she squirmed beneath him. Her voice was a broken plea, her hands clawing at the sheets, then at his arm, trying to push him away. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t take anymore!” Her face was flushed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, her lips swollen from biting them through every orgasm he’d ripped out of her.
“You can, baby,” Jason growled. “You’re so fucking good for me. I know you’ve got more in you.”
His free hand pinned her hip to the mattress, keeping her still as his other hand worked her over. Two fingers curled inside her, pumping fast and deep, the obscene squelch of her pussy filling the room. His thumb pressed hard against her clit, rubbing tight circles, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed.
“Jay—oh god, it’s too much!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as another wave of pleasure crashed through her.
Her walls clenched around his fingers, her seventh orgasm hitting her like a freight train. Her whole body convulsed, her toes curling, her nails digging into his forearm. A gush of wetness coated his hand, but it wasn’t enough, not the flood he was chasing.
He grinned, licking his lips as he watched her unravel.
“That’s it, princess, cum for me again,” his groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect, look at you—dripping all over my hand. But we’re not done yet.”
His fingers didn’t slow, didn’t falter, even as his knuckles cramped and his arm burned. He added a third finger, stretching her soaked heat, and she screamed, her hips bucking against his grip.
“No, no, please—I can’t!” Her begging was desperate now, her words slurring as overstimulation turned her brain to mush.
Her clit was so sensitive it hurt, every brush of his thumb sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Jason’s cock twitched in his jeans at the sight.
She was a wreck, his wreck, and he fucking loved it.
“Yes, you can,” he insisted, leaning down to kiss her trembling lips, tasting the salt of her tears. “You’re my good girl. You’re gonna squirt for me, I know it. Just let go.”
His fingers pistoned faster, curling harder against that spot inside her that made her see stars. The pressure built, her body tightening like a coiled spring, and he could feel it, she was close, so fucking close.
Her moans turned to high-pitched whines, her head thrashing side to side.
“Jay—fuck, something’s—oh god!” Her voice cut off in a choked gasp as he pressed down on her lower stomach with his free hand, his fingers slamming into her g-spot with brutal precision. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream, and then it happened.
A hot, forceful rush of liquid sprayed from her, soaking his hand, his arm, the bed beneath them. She squirted hard, the clear fluid drenching everything in its path, and Jason let out a triumphant, “Fuck yes!” as he kept going, milking every last drop from her.
Her body shook violently, her thighs clamping around his wrist, but he didn’t stop until she was a boneless, sobbing mess, the sheets ruined beneath her.
“Holy shit, baby,” he panted, finally pulling his dripping fingers out. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan, savouring her taste. “You did it.” He crawled over her, cupping her tear-streaked face in his hands, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “I’m so proud of you, princess. You’re so goddamn amazing.”
She could barely speak, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body limp and spent, but a faint, exhausted smile tugged at her lips.
“You’re… insane,” she whispered, voice raw.
Jason chuckled, brushing damp hair off her forehead.
“Yeah, but you love it,” he teased, settling beside her and pulling her into his arms.
The bed was a disaster, his hand ached like hell, and she was still trembling, but fuck, it was worth it. Because he’d never seen anything hotter.
