ladyshithousepoet

[ladyshithousepoet]

the amount of hurt/comfort potential in this man is immense.

[ladyshithousepoet]

high.

ship—Robert Reynolds (The Sentry) x afab! Reader

your boyfriend comes home…a little different.

cw: NSFW, unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering

note: first time writing smut, but I can’t get this twink out of my head.

She laid on the couch of her little apartment, well, technically her boyfriend’s apartment but he wasn’t home. He hasn’t been for the past few nights, either coming back in early hours or not coming back at all. It was the drugs, she knew it. He’d come back high on some substance, meth or otherwise. She was too tired for fights, she wasn’t a saint herself with the past alcohol problems.

This night was different. At around 11pm, she heard the door rattle open. Bob stumbled into the front room, his face flushed and reddened, all rosy cheeks and dark eyes. She set the book she was reading down, her face a mask of confusion at how early it was for him.

“You’re back…early…” she started, letting the statement simmer as he sat down beside her, his weight causing the cushion to dip and make her lean closer. She was trying to assess if he was high, any flicking pupils? Slurring? He closed his eyes, pressing them with his palms before replying,

“I’m getting clean. No more drugs,” he replied, his face an unsettling visage of peacefulness and confidence. She pursed her lips. She knew her boyfriend, knew his problems with mood swings. Sometimes he felt like a void, down in the dumps and full of wrath. And sometimes…he was like this…where he thought himself invincible. It was so tempting to believe him. But deep down, she felt the sinking pit of reason that he was in the manic heights again. She let out a quiet sigh, shutting her eyes before answering,

“That’s great, babe,” she murmured, strained in tone but hopeful. He turned towards her, eyes dim and his gaze predatory. There was an unsaid tension in the room as he shifted, so his body faced her,

“You don’t believe me, do you?” His tone was soft, but impossibly low, like he was wagering with options continuing quietly, “You don’t think I could,”

“I-“ she grasped at words, searching for some sort of sincere comfort she perhaps could muster, but it came up empty. His clean attempts were fickle, and once the void was back, it faded to black. Bob’s expression was terrible to read, he seemed so quiet, but the silence was sharp and pointed.

“Shh…I can do it. I feel so much better today,” his hand had snaked to her thigh, rubbing up and down the soft canvas of skin. She sucked in a breath as he traced circles, hands moving up, “I’m better. Let me show you,”

He gently pushed her back on the couch, hitting the soft cushions with her legs spread. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, validation? Love? His gaze flicked away as his fingers moved to her core, pressing to the heat and rubbing her over the fabric. Her breathing laboured a little, as the familiar warmth pooled, eliciting some wetness. His fingers were slow and deliberate, up and down the area. His face was the same placated expression. The slowness of his movements was torture, like he was lazy in the act and wasn’t bother with the whole thing. Finally, his other hand stirred to trace the elastic of her shorts, before dipping and pulling them down, leaving only a silky pair of panties with a growing wet spot. Neither of them bothered to say anything, but the quiet flicks of soft gazes at each other was enough for intimacy. Bob rubbed her a little more, before retracting and wiping his fingers on his shirt. He moved to her shirt, pulling it up to her chin. He cupped her breasts, letting his thumbs run over her nipples as they perked. She felt sweat bead on her face, as his warm breath fanned her body. He kneaded her tits, massaging them in both hands before turning his attention back to her warmth. Her panties had been pulled down, and his hands dipped down to rub the area raw. It was slick with wetness, and a throbbing ache as his fingers circled the slit. His eyes moved up to her face as he pumped two fingers in, her core instantly clenching around the intrusion. Her pants got louder, quiet sounds leaving wet lips as he thrust another finger into the mix. In and out. The act with the slick produced a sinful sound of flesh, combined with the flushed haze on her face. He seemed satisfied with the pleasure he induced, as he pulled his fingers out of the heat, coated in transparent wetness dripping off.

She propped her back up on a pillow, hands reaching to the fly of his jeans. She fiddled with the zipper, feeling his hardness as she worked. He helped her, pulling down his boxers. His cock twitched as she wrapped her hands around it, pumping from the base to the wet tip. The sound that left his mouth was a sigh wrapped with some deep sort of moan, which became louder the faster she pumped. He reached around the table beside them, finding a bottle of lube as he got ready. Her hands had ceased its movement as he squeezed a handful of the lubrication onto his palm, before coating his own member with the liquid. Her legs spread a little wider, shaking in some sort of fucked up form of excitement.

His tip brushed her slit and she felt her eyes roll back- God, how was it this good? His cock prodded at her entrance, before it sunk into her pussy. His movements started as slow as how he had fingered her, deliberate- always teasing. A guttural groan had escaped her lips, loud enough for him to hear. He had picked up pace by then, pumping in and out of her as their bodies seemed to merge.

“I feel like a god,” he murmured, his movements suddenly jerking into some sort of wild rhythm. It was brutal. Like he had something to prove. Their usual sessions were nothing like this, it was always slow. But this? He was fucking her like an animal. It was different, but she liked it- more than she expected. Rough felt amazing.

“Then fuck me like one,” she hissed as his hips rammed into hers, her walls squeezing him until a large spurt of cum shot into her core and she coated his cock with her own. The warmth was primal as their bodies were thick with sweat, and the air full of sin. Their breathing were both the same ragged pace as they pulled apart.

He was staring at her again, with a sort of pride in his irises. She waited for the silence, before breathing,

“I believe you,”