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nopecho · 3 days

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↳ EVENT 01. Whitney Worship

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,652 Warnings: OOC, body worship, general worship, older whitney, fingering, established relationship, consent checks, praise kink Prompt(s): 05 — worship Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: YAYYYY thank you so much bby for being my first event request eee!!! my biggest fan MWAH smooching u sm right now. so happy i get to start this event off with something soft and loving <3 sending u so much love, thank u sm for your kind words and for always supporting me!!

(also i really want some more soft whitney content... u cant convince me that this man wouldn't absolutely dote on you the older he gets </3)

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he's always felt this way about you. A bit difficult not to, his heart stuttering from the first moment he met you, blindsided by how much he wanted to be yours— enough that his need remained buried under layers of dominance and control for years to come. But the stubborn little boy you learned to love was incapable of expressing his emotions correctly, in a way that could ever truly be understood; and yet you loved him anyway. Even through all the harsh words, the endless name calling, and the straight up abuse he had you suffer through, you loved him. How you're still by his side is beyond him, a twinge of hurt in his chest burrowing down to his tummy, soothed only by the cute little mewl you instinctively know to let out in encouragement. Describing himself as thankful doesn't even do his emotions justice, and words of praise even less so— though still he tries.

This is the least he could do in return for all those awful years he subjected you to. A gentle promise spread across the pad of his thumb, rubbing tenderly up and down your hip for you to giggle at. And God, what a pretty sound that is. You can hear how it tugs at his heart, can't you? Surely, because he can barely hear himself think over the loud thump in his chest. How even the comparatively innocent touch of his free hand squeezing at your waist is charged with intent, the way your pretty lashes flutter under him as his nails drag up and down your exposed skin so lightly that it must tickle causing his breath to hitch. He can't help but mumble a pitiful pretty, and pitiful is correct, because he's so fucking down bad for you that it's insane. Should be illegal, if he had anything to say about it. Pouting down at you when you whisper his name, followed by a sweet thanks that God he just wants to drink up, biting down on his bottom lip to try and hide the wide smile your dulcet tones bring out of him— but it's no use. Of course you can see right through him. Always have, only now he's not so afraid to hide his true nature.

That being his complete and utter adoration for you and your pretty little body, soft skin hot under his rough hands; it's nice, yknow. To just touch you like this, ignoring the underlying hint of greed shown in the tent in his underwear in favour of rewarding you simply for existing. Because you deserve to be treated like the best thing that's ever happened to him; because you are. And he needs to do right by you now, make up for his past mistakes with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in faux playful annoyance over your holier than thou position beneath him. The bottom truly holds all the power, don't you, love?

"I meant it. Too fuckin' pretty, s'annoying." He smiles, toothy and genuine when you smile back up at him. And he does mean it, fuck does he mean it. Leaning down a little to give your forehead a little kiss, trailing his lips down to your cheek only to place another, smiling against your skin when you giggle at his barely there touch grabbing at your waist to keep you in place for him to press a few more kisses at the corner of your lips in a teasing manner— a hoarse be patient crawling up his throat when you try to wiggle free to give him a proper kiss, but he soon gives in to your cuteness anyway. Letting his tongue poke out just a little against your lips, chest vibrating with a satisfied hum he moans down your mouth when you reciprocate the lewd action. But still, he'd like to take his time. Making out with you so slowly, still letting his hands roam up and down your naked body with purpose, as if mapping every possible inch of you in the event that you were to ever leave him— the thought of which has him kissing you deeper in a silent beg for you to stay. See, I love you.

Running his wide open palms up to your tits, letting himself cup them as delicately as possible as if he were afraid that anything stronger would have you shattering beneath him; a far cry from his younger self, he internally cringes at the memory. But in his kiss there lies hope. Hope for a better future, to become a better man for you. And that starts here, with every suck of your tongue inside his wanting mouth, every drop of shared saliva down each others throats, and every grope of his big hand against your tits. The other rests idly at your waist, dipping down just to playfully pinch at the fat of your thighs; one of his favourite places to be between.

He pulls away from your lips when he feels you do the same, enamoured by the string of saliva still stretched between his lips and your own as if it were an extension of you, and by that he means deserving of all the love he can muster. When you simply stare up at him with those big puppy eyes he has to bury his face against your chest just to hide the creeping heat on his cheeks, content enough to turn his attention to your tits with one getting palmed by his hand, and the other receiving his mouths tender treatment. Surely you won't complain about his cowardly hiding if he were to devote more time to pleasing you, right? Lapping at your nipple like a kitten, savouring every sigh, hiccup, and moan you make while he busies himself with indulging in your taste. Worshipping every inch of you as he shuffles his body closer between your legs, gasping into the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against his underwear which rests heavy at your cunt. Not that he has any intention of doing anything about it, because loving and doting on you is pleasurable enough for him, slurping and sucking and pinching as a means to communicate: I'm sorry, let me make it up to you.

Because he's never really been the best with words, opting instead to pop off of your pretty tits with a loud smack! only so that he can see how cute your expression gets when you feel his hand travel further south, ghosting over your skin just to have you shiver into him, make you feel as good as you've treated him, yeah?

"Dunno what I'd do without you," He sighs, almost whispering from how sincere his words are. "Wanna show you how much y'mean to me. S'at okay?"

Instinct begs him to attach slut on the end of his question, but your wide eyes and rushed gasp in shock of how soft he's being convinces him not to.

You take a moment to reply, and in the meantime he takes to running a single finger up and down your already sopping slit. Proof enough of how much you love him, and yet still he feels the need to earn your affections again and again, sorry remaining at the tip of his tongue regardless of how often you remind him it's okay.

But when you give him a sure nod he's immediately filled with boyish confidence, determined to prove his worth for as long as he needs to in order to properly apologise to you, and then to revere you as you rightfully deserve. He knows he's got his work cut out for him, but he's nothing if not stubborn when it comes to you, for better or for worse.

"Thank you." He whispers this time, finally allowing his fingers to stretch your folds open for him to gawk at. Hearts in his eyes and all, fuuuuck, he has to fight with himself not to tug his boxers down and just shove his cock in right there and then— because he's meant to be worshipping you. But you make it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything other than how fraught with sheer desperation he is for you, distracting himself from his more indulgent thoughts by thumbing at your clit, clenching his teeth at the sweet little sounds his fingers touch out of you. Reaaaally taking his time, perhaps a bit too much so when your lower half wiggles under his thumb. Inwardly, he laughs at his previous words of patience; don't you know that he's trying to love on you?

"Need it that much, huh?" He gently taunts, though there's no malice in his words. Just amused domesticity, a certain warmth to his tone borne out of complete admiration for how... Well, if he's honest with himself, how perfect you are— in every respect! Every fibre of his being just begging to be allowed to worship you for the rest of his life, to have you see yourself the way he sees you.

You once again nod up at him, pretty pleading eyes coaxing him to fall further into you, to rub meaner circles against your puffy little clit like he's done plenty times before; except you're asking for it now. And there's no greater feeling in the world than to have his prayers answered as your slick coats his fingers in anticipation for his praises.

"All right then, pretty girl. Ask and you shall receive."

And true to his words, he slides his fingers down your slit and dips into your cunt. Just a little, and only one finger. The lazy pace of his actions frustrating even him, but he knows it'll all be worth it. Has to be, especially when you're huffing so cutely back at him given all his teasing thus far, jus' a little more he promises you, unsure if he's even telling the truth when you mewl all pretty and shit— God you're gonna be the death of him. Torn between teasing you all night, prolonging his prayers until the sun comes up, or giving you the release you're so desperately seeking, every squeak of the bed below your movements hypnotising him further. All he wants to do is make you feel good, praise your body to the high heavens, kiss every single inch of your skin and whisper sweet nothings against your cunt. A simple ask, really, considering you're more than wanting him to do exactly that.

So he follows through, lazily pushing a single finger inside of your warm little hole and he practically melts himself from the heat wrapped around his digit. How soft and fuckin' tight your little cunt is around him, the slow nature of his loving tonight allowing him to experience you in a whole new way; something more akin to appreciation, rather than the days of greed in the past.

"Feel okay?" He checks in with you, though there's really no need. He can tell from a mile away that your scrunched up little nose means you're having fun, but it's nice to ask anyway. If only to boost his own ego, or to show that he's serious about changing for you. "You feel— I mean, fuck. Always feel amazing," He swiftly corrects himself, chewing on his bottom lip out of habit while curling his finger inside of you, gently pulling it out and pushing back in— a slow enough pace to give you a little relief whilst also keeping you on that edge he'd like you to be at. "Always have, best cunt I've ever fucked." He's being sincere, but he cringes at the crass way his praise comes out anyway. That is until he takes a look at your face, peeling his gaze off of your finger swallowing hole for just a moment, and he bares witness to the lewd look you've now adopted.

Fuckin' praise slut, he should have known it all along, but having confirmation in the form of your rolled back eyes from a single fucking finger was worth the wait. You're worth the wait, and he can only hope that he is too when he picks up the pace. Just a little, encouraging you to writhe around a bit more, cooing down at you so sweetly in stark contrast to his usual self.

"Look so pretty like that," the finger inside of you buries deeper, curling consistently against your sweet spot until you're practically clawing at his wrist for some respite— but it doesn't come. Not out of spite, but out of love for you, he continues crooking his fingers against your squishy insides because he knows what that whine means. Gushy little cunt wrapped so tight around his finger, sucking him further in despite your desperate whines for a break. All he does is hush you tenderly, tongue between his teeth in fear of snapping and reverting back to his old manners when you look so fucking perfect with his finger inside of you, his eyes flickering between your pretty face, heaving tits, and your shiny with slick cunt.

"C'mon—" He seethes, brows furrowed in concentration of praising you, getting you off on his hand would be the highest compliment, he thinks. "Let me make you feel good, jus' give in, 'kay? He encourages, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips when your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Got you, he thinks to himself. Cock twitching merely from getting you off, from making you moan his name all high pitched and pretty like that while you gush around his finger, soaking through to the bed sheets below when he starts finger fucking you again to help you ride your orgasm out nicely. And the whole time he's thanking you. Softly rubbing up and down your side, occasionally groping at your tits, tugging at your ass while your insides convulse around him. Thank you, he sighs. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for sticking with me."

"Thank you for letting me see you like this."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for cumming on my hand."

And even as he removes himself from you he's still worshipping you, practically eye fucking you as he shifts his weight down, ending up half laying on the edge of the bed to tug you closer, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs so he can sniff up and down your slick soaked slit. Vulgar as always, but it doesn't matter when he's so pussy whipped it's almost laughable, right? Maybe he should feel ashamed about how much he wants you, embarrassingly acting like a dumb dog when faces with your cunt like this— salivating from your scent alone. But upon sticking his tongue out flat against your slit to lap up all your sweet juices he figures it doesn't really matter. It couldn't matter when you taste this fucking good, cock leaking fat globs of precum from just a single suck of your clit. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, flipping his fringe up and out of the way for easier access to your sweet soaked cunt, he's serious about this, don't you know?

"Jus' cleanin' y'up." He slurs against your hole, wincing with you when you complain about how sensitive you are.

But that's okay, because if you cum on his tongue (which he's hoping for, fuck he wants you to gush in his mouth please—) then he'll just help you clean up again. And again. And again. As many times as he needs to until you instinctively know how worthy you are of worship, and how he loves you just oh so much.

#Whitney the bully #fanfiction

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