Scent-sational!

When I thought it was gonna end, IT BECAME BETTER WITH A VENGEANCE

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Following Orders

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky is always grumpy, so you've resorted to being aggressively bossy. But he will show you what following orders really looks like.

Warnings: 18+. Smut with a plot.

Words: 4,8OO

A sharp hiss comes from the man before you and you clamp your thighs around his ribs tighter to steady him, the air pockets from the storm that make the plane shake and dip through the sky already making it hard enough to finish your sutures on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Would you sit still?” you snap at him and grab his shoulders to pull the open wound closer to you and make it easier to see what you’re doing. In a plane, with minimum light and a diminutive amount of supplies to help your colleague with – a colleague that never manages to ever crack a smile, especially not towards you – your current situation pretty much sucks.

“Would you just let the serum do its job?” he sneers back, but lets you pull him closer anyway as he drops his head back down, his elbows resting on his pulled up knees.

“I think it has proven to not do its job, don’t you think?” you snarl and wind the needle through his flesh again, finding it harder and harder to be careful if he keeps snapping at you like this. But your reasoning seems to shut him up since all you can hear now are small groans from the back of his throat when you tug at the torn skin.

The healing powers the serum usually served Bucky with, have abandoned him and you have a feeling it’s because he has barely slept in the past two weeks and your current mission is an assignment from hell that has lasted longer than any of you anticipated.

Yesterday, a fish hook back at the harbour had made a gnarly gash into the flesh of Bucky’s shoulder and you’d never heard him roar like that before. However, once he saw you, he quickly composed himself and made sure the two of you got out of there and onto the nearest jet. That’s where you got clear instructions from Steve to make it to one of the safe houses on the other side of the world. Why so far away, you had no idea, but you assumed the team had to split up because the intel Steve and Natasha were after gave them information that could harm the entire team.

This whole ordeal seems far from over.

So now you’re stuck on a jet for ten hours with Bucky sitting down between your legs and you situated on one of the crates in the loading space as the jet navigates through the storm on autopilot. It’s been four hours and you had slapped Bucky over the head when you realised that his wound hadn’t started healing yet at all, activating autopilot as you grabbed Bucky by his jacket and dragged him back. You were surprised that in spite of his whining and grumbling, he didn’t use his superstrength to stop you.

You’re confused that the serum could ever even heal a wound like this since you’re sure the tissue was stretched too far. So to prevent infection and improve the self healing, you offered – well… forced – him to let you stitch him up. One glare of yours and Bucky decided not to fight you on it. Besides, he couldn’t bring up the energy anyway, especially not against you.

Bucky is exhausted and the feeling of your warm thighs against his sides as you stitch him up, combined with the rumbling of the plane, almost has him lulled to sleep. After all, a soldier can sleep in any condition. Until of course, a nightmare makes the bliss dissipate.

Finishing up your handiwork, you gently clean the wound once more, making Bucky clasp onto your calves for support, before having it covered with a large bandage.

“You good?” you ask him as you throw the contaminated materials away.

“What the hell do you think?” he grunts and you flick him in the head.

“You’re welcome, you ungrateful dick.”

Bucky lets out a huff as you come to a stand, walking over to the side of the jet and pulling out one of the bunks. Moving over to one of the stocking cabinets, you find a sweater around his size and throw it in his direction.

“Put this on and for everyone’s sake, get some fucking sleep. You’re unbearable to be around,” you order and walk forward again, slipping back into the pilot seat as you check the coordinates again, hoping the storm didn’t mess with your course.

“How are you so aggressive when you’re trying to help?” he grumbles under his breath, not quite low enough or you not to hear. So you turn your head to give him another look and you see him struggling to walk. Quickly coming back to a stand to jump to his side, he almost pushes you off until his vision starts to spin. Gently helping him straighten up and walk over to the bunk, you look up at him.

“Because you won’t let people help you, but you’re surprisingly good at following orders,” you simply answer and help him down onto the bunk, your eyes softening when you watch him wince. “Seriously Bucky, get some sleep. I’ll keep on lookout and I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

Bucky reluctantly agrees and carefully lies down onto the bunk. The softness in your voice almost swept him to sleep without getting situated first, but he puts his trust in you and allows himself to fall asleep soon enough.

…

A gentle stroke over his arm makes his eyes flutter open much more peacefully than he usually wakes up and his eyes meet yours. Your voice is gentle, understanding that he came from the deepest sleep he’s had in a long time.

“We’re here. You want to come inside?” you ask him and he pushes to a sit with a deep grunt, your hands gently helping him up. That’s when Bucky notices a thick layer of multiple blankets slipping down to his hips and the chill coming in from the loading rig that’s descended onto the massive grass field the jet had landed on, the warmth from his sleep chilling his skin.

Bucky slowly assesses his surrounding and nods, “How long have I slept for?”

“The storm derailed us from the course, so you had a few extra hours. I loaded everything into the safehouse and have some food on the stove already. I’d say about eleven hours in total,” you explain as you walk off before putting your hands on your hips and staring him down. “You good to walk, soldier?”

Bucky shakes his head back to reality and nods, pushing off and following you down the rig, towards the cabin at the edge of the full forest surrounding the field.

“You stayed awake for that long?” he asked as he sauntered after you into the cabin.

“Took a short nap myself, just to be sure I could stick the landing without crashing to our deaths.” You shrug and slip your thick jacket off before making your way further into the home, walking up to the stove to check on the simmering food.

“Come here. Need to take a look at the stitches,” you bark your order and turn back to him as he walks over, a deep frown still etched into his face even after the good sleep he had.

“So bossy…” he grumbles and you roll your eyes, forcefully spinning him back around and lifting his sweater up over his shoulder where Bucky’s metal hand catches onto it so you can inspect him.

Removing the bandage, you smile when you see the insane improvement to his skin and open one of the drawers to grab a small knife to cut the stitches with. Gently cutting them and leaving just his flesh to do the rest of the healing, you’re almost sure you can see the skin mending itself.

“I think this might not even leave a scar,” you tell him proudly with a tinge of awe, and he spins around to face you.

“Good. What are we eating?” he asks and peers over the stove.

“Hot air for your rude ass.” You roll your eyes and lift the lid of the pan to stir the soup you had simmering on the stove.

In the beginning, you wouldn’t touch Bucky’s presence with a ten foot pole. The man radiated introversion and pretty much only wanted to talk to Steve. After you saw him snarl and snap at any other colleagues trying, you stayed far away from him, despite your initial intention to make him feel safe and welcome. But Steve saw your professional and withheld response to the whole Bucky situation as the perfect asset to make you both each others’ partner in missions. You wanted to complain – you really did – but you worked exceptionally well together. It turns out, when you don’t talk, you get an awful lot done.

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you greatly appreciate him as a colleague. But if he only likes you when you mind your own business, he would be dead. The amount of times you have saved him from himself is too many to count and you gave him a scolding twice as often. Yet all Bucky ever replies with is a huff, a roll of his eyes and turning his back on you as he saunters off to someone who won’t be on his ass all the time.

“Always so mean,” Bucky grumbles and lifts himself to sit on the kitchen counter, cleaning his hand with a cloth he found laying around.

“What can I say? Your endless optimism and happiness just brings out that side of me,” you hum sarcastically and blink harshly a few times to will away the sleep in your body, demanding for you to have a nap, making you unable to see the hint of a smile at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

Not much later, the two of you finish your soup and you get up to clean the bowls and stuff them away, but Bucky clasps his metal fingers around your arm and stops you.

“Get some sleep. I’ll clean up,” he orders, his voice surprisingly gentle. But you frown at him and shake your head with a shrug, trying to wrench your arm loose from his grip only for it to tighten even more. “Not a request, sweetheart. Sleep, or I’ll knock you out.”

“Resorting to threats now, Barnes?”

“Don’t tempt me. You don’t know where I draw the line.” His warning and narrowed eyes soften on you and it tugs strangely at your chest. “Sleep.”

“So bossy…” Noting the seriousness in his eyes, you know not to fight him on it any longer and you put down the bowls, throwing him one last defeated scowl before making your way over to the couch and curling up on the worn cushions after putting a blanket over it.

The last thing you notice as the weight of sleep presses you into the cushions, is the gentle touch of a duvet being tucked around your snoozing frame.

…

To say it’s disorienting to wake up revitalised in the middle of the night, in a cabin you don’t know, where it’s so dark that you can’t see a hand in front of your face, is an understatement. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, your pulse having erratically quickened from the mind-numbing sleep it was in mere seconds ago, and your fingers dig into the cushions below you to ground yourself.

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you hear a loud grunt and something catches onto your legs, pulling you down. In your sleepy state, you barely get to scream before you’re pinned under a super soldier that looks like he went into fighting mode with his eyes closed, your eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

“Bucky. It’s me!” you hiss and he squints down at you, taking a second to realise before slowly letting go and flicking on the nearest light, still straddling your hips.

“What the fuck, man…” Bucky groans and rubs his eyes, his voice rough and raspy from sleep. “What are you doing?”

You peer up at him with wide eyes “I just tried getting up. I couldn’t see shit, so your stomach became the ground.”

Slowly climbing off you and resting his back against the couch, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and heaves a deep sigh.

“Well, that’s my rest gone for the rest of the night…” he grumbles with disappointment and runs a hand through his hair. You come up to a sitting position as well and make a noise in agreement.

“No. You’re going back to sleep.”

Your head snaps to him, “Excuse me?”

“Sleep.”

“What. Or you’ll knock me out?” you scoff as you rub your eyes.

“Don’t believe me?” His eyes are on you now and you tense before slowly turning to face him again.

“You are not going to knock me out!” You think. Right? “You’re not going to punch me, Barnes!”

He lets out a low laugh that skitters down your spine and your brows pull together. “I don’t have to punch you to knock you out. There are plenty of other ways.”

Your sleepy brain has a hard time catching on, before your eyes widen and you let out a noise of disgust. And your heart starts to pound harder at the wild insinuation. Why your heartbeat drops to between your legs, is something you ignore for the time being.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff, if only to distract his senses from the heat radiating off your face, “you can’t fuck a woman to sleep.”

He leans in and you are on the edge of knocking him out, but his breath on your skin halts you. “You have any idea of the perks of being a super soldier?”

His voice, that deep fucking voice and the gravel in it, makes you gulp, your eyes fluttering against all your inner protests. Your fingers curl on top of your bent knees and you quickly scramble away, up to a stand. Bucky laughs up at you and shrugs, standing up himself.

But that’s it. You don’t move.

You stay quiet. Contemplating. Like only now his words sink past your skin and into your system, which heavily responds to the idea of Bucky.

Bucky fucking you. So hard and deep that you can’t help but cry out, but sob for more. You crave the satisfaction of sleep after a good, thorough pounding. And by someone who is strong and firm and has a filthy mouth. Someone you have no other attachment to. Someone you know answers perfectly to you, as proven by the many missions that showed the two of you working in such synchronised manor, it almost scared you at first.

Bucky cocks his head, “Is that what you need?”

You catapult out of your thoughts and quickly look at him again, “What?”

A smirk. “You need me to fuck you to sleep, sweetheart?”

Fuck. That is a bit direct. And if it doesn’t make you almost drool.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you whisper breathlessly. It sounds like a plea and round eyes look at him like it is.

A plea.

But not for him to stop.

“Why?” He takes a step closer to you, his eyes darting between yours. “What does it do?”

You roll your eyes and his flesh hand raises to cup your face. His long fingers tangle into the side of your hair and his thumb tips your jaw up to tilt your head towards his gaze.

“Use your words. What does it do?” he rasps, taking another step closer until he breathes your air, leaving you with none, it seems.

“It–” you struggle to find the words. What he does to you. He makes your blood turn hot and your skin prickle with cold. He makes excitement flutter in your belly, but it might be anger – indignation at his wild behaviour towards you.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” he croons and you grit your teeth at his incessant teasing. “Or are you waiting for me to take it from you? Make you sing instead?”

Yes.

“Make you cry out for me?” he smirks. “Or maybe just make you cry? Make you beg for it – for me. You’d be such a pretty sight with tears in your eyes.”

Your head buzzes and you don’t know whether he is complimenting you or dragging you through the mud. It feels so similar and it has your heart pounding and slick coating the fabric of your panties. You try to say his name, but no sound comes out.

Bucky understands, however, the moving of your lips, and wants to bite them. Those lips. Suck on them, have them tremble.

After all that disgusting distance between the two of you from the beginning, it would be deeply satisfying for him to tear you apart like that. Have you cry out for more of him. He would take his sweet, sweet time, too. If he can control himself, that is. But he wants to take his time – mess you up real good. Have you despise that distance between you two in the future, like he has always despised that distance.

The silence between the two of you is deafening and it makes you want to squirm. Closer or far away, you don’t know.

Bucky doesn’t feel like Bucky anymore. He feels like the devil taunting you with your deepest desire. But it’s him. He’s your desire. And you can’t tell if it has always been there or if he’s manipulating you into it. He could, you know he could. But you are starting to care less, the more he looks at you. You want him, need him. Your bones are crying out for him and you want to vocalise it.

You want him to drag it out of you, those cries and that horrible, terrible need.

You imagine it. His fingers, two of them, curled inside of you. And a drag. A curl. Another drag. Tearing out your soul, one moan at a time, as he peels that pleasure to the surface.

When the quiet between you becomes unbearable, you dare to nod, give him permission. But the thought of a nod crosses your eyes and Bucky drags your mouth to his before you can give your confirmation. It is hungry, but hesitant. His soft lips and his rough fingers curling against your scalp has you whimper softly, giving him permission with your pleasure. And he unleashes himself, groaning as his other hand drags your head even closer to him.

He nips and sucks and bites at your lips, not giving you any space to venture into the kiss yourself. But you whine softly and he complies by stroking his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls your body up against his. Your knees are weak and your hands clasp desperately at his forearms to make sure you don’t float away, away from him. From his promising kiss for more.

The ache between your legs is near painful and you squirm on your shaky legs, needing relief desperately. But you don’t want his mouth to stop doing that. Stop kissing you, Abusing your mouth with his own. Desperate, claiming, slow, aggressive – selfish almost.

“Fuck me to sleep, Bucky.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

…

“Ah–” you rasp, squeezing your eyes closed as pain, whining pain, pulsates through your core and thighs. Your limbs are trembling and your bare skin is covered in sweat. Your arms are aching from the stretch above your head and the grip Bucky has on your wrists feels like a faint bruise.

But you haven’t come yet.

His deft fingers do nothing more than graze over your clit and you shudder, the touch agonising. He’s been at this for what feels like hours – rubbing, stroking, circling, taunting – and you feel like you are going insane.

His deep voice growls lowly against your ear, “You want to come.”

A small part of you wants to slap him for that obvious statement, but that part of you is so small, so faint, you barely know her anymore. No, that other remaining part of you lets out a wanton whine. Pathetic. Completely desperate for anything. Your mouth opens to plead, but nothing else comes out than ragged breaths, your sweaty chest rising and falling as that sweet relief is withheld from you.

“You see,” Bucky whispers, his muscular body only in boxers now, and another press of his finger to your clit has you writhe and forget that he was talking to you in the first place, “I agree with you that I respond better to orders. But I have found myself to be better at giving them. Orders – And orgasms for that matter.”

You groan.

“But you wouldn’t know that,” he continues, “since you haven’t come yet, have you?”

Heaving a deep breath, you don’t deign to give him an answer.

“I think I want the first time you come for me to be on my tongue– ” he muses and your eyes fly open. “It’d be a shame if you passed out after the first one though. You have to stay awake for me, okay? I’m not done with you yet… Wouldn’t that be cruel – to just be done with you now?”

That drags you out of your stupor and you give him the biggest eyes you can muster, the most pathetic plea you can will into your body, “Please!”

“So polite,” he hums and presses a gentle kiss below your ear. But he decides he wants more and drags his open mouth over the skin of your neck, his tongue lashing over the heated skin before sinking his teeth into it. You sigh softly, as it seems any of his touches are a relief to the endless deprivation of him.

His mouth encircles your breast, the warmth making goosebumps prickle at your skin as your nipples stiffen. Bucky hums against your skin, his tongue circling around the taut bud before giving a playful bite to the soft flesh. His mouth dances further down and his hand slips from your wrists, his palm stroking down your arm and chest to follow his mouth. You know better than to move, your fingers digging into the pillow below your head instead. Focusing on your breathing, you try to get through the ache between your hips, that desperate throbbing for the man descending your body.

Both his palms press against the inside of your thighs and press them apart, the stretch in your muscles making you arch your back. You dare to look down and your jaw drops at the sight of his dark, ravenous eyes on your cunt. His hands holding you open like it’s nothing, like they are pressing to the table his meal is on.

It takes ages, his examination of your pleasure, and your hole pulsates in answer to his stare. Your breathing hurts from heaving the thick air and you can’t take it anymore. One hand reaches down and combs through Bucky’s full hair, through his locks and cupping his face. His eyes dart up to yours and you hold back from frowning at the daze he sprung out of.

“Bucky…” you breathe, a soft question for him to give you what you need. What you want.

He nuzzles into your palm with a grin and locks his again darkened gaze onto yours, before leaning down so agonisingly slowly. But a firework as large as the galaxy springs apart when his warm lips wrap around your clit and you could mistake it for an orgasm, only to find out that when Bucky sucks your clit into his mouth, you know for a fact a deadly orgasm is well on its way to shred you to pieces.

He hums lovingly against you and you let out a raspy moan. Your thighs get pushed to the mattress as Bucky wetly suckles at you, your chest rising quickly now as your orgasm crawls higher and higher in your body. And just when you think you’re there, Bucky retreats and drags his tongue between your folds, lapping up your slick from the source.

A strangled whine slips from your lips and Bucky groans in agreement, “Fuck, I know. But I haven’t tasted you yet. Let me just– ”

Another drag of his tongue has your shivering and your hand curls into a tight fist with his hair between it. He hums in delight at the tug at his scalp and buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing harshly as he struggles to combine it with eating you whole. But the sounds alone, get you closer and closer and– “Bucky!”

“Go,” he hums against you, almost hurried. “Come on my tongue.”

An order indeed.

Body curling, your orgasm barrels into you like an avalanche. Endless weight presses on your nerves and you sob and moan and cry out, twitching against Bucky as his arms slip around your thighs to hold you to his mouth. Drinking your orgasm up and grinding his own hips into the mattress, Bucky devours the feeling of having you come under him. He had been teasing himself, never mind you. He wanted it to last, wanted you more pliant and bendy before he allowed you to come.

He crawls up your body, but you barely notice it, your orgasm still haunting you, racking through your spine and turning your blood to syrup. Bucky takes advantage of your open mouth and licks into it, teasing, smiling, taunting. For you to respond to him, prove him you’re still there.

So you move, languidly dragging your mouth against his as you tangle your hand into his hair again, pulling him closer. He groans into your mouth and a feeling of triumph swells in your chest at the way Bucky’s body melts to your side. Though the deception of his surrender might have been a distraction when you suddenly feel two fingers press into you, instantly curling against a swollen wall inside of you that has you gasp against his lips.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan and Bucky chuckles deeply above you, his fingers retreating before pressing into you again. His thumb teasingly darts over your swollen clit and lightning strikes your every nerve.

“You think too lowly of yourself to think I would be done with you,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving against the flushed skin of your cheek, your eyes having closed in overwhelming pleasure. His fingers move faster and twist into you, opening you up. Then then slow again, teasing – endlessly teasing. Then faster. Slower.

Unpredictable – and your body cannot keep up as it hauls you closer to your high before retreating like it burned itself. But to burn yourself on the devil – on Bucky. What a delight. You sigh deeply and let the bed swallow you whole as you buck up against Bucky’s hand. He presses soft kisses to your cheek, mumbling to you that you’re almost there and you have to let him make you come again.

“More,” you breathe out. “More, more, more…”

He obliges and presses into your spot so well, his thumb dragging two firm circles over your clit at the same time and you burn alive. You arch like a string pulls you to the ceiling as Bucky’s fingers fuck you through a numbing orgasm. From your crown, all the way down to your toes, fire bursts and surges and implodes. Your moans sound attractive to your own ears as you come, your voice breaking and filled with breaths, crying out to the heavens that the devil made you come again.

And the haze clears, the fog lifting as your eyes open to watch a heady Bucky lick appreciatively at his fingers, the gleam on them reflecting the minimum amount of light in the bedroom. Your hand slides from his hair to his chest and you press him to the mattress, his own eyes widening as you crawl over him.

You straddle his waist, hissing as your bare pussy settles over his angry, hard cock. The fabric is rough to your skin, but you can only focus on his face.

Bucky leans up on his forearms and raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t think so– ”

“Oh yes. You are going to let me use you and then,” you smirk, “you can make me pass out. Since you have failed to do so thus far…”

A slow smile spreads over his face, “So bossy…”

You answer with a grin and a slow grind over his weeping cock, making him stutter under you, “Let’s see how well you follow orders now, Mr. Barnes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

oh no please dont pin my wrists above my head and prevent me from moving while you kiss my neck and whisper all the fucked up things you want to do to me

His Second Chance

Everything was groggy when you finally came back, a sting in your neck making it painful to move.

Ignoring the pain the best you could, you looked around, only to see you were back in Miles' room.

But, not really. This wasn't your world.

Once it hit that you didn't wake up back at home, in bed with your Miles you sat up quickly, trying to move out of bed only to see your hands were tied and your ankles.

They weren't tied harshly, like the one who tied them with care, careful not to hurt you even when you moved around but strong enough you couldn't get out.

"What- what the fuck…" you muttered, trying to pull your hands free or get the knots undone before you heard a chair squeak and you froze.

"Don't worry about it. Can't get 'em off. Stop trying."

You turned your head quickly to Miles' chair, the back turned to you as a familiar deep and stoic voice spoke.

"Won't know if I don't try." You quipped back, trying to make whatever light of the situation you could, at least try to get you and Miles out alive.

And you could swear, you heard almost a chuckle come from behind that chair, quickly ended by the one sitting in it.

"...Why are you here?" He asked, quickly getting to the point as you scoffed.

"You're the one holding us here? We just wanna get home." You put it bluntly, going back to working on your toes as he wasn't looking.

"No." You could hear him say, the chair turning around as you worked faster before he saw.

"I mean, why are you here?" He asked, demanding as the chair finally turned.

You couldn't help but freeze as you saw his face.

It was Miles.

Your Miles.

But, not really. This Miles was visibly different and you could tell. This Miles was cold. This Miles just stared at you instead of smiling like yours did.

He was not your Miles.

Your Miles was knocked out somewhere, and needed you to get out of here.

"How are you here when you're not even supposed to be breathing?" This Miles brought you back from your shock, watching the confusion and realization sink in.

This was his world. The world where you guys disrupted the canon. The one with no Spider-Man.

So now you were forced to look at his suit, a suit similar to one Uncle Aaron wore when he was dubbed the Prowler.

"I'm not…we're not supposed to be here." You muttered, looking at everything and how similar it was to your Miles' room, down to every last picture of both of you in every same place.

"But you are." Miles bluntly reiterated, staring at you, his eyes going over and over your face like he was trying to find any similarities and any differences, he found all of one.

"You're the Prowler…? You can't be- you can't be the Prowler." You denied, stumbling over your words out of shock and shaking your head.

"Wanna know how I became the Prowler?" Miles somehow was amused by your shock and confusion, standing up to walk to you.

You couldn't find it in yourself to back away as he leaned down to you on the bed, his face close to yours as he stared into you.

"Because my dad died. And you died. Know what it's like to watch your girlfriend crushed to death with your dad on TV?" Miles muttered, his gaze never leaving you.

"And finding your body under all that?" Miles kept going, watching every reaction you did, your eyes darting around as you took in the new information.

"Now you're back…" Miles muttered, a small smirk can't help but to make its way onto his lips as he kept thinking of all the possibilities, the second chance he had now in his grip.

"Looking just as pretty as the day you left." Miles complimented, his smirk only growing as he used his fingers to pull your chin up to look at him.

"You think I'm gonna let that go?" Miles chuckled, amused at how you wanted to just leave, because he wasn't gonna let you.

"Miles. I'm…I'm not your (Name). I'm sure she loved you- but I'm not her." You tried to explain, shaking your head.

"But you are in some multiverse way. Right?" Miles laid the sarcasm on, his smirk slowly leaving as he heard how much you denied.

"Please. Just let us go home. I'm sure I loved you as much as you did me here, but you're not my Miles and I'm not your (Name)." You shook your head, a plea to understand.

"So please, let us go home." You begged one more last time as Miles just now stared at you, face blank the more you went on about leaving him.

Again.

"...How come he gets to have you and everything while I'm stuck here with what could've been avoided?" Miles scoffed, his hand making its way onto your cheek, feeling your skin he hadn't felt in so long.

"It doesn't work like that." Miles muttered, staring into your eyes, his hand lingering before he pulled away, turning his back to you and to the door.

"Miles! Please, just let us go! I- we don't belong here!" You yelled after him, desperate for him to understand as he activated his mask.

"You did once before. You'll do it again...But he won't."

Miles out on his glove, his mask over his face as your pleas fell onto deaf ears as he walked away.

He wasn't losing his second chance.

Not to that Miles, not to anyone.

You weren't leaving him again.

Real this is what me and my friends would do

They’re stupid

OTOYA IS SUCH A COMEDIAN.

just the tip? - choso kamo; no nut november "i don't think i can do this," choso mumbles, burying his face into your neck and ignoring the movie in the background. "jus' the tip. please, baby, lemme have this," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hip and squeezing. "cho, pay attention to the movie." you murmur back, tugging on a strand of his hair, and he only shakes his head and fumbles for the remote. "no, baby, i can't do this challenge, its hard..." his cock is already painfully hard and swollen in his pants as he palms your thighs, pouting. "need t'have you...please..." and chosos drowsy eyes meet yours, and he looks so needy, that you cant tell him no. his fingers pull your panties to the side just enough, and he cant stop himself from hastily shoving down his sweatpants and he whimpers when he gets to slide his tip against your sopping cunt. hes kissing you, messy and wet and grabbing at your flesh as best he can while he pants against your mouth. he cant wait, he said just the tip, but- his hips stutter forward, sinking into you another inch and making him babble mindlessly against your lips. "oh- please, so good, she's suckin' me in-" he drawls, tears gathering on his eyelashes as he whimpers against your chest. his swollen, blushing tip is kissing against your walls, weak, delirious cants of his hips pushing just a little further into you and making him groan against your neck. choso was so sure he'd survive no-nut-november. when you first told him about it, he thought it would be easy. "she's so loud f'me, baby," hes breathing into your skin, fevered pants and open-mouthed, sticky kisses to your neck. it wasnt easy. he made it a week, but now, he barely thinks he can last a minute with your pretty little cunt sucking him in. he doesn't even realize hes crying and hiccupping through his moans. his vision is white with stars while hes twitching inside you, finally bottoming out inside you and almost immediately losing himself in a nauseating climax that makes him swear he'll pass out. but he doesnt, his eyes lidded and his breath ragged as he rolls his hips into yours again and again, his cock hilted snugly inside your cunt while he tries not to crush you under his weight. the whole time, hes whining into your shirt, babbling about how pretty you look, how good your sopping walls are sucking him in and taking his whole load as he presses his face into your chest.

when he gets ahold of himself, hes kissing you all over your face, smiling deliriously and making sure you cum just as good as he did with his rough thumb to your clit and slow, tantalizing rolls of his hips into yours.

he probably wont be doing no-nut-november next year.

Pathetic!Toji ftw!!!!

Thinking of how hard Toji gets to the scent of your body wash, shampoo, lotion etc. He has his own bottle of shampoo and body wash, yet there he is, lathering himself up head to toe with the sweet scents of your shower products. It's not unusual for him to squeeze the bottles to catch the gust of sweet air that comes out of them when he showers, just like it's not unusual for him to douse himself in your scent when he misses you.

You're working a late night shift, not home for another two hours, meaning Toji goes to bed alone. His phone isn't interesting enough when it doesn't buzz with messages from you or other important notices, so he sets it down on the nightstand and just stares up at the ceiling. His dick is hard and your scent is driving him absolutely insane, the way the sweet notes linger on his body. He can smell it prominently on his bare chest and his pillow radiates the scent of your shampoo due to his slightly damp hair. He can't even pretend like he's comfortable enough to sleep this way.

(NSFW Below)

He groans in frustration, so hesitant in following through with beating his dick. This is stupid. It's not you, you're not home in bed with him yet, yet it's like your saccharine presence is wrapping around him, just adding on to the temptation.

After going back and forth for what seems like forever, he bites. He needs you. You're infesting his mind, clouding any other thought that doesn't involve you. This scent that normally goes on your body... your soft, sweet, delicate body- God, he misses you.

He rolls onto your side of the bed, bringing his pillow along. Your bottle of perfume sits in the first drawer of your nightstand, where Toji blindly digs around until he has it in his hand. Such a small bottle of poison. Once you run out, he'll gladly buy it for you again.

He spritzes the fragrance once, accidentally doing so with the nozzle facing him. He can't even be annoyed as he wipes it off his lips and nose with the back of his hand. The scent is smeared on the lower half of his face now, and his cock is twitching uncontrollably in his boxer briefs. All he can smell is you. The scent is already so strong, yet he's turning the nozzle and spraying it into the air again and again until the entire bed smells like you. He doesn't notice that the small bottle is half empty now, even as he puts it back in your drawer.

He lays back on the bed, satisfied with the sweetness that engulfs his nose, so merciful and gentle on him, causing him to act the opposite way as he takes his leaking cock into his fist and makes himself cum way too fast. He feels pathetic, groaning loudly after cumming within less than a minute. There's no one there watching, yet his cheeks grow warm at the mess he made within such a short amount of time. It's not enough to prevent him from going at it again. He's still hard. He has another one in him.

His mind hasn't shut down and it keeps projecting memories of you. A mix of loving ones—like when you happily twirled for him in a flowy dress that you said you always wanted to wear but didn't feel pretty enough for, or that time your nose scrunched in disgust at a cafe after trying something new and not liking it.

Toji lets out a breathy, deep laugh at the memory, before the more lewd memories with you start flooding his mind. Like the time he had to suppress the sound of your moans with his hand, so that you wouldn't get caught screwing in one of the bathroom stalls of a restaurant, or the times when you get all clingy with him and start kissing him all over until you end up sucking him off, or the fucked out expression on your face when he eats you out until you're crying and your knuckles go pale from how hard you fist the sheets beneath you.

"Fuck," he groans, all raspy and low as he furiously glides his hand up and down his messy length. "Come on," he utters through a heavy breath. "Fuck me, mama..." he huffs. "Just-" his breath hitches, "just like that." His eyes are closed so that he can vividly picture you bouncing on his dick. He starts thrusting into his fist, his abs quivering as he chases the climax that he's been building up. His breaths become heavier and they're rapidly released into the air, before he's spewing spurts of cum all over his abdomen and hand again. His brows pinch, and his jaw hangs open to release shamelessly loud groans. He's arching his back off the mattress as he continues fisting his twitching cock to get it all out. He's gasping as he squeezes his swollen, sensitive tip, thumbing at the slit until he can't handle the stimulation anymore.

He takes a few minutes to calm down before he sluggishly makes his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. It doesn't take very long for his heavy eyelids to shut and for him to fall into slumber once he slides into bed again. He feels good and everything still smells like you.

When you finally get home, all the lights are off except the porch light. The first thing you do is search for Toji. It's late, he's most likely sleeping, so you stride over to your shared bedroom first.

You were correct. He's knocked out, not on his side of the bed, but in the middle. The whole room smells so much like your favorite perfume, to the point where your nose burns and feels stuffy. You're wondering if you forgot to put it away and Toji dropped it by accident and it spilled everywhere, or if the bottle spontaneously exploded. You don't want to make any more wild assumptions, so you walk over to your nightstand and look for it where you last remember putting it. It's still in there, but a little more than half of it is gone. There are no cracks or damage overall to the bottle or nozzle, so it's just a huge point of confusion to you. It was a brand new bottle, you had only been using it for a few days, so of course you're a little irked to find that the majority of it is gone.

The only thing holding up your sanity is the sight of your handsome man sleeping so soundly.

gojo tried out nanami’s job…

ac: 1004_shvn

I want to be manhandled too

Your Friendly Neighborhood Sensitive Spider [TASM!Peter Parker]

Summary : Peter's senses are really easily overwhelmed. He always finds comfort in you. This time you're the reason of his sensitivity.

Pairing : TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI, smut, pure smut really, i can barely remember the plot, it's just filth, creampie, heats basically ??, primal kink, dark undertones, dub-con kinda, pet names (bunny), handjob, pussyjob, face sitting, cumplay, masturbation kinda, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation of both peter and reader, manhandling of reader (peter basically doesn't stop fucking her), overwhelmed/oversensitive peter, titty worshipping (a teenie tiny bit), a lot of cum omg ?? genuinely, this is pure fucking smut, only that, kinda very precise description of physical features and sexual events ?? idk, please avoid at all costs if you think you might be triggered by any of these topics or the fic

A/N : did i write 10k plus words of smut ?? maybe... enjoy this because school is starting again and i bitch decided to pursue an education instead of running away in the wild

_________________________________________

Peter had always been very awkward with people and human interactions in general. It all came from his very good capacity to figure people out by simply looking at them. He was an incredible judge of character even before the spider bite and after that, it all turned into something else. That awkwardness of his had been turned into sensitivity, or even oversensitivity. He was easily stimulated by sounds, movements or smells and he had to learn how to live all over again.

Adaptation had been difficult at first but quickly he found tricks to work around life as discreetly as he could. One of these was you. You were the most efficient thing he ever came across when it came to calming his sensitive senses.

When he met you he’d could vividly remember having a terrible migraine because of the violence of all the noises around him. He had retreated to a secluded room, in an abandoned building on campus. He used it regularly to hide and was surprised to see someone in the room, you. You were sleeping on your bag and he wanted to leave but when he focused a little more, he was surprised to not hear a thing. He couldn’t hear the noises around except the sound of your soft breathing sounds.

He was absolutely flabbergasted, so much so that he rushed to you and kneeled in front of you to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. He even checked your pulse for you, completely ignoring your boundaries or personal space in the process, but making sure you were alive at least or not doing something to his brain. Weirdly enough, you had woken up a little surprised but not worried by the tall man looking frantically over you.

When you asked if he was okay, he leaped backwards. The whole move was very strange and when he thought about it, it was no wonder you’d guessed he was Spiderman. You had this effect on him, this hold on his senses and his mind, you just made it all so calm and effortless. He felt like he was seating on a cloud with soft satin pillows, heavy comforters and your soft legs wrapped around his waist. This was his happy place and every time he thought about it, he thanked his heightened senses for granting him the ability to feel it as if it was currently happening. He could feel the heat of your thighs on his palms, the scent of your collarbones and your soft and supple breasts serving as pillows for his face. You were his peace.

You made him feel so good, his entire body went numb to a point of losing the ability to think rationally. He remembered the things he would do when you two had become friends. Some random guy would scream and he’d start playing with your fingers. He’d be walking with you and a gust if wind would blow, his first instinct was to pull you towards him to have a little bit of your body heat. The sunlight would be too bright sometimes, he’d hide his face in the crook of your neck.

You’d grown use to it overtime, welcoming him with open arms. You had been able to understand the things that triggered him and would sooth his at the best of your capacities. Your favorite thing to do was bring his head to your shoulder and caress his hair softly while shushing him in a low voice. The low sounds brought him comfort and managed to drown everything around. You didn’t understand how but science wasn’t your things so you didn’t try to figure it out.

~

Peter’s need to physically feel you to be generally okay and able to go through his day without being the absolute worst often expressed in surprising ways. These ways you discovered them slowly, each and everyone of them slowly revealing themselves at the most random moments possible.

Again, you’d guessed he was Spiderman because this need to feel you prevailed over common sense. It happened on a Thursday night, you’d been writing an essay for one of your classes when you noticed the shadow of a figure in the distance. When you turned around, it quickly hid behind a wall. Now, the red fingertips and the fact that you lived on the fourteenth floor told you who it was very easily. You were no stranger to Spiderman and his weird way of appearing everywhere you were, but having him in front of your window was very new. Paying more attention to his physical shape, it was very familiar to you. Too familiar. You didn’t even think before pulling on his hand and bringing him towards you with a surprised expression mixed with a smile.

The moment you uttered his name, he wrapped you in his arms, falling on your floor and rolling around. He ripped his mask off and rubbed his nose on the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. He refused to lie to you, probably because he was incapable of doing so, and honestly, you already knew so he saw no point in fighting the truth. That night you stayed on the floor for a few hours before snuggling under your covers, still tangled in each other.

Now, to go back on topic, Peter Parker was one sensitive man just like he could find relief in you, you could also make it ten times worse for him at times. In these situations, you were the main trigger to his sensitivity and that he figured it out on one of the most random days of his life. On that fateful day he felt like he would die if he didn’t fuck you raw.

~

This had to be the worst fucking day possible to have superpowers. Genuinely, he was ready to trade body with whoever would be up for it. From the moment he woke up, he felt like his skin was burning all over. Covered in sweat and twisting uselessly, in hope of finding a little bit of peace and cold, he moaned out your name, begging for you to suddenly appear and save him.

"I... Fuck... I need my bunny... Where is she...?" He groaned, rolling around and searching you.

He’d managed to pull himself together just enough to get up and get ready but getting ready had been exhausting, his entire body feeling heavy and still burning as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes under the most freezing shower ever. While on his way to the train station, he noticed that his senses seemed to be dulled, the sewer stench common to the streets of New York weirdly absent. His vision was blurry enough for him to need his glasses, he was hearing everything but it sounded like he was wearing earplugs and everything he touched felt sticky but distance. He was practically certain to be hallucinating half the things he thought he had touched.

Looking up from the floor, his head to heavy to be raised, he was attacked by something so familiar and good. The comfort he craved on a regular and specifically today. There you were, as beautiful as ever, your headphones wrapped around your head and your eyes looking off to the distance.

"Bunny..." He said softly, immediately feeling better.

He was pretty far from you, far enough to not usually be able to smell you but today he could. So distinctly, he felt dizzy the moment he took a big gulp of air. He could distinguish it all, separating each of the different things resulting in the most addictive smell he’s ever smelled in his life. The citrus from your body soap, the tropical fruits from your hair creams, the vanilla from your perfume, all of it was so vivid, attacking his nostrils and pulling him with force towards you.

He was like a lifeless being, incapable of thinking or seeing anything around him. He was surprised he didn’t fall or push anyone, skillfully dodging everyone around. He looked weird but clearly right now, it didn’t fucking matter, he needed to get to you. When he did, he couldn’t even speak, he simply grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him. He cradled your soft cheek, the warmth of your skin spreading against his palm.

His vision wasn’t blurry anymore, he could see very well, better than ever actually. He could also hear everything perfectly fine, most of everything being you and the sound of your heart beating, your breath speeding up or your blood rushing around your body. He could hear all of this vividly, all of you, alive and looking at him with that deadly smile of yours. He was crumbling, slowly sinking inside himself because of you. You were killing him, with your entire being and that he loved it. He’d never get enough if it.

"Fuck... Bunny, my bunny..."

He seemed to not give a flying fuck about the fact that they were outside, in public, in broad daylight and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. His lips covered yours in a matter of second, folding and molding around the shape of your mouth and sucking in the sweet taste of you. Shoving his tongue in your mouth, he held onto your jaw tight, forcing it open wide for him to invade you further.

You small hands were gripping on his shirt, trying to push him away slightly but failing miserably because you wanted him too. You always did anyways but you knew when was the time. The Peter kissing you right now, was scouring through your mouth, looking for you to fill his ears with those delicious sounds that only you could make. You knew what he wanted, he was moaning and groaning in your mouth and you could feel disapproving looks on your. You did what was best for you and your dignity, biting his tongue enough to hurt but not too much.

"F-Fuck ! Why ?! Need you bunny..." He whined, reaching towards your lips again but being stopped in his track.

"I know baby, but you can't just swallow my face in public... I promise I'll take care of you later."

When he groaned in displeasure, whining lowly before diving towards your lips again, you had to stop him dead in his track, laying a hand flat on his chest in a commending motion. He looked at you straight in the eyes and you noticed how far gone he was. It’s like he wasn’t there all together. He often got like that after sex but you a simple (not so simply, really) had him desperately needing you in the middle of the street. Something was clearly off but you would wait it out, maybe he would be back to normal in a few.

~

He was, in fact, not back to normal in a few. It actually got worst, way worse. By the end of the day, he felt like he was ready to pass out. His entire body was on fire, burning as if drenched in lava and he could barely move. He swung home because it would be faster but practically died hitting a few too many windows on the way. The moment he saw his apartment, he thanked his past self for keeping the window open and threw himself on his floor.

It felt cold and so comforting, he rolled himself around for as long as he could. Quickly, his long body covered his floor in heat and it became unbearable to deal with too. He threw his bag on his bed, completely ignoring the possible state of his laptop and other things. He let his cheek rest on the surface and let his body relax, feeling completely numb but a little better. The reoccurring memories of the day and the state he was in were playing in his mind. For the first time, you weren’t relief, you were the problem.

He had thought that his minor episode this morning, would be temporary and quickly dealt with. It was not. It increasingly got worst, his senses focusing entirely on you. He suffered through long hours of lectures, your scent sticking to his clothes and drowning him in need. He felt like you were everywhere on his, multiple versions of you clinging to his skin and whispering sweet and sultry words into his ear. He couldn’t feel you, skin hot and covered in this warm glow that broke him apart. He could barely see anything, the image of your sunkissed skin shining so bright he felt like he was floating around the sun. You were the sun to him anyways so it wasn’t too far from the truth.

It was like you were a siren, singing your best song to him, bringing him to his knees, ready to run away to the farthest corner of a forest and worship you for as long as you’d allow him near you. You were like an oasis in the hottest dessert there was, draining his life force. God, he was so fucking far gone, he could barely remember his name before yours.

“Pete ? You okay baby ?”

Jolting awake, he frantically looked around when your voice resonated in his head. He let out the neediest whine of pleasure mixed with happiness when he saw your gorgeous face come in view. There you were, looking down on him with worried eyes. He reached up, grazing his fingers on your cheek, nose and then lips softly. Parting them with his thumb, he shuddered when your breath hit his skin. You looked at him with sweet innocent eyes and he thought that would kill him but when you moaned through a whisper, practically inaudible to the average ear but not his, he jumped back, away from you.

He covered his face with his hands, muffling a scream that hid a desperate moan. What the actual fuck was going on with him ?! What was his fucking problem that he had to run away from you because touching your lips drove him crazy ?! He had to be mentally broken or something cause he felt his cock harden and violently twitch in his pants. Starting to breath heavily, he looked around his room for clothes to wear, he needed to change. Anything but fucking jeans honestly.

Reaching for them, he rips them away from his laundry basket with a hoodie to go with it before running to his bathroom and locking himself in. He let out a heavy breath, shivering in comfort at the feeling of the cold tiles under him. He delicately started to peel off his clothes, quickly coming to the realization that each time he brushed against his skin, he’d moan like a fucking idiot. He could feel your fucking scent on them and it’s like his clothes were begging to stick to his skin. He was going absolutely fucking crazy, last time this kind of shit happened, he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider specifically designed to give him superpowers. Maybe he had been bitten by another spider without noticing, that would be pretty logical considering the fact that the only thing he truly fully focused on here was you. Maybe the spider liked you as much as he did.

Once he’d finally managed to get rid of his clothes without moaning too loud, preventing you from hearing him, he sat on his floor, panting loudly, cheeks red and hips moving on their own. He could see the stain of his sensitive cock, dripping cum on the fabric of his boxers. Looking down towards the pulsating bulge, he could practically see your fingers wrapping around him and he instantly winced in both pain and pleasure at the thought. He cupped his thick girth and rubbed it against his warm palm, begging for it to go back down. He was moaning at each of the heavy rubs he’d leave on himself, your name sounding more and more like a plea than anything else. He was begging for you, cursing himself for not feeling so conflicted. He was ashamed of himself, red in embarrassment at his own actions but also feeling deprived and needy for more.

When he felt his hot cum spill out of his cock and cover his boxers, he let out a sigh of relief, eyes crossing at the wave of pleasure spreading through him. He let it all sink in, taking time to relax a little bit before going back out there.

“Peter ? You okay in there ? Do you need my help ?”

He snapped his head towards the door, his relaxation dissipating quickly and being replaced by his previous mood. He was back to square one, needy and pulsating in his pants like a fucking teenager, at the simple sound of your sweet, sweet, sweet angel like voice. You wanted to help, because you were that good, perfect even. A perfect, perfect girl for an imperfect boy who was being crushed under the weight of his heightened senses and the rough consequences they had on his sex drive.

You could help. You could save him even, oh that you could. You and those sweet lips of yours, you could help him greatly. You just needed to get on your knees and let him fuck your throat so hard, you’d feel your own vocal cords move against the tip of his cock. Or did he want to fuck that sweet velvety pussy of yours with his tongue ? Yes he did. He wanted to taste your insides, attach his tongue to your walls and engrave that honey taste in his head. He wanted to bury himself in you too, oh god he wanted that. He wanted to burn your feel on him, god he was ready to carve your name in his skin. It would heal but he wanted you wrapped around him, he wanted to be absorbed by you, completely nestled in your body, in your DNA.

He was fucking insane, completely off his rockers. He needed therapy and a shit load of medication clearly. Maybe a mental institution too, maybe that would fix him, if he could be fixed. If he wanted to be fixed. He was obsessed with you, his body craving your entire existence like an asthmatic would crave air. He was absolutely gone, lost in the ocean that you were, so wide and big and tempting. As anyone ever wanted to drown ? Because he did, he wanted to drown in you.

Quickly shuffling around to get rid of his boxers and slipping in the sweatpants, he opened the door to be faced by your worried face. He gave you his best smile (he looked absolutely fucking crazy) before swerving around you, trying to avoid touching you or breathing in your scent. He’d need to take extra precautions to not let you see through his desperation to fuck you.

~

As soon as he started his little scheme to appear normal in front of you, he was attacked by a new wave of arousal, heat burning him from the inside and jumping out of his body like a violent beast. Looking at you, smelling you, hearing you, all of this was tickling the salacious thoughts in his mind. They were bringing those images lf your naked body rubbing against his to life.

Come on Peter…

Don’t you want to play with me ? My pussy missed you so much.

Felt so empty without you and your cum Pete…

Please baby… Please, suffocate me… I want your cock in my throat…

Peter… Please love, look at my tits… All pretty and lonely, they need you…

I need you… Don’t you need me Peter ?

God, fuck… Yes he did ! Yes he needed you ! More than anything ! He couldn’t express the visceral need he had to scream than he needed you at the top of his lungs. He was ready to lose his voice and vocal cords to say that he needed you wrapped around him. He wanted to feel you all over, be in you skin, invade your every cell.

Thinking like a beast in heat, he couldn’t handle the additional feelings invading him when he noticed that he could feel your arousal. He didn’t know where it came from and honestly, he couldn’t care less. All he knew was that he was smelling the sweet scent of your leaking pussy and he was very close to jumping on you and feasting on your wet folds until he quenched his thirst. He was desperate, for release, he needed you to heal him, save him from his misery.

Rubbing his long body on the mattress, praying for a little friction to free him from his torture, he whined when his skin brushed against yours. Your exposed thighs, soft against the back of his hand, he could feel the heat of your body on his. That heat, he could recognize it anywhere, it was even frightening how he found himself seeking it. Burning hot like lava and turning his entire being into a pile of ash, you were like a volcano. That heat, he couldn’t get used to it, he was responsible for it, that lust pumping through his veins every time you touched you. You were needy for him but you could contain yourself. Now he couldn’t.

Laying his heavy head on your exposed thighs, he rubbed his nose on your flesh, inhaling the scent of your core and drinking it the aroma he could taste on his tongue. His mouth was watering at the thought of your drenched folds coating his lips and entire face. He wanted you to sit on his face, right now.

He distanced himself, practically falling off the bed and ripping his sweatshirt off before throwing it in a corner if the room. That was probably a stupid move on his part because he was now shirtless, erection in full view for you to see and fawn over. You always enjoyed the whole gray sweatpants thingy but never that much until Peter. With him it was a whole different story, no amount of boxers would be able to hide what he had to offer and clearly he opted for the no boxers alternative.

Biting your lip, you hoped he couldn’t see how drenched your panties were already. You were a terrible person maybe. Your boyfriend was in pain, suffering from an unknown illness and needed as much comfort as he could get but you still found time to drool over his barely covered body. You were, indeed, a terrible person.

Looking at him with an amused smile, you slid your hand in his hair, scratching his scalp and soothing his inner turmoil a little. He couldn’t understand what was going on and he didn’t feel like it right now, you could feel that. You knew he needed you but you didn’t want to press him, you wanted him to come to you. And seeing how touchy he was being, you knew you wouldn’t wait long. You jumped slightly when he violently ripped himself away from you to crawl to a corner in the room.

“Oh my fucking God ! Peter are you okay ?! Do you need me to call somebody ?! Maybe Gwen, she has medical or scientific expertise !” You blabbered, panicking at his sudden actions

“No ! Please no ! Do not call… Call anyone… I’m g-good…” He begged, eyes screwed shut and trying to peal his clothes off as if the were his skin.

He threw his head back, resting it against the wall and spreading his legs wide. He couldn’t move anymore, he was breathless, horny and exhausted. If he moved, he felt like he was in a burning shower the water sucking out every drop of water in his body. He was desperate now, or at least more than he was before. He couldn’t handle this sudden new development in his body. He didn’t care if it meant he was dying or something, he just wanted help.

You got closer to him, placing yourself between his legs and laying a hand on his thighs while the other cupped his cheek tenderly. You were worried, hell probably more than simply worried. He could feel it, and he could feel your throbbing cunt from where he was. It was as if your body was vibrating at a frequency that only him could feel and it was torturing him. You were like a siren screaming in his ears to tell him that you needed him to fuck you badly. He who found comfort in you most of the time was being tortured by you too at the moment. The irony of the situation was very unpleasant.

“Baby, please… Tell me what you need... I can’t stand watching you get all weird and sickly without being able to help… I’m not the best scientist but I got Google for that… Please let me help.” You pleaded with that deadly sweet voice. He was being physically suffocated by the honey that your voice was, drowned like a bee that got too close to Paradise.

Looking at you, his brain suddenly shut off completely, the fight against insanity lost miserably. He fought long and hard but clearly, this enemy was too strong, the enemy was you after all. He looked down at the prominent bulge showing through his sweats, if we could call this a bulge. He couldn’t distinctly see the shape of his girth through the fabric, practically begging to come out. He hissed, almost painfully, at the vibrations of his member, looking up to your sweet face in awe.

He was practically crying for help, anything to calm him down. He was conflicted, wanting you close but knowing that it would only make him feel worse. He retreated further in the corner, wrapping his body in his arms and blinking back the weird haze he was in. His breath was loud and short. It sounded strained and come out with difficulty, as if breathing made him suffer. And it did, every breath he took, carrying with it the memory of what you tasted like. He could feel your taste in his mouth when he breathed and it would rush down straight to his cock every time.

“P-Please… Please I can’t… I can’t do this a-anymore… I can’t stand it…” He cried softly. Your worry skyrocketed and you tried to get closer to hug him tight but he jerked, rejecting your hands on him. “I… I need… I need you to leave… Or to just… J-Just let me fuck you… I promise I’ll be good, and I’ll clean you up after but please… Choose for me…”

You looked at him with loving eyes, the worry dissipating and allowing you to nod slowly towards the option he was silently begging for you to pick. Letting his body move on its own, his large hands slid under the hem of your skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and hoisting you up effortlessly. You yelped, your hands shooting up to his shoulders as he sat you on his lap, carefully positioning your core over the wet patch formed by the tip of his cock. He bit the inside of his mouth, keeping his own needy moans to himself as his started grinding against you.

“P-Pet-“ He was quick to shut you up, two of his fingers finding refuge in your hot mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

“Don’t… Don’t fucking say a word…” He groaned, looking attentively at your bodies moving in sync. “Fuck… Do… Do you have any idea of how much I wanted my cock stuffed in that pretty pussy of yours today…? I barely got though the fucking day, thinking I was going fucking crazy… Never been so fucking sensitive before, fuck…”

His free hand grabbed your waist, holding it tightly and pushing you down harder. He couldn’t feel the pulsating of your folds on his bulbous tip, body your centers, leaking and wiping over the other. He should’ve been ashamed by the wet patch on his joggers but he was too busy focusing on the thought of you riding him while he kept his mouth stuffed with your panties.

He groaned in pleasure, a little louder than he was already doing, when he felt your soft fingertips on his wrists, wrapping tight around it to pull your fingers out of your mouth. He looked up at your face and felt his body melt under your gaze, eyes soft and loving but also sharing pure lust and pleasure. He couldn’t see them try there hardest to not cross in pleasure, something you did that absolutely drive him crazy.

Whining into the palm of his hand, you licked the tip of his digits sensually before diving them low against your body. You ‘et go of his wrist to let him do what he wanted, simply lifting your skirt to show what he’d been truly looking for.

“Oh fuck…” He exhaled, looking down at you as if you’d shown him the Holy Grail. His fingers slid under the elastic of your panties slowly before ripping them off of your body in one singular motion. Caressing your exposed hips and your uncovered ass, his fingers dove down on your folds, sliding in between the flesh and stroking his fingers back and forth. You threw your head back in pleasure, his thumb rolling around your pulsating clit.

He was absolutely mesmerized, practically forgetting everything around him. His fingers were drinking in the sensation of your juices coating his fingers. His senses were on alert but not for danger, for more of you. The needed to feel you all over, to have you wrapped nicely around him, sucking out every drop of energy and possibly life even. He was ready to give his life force to you at this exact moment. Was he okay ? Probably not. Did he really care ? Absolutely not.

Raising you up once again, he threw you over his shoulder, inhaling the scent of your wetness coating your inner thighs. His fingers were quick to come play with your exposed mound, gathering your slick and licking it off of his fingers. He walked, painfully hard erection visible through his sweatpants still and ready to be tended to. That would need to wait, for now, Peter needed to do something first, he’d been thinking about it for too long to simply ignore it.

Laying you on the mattress, on your back, you watched attentively, finally able to fully see his face. He looked absolutely magnificent even when the exhaustion was clear on his features. His lips, red and plump, were parted, air coming out in heavy breaths while he tried to focus. His face was flushed, red and sweaty, he tried to calm himself down, you could feel it. He was battling with his needs.

When you reached up to him, he pulled you forward by the wrist, forcing your chest against his as he hungrily kissed you. Your lips tasting like sweet, fresh berries, he bit on your flesh and swallowed the surprised moans coming out of you. How could you not be surprised when the man you loved was practically swallowing your face, ripping the literal oxygen out of your lungs ? You couldn’t, not when he was acting as if the universe had deprived him of you.

His hand slid down your back, pushing you against his chest and pressing his lips further against yours. His tongue, warm and wet, was diving deep in your mouth, licking as far as he could reach and sucking in your delicious taste.

He was overwhelmed by the sensations he was feeling and the ones you were feeling. He could feel it all, everything was ten times worst than usual, everything was enhanced. His senses were being drowned by your intoxicating scent, your sweet taste, the soft feeling of your skin and the siren like sound of your voice. All of you was pushing him down a cliff, hell, he was jumping down himself, willingly and expecting the result eagerly.

“P-Peter… Peter wait… C-Can’t…” You moaned in his mouth, trying to pry him away from you, loosing air fast. He didn’t let up, taking your jaw in hand and keeping you close to him until he felt you truly loose air.

“Sorry…” He apologized without really meaning it. He was staring at your lips and probably wanted more of them but you were panting hard, trying to catch your breath in his arms.

Ignoring you, his kept himself busy by rubbing his nose against the veins of your neck. His nose, inhaled that specific smell that only you had, trying to engrave it into his senses.

Suddenly straightening himself, he swallowed hard, as if he was on the verge of tears. You observed his movements, your eyes doubling in size, when he ripped his sweatpants off of his own body and tossed the shredded fabric on the floor. You were so surprised, you couldn’t even pay attention to his throbbing cock, pulsating against his stomach. You didn’t know if you should’ve focused on that or the fact that the act in itself had you clenching your thighs desperately. You sometimes forgot how strong Peter was and all the things he could do to you if he wanted.

Feeling how aroused you just got at the display of physical strength, he gave you one of those dopey smile he gave when either tired or extremely horny. You loved it so much, you wanted to coo at him but he was quick to remind you of his true intentions. Grabbing your wrist, he brought your hand close to his girth and exhaled in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of head when your fingers wrapped around him.

“Ugh… Fucking hell bunny… You’re killing me…” He whispered, voice breathless before you’d fully done anything.

You instantly knew what you had to do, his heavy shaft pulsating in your closed fist. You admired the shape of his cock, red and covered in past strings of cum, still leaking out of his tip. You could feel the blood rushing through it, the veins bulging out and vibrating on your skin. You looked up, meeting his dark eyes, telling you (more like begging or ordering you) to do something, anything. He would take anything from you.

You started stroking his cock, smiling with pride when he moaned your name loudly. It was strained, almost stuck in his throat, but he pushed it out at the feeling you’re your skin on his warm cock. He was finally reaching peace, getting closer to salvation at each of your moves. You got closer to him, still moving but changing pace to go faster, and laid your free hand flat again his chest. You felt his abs flex understand your fingers. He looked down on you, ignoring his hips as the started to fuck your fist nice and slow.

When you started pecking his exposed chest, he knew he would spend the rest of the night doing the countless obscene things he had in mind. He bit his lips, keeping in tears of pleasure that were threatening to spill out of his gorgeous brown eyes but letting the desperate moans come out without a care in the world.

He felt dizzy, from both pleasure and his eyes jumping between your hand on his dick and your lips on his chest. You were pecking high, living butterfly kisses on his collarbones before sliding lower on his torso. You were still looking up at him and he was slowly dying inside, feeling big load of cum about to burst out of his oversensitive cock.

“You okay baby… It’s okay… I’m here love, do what you want…” You muttered, your voice hitting his skin and traveling through his body at the speed light.

“Ah… Aahhh fuck… Please… Please I’m begging you… Please…” He didn’t know what he was begging for honestly but he just needed you to do something, anything. He was begging for anything from you, anything you could give he would take how of love and pure lust.

Holding the back of your nape, he caressed your nape tenderly, his hips still moving and fucking himself inside your closed fist. His moans echoed louder around the room, perfectly in sync with the movement of your wrist and the soft kisses you left on his skin.

Seeing his cum shoot out to cover parts of your face and your covered breast drove him even deeper down the hole of insanity he was sinking in. Vision so blurry he was certain that he would faint soon, he let loose, loud and lustful moan escaping his swollen lips. Both red like cherry, you looked up at him as he unconsciously kept moving his hips against your palm.

You felt it, he needed more and he wouldn’t need to tell you, his stiff and throbbing cock would do the job. But you were prevented from really doing anything or even thinking clearly about what you wanted to do to him. He took control fast by lifting you off the mattress and carrying you against his chest again. He took you place, sitting down on the bed and putting you on his lap.

He was moving with both control and pure instinct, looking like an animatronic, wired and programmed to work a certain way. He was indeed, working fast and eagerly, searching for the next target of his assault to your body. He was served with everything he craved the whole day and could barely think about where he wanted to start.

His dilemma was quickly resolved by the subtle moan that escaped your beautiful lips when your when your leaking cunt rubber against his veiny girth. Feeling the wetness coat him all over, he couldn’t help but drool shamelessly at the thought of having it in his mouth. Yeah, he wanted you to sit on his face still. So he laid on the covers and at your confused glare, he simply pulled you by the waist all the way to his face.

“Oh my fucking God ! Peter what the fuck are you doing ?” You exclaimed, worried that you’d suffocate him to death. He had super strength but still very much needed to breath.

You seemed reticent but did not move, keeping yourself above his face rather than sitting on it like he desired. When he tried to pull you all the way down, you glared at him, pushing his hands away from your body. Deciding against the rational part of him that refused to manhandle you, he let the primal need in him to have your sweet juices pooling all over his lips take over.

Grabbing your wrists forcefully in one hand, he wrapped his arm tight around your waist, forcing you to move at his will.

“Listen to me and listen to me well bunny.” He ordered, looking both controlled and wrecked. “I’ve spent the entire fucking day feeling everything you felt times fucking ten and not even you could calm me down. The only fucking thing I want right now is that sweet pussy of yours all over my mouth so either you sit on my fucking face or you run away as fast and far as you can before I actually start considering doing all the most disgusting and unsanitary things I have in mind.” He threatened, eyes big and dark, showing the absolute lack of restraint behind them.

You stared at him, completely in awe at the bluntness of his words. Peter gad always been pretty honest about the things he wanted to do to you, never ashamed to tell you how hard you made him on a regular. But here, he looked too fucking tired to even speak it, wanting to act rather than explain himself. This Peter would clearly do all the dirty things you wanted him to do more, the things he’d rarely try, too scared of hurting you.

He looked at you, unmoving but still holding you with a firm grip. He wasn’t going to move until you gave him an answer, or at least he thought he wouldn’t until you arched your back and tried to bite back a moan. Oh yeah, he was way past thinking clearly or asking for permission now. Now when your pussy was calling out for him.

In a few swift movements, you ended up fully sat on his handsome face, quickly losing the fear of crushing him when his wet tongue slithered between your folds. You threw your head back and arched your back once more, this time fully screaming your pleasure in the comfort of his room. Your hand grabbed pieces of his hand, pulling on it at each flick of his tongue. You could only shake over him, feeling jolts of electricity run through you when his breath hit your clit.

“Oooh ! P-Peter, fuck ! A-Aaahh… F-Fuck me !” You wailed, wiggling on him and quickly regretting it when it only made his tongue move deeper inside you.

You’d never expect for his breathing to do this kinds of things to you but here you were, moaning his name louder and louder, chanting it like a prayer even. His firm grip on your thighs made it all too much for you feeling the pad of his fingers burn through your skin. You would feel his hands for days, that was for sure. Even more when you knew he wasn’t anywhere near ready to let you go.

~

As the minutes passed, they quickly turned into hours. Hours sitting on your boyfriends face, fucking yourself on his tongue.

He’d kept his abuse constant, needing a little more each time you came. He was hungry for more, turning into a very distant version of himself, one that couldn’t control himself and his urges. His five senses were all pointing towards you, focused entirely on you and the pleasure he was giving and receiving from you. Feeling your full thighs around his face, tightening a little more each time he let his tongue wander towards your clit, he couldn’t keep himself from getting greedy. He tried to think but his mind was blank, only knowing your name and the different ways he could use to please you.

“F-Fuck ! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ! Oh, fucking God, Peter !” You moaned, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

His face was red and had been red for a while now but it was also glistening under the lights of the room. He was messy and needy, letting your juices coat as much space as possible on his face. You scent was overwhelming, burying all there was around under you and your aroma. He was going to remember how you smelled for days, maybe weeks and if he was lucky, it would last for even a few months. He’d have in engraved in his brain if he could, he was already contemplating not showering to keep your sweet scent on him for as long as possible.

You were now completely bare, your naked body rubbing riding his mouth at the best of the capacities you had left. You were exhausted and your thighs had given up on supporting you a while ago. Trembling and tender, each time you tried to pull away to let him breath a little at least, he’d responded with a deep grunt and bit your inner thighs as a warning that you listen to diligently. You weren’t going to risk cumming from it once more, the first time violent enough for your clit to throb at the memories only.

One if your thighs had been free from his iron grip on it but your skin was left shaped like his hand for a few seconds before returning back to it’s normal state. When he looked up at you and saw your swaying breasts, he needed to see more. He ripped your blouse open and took it off your body before tossing it somewhere. He was about to do the same to your bra but you stopped him to take it off yourself, remembering how he’d ripped your panties and skirt off of you. Poor clothes, you liked them. They would be missed.

When your exposed tits came in view, he freed one of your legs to wrap his slander fingers around your soft and warm flesh. He palmed it vigorously, eyes still trained on you and watching each of your reactions attentively. You were crying his name in pleasure, grabbing his wrist when his thumb started twirling around the pointing bud. He couldn’t help but need more. He’d never been this greedy before and each record he would hit would be topped a few minutes later.

He sucked and swallowed your slick, feeling it run down his throat and allowing him to fill his stomach with you and you only. You were the only meal he needed, the only one he wanted. He was reminded of that fact a little more each time you came hard on his face, the beautiful memory of you squirting just as destructive for him.

“P-Pete ! Baby, p-please… Please just… J-Just aaah ! Ah, fuck, oh fuck ! Oh, God, please ! Please ! P-Peter, peter ! Oh fuck, Peter !”

He smiled under you, his name never sounded better, never sounded sweeter. He was groaning and grunting into your wet mound, letting your folds quiver on his mouth, his tongue still gathering your juices with enthusiasm. He was only made to pleasure you at the moment, completely disregarding his aching cock. He couldn’t even feel it at this point. He was still throbbing violently and he was redder than before. The veins around him were pulsating more than even, strings of cum leaking out if his tip.

He wasn’t touching himself and you couldn’t touch him either but he was still cumming as much as his body could, white creamy ropes coating his chest and your lower back to drip over your ass. He could see it in the mirror in front of the bed. He had stopped counting the amount of times you came or the amount of time he did. He simply let it happen, moaning desperately in your cunt each time. His body had started to act on its own, sensitive and searching for more raw pleasure to feast on.

Tears of overstimulation were pooling out of your eyes, silently crying as he moved your hips on his own to ride his face, your eyes crossed and rolled to the back of your head. You were being tortured, his soft lips, wrapping around your clit and sucking onto it again as he felt you violently shake, sign of another orgasm coming fast.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, o-oh fuck ! Oh, no, please, please, please, please ! P-Please I can’t take it !” You begged loudly, you wouldn’t be able to take another orgasm. You knew you wouldn’t, your poor body wouldn’t be able to take it.

You were crying out for it to not happen but your body was moving in the other direction, hips jerking and thrusting yourself on his tongue. You couldn’t take more but he wasn’t asking for permission anymore, he needed it, craved it desperately. Your cum all over his face, he would get it. And he did. You bounced on his tongue, letting it twirl inside your walls and suddenly be covered by a waterfall of your wetness.

“A-Ah ! Fu- Oh god, fuck ! A-Ahn Peter ! Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter !” You sung, loud enough for anyone who paid attention to hear.

He did, he paid attention and his cock couldn’t take more of this, you broken voice crying out his name in both pleasure and sensual agony. You came hard and fast, and so did he, hot cum shooting out oh his sensitive head and falling on your back. The vision of your back covered in him did something to his brain, he had a new interest, finally.

Your body fell limp in his arms, head bobbing around as if you were unconscious and you couldn’t support yourself anymore, you were fully broken now. Poor bunny, he wasn’t done with you. He needed more, but the little voice in him that could still think things through promised to take good care of you for the next days. That was if he was finally calmed down and if you allowed him to touch you.

You leaned back, supporting yourself on his chest and slowly cried at how wrecked you were. You’d made fun of him internally earlier and now you were probably worse than him. You whimpered softly when his groans his your sensitive center. When his hands grabbed your waist, you were scared that he wasn’t done eating you out, you couldn’t take more honestly. You weren’t even sure that you wanted him to fuck you now. Maybe, you didn’t know. Your brain was too scrambled to think about it.

Suddenly laid on your back, your boyfriend wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed your forehead, cheeks and nose. His lips lingered on you and brought a wave of warmth all through your body. You felt comfort again, peace and quiet.

Kissing the side of your face, his current mission was simply to call you down a little before stuffing himself deep inside you. He was still too out of it to function properly, his body still running purely on instinct. He simply did what his oversensitive senses told him. They told him you needed to be calmed a little, and that’s exactly what he would do.

He was fast to feel a wave of need take over in his mind. Brought at a crossroads, he had the choice between ruining your sweet cunt again and probably be banned from touching you in the future, or lock himself in the bathroom and try and call his aching member while you slept. Rational Peter would’ve chosen A while also considering B, because he was a considerate boyfriend. Now, Irrational Peter was an animal clearly, incapable of pushing his urges away and thinking things through. He was choosing A without a second thought. He’d make it up to you however you desired.

His lips wandered lower, finding your breasts and taking one of your nipples between his teeth while your other breast was vigorously squeezed by his other hand. Drunk on the feeling of your warm flesh in his mouth, he sucked long and hard, his tongue rolling around the sensitive bud before letting go in a wet sound and turning towards the other. This time, he only used his mouth, ha ds wandering lower to palm the flesh of your ass and thighs. He was close to cumming again, just from the things he was doing to you and he wanted to make sure that make you cum with him.

Standing straight, he grabbed the back of your thighs and rubbed his erected girth on your swollen clit. Your cries of pleasure erupted again, only fulling his thirst for whatever you had to give. Yeah, we already established that he was greedy.

“P-Peter please… N-No… No more edging… Please baby, I-I… I promise I’ll be good... Please... No more ! Please, d-don’t tease me no more !” You sobbed softly, clawing at his lower stomach, to pull him forward but also push him backwards.

Looking down at his own cock, he watched it drip droplets of cum on your folds, he was hypnotized by the vision. He backed up slowly, still holding your thighs apart and positioned himself at your entrance. You whined and squirmed beneath him, trying to get him inside as soon as possible. He chuckled lightly at your eagerness before thrusting deep inside you in one rough move.

He let out a groan, mouth falling open and eyes crossing as they rolled to the back of his head. He was feeling everything all at once, close to cumming only from this. He tried to get his thoughts together but he couldn’t, it was so hard, you felt so good. So, so, so good. He was keeping tears of pleasure to himself, cock so sensitive, he felt like it would explode. He lowered his face and his eyes juggled between your face and your pussy, swallowing him whole and ripping away all he had. Yeah, take it all, take everything from him.

Backing up, he repeated the motion, stretching your insides and engraving the feeling of his pulsating veins on your warm velvety walls. His pace only got quicker from there, the sounds of your cries of pleasure only matched by the sound of his skin slapping against the back of your thighs. The sensation was burning your sensitive body, still tender from the grip he’d kept on your flesh only minutes ago.

Your vision was unfocused, eyes going everywhere frantically, searching for something to focus on, to keep you steady. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when you were so weak to his every move. Everything he did to you was piling up, all the emotions and sensations crumbling on you all at once. You could barely process one that the next was erupting inside you. You knew that if you looked at him, his expression would only make it worst.

You always loved how he looked when he was fucking you but it was ten times more arousing for you when he was overwhelmed, which was practically all the time. He’d always groan your name louder and louder, big brown eyes drowning you both in a pool of lust. You couldn’t even deal with the memory of his face.

“F-Fuck… You feel this bunny ? My fat cock… It’s spreading you so wide… Bet you can feel it all the way in your tummy…” He groaned, leaning forward and pecking your puckered lips.

You were always needy for his kisses and he was always glad to give you as many as you wanted. He was yours to play with, and you always did so much for him, he would never refuse you anything, out of gratitude, boundless loyalty and love. He chuckled at the thoughts he was having. He could still find it in him to be a sap, even when his brain could barely process daily words or actions at the moment. Love would do that to you.

His body got closer to you, lowering himself on you and plowing deeper and harder in your tight heat, living for the various ways you’d scream his name.

“P-Peter ! Oh, oh my… Oh fuck, more ! Peter, more please more baby ! More ! Peter please !” You sobbed into his ear when he nestled his head in the crook of your neck to bite your collarbones hard enough to leave a mark.

He was close, dangerously close. He was actually surprised he managed to hold out for that long, and just as surprised that you did the same. Working himself inside you, he started sucking on your skin and biting it all over, one of his hands letting go of your thigh and placing itself on your stomach to press your belly. He could feel the tip lf his cock violently poking through.

Pushing your legs on your chest, the change of angle gave him access to the perfect spot inside you, the one that would have the neighbors complaining despite the diy soundproof padding of his apartment. He would probably need to invest on a new bedframe too, the one he owned currently, threatening to split in too as his rough hip thrust made the bed shake and slam on the wall. Lucky him, he was holding you, if he’d been holding the head if the bed, he would’ve ripped it apart himself.

“Oh god, oh, god, oh Peter, God ! Please, I’m s-so, so fucking close oh please !” You begged, tears spilling all over your flushed cheeks.

“F-Fuck… Bunny, please, give it to me… Come on bunny, one more… Just one more…”

Your high came surprisingly fast, surprising the both of you and raining over you in a sweet shower of pleasure. You arched your back, biting one of the most obscene noises you’ve ever made. You gripped on the bedsheets, ripping them apart too in the process. You’d barely processed your own orgasm that the man above you followed quickly after, filling you up with him cum, warm and thick, coating your walls and invading your entire being.

You whimpered, breathing with difficulty and trying to gather yourself. You couldn’t, not when he was still holding you and still going. You looked at him as if he’d grown a new set of arms and three heads. He attempted leaned down, kissing the side lf your jaw and chuckling in your ear when you whined in displeasure.

“Sorry baby… I’ll take good care of you, I promise…”

“I… I hate you…” You sobbed silently. Yeah, you should probably cancel your plans for the rest of the weekend.

~

Many hours later, you didn’t understand how you were still standing, or in this case, kneeling. Holding yourself on all fours, your body was rocking back and forth, at the rhythm of his thrust inside you. You could do it anymore, you couldn’t take more, nothing in this world could take this much, human or not. This man was insane, this was evident now.

You would need to make a run to the pharmacy for the morning after pill. Your birth control could definitely not take the amount of cum he’d fucked in you, and you loved him but neither of you were ready for a baby, even if you enjoyed the thought of having one and the process too.

The sheets were ruined, cum and drool all over them, adding to the many holes you both tore in the fabric. No washing could save them either, he’d get new ones and hopefully they would get treated better.

Peter was probably just as wrecked as you but clearly not exhausted in the slightest and definitely not bothered by the state if his body. His skin was covered in various marks that could’ve been given by some kind of enemy he fought in his red and blue costume. You’d given him these marks, biting on the skin of his collarbones, his jaw, his ear, his shoulders and honestly anywhere you could reach. He’d let you mark him however you pleased, a small price to pay for what he did to you. Even the bloody lacerations on his back were definitely worth it to him.

He felt a little guilty but never enough to stop, not when you sounded so good moaning his name. Nothing could get him down that high he’d been stuck in the entire day. He tried to calm himself down at times but nothing would be enough, nothing would quench his thirst for you and your body.

Gripping on your hip and slamming his cock deep in you, your ass bouncing on his lower stomach, he could feel himself cumming once more. He watched you reach forward, as if trying to run away, you’d done it a few times already and he pulled you back by the ankles each time. Your face fell, burying itself in what was left of the sheets and bite into them hard, saliva soaking them a little more when your mouth fell open and a scream hit the mattress.

“Good… Good girl, just one left… Only one left and I'm letting you rest baby…” He groaned, leaning over your back and kissing your nape tenderly.

“Aaaahhh… N-No… C-Can’t… N-Not anymore…” You muttered, voice broken and incapable of thinking about coherent words to moan.

His balls slapped against your folds, the sound of your wetness and his cum vibrating in his sensitive eardrums. He could still hear and feel it all, his senses pushed to the maximum of their capacities and suddenly going completely silent. He reached forward too, fingers grazing the soft skin of your arm to intertwine with yours and hold your hand tightly. His free hand wrapped around your middle, pulling you towards him. You soon both came, just as hard as you’d previously did, both your juices spilling out of your sensitive hole.

Your moans and his grunts quickly turned into loud sounds of breathing, your heavy breathing resonating in the room. He leaned his head on the back of yours, feeling a sense of calm and peace he’d craved for a long while. He was finally feeling better, all calm and not as overwhelmed as he had been previously.

A suddenly ray of light caught both your attention, your heads snapping towards the window. Your eyes widened as you saw the sun rise and peak through the window. You had fucked the whole night. The entire night, you had been turned over and over, your body stripped bare and abused non stop. The whole night. You sobbed in desperation and disappointment too. You didn’t really know why you were disappointed but you were, probably at the lack of self control. You boyfriend, on the other hand, was keeping in a laugh he knew would get him in trouble.

“I’m sorry… So sorry bunny… I’m so, so, so sorry… I promise, I’m sorry…” He muttered, kissing your neck tenderly.

You knew he only meant it partially, never truly sorry for the things he did to you. He loved how wrecked he made you and loved how dumb you got for him, he would get just as stupid for you. In thus situation, he’d been stupid horny from the beginning.

You both fell to the side, facing the window and the rising new day. You were starting to feel the exhaustion fall over you all at once and so was he. He yawned and you did the same, nuzzling your face in the pillows. His hand rested on your stomach, caressing it slowly and trying to massage your aching parts. He pecked your cheek tenderly, smiling to himself at how great of a girlfriend you were. Finally, he was calm again, after practically breaking your body, he was okay.

You would probably put him on a sex ban for the foreseeable future and it would be deserved. Now he understood why you were the one calming him down when overwhelmed by the world : you were the one with the common sense. When the spider parts became too much to handle, you’d handle it for him.

“Pete ?” You called out after a few minutes of silence.

“Hum ?”

“You feelin’ better ?” You asked softly, still looking out for him by being as quiet as possible.

He exhaled in your neck, feeling his heart thump in his chest. He was so in love for you, he could barely think. You were genuinely the best, still carrying about his wellbeing when you were hanging on the last ropes on consciousness. He raised himself slightly to bed himself forward and kiss your lips.

“I’m fine bunny… I might just need to do a few researches in my dad’s stuff, we wouldn’t want this whole thing to happen again, would we ?” He chuckled lightly, voice deep and resonating.

“No thank you. I’ll take the running away option next time.” You responded, side eyeing him. You loved him but absolutely not, never again (or probably at least once, it wasn’t that bad).

For the rest of the day, you caught up on sleep, still attached together and when he woke up, he found his father’s researches, discovering the cases of heats that spiders would go through, specifically the kind that bit him. Turns out, when location a pray to mate with, they get overwhelmed by a the sensations felt by the other, feeding of this connection to know exactly what to do. His already sensitive senses turned towards you only and seeking to please you.

Good to know, at least he knew that next time, he should read the entirety of his father’s researches instead lf skimming through them. Luckily, Peter was a fast learner. And he had the heightened senses to help.

Looks too real

because i know y’all will appreciate my creation 🖼🧎‍♀️