Officially Beekeeping Age 🐝

taking it slow

Summary: having sex with Carmy for the first time. Somewhere along the way… he discovers he has a bit of a size kink.

Warnings: size kink, piv no protection, Carmy has a rlly big dick okay, praise praise praise, soft dom Carm vibes, minimally proofread if you’re reading day of posting.

Word count: 2690

Carmen is nervous. It’s not his first time having sex, but it’s his first time having sex with you—which is a really big deal to him. His heart beats a mile a minute inside his chest as he walks hand in hand with you to his apartment.

Although he’s teeming with nerves on the inside, he doesn’t let it show for a second. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s the definition of calm when you press your lips against his in the elevator. You’re too eager to wait for him to make the first move, so you take matters into your own hands.

Carmen only pulls away from you for a moment when the elevator opens up. He deftly walks you backwards out of the elevator to the door of his apartment without letting his lips leave yours. After pining you to the door, he deepens the kiss, letting his tongue trace across your bottom lip while he digs in his pocket for his keys.

Once he opens up the door and guides you inside, you instantly try and pull him by his jacket to the first piece of furniture you see, the couch. He makes a noise of protest against your lips. “No—not gonna fuck you on the couch for the first time. Bedroom’s this way,” he says, holding your hand and leading you down the hallway.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, giving you half a second to take in your surroundings. It’s obvious he cleaned the place—there’s not a single article of clothing on the floor. There’s not much decoration, only a couple of—

“I can give you a tour later,” he smiles, interrupting your train of thought. “C’mere.” He pats his lap gently.

After you’ve settled on his lap, straddling his hips, Carmy takes your face in both of his hands and brings you in for a gentle kiss. It only stays gentle for a moment though. His thumb pulls down your chin, letting him explore your mouth with his tongue. He licks into your mouth like he’s trying to devour you, and you would gladly let him at this point. At the same time, he lets a hand drift to your hip, urging you to grind onto him.

Carmy’s touch is tentative—almost hesitant. His hands remain firmly planted on your hips. It takes a moment of grinding on his lap for him to finally nudge his hand underneath your shirt. “Can I take your clothes off?” he whispers against your lips. 

“Y-yeah—yeah, please.”

Carmy doesn’t even realize how big of a tease he is right now. He’s treating your clothing with a slow and steady mentality. As each layer is taken off, he pauses to kiss at your skin. 

When he takes off your shirt, he pauses to kiss your jaw. Your head instinctively falls back, giving him more room to move onto your neck, then your chest. He trades kisses for small sucks and bites on the skin as he grows more urgent. He treats your pants the same way, trailing kisses down your legs as he pulls the fabric down. 

He does not treat his own clothing with the same care. The second your hands slide underneath his shirt to feel his stomach, he rips the shirt right over his head. While Carmy works on his own clothes, you hastily unclasp your bra and push your underwear off. 

You're gazing back up at his figure as he’s pushing down his boxers, revealing his very hard cock. You don’t try to hide your staring. At first, your eyes start at his chest, wandering down to his chiseled abdomen. They finally end up on his, quite large, dick. Your eyes widen at the sight of it. 

Carmy turns pink under your gaze, heat rushing to his cheeks. He breaks eye contact by opening his bedside drawer, starting to rummage through it. “Uhm—I think I got some in here…”

You quickly grab his wrist to stop his searching. “I uh—m’on the pill, so you don’t have to if you’re comfortable…” you trail off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

His eyes dilate at your words. “Shit—yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah—that’s fine with me.” He’s nodding with those big thoughtless eyes as he speaks, and crawls over top of you.

His cock weighs heavy against your thigh as Carmy kisses you again. It’s a rough clash of tongues, leaving a string of spit between your mouth and his when he pulls away. 

Carmy breathes heavy when he takes his dick into his hand, giving himself a few pumps. You gasp when you feel the tip nudge against your entrance. “I don’t know if it’s gonna fit—“ he mumbles. 

“It can—I can take it.”

His eyes are locked at where he presses up at your opening, using his thumb to spread your fold apart to give him a better look. “I dunno, sweetheart. I think it’s too tight—I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Before you can voice a protest, he starts rutting his dick through your folds, instead. Every thrust bumps up against your clit, making you whimper. You’re thoroughly coating his cock in your wetness. 

You can only stand it for so long. “S’not too big. I can take it. I promise I can,” you mutter. Your legs spread wider, eager to feel him inside of you.

Carmen zones out for a second, staring intently at your entrance. You’re pulsing around nothing, slick starting to make its way out of you and onto the bed sheets. It takes a whine from your throat for him to snap out of it.

“Carm—“ you pout. “Need you, please don’t tease me.”

“Sorry, baby. Wasn’t tryin’ to.” In the next moment, he’s lining himself back up. He can’t help the groan that leaves his lips as his tip makes contact with your hot, wet center. Carmen eases his hips forward, slotting the head of his cock inside of you. He fights the urge to let his eyes close at the sensation, but he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of your facial expressions. 

Your mouth falls open as he presses inside of you. Your core pulses around his cock, wrapping him in warmth. He’s already losing his mind and he’s barely even inside of you. 

Carmy’s over half way in when your hands jolt out to grab his where they hold onto your hips. A sharp whine stops him dead in his tracks. He takes a hand off of your hip to hold your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“Shh—I know, sweetheart. You’re doing so good f’me,” he says in between kisses to your lips. He doesn’t press his hips any further. He pulls back a bit, not able to contain the low groan from the throat at the friction. “Already feels so fucking good. So fuckin’ warm and tight.”

“Just a little more, okay? You can take it—I know you can take it. Just tell me when you’re ready.” There’s no rushing tone in his voice, just pure sincerity. Carmen nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck while you adjust. He presses sweet, gentle kisses to the side of your face and your neck. After a moment, you nod your head. “You can move.” 

Carmy presses in again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. The only sign is your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a stretch for the rest of him to fit. He’s average length wise—maybe on the larger side, but his girth was more than you’ve taken before. It feels like he’s splitting you in half—in the best way possible at least.

When he bottoms out, he’s holding himself up by his forearms overtop of you. He presses kisses to your cheeks and your neck, mumbling praises. “Did so good, baby—feels s’good. So fucking perfect.” He struggles to keep his hips still, grinding into you. 

The first true thrust makes your head spin. Carmy pulls out at a gentle pace until just the head of him remains inside of you. He pushes back in more quickly than before, taking your breath away. He’s just as affected as you are. His mouth is open, breathing deeply as soft groans tumble out of him.

He builds up the pace gradually, taking the time for you to adjust. It’s not long before you’re no longer wincing at the stretch. Finally giving you a chance to take in the sight of Carmen in front of you.

His hair is messily pushed back as a bead of sweat builds at his brow. His abs flex with every single thrust he takes. The gold chain on his neck swings back and forth, hitting his chest. You grab what you can of his body, one hand grabbing onto his bicep while the other holds onto the headboard for support. 

Every thrust fans the flames building in your belly. You squeeze at his arm, nails digging into his skin. It’s never felt like this before, and it’s starting to make you dizzy. The sounds coming from the room are erotic—the sound of skin against skin. You’re so wet it’s practically dripping out from around his cock. 

“I’ve never felt so full—you’re s’big, Carm.”

He pauses again, smiling at the way you whimper from the loss of movement. You can see the wheels turning in his head before he speaks. 

“Can I try something?” He says breathlessly, and you nod your head frantically in response. He accepts the wordless answer for now, but he’s going to have to work on getting you to use your words later. Carmy sits up on his knees while staying inside of you and grabs your leg from around his hip. He has a dark look in his eye when he lifts your leg and throws it over his shoulder. He thrusts gently into you, testing the waters. There’s a choked groan caught at the back of his throat that you don’t miss. His lips press to your calve, leaving a series of kisses on your skin. “This okay? Too much?” His voice is thin, like he’s barely holding himself together. 

Another moan slips out of your mouth when Carmy does another soft thrust of his hips. “Not too much—shit, Carmy. I think—I think I can feel you in my stomach,” you babble. 

At the sound of your moans, he increases the intensity of his hips. It’s not too much more; he’s still trying to take it slow and let you adjust. The words you just said are getting to his head, though. “You serious?”

“Mhm.” You reach for one of his hands at your hip and tug it up to your stomach. Carmy looks at you with a furrowed brow, but you completely ignore it. You manipulate his hand so that the base of his palm rests at your pubic bone, and his fingers splay in the space between your hips. You lay your hand flat over his and push down. “Feel it? Feel how deep you are?”

“Holy shit,” he whispers. 

Then he’s just keeping his hand there, making eye contact while he rolls his hips up into you. You can’t take it, closing your eyes in pleasure. That’s another thing Carmy was going to have to work with you. “Hey—keep your eyes on me, baby. Keep ‘em on me, yeah?”

Your eyes open immediately at his instruction, meeting his gaze. You can barely make out the bright blue of his eyes; his pupils have grown, making the color a thin ring. “S-sorry,” you blurt. 

“None of that,” he grunts. He’s still continuing to roll his hips while talking. “Nothing to be sorry about. I j’st wanna see those pretty eyes.”

He gets distracted by the pout on your lips, leaning down to give you real kisses again. This inadvertently pushes Carmy’s cock even deeper inside of you, almost like he’s folding you in half. All the while, he continues fucking into you. A sharp whine leaves your throat again, and your nails dig into the muscles of his back. Carmy freezes in place, worried he went too far—worried that he hurt you. “Shit—I’m sorry sweetheart—“

You vigorously shake your head. “Feels good—holy fuck Carmy.” You cry out. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg.

“That the spot? Yeah?” He murmurs as his thrusts start back up again. This time he’s more calculated, like he’s trying to hit that spot and make you lose your mind. “Such a good girl for me—taking it like you’re made for it.”

“Fuck. Squeezing me so tight.” Slick pools out from around his cock with every thrust, leaving a white ring around the base of him. “Those fuckin’ noises—shit,” he mutters. 

Your eyes flutter closed. It’s all too much. The heat in your stomach was going to consume you at this point. You don’t even realize you’ve closed your eyes until you feel Carmy’s hand on your jaw. 

“Remember what I’ve told you? Need to see your eyes, baby. Keep lookin’ at me and I’ll give it to you, I promise. Just keep you’re eyes on me; I’ve got you.”

In the next moment, he’s taking his hand from your jaw, and sliding it down your body to rub your clit with his thumb. Carmy is fully resting his forehead on yours, keeping his eyes on you. 

“C-Carmy I—I can’t I’m—“

“Let go, baby, let me feel you cum around me.”

Those words make the tight band in your stomach snap. You pulse around him as your orgasm washes over you. You’re probably drawing blood with how deep your nails are in his skin, but you don’t care at this point. 

Watching you come undone under him gets Carmy even closer to his peak. Your cunt squeezing him makes him pound into you even harder. 

He wants to be closer to you—needs to be closer to you. He drops your leg from his shoulder, and practically puts all of his weight onto you; your chest is firmly pressed against his chest. Both of his arms wrap around your back, keeping you tight to his body. Carmy buries in face in the crook of your neck, and begins a reckless pace that takes your breath away. He’s going to town now that you’ve cum, pressing kisses to your shoulder and collarbone to try and conceal at least some of his whimpering. 

He still manages to mumble more about how fucking good you feel, and all you can do is hold onto him just as tight as he’s holding onto you. You wrap your legs around his back and interlock your ankles to him even deeper. He groans loudly, like the wind has been knocked out of him. Your hands are tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. You make a soft “uh” noise with every thrust of his dick. He’s on the verge of exploding. You’re all over him. Pulsing around him. Leaking around him. He’s convinced he’s died and gone to heaven.

He glances down and sees the ring of your arousal around his cock for the first time, and damn near loses his mind.

His hips start losing their precision, sloppily rutting up against you. Carmy lifts up his head from the crook of your neck to rest his forehead against yours. “C-can I—fuck—can I cum inside? M’so close.” His voice is filled with desperation and need.

“Shit—please. Please, please, please. Want it inside—please fill me up.”

A few more sloppy thrusts and Carmy spills deep inside of you with a whimper. His hips keep moving after his orgasm ends, lazily grinding his cum further into you. 

He fully falls on top of you afterwards, trying to catch his breath. You muster enough strength to comb your hand through his curls. Your limbs feel like jelly. “Fuck, Carm.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life—holy shit,” he replies with a laugh. 

“No like, I don’t think I can walk. My legs feel like jello.”

He presses another kiss to your shoulder. “I can carry you to the bathroom and clean you up. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Wow that fic was a flop and a half huh 😂😂😂

YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE!!!!!! YOU BRING JOY INTO THEIR LIVES!!!!!!!!!! YOU MAKE THEM HAPPY JUST BY EXISTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PEOPLE THINK ABOUT YOU POSITIVELY EVEN WHEN YOURE NOT WITH THEM!!!!!!!!! PEOPLE LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

it’s after jack abbot greets to you in the kitchen with his usual kisses to you nose and lips, plus a long, squeezing hug that he pauses.

there’s something about your eyes… beautiful as always, but a familiar haze just behind their usual sparkle that has him pausing to stare. you watch, blinking and gulping as his eyes scan your face.

the seconds that pass stretch over a thick silence, jack only ending it with a squinting sigh. "gimme your hand for a sec, doll."

you abide, hiding the way you bit at the inside of your cheek as you hand places into his. he squeezes it, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles with a warming fondness. the fuzz that fills your stomach zaps away into something that forces you to gasp when abbot plunges two of his fingers into his mouth.

jack recognizes the taste in an instant–you. the tang is still lingering happily. eyes connect with yours, he swirls his tongue once before popping them out of his mouth.

when he tilts his head, you can feel the dissatisfaction rolling off jack in waves. you don't dare look away from his stare–his slightly-annoyed, feverish stare–and give him your best puppy eyes.

"thought i told you to wait," he ignore your pout and steps to you in a long stalk, arms wrapping around your waist to cage you in. pinching at the skin, he sniffs. "how many?"

"just one."

"panties on?" the question comes with a squeeze to your ass.

"mmhm," you hum, "it was quick, i swear. and not even that good since you weren't here..."

he blinks. "it wasn't, huh?"

you shake your head just as jack leans traps you between himself and the counter. a rush of cold douses over you when he backs away with a cocked hip.

"gimme 'em, please," he commands, voice low and edging. the eyebrows he elevates by half an inch stop you from trying to reason with him. with a heavy stare, jack watches as you rid yourself of your shorts before peeling down your still dam panties with a bit lip.

you pass the garment–simple, thin briefs with a lace trim–to him on a single finger, and he's balling it up before you can blink.

"...open."

standing there, you open because what the fuck else would you do, and jack stuffs the underwear against your tongue. planting a kiss on your nose, he spins you gently and leans you against the counter elbows-first.

when you fold at the waist, jack has to smirk to himself because your slit is glistening–still or already, he isn't sure of, yet it doesn't matter. you'll be leaking by the time he's done with you tonight.

"how many you think i'm thinkin', baby?" jack asks, smoothing a palm across the skin of your cheeks. clenching around nothing, you turn to peek at him over your shoulder, words muffled. the man grins at you, winking.

"you said twenty?" eyes widening, you shake your head. you certainly did not say that. "hm. that does does like too many, huh? i'll be nice and bump it down to nineteen."

you huff through your nose and hang your head.

fuck.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

stay

jack abbot x female reader

summary: jack comes home from a long shift to find you fast asleep in his bed

content: fluff!!!, established relationship, reader and jack are learning how to align their differing schedules, jack cooking dinner and being a domestic little boyfriend, mentions of the trauma he experiences at work, alludes to sex but nothing explicit, basically just the reader being jack’s safe space, cute n cozy!

word count: 2k

author’s note: oh look it’s stella the oneshot wonder coming through with another jack abbot oneshot and refusing to challenge herself by writing a complex multi part fic like she said she was gonna do. whatever just let me domesticate that man in peace…

Exhausted and drained of every ounce of his energy, Jack had just finished what felt like the longest shift of his career. Twelve hours of chaos that had him longing for the silence of his home and a long stretch of sleep to clear the casual scream of trauma that lingered in his mind.

While he usually offered every little corner of himself to his job, letting it consume his life in ways most people didn’t, today tested him.

It didn’t help that he held himself together for the sake of everyone around him. In true attending physician fashion, he pushed through each intervention with tactful hands and confident energy. His collected demeanor cracked with each combative family member and patient that slipped away underneath his hands, but he never let it show. Instead, he lead every room with calm assurance and a steadfast plan. And when all was said and done, when he was finally free from the confining walls of the Emergency Department, he just wanted to go home— to let go.

Functioning on muscle memory, his feet carried him to his front door, key coming into contact with the lock and stepping out of his shoes in the entryway. He walked past the living room, following his morning routine of getting ready for bed, and tossing his backpack on the barstool at the kitchen island.

Passing through his quiet kitchen, he noticed the dishes set out on the drying rack, all clean and waiting to be put away, remnants of the night before that reminded him you were there. The cluttered mess of his day almost causing him to forget the night before. 

You came over to his place after work last night.

The narrow alignment of your weekday schedules always found you in the in-between moments. With Jack working night shifts and you having a typical nine to five schedule, the fleeting evening hours were now yours to share. Dinner in Jack's kitchen quickly became a routine delicacy in your calendars. Scraping together what little time you had, and sharing a meal before your days set sail on two opposite courses. 

You were still in the early months of your relationship, hungry to spend every waking minute together.

You’d both forgotten what it felt like to be contingent on another person’s presence. The fullness of companionship. Small smiles at learning something new about the other, and the constant urge to take mental notes of every word leaving their lips, but not letting yourself veer from their train of thought for too long in fear that you might miss something. Everything felt vibrant and exciting. Your connection blooming in the gold hues of evening sun, and tender conversation at his dinner table.

A memory of your conversation from last night played in his mind; you reaching past him to grab a cutting board standing at the kitchen counter and helping with the meal's final touches. Busy stirring something on the stovetop with a dish towel resting over his shoulder, Jack listened as you told him about your day.

Continuing to monitor the pots and pans in front of him, he asked about your plans for the evening, curious to know how your day would end as his began. You worked to chop a handful of vegetables while telling him what was on your itinerary for the night: going home to finish laundry and turning in early. 

His response to your lackluster agenda was immediate, soft and genuine as it left his lips without permission.

“You could just stay here.” 

You’d stayed over at his place before. Multiple times. Always on the weekend when neither of you had work.

It gave you the opportunity to spend unrestricted time together without a single worry of differing schedules. Each time you’d stay up as late as your body would let you, not quite used to Jack’s nocturnal way of life. Your voice would dissipate into quiet hums as your eyelids grew heavy, until you eventually fell asleep with your body pressed against his. The dim lamp on his bedside table would stay on a little while longer as he read, his back resting against the headboard, but his body would sink deep into the comforter, his mind losing focus at the feeling of you alongside him. He'd let himself peer down at your sleeping figure, facial features relaxed and soft in the faint light of his bedroom. A true depiction of the endless beauty found in stillness. Finding solace in the comfort of your skin, warm and real and touching his, he would always fall asleep much faster than usual. 

Given the ease of your previous sleepovers, it wasn’t odd for him to mention you staying over at his place, but it felt different this time.

The intention was distinctive— a deepening of dependence. It wouldn’t be the normal arrangement of talking, and laughing, and fucking well into the early morning hours until you fell asleep in his arms. This time you would be there, alone, in his space. It felt like an extension of trust. An extension of newfound domesticity in your relationship. A taste of reliance.

“Like just stay here while you’re at work?” A hint of a smile danced on your lips as your words came out in wishful anticipation.

He caught it. The excitement in your voice, and the careful raise of your eyebrows as you kept your grin from stretching across your face.

“If you want to.” Setting down the sauce-stained utensil in his hand, he took a single step toward you, body angled slightly behind yours as his arms wrapped instinctively around your waist, his chin coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t mind coming home to you in the morning.” His words sunk into the crook of your neck before his lips found your jaw in a careful kiss.  

Under the spell of his touch you agreed to his invitation, finishing dinner, and receiving an all too-natural kiss goodbye from Jack before he lingered at the front door on his way out. 

After an evening spent in his home, you fell asleep in his room, on his bed. And that's where you remained, still dreaming under the gentle weight of his comforter when he got home from work. 

Careful not to wake you, his steps softened as he came to the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against the frame to find your body snuggled in his sheets.

You were sprawled out on your belly with one leg bent and your hands underneath the pillow. His pillow. You must’ve ventured over to his side of the bed in your sleep, your back rising and falling with gentle breaths as your face smushed further into the cotton pillowcase. 

Fragments of your body peeked out from underneath his bedspread, the heather grey t-shirt on your back immediately catching his eye. Only a sliver of the ambiguous material was visible on your shoulders, but Jack new the shirt adorning your sleeping figure belonged to him. The sight of you wearing his clothes, nestled deep in his sheets, made the rhythmic beating in his chest stutter.

He let himself watch for a minute, standing in silence with a subtle grin on his lips.

The trials of his day dispersed right there in the threshold of his bedroom. Every high stress situation and crucial decision fading in the background as you laid on his bed, captivated by a peaceful slumber.

He knew it wouldn’t last long, knew your schedule like the back of his hand, and it was only a matter of time before you would be waking up to start your day. Half an hour maybe. 

His time with you, snuggled and serene in his bed, was limited. All he wanted to do was join you. To give himself over to the soothing consolation of your figure weighed down into his, and drown in the comfort of your soft breath. 

He had to force his way to the bathroom. Stripping himself of the clothes littered with the impurities of his job. Turning the shower faucet, and fighting his desire to lay next to you with his clothes still stained from work.

He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do it.

There was nothing worth bringing you into his world. The grime of trauma and death had no place next to you. You were separate from all of that. Pure from the suffering he had to witness on a daily basis. Any anguish abiding in his thoughts, on his clothes, rooted in the ache of his body, all of it vanished the second he saw the soft curve of your lips after a long day.

Less than three minutes of scrubbing and rinsing his body under the shower head and he was out, working himself into a pair of shorts before silently stepping back into his bedroom. Relief flooding through his body at finding you still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

He almost doesn’t want to join you, to ruin the perfect scene set in front of him; your sleeping figure draped over his sheets, but then you stir. Your legs move slightly, and your head buries deeper into his pillow and he’s crawling onto the mattress in seconds. It dips under his weight, and one of your eyes squints open at the interruption. A sleepy smile melting onto your expression as contentment engulfs you both. He squishes next to you, eliciting a gentle hum from your chest as his body comes into contact with yours.

“Hi.” Your voice is sleepy- barely audible. Music to his ears.

“Hi.” Far less drowsy but still holding a tired rasp, his greeting fills the thin space between you, both heads sharing a pillow as your bodies face one another. 

“You’re in my spot.” His whisper hides in a smile as his hand finds the curve of your waist underneath his t-shirt.

You try to mumble out an apology, shifting your body back to the other side of the bed, but his arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The muscles in his body constricting as he hugs you tight against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The familiar teasing of his voice sends a wave of comfort rippling through your body. You let his arms envelop you. Melting into his touch, surrounded and satisfied by his company.

“Want you right here.” His words are muffled in your hair as he places a kiss to the top of your head. 

You don’t fall back asleep, but Jack does. His eyes closing and breath evening the second he has you in his arms. The rigid facade he holds in place vanishing under a soft veil of sleep.

You lay with him for a few more minutes, drenched in his affection, until you're practically prying his hands from your waist and rolling out of his bed. You’re hesitant to leave, your body trying to lull you back into his sheets, the calm of his embrace calling to you as you slip quietly from his bedroom.

Already counting down the minutes until you’re back at his place for dinner, you pad into the kitchen, carefully putting away the dishes laying out on the drying rack before gathering your belongings and starting your day. 

Hi! this is my new favorite pic of Jeremy just thought I would share

The Sound of Music (1965) dir. Robert Wise

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four