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periprose · 1 year

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Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms.

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you.

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says.

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him.

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask.

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one.

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity.

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs.

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday.

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

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kaznejis · 26 days

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We're hanging on by a heartbeat- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“You’re bringing Hank, right?” She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.” “I need to borrow him.” “What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.”

A/N: Thanks for all of the support on my fics!!! every comment, like, reblog and read is GREATLY appreciated. So, enjoy this fun little oneshot I found in my drafts. :)

Word Count: 5,250 / Read it on AO3!

“He’s gonna be there, Y/N,” Raven sighed, swirling her champagne glass as she pursed her lips at you, “Charles practically demanded that he be there despite his refusals, I think he promised him that he’d get you to speak to him.” She accompanied the last words with exaggerated air quotes.

“Mhm,” You grumbled, fiddling with your outfit in the mirror, “And that means, you are not allowed to leave me unattended. At any point.”

“Y/N..”

“Nope,” Turning towards her, splayed out on a chaise in her human form; a gorgeous dress accentuating her figure and her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves; you simply shook your head, face stern as you spoke. “I’m not going down that path again, I’m done with his idiocy.”

“But… what does that have to do with being left unattended?” A smirk curled at the corners of her lipstick stained lips. You glared right back at her.

“Because, I can’t-” You exhaled heavily through your nose, clearing the nerves from your chest at the mere thought of speaking to him, “If I speak to him, I will just embarrass myself- he, obviously, does not feel the same way as I feel for him.”

Raven just sighed, visibly sick of you and Erik’s antics. Behind the guise of being best friends; you and Erik had been playing an erratic, immoral game of cat and mouse, each interaction felt like a step closer to admitting your feelings for him, but then, a subsequent step back at the very same time. He was complicated, to say the least, plagued by the traumas of his past and present. Plagued by the responsibility that he wielded upon his shoulders as a powerful mutant, the expectation of moral compassion; and, the sordid reality of his beliefs.

You supported him, wholeheartedly, every step of the way. Your own chaotic mutant gene infecting your ability to appear as a normal human being; the green at your irises and the vines that intertwine upon your fingertips only causing fear, despite your god-given purpose being to allow growth. Maybe that’s why the two of you had gotten along so well; both of your powers allow you each to manipulate the foundations of the Earth itself- the ability to shift infrastructure and take lives at the merest of thoughts, at the slightest of movements. the hypothetical extent of what you could do rendered you outcasts, even if you had no desire to inflict pain upon others, they awaited with bated breaths until you would do so.

Whilst Erik had initially viewed his residence within the school as a prison, you had seen it as a safe haven. The lush meadows and ancient trees that adorned the acres of land called to you, allowing for days spent barefoot amongst the reeds, with only birdsong to accompany you. Erik had paid you little mind at first- having only allowed you fleeting glances at dinner, a nod of the head if he agreed with a point, a slither of a smirk when you amused him. But, soon, he let you in; allowed you into the fortress of his conscience, allowed you to peel back the layers of his anger, and understood his desires for vengeance. You had balanced him out, balanced out the choke of his dark turtlenecks with the flow of your hair; balanced out the harshness of his metal with the brush of petal stems upon your fingertips.

As your friendship had developed naturally, your feelings had followed. Abrasive, corrosive feelings. Soon enough, Erik plagued your every waking thought; his essence identifiable within the flow of the river, within the dust upon the floorboards, within the quiet of your room upon nightfall.

He was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape.

You would find him at breakfast in the morning, laughing obnoxiously at Charles; his teeth glinting in the morning light. You would find him in the classrooms, teaching the children their mandatory mutant history lessons; a transfixing performance of great intelligence, his hands enunciating each and every point. You loved watching him teach, perching upon a desk at the back of his room as he interacted with the children, engaging with their conversations whilst simultaneously wielding the ability to hold the students captivated when delivering a lecture.

But, most importantly, your favourite place to find him was beside you. He would join you at the lakeside most nights, smiling to himself as you conjured flower after flower, allowing them to flow in the wind, the two of you watching as they found a home upon the tranquil waters. It was there, in the dark and the quiet of nightfall, that you had allowed your feelings to bubble at the surface, allowed your inhibitions to loosen as you had turned to him, studied the sharp features of his side profile; he had turned to you too, an eyebrow raised as he blinked, confused.

“I was wondering..” You began, fiddling with the petals of a flower within your hands, watching as his loose, plaid shirt fluttered in the wind beside you; a change in his wardrobe that you had inflicted, “Charles is hosting a formal dinner next weekend.”

Erik huffed, smiling at you; though his lip curled confusedly, “I know, I am the co-head of the school; I signed off on the plan.”

Idiot, you chastised yourself, of course he knew that. Erik had turned towards you entirely now, his head tilted in intrigue as he stared at you, “Oh- yeah, well I was wondering, if you wanted to-”

“I’m not even sure why Charles would want to host such a thing, I mean, just an opportunity for the kids to drink too much and make a mess of the house.”

“Yeah, well-”

“And then one of Charles’ assistants asked me to be her date for it and I-”

You felt it, in that moment, as your heart splintered within your chest; its foundations shattering and leaving you only able to gape in its wake. Coldness entrapped your body as the remaining petals of the flower within your hand shrivelled and wilted; the once luminescent petals forming a pathetic grey upon your palm. You simply nodded, zoning out and pulling yourself away from Erik’s words as he spoke, unable to hear him any further. You needed to distance yourself, distance yourself from him, from your feelings for him. It would be for the better; allow him to pursue whats-her-face without your claws of envy sinking into his shoulder blades, dragging him away from the semblance of happiness that he deserved.

“I-I’m sorry Erik,” You stuttered, cutting him off suddenly as his speech screeched to a halt, his eyes widening and form freezing as you halted his words, “I need to go.” You wasted no time in bolting upwards, marching towards the distant lights of the house, not sparing him a single glance backwards.

“Wait, Y/N-” He called, his voice catching in the breeze as he stumbled into pace behind you, “I’m sorry, did I upset you or-”

“No, Erik, it’s fine.” You turned them, your hair fluttering before your eyes in the breeze as you watched him as he came to a halt, his face stricken, mouth agape as he stared at you, “You should go with Charles assistant, I bet she’s lovely..” You turned again immediately, sighing in relief as the house grew closer.

“No Y/N, I was actually going to ask if-”

“Erik.” You snapped, turning once again, for the final time. The levity of your voice brought him to an instant pause, shock prevalent upon his features. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you can go with whoever you want to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh.” Erik was still, his voice low as he watched you, his brows low and his mouth downturned; he seemed, almost, disappointed. Though, his emotional disparity was not your responsibility anymore, “Well, okay, I will then.”

You nodded, a finality; a shallow smile painted itself upon your features, “Good. I look forward to meeting her.” You didn’t wait to see his reaction, making the final journey to the house before swinging open the door and rushing to your room- where you could comfortably wallow in the drawls of your own heartbreak.

That had been over a week ago; your initial excitement for the formal had dwindled entirely leaving you staring at yourself bleakly as you fiddled with an earring, Raven had continued to watch you; eyebrows raised and mouth curling with mirth.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Raven! He said himself-”

“No, but,” She paused, collecting herself for a moment before leaning towards you, hands clasped upon her lap, “You haven’t seen him.”

“Of course, I have-”

“Okay, When was the last time you saw him?”

You laughed, eyes tight as you refused to make eye contact with her, “I saw him at breakfast this morning.”

“Sure, when was the last time you spoke to him?”

Pausing, you cleared your throat, she had caught you there. Your own immaturity dawned upon you as you spoke your confession, embarrassment creating a heave in your chest. “At the lake, last week.”

“That’s what I thought- I mean, that man is a brooding asshole on the usual day, but since he supposedly professed his feelings for someone else to you? He’s been miserable, wandering the halls like a kicked puppy; if he’s even capable of resembling that.”

Shaking your head, you huffed, turning to take a hasty swig from your own glass of preparatory champagne, “Maybe she rejected him after all.”

“Sure, Y/N-”

Suddenly, as the brevity of the reality which was Erik bringing another woman to the formal, a wicked realisation dawned upon you. “I need a favour.” You blurted, turning to her abruptly.

“Okay..’

“You’re bringing Hank, right?”

She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.”

“I need to borrow him.”

“What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.”

You shrugged, smirking at her; though the sweat at the back of your neck and legs couldn’t be denied, “I just- want to cover my own back, he can’t think that I’m moping and sad over him and another woman-”

“But, you are.”

Only sparing Raven a glare as she chortled, you continued, “I just want to let him see that I have my own date, and that… it could’ve been him. To everyone else, we’ll just be going as friends, but- Erik doesn’t need to know that.”

Before the danger of your plan could pull your mind to a halt, before it could allow your conscience to screech at its own breaks- Raven was up, crossing the span of the dressing room and pulling the door open; telling a nearby student to find and fetch Hank. The young boy nodded obediently, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. Within minutes, Hank appeared in tow; flushed and breathing heavily as he burst into the corridor, half-dressed in his suit as his tie hung loose around his neck.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Hank panted, a hand planted upon the door frame as he surveyed the room; confusion followed within his features as he surveyed the two of you safe and seated comfortably. Only then, did fear truly grace his features; the dread evident within the tightening of his fingers and grit of his teeth, “What’s…going on?”

“Sorry, Hank, but you will now be attending the dinner with Y/N.”

“What?” He spat, his tall frame stalking into the room as he ensured the door was securely closed before truly entering the room, “No offence, Y/N, but I don’t understand- do you want me dead?”

“What?” You gasped in turn, rubbing a hand against your forehead as you shook your head; Raven had nodded, laughing at his fear as she silently agreed, “Why would you die?”

The ability to do so being somehow possible, Hank’s voice sunk to a hiss, bowing towards the two of you as sweat formed visibly upon his brow, “Have you seen Erik recently? He would kill me.”

“Exactly,” Jeering, Raven opened the decanter upon the small table between you, pouring Hank a brimming glass of champagne before refilling her own, he took the drink readily once she offered it to him, taking a gusty swallow as his skin steadily grew paler, or even, bluer. “We need to show him what he’s missing out on-”

“No, no.” Shaking his head hastily, Hank held his hands up before him, slowly backing towards the closed-door; a supposed attempt to make a fast escape, “I am not being a pawn in your fucked up-”

“Hank.” Raven whined, cocking her head to the side and moving to expose the skin of her leg; pouting at him endearingly- you could only fake heave at her antics. “Please, for me? Once they’ve sorted their mess out-”

“Hey-!”

“We can have a dance together.”

Hank froze, the frost that had covered his cheeks instantly warming with the rush of blood as he blushed, his face taking the features of a dazed fawn as he practically melted beneath Raven’s gaze. He soon recovered though, turning towards you and sighing, scratching at the base of his head, “Fine, I will enter with you and we can have a dance, that is it-”

“Thank you, thank you.” You interrupted him with a rush of skirts and arms flinging around his neck, peppering kisses to his cheek as you squeezed him, “You are my saviour”

“Okay, okay-” He laughed, holding you at arms length as to protect the ironed linens of his shirt, a genuine smile lining his cheeks, “I need to finish getting ready, but I’ll meet you outside the entrance at quarter past seven.”

“Quarter past? Hank it starts at seven.” You pursed your lips in confusion as he only grinned at you, a twinkle shining in his eye.

“Exactly.” He grinned as Raven gasped, breaking into applause beside you, bravoing Hank humorously as you pulled away from him, to which Hank bowed sarcastically, hand before his stomach like a true guardsman. “We need to ensure that he sees Y/N- so, we enter late; put on a little show.” He wiggled his hips as he spoke, grinning at you fake-enticingly; to which you could only fake-vomit, sticking a finger in your mouth and gagging exaggeratedly as Raven laughed beside you.

Hank departed then, a wave of a hand to you and a cheesy smile at Raven; that is when the plan jumped into action. Raven surged from her lounged position instantly, moving to check you over; your outfit, your hair, the words you would procure upon entering the formal. With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, she left at exactly 6:55; the door slamming behind the trails of her gorgeous dress.

Thus, leaving you with a harrowing twenty minutes to stew on your decisions.

Would Erik even care? Or, would he be too occupied with his supposed date? Gazing at the beauty of her dress and the delicacy of her skin instead of your own, honoured that he could serve as her date instead of wishing he could be yours. You forced yourself to break eye contact with your own reflection; disgusted at the pathetic twist of your features as nerves flooded your guts. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head; if anything, Erik would come to the realisation that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore and this sordid affair would end- you would go back to being best friends, you would swallow the bitter taste of rejection and smile through the burning fires of jealousy as he inevitably grew closer with his date for the night. Maybe the two of you would replace each other entirely, after all.

At exactly 7:10, you left the room; bridled with nerves as you could do nothing but stare at the same features of the room you had been preparing yourself in for hours. Breath in, breath out- the sound of your heels clicking against the empty hallway resounded upon the halls as the inhabitants of the house were located within the main hall- the sound of conversation and light acoustical music a distant mirage.

As you walked, you surveyed the walls of the buildings you called home- the murals upon the walls and the gorgeous art-pieces that the residents had collected throughout the years lining the walls. In the rotten depths of your mind, you wondered if this would be it- if you would have to leave, unable to sleep only doors down from Erik and the woman he would soon call his lover. The thought of it made you nauseous, made your knees beg to buckle from the strain of exasperated grief. Grief of what could have been if you had just stayed quiet, content; if you could have just been comfortable within the throes of friendship.

At the end of it all, you missed him. You missed everything about him- his inherent goods and bads. His anger and his joy; his technicolour darks and lights. You missed the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair curled without the harnessing of a pomade, the prickles of the hairs upon his forearms and the curve of amusement within his lips.

It took everything within you to not detour to the comforts of your bed, to crawl under the covers and hide for the foreseeable- wait for the inevitable to blow over, for Erik to enter your room and laugh at your sad state, just as a friend would; with no romantic-baggage whatsoever.

However, before your jailbreak attempt could successfully be enacted; Hank emerged from the adjoining hallway, hands in his pocket and a meagre smile upon his face, “Thought I’d meet you here before you decided to run away.”

Nodding, you sighed; managing a grateful smile his way as he removed his hands from his pockets and offered his arm to you, to which you took it and began to walk towards the hall’s entrance, “I was just working up the courage to do that.”

Hank laughed, the motion jostling you slightly as you stopped in front of the entrance, the door was closed; the event readily in motion behind it, “We can back out if you want, you can go in now alone and I’ll come down in a few minutes?”

Shaking your head, you tightened your grip upon his elbow; smiling tightly, your voice cracked slightly as you began to speak, the thought of facing Erik and his date alone the most terrifying imagery in that moment, “I can’t go in there alone.”

Hank turned to you then, concerned evident within the downturn of his mouth, his hands moved to your shoulders; the weight of them comforting as he sighed, “If anything happens I- we will be there, okay?”

Nodding, you smiled almost-tearfully up at your friend, your lips curling with emotion as he jostled you; attempting to squeeze some semblance of humour from your state. He beckoned you forward then, one hand upon the door handle and the other curling to rest upon the curve of your waste; that is how you greeted the entire room.

Due to the old-age of the building, the door creaked almost obnoxiously, the sound ostentatious despite the constant hum of the room. Immediately, you made eye contact with Raven; snorting into her glass as she failed to hide her amusement. Then Charles, his hands hanging in mid-air as if he was performing a speech to the group before him; though his face changed during the moment of eye contact, his eyebrows instantly raising and his lips curling into a smile as he looked into your mind, then to the hand upon your waist and finally to a point across the room.

You followed his gaze, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat as it landed.

There, stood Erik; the object of all of your desires, and your afflictions. His demeanour differed greatly from the others in the room, his face was blank; impassive as he met your eye; his hair was neatly slicked back and he adorned a clean, striking black suit. Charming. However, his body language told a different story- the grip at which he held his glass was ironclad, his lips were tight and cheeks haggard; an exact juxtaposition to the sharp cut lines of his suit.

But, as you searched the space beside, behind and above him; the only thing that you could notice was that he was completely alone.

Stood at the corner of the room, in his gorgeous suit with his exhaust-tinged eyes; he was alone. Not a date, of any shape or size or form, in sight.

Your mind only allowed a halting, record-scratch oh fuck before you were herded towards the dancefloor- Charles welcoming the ‘happy couple’ to the crowd, sheer amusement threatening to crumple his confident form as he practically tittered. Hank only rolled his eyes, grinning at you amusedly as he tugged you into the entourage that was beginning to form. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile back. Your breath was quickening, panic flooding your chest as you realised that maybe, possibly you had read this whole situation entirely wrong. As you were whisked upon the dancefloor, a drink shoved into your palm and the waltz of fast-paced conversation already hastily beginning- you used every last essence of your will to build a somewhat passable facade, to not crumple in front of the crowd, to not run towards Erik and beg for his forgiveness, for his attention.

But, oh, you had thought far too soon. Because, after all, you had garnered his attention the moment your heels resounded throughout the shocked quiet of the room.

As you surveyed the crowd, Hank’s arm an all-encompassing weight upon your waist- you failed to stop your eyes from passing Erik’s form. He remained in that very same spot, as if he belonged nowhere else, as if he was sculpted upon the very walls of the building. His eyes were fixed upon your form; no matter the step, position or pose you took- his eyes never faltered from you, never wandered; even when Charles came to stand beside him, amusement towards his best friend tinted the rise in his cheeks. The two of them began to converse, the topic being of considerable tension; seeing as though Charles continued to look ever-amused, whilst Erik’s eyes finally dropped from yours- his face visibly swelling in anger as he glared at his shoes.

“-Y/N? Sorry, Y/N?”

Shocked, you blinked, turning back towards the conversation before you; two older women stared expectantly at you, you dug your mind for any recollection as to who exactly they were- maybe some form of charitable donors? After a series of agonising seconds, to which it felt like the entire room had gone silent; each participant waiting to see what was plaguing your mind, you spoke- smile cringing as you tilted your gaze towards the air just beside the woman, “Sorry, what was-?”

“We were asking how long you and Professor. McCoy have been together?” Obnoxiously red-lipped woman-potential-rich-donor spoke, her lips stretching grotesquely as she smiled.

“Oh, well-”

“We’ve been dating casually for a few months.”

“What-”

“Oh, that is wonderful!” The woman spoke, clapping her satin-gloved hands together and bouncing on her heels.

“Yeah..” Smiling airily, you ensured that oxygen was correctly being executed from your lungs; that you were definitely awake, alive and breathing.

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Hank smiled, jostling you with the hand gripping your hip, “Between me and you, things are really starting to heat up-”

Through the excited gasps of the women you realised with abject horror that Charles and Erik were edging towards your circle; Charles leading Erik with a clutch upon his elbow, to which Erik seemed to be fighting unapologetically.

As if firing the perfect shot, at the perfect time and place, the red-lipped woman squealed at an obscene volume just as Erik entered perfect earshot, “Oh, just imagine, Y/N McCoy. It’s perfect-”

The sound of a glass shattering splintered throughout the room, halting the conversation and what felt like the very air you were breathing. Blood instantly began pouring from Erik’s hand as the surrounding partygoers jumped back in fear, the entire room watching with wide, halted eyes as he shuck the glass from his grip.

“Erik-” Trembling, you swallowed; feeling your heart hammer within your chest as you watched him, the loosening of Hank’s hand pulling and wrenching at the pit within your stomach. You had well and truly done it this time.

Erik seemed to ignore you, shrugging off the onlookers that attempted to come to his aid; allowing the air beside your head one last scathing glance before he departed from the crowd, from the room entirely. Wasting no time in following him, you dumped your purse and drink into Hank’s arms before breaking into a full sprint; throwing any sense of formality to the wind as you shoved through the crowd whilst simultaneously calling to his retreating back.

“Erik, please-” You called as you finally emerged from the crowd, the main doors slamming behind you as you stopped before him. His back was turned, feet poised as if ready to retreat, though he had stopped. Droplets of blood resounded against the linoleum, a steady flow of red dribbling from the cuts upon his hands, “Erik, you need to-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Erik’s tone was demanding, his back clenching as he resolutely refused to turn, to face you.

“What-”

Finally, he turned; spinning on his polished heel and stalking towards you- face practically carved from stone, his gaze bleeding into yours, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and McCoy?” He practically spat Hank’s name, the name convulsing from his lips.

Scowling, you straightened your back; standing strong as you grit your teeth at him, “Why would that have been any of your business, Erik?”

Scoffing, he backed away; scrubbing his non-injured hand upon the stubble upon his jaw, almost in disbelief, “Of course- why would it be?” He laughed sardonically, throwing his hands in the air and shrugging his shoulders.

“What is your problem?”

He seemed to still, to quiet; his throat bobbling heavily as his eyes bore into you- eventually, he looked away, lip clutched beneath his teeth, “You know what, nothing-”

“Okay,” You nodded, feigning deep thought, “Let me rephrase then, why do you care?”

Erik blinked, almost in disbelief, “Come on Y/N- you know exactly-”

“-Because last I heard, you had a date for this-”

“-Who told you that?!”

“You!” You were shouting now, chest heaving at the patchworked conversation presented before you, “You did, Erik!”

He was truly in disbelief now, shaking his head and struggling to find the words; eventually he settled for one, insignificant word. He practically drawled it, set up a board and sketched out the word at agonising speed, “What?”

Laughing, mostly to yourself, you gestured towards him, “You told me.” At his silence, you opted to continue speaking, “At the lake, you told me you were going on a date with Charles’ assistant.”

“I never-” Erik groaned, hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed; visibly exhausted, “I know for a fact that I did not say that because-,” He was the one to laugh then, hacking at his chest as he forged his words, “-Because, you interrupted me, left and then haven’t looked at me since!” He seemed to check off the series of events on the fingers of his uninjured hand before waving his clenched fist in your direction, “So, I am assured in the knowledge that I did not say that, because I haven’t spoken to you in two weeks!”

“Okay, well, I have looked at you-”

“-No, you haven’t.”

Slamming your mouth shut, you scowled, crossing your arms petulantly; he simply watched you, the turn of his mouth pulling in its usual smug fashion. “Y/N-”

“Your hand is covered in blood.”

Smiling, he looked down at it, flexing his fingers before turning his gaze back towards you, “I know.”

“So who did you come with then?” You shrugged, completely disregarding your worries regarding his hand, “Shouldn’t you be with her instead of-”

“Y/N, you are completely missing the point… I didn’t come with anyone.”

“Oh,” You breathed, desperately attempting to hide the relief evident within your exhale, “Why?”

“Because that night at the lake,” He exhaled through his nose; his eyes flitting in between your face and the wall as he breathed, he seemed to be trembling slightly as he conjured the words adjacent to his evidently racing thoughts, “I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me.”

“Oh.” You repeated dumbly, utterly gobsmacked at his words.

“But, it’s now evident that McCoy beat me to it, so-”

“Me and Hank aren’t together.” The words left you in a rush, you knew that your wide eyes mirrored Erik’s own perfectly; shock evident within both of your features.

“Okay-”

“I completely jumped to conclusions and I thought you were bringing a date, so I- I didn’t want to show up alone so I borrowed Hank…for the night.”

“You borrowed Hank.”

“...Yes.”

Erik suddenly burst into laughter; his face morphing to accustom the sudden change in emotion as he outrightly laughed at you. You could only stand there; slightly offended, slightly relieved at the upbringing of events.

Erik had wanted to ask you to be his date.

Did Erik have feelings for you?

“Okay, just to be clear, you weren’t asking me to the dinner as f-” Your words were abruptly cut off as Erik suddenly broke into a stride, marching up to you before placing his hands upon your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours completely, inhaling heavily as if he wanted to ingest you, taste you. You immediately kissed back with the same fervour, intertwining your fingers with the short hair upon his head and accustoming your senses to the scent of blood that was now smeared upon your cheeks.

Eventually, unfortunately, he pulled away; gazing down at you with hooded eyes. You watched as he bit his tongue, the motion tightening his jaw as he stared down at you, vision unguarded; almost unsure. You knew you looked like something straight out of a horror story, blood smeared upon your cheek and the bridge of your nose- you could only sigh blissfully as he ran his fingers through the mess he had created, spreading it until his finger reached your lips.

You both stilled; breaths catching in your chests.

After a long moment, you nodded, your eyes soon fluttering closed as he began to spread the liquid upon your lips- the copper tang of his blood immediately permeating your senses. His eyes were practically drooping now; his irises blown out in pleasure. Keeping your eyes upon his; you gauged his every movement as you sucked his finger into your mouth, effectively cleaning it and your lips of his blood. You knew in that moment that this was forever; this connection that had been forged between your souls, intertwined at each end and tightened right in the middle. Forged entirely from his very own metal.

#erik lehnsherr x y/n #erik lehnsherr x you #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lensherr x reader #erik lensherr #magneto x reader #magneto imagine #magneto fanfic #magneto #x men #marvel #the blood play at the end was BY ACCIDENT!!!!#the gremlin inside of me wrote that not me #if anyone has any good erik gifs PLEASD SEND

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cherryinchainss · 2 months

Text

♡ don’t cry baby ♡

word count: 0.7k

pairing: stepbrother anakin x fem reader

WARNINGS: NSFW (18+), stepcest, dryhumping, reader is drunk, stepbrother anakin being soft as fuck, i think that’s it???

plot: stepbrother anakin got mad at his stepsister and feels bad so he tries to cheer her up

a/n: short lil thing to test the waters. this is the first smuttyish thing i’ve posted in three years??? i can’t tell if i like this or hate it. anyways, enjoy. maybe more will come.

anakin couldn’t stand to see his step sister upset. he’d just chewed her out for the last hour when he caught her sneaking back into her bedroom via window after staying out all night at a frat house party. he lectured her about the clothes she wore or should he say “the clothes she wore that barely covered her fucking body” and the boys she surrounded herself with cause he knew what they were thinking, he could practically hear what they probably thought when she waltzed into that house.

he didn’t mean to make you cry, he would never do that. he cared about you too much and hated seeing you upset. it broke his heart to see your pretty face covered in tears. he pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist, planting kisses along your forehead, nose and cheeks trying to get you to cheer up.

“no baby- please don’t cry, you know what it does to me” anakin said softly as he tucked your hair behind your ear and wiped a tear away from your cheek. he studied your face to see if he could see even a glimmer of happiness in your glossy eyes.

he knew the alcohol you consumed was probably a huge contribution as to why you were so upset. you not so gracefully stumbled through your bedroom window smelling like a brewery. but fuck, if he didn’t raise his voice you probably would be peacefully sleeping by now.

“i didn’t mean to make you angry ani” you said in between sobs “please don’t be angry at me” you looked down at your hands anxiously.

“i’m not mad at you baby” he said sounding defeated as he cupped your face, making you look back up at him in his eyes. “you just stress me the fuck out sometimes” he chuckled lightly, wiping another tear away. his thumb went down to your pouty lips, tracing them lightly.

anakin’s hands went down to yor hips, guiding you to grind slowly against him. anakin knew this was something he could always count on to make his step sister feel better. it wasn’t morally wrong because they technically weren’t having sex. but, maybe that was just something he made up in his head to push away his guilt.

“come on baby, i wouldn’t be doing this if i was mad at you” he said softly. you nodded your head in agreement, beginning to rock your hips on your own.

anakin let out a low grunt as your head leaned back in pleasure, biting your bottom lip in the way that drove him crazy in the best way possible. anakin placed his hand on your lower back to support you from falling backwards, his other hand snaked up to under your skirt, cupping your ass and giving it a light squeeze.

“ani- it feels so good” you whined, feeling the familiar sensation growing in your stomach, like you were at the top of a rollercoaster, about to swiftly go down the steep drop. anakin eyes widened at the way your face contorted, the way he’s seen too many times to count. he quickly grabbed you by the back of the head, tangling his fingers in your hair as he crashed your lips together to muffle your moans as your climax took over every sensation in your body, your brain becoming completely empty, the only thoughts being the pleasure washing down on you and anakin. your nails dug into his arms as your hip movements became sloppier against his stiff cock under his sweatpants, the overwhelming feeling fucking up your rhythm. his muffled moans matched yours as your climax pushed him over the edge, making him shoot ropes of cum into his pants. your legs went limp causing you to slow down your movements until you came to a complete stop on top of him, shaky and out of breath you pulled away from his kiss, looking at him with a light, tired smile on your face.

“baby, you know i love the sound of you moaning but shit, imagine if your daddy heard you cumming all over my lap.” he said in a whisper, a smirk growing on his face.

“feeling better?”

#tw stepcest #cherry writes!#stepbrother anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars smut #star wars

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luvjunie · 1 year

Text

— less is more

pairing: e-42!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: some tears, a little misunderstanding but a fluffy ending

summary: miles makes quite a bit of cash from his jobs, and with his love language being gift giving he often likes to spend a lot of it on you. however, you didn’t grow up with much, and this makes it especially hard for you to accept such expensive things from him without feeling overwhelmed. wc: 1,224

a/n: based off this request! some people might find this reader easier to relate to so i definitely wanted to write it

Gifts were something that came with the territory of dating Miles Morales. Big bouquets, flashy accessories, shopping sprees at the mall, and probably every single stuffed animal he’d ever caught you eyeing whenever the two of you went out. If you so much as looked at it, it was on your fire escape the next morning. At this point, you had so many on your bed that you were starting to run out of room to sleep.

And you knew he meant well, and you tried your best to enjoy it the way you imagined you should but it was all so foreign to you. Your life was much different before you met him, and it was more along the lines of nervously checking your bank account to see if you had enough cash to buy a five dollar starbucks drink to ‘treat yourself’, or if you’d have to wait till next week’s paycheck for blended coffee with some whipped cream on top.

Most of your clothes were hand-me-downs from your older siblings, or duds you’d secured from the Salvation Army a few blocks down on the colored-tag sale days, and that was the way you liked it. Humble beginnings is where you came from and humble was the way you intended to keep it.

So now as you stared down at the small jewelry box in your hands, Tiffany & Co embellishing the top in silvered letters, trepidation began coursing through you at the size of the box alone. Anything that came in a tiny package such as the one you were holding was bound to cost more than anything you’d ever managed to buy yourself. You realized you must have been lost in thought as you sat gawking at the untouched gift, because your boyfriend’s voice sounded like it was underwater the first few times he called out to you.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You blinked, looking up at Miles from where you were seated on his bed to see him leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Go ‘head and open it, don’t leave me hanging.” Miles joked, brows bunched slightly in confusion.

“Oh— right,” you laughed half-heartedly. Swallowing hard, you gently pried the small box open with hesitant fingers to reveal the prettiest diamond necklace you think you’ve ever seen. Light glinting off the encrusted jewel, Miles waited with bated breath as he watched your hand tremble towards it, a choked inhale catching in your throat as you felt the weight of the pendant alone.

“Well?” he asked quietly.

“How much was this?” Your throat felt tight; uncomfortably so, like the air in the room suddenly wasn’t the kind you were meant to breathe.

Miles glanced to the side for a moment, then stood up straighter. “I mean, I paid for it if that’s what you’re asking...”

“How much was this, Miles?” Voice trembling when you spoke, you asked again but louder, and this time he knew you actually wanted an answer.

Confused because he didn’t take you for the materialistic type, he racked his brain for the memory of the total the clerk had read out to him and scratched his forehead.

“Like… three hundred and some change…maybe? Probably four? I don’t remember. Why does this matter?” He let out a peeved sigh, eyes widening as he watched your shoulders start to shake.

“Ay, mi amor, ¿que pasa? (what’s wrong, my love?)” Miles asked gently as he rushed to sit next to you, taking the jewelry box from your loose hold. He looked down at it disappointedly, lips pursing at the necklace he’d spent so long picking out. He thought you would’ve loved it. “You don’t like it? I can get you somethin’ better—“

“No, Miles. I… It’s perfect.” Warm tears rolled past your waterline and you wiped them away in a rush, aggravated that you were even crying in front of him about something like this. How could you explain yourself without sounding ungrateful or confusing him even more?

Miles licked at his dry lips as he tried to think of what to say. He was usually so good at reading your body language, but this time he was completely lost. You could see it on his expression when you looked at him that he was having a hard time understanding what was going on, and it only made you cry harder.

“No entiendo… (I don’t understand…)” He set the box down next to him and took your hands into his, head lowered to try and meet your averted gaze. “I’m lost.. If it’s perfect, then what’s wrong?”

You inhaled a wavered breath, the feeling of his thumbs rubbing the backs of your hands serving as encouragement for you to go on.

“I just…” taking a breath, your shoulders shrugged weakly. “You spending money on me like this, I— It feels like I’m using you. You should be spending your hard earned money on things for yourself, or… saving it for better things, not spending it on me.”

“Money is nothing to me when it comes to you.” he denied immediately.

“I know, and that’s the problem.” Your lips trembled, but thankfully you were able to prevent more tears from coming.

“Y/n, I—“

“Just, please. Let me finish.” You pleaded quietly, looking up to see him slowly nod at you. “I love you, Miles, and that means I love everything you do for me as well. But I’m not used to things like this.” you looked in the direction of the overturned jewelry box. “It’s a lot.”

Silence filled the space around the two of you. You felt incredibly guilty for even bringing it up, it was never your intention to make him feel this way. There was an energy shift and you could sense him regressing back to the version of him that once didn’t know how to express his love for you.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured simply. He didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t even understand, but he offered it to you anyway.

“No no no, Miles,” You guided his doleful eyes back to you with a hand on his cheek, your tone sincere. “I love the way you love me, really, I do. You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not your fault— I’m just not that kind of girl and I don’t know if I ever will be. But the way I grew up and the things I’m used to have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me, okay?”

He frowned slightly. “So… No more gifts, then?”

You shook your head. “Giving me nice things is how you show your love towards me, I know that, and it would be unfair for me to take that from you. I’d be crazy to not appreciate how you’re always thinking of me wherever you go.”

Chewing on your thoughts, you contemplated the best way to give your answer.

“Okay, so it’s like this,” you sat up a bit. “You could give me a rock, and I’d cherish it like it was the best thing in the entire world, simply because you gave it to me. What I’m trying to say is how expensive the gift is doesn’t matter, all that matters is that my wonderful—“ your head dipped to meet his avoidant eyes. “caring, and thoughtful boyfriend got it for me. I don’t care about the money, I only care that it came from you.”

Miles brightened a little at that, and started to put things together after your explanation. “So, I can still get you nice things, but… less is more?”

A melancholic smile touched your lips before you pecked his cheek. “Less is more.”

He picked the small jewelry box up from the bed. He understood you completely now, but was still a bit bummed. “Does that mean I have to return this?”

You immediately shook your head. “Of course not, baby. I love it, and I think it’s beautiful. Just keep what I said in mind for next time, okay?” He nodded and you turned your back towards him so he could put it on for you.

“Good, cause I kinda lost the receipt.” Miles smiled coyly at the slightly shaky laugh that sounded from you as he unclasped the necklace, draping it over your chest and fastening it.

You peered down at the gorgeous piece around your neck, gently gracing over it with your fingertips. Your heart warmed at the thought of him picking it out for you, how he spotted something this beautiful and needed you to have it. You had to admit, it was absolutely stunning and you didn’t think you’d be taking it off any time soon. Even if the price of it had almost sent you into shock, you were more than grateful to have a boyfriend like him.

“Thank you, Miles. I love it, really.” You faced him once again with your confession, the sincerity laced in your tone accentuating the adoration in your eyes. Your hand caressed the apple of his cheek, it raising when he smiled contently and leaned into your palm. “But I love you, more.”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fic #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x fem!reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles x black reader #earth 42 miles x reader

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melancholyhigh · 1 year

Text

LATE NIGHT CALLS.

ft. leon x coworker!reader

synopsis. leon misses you so he gives you a call.

content. smut. 1.3k words. phone sex, leon's pov, needy leon, masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, mommy kink.

note. hello?? thank you guys for 700 followers!! i haven't even figure out what i wanted to do for 500 as yet. i appreciate all of you guys so much <33

masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs :3

Leon huffs as he lies in his bed. He can’t help but think about you.

He wonders what you’re up to. It was midnight the last time he checked, and you’re probably working on a case. He doesn’t like when you’re up late, coming to work the next day with exhausted eyes and greeting him with a tired smile. Maybe he should check up on you like you always did for him.

He didn’t want to disturb you, though. But he needed you so badly.

Glaring at his phone on the bedside table, he thinks about how he’d explain himself for calling you in the dead of night.

I really fucking need you. Leon thinks to say, but that might be too straightforward.

He regrets not talking to you after getting back from his mission. It wasn’t his fault. It was the one thing he looked forward to doing. Leon knew you’d greet him with the biggest grin on your face even though your brows were etched with worry when you asked him if he was alright.

Good job, agent. You would praise. You’re amazing. You know that?

It’s the exact words you uttered that one night. The entire mission was blurry, except for the sweet phrases you let slip as you comforted him.

The both of you were stationed at a rundown motel for the night, awaiting further instructions. He vaguely remembers that there was one bed, and you persisted for him to take it.

“You always have a stick up your ass, Kennedy?” you mused. “You need rest. You’re giving yourself a hard time.”

Leon had rolled his eyes before giving in, resting on the rock-hard mattress before succumbing to slumber. It has been mainly calm — as peaceful as a crusty motel can be until he recalls you waking him up, concern lacing your voice.

He felt the tears in his eyes slipping down his face, and then it hit that he had a nightmare. Leon inwardly cringes at the memory, grateful he doesn’t recall the dream. It felt so childish, a nightmare. But at that point, you didn’t care.

He was so weak and vulnerable, and you tended to him. You sat with him, talked to him, and told him everything would be alright. The recollection has heat blooming within his chest.

From then on, the relationship between that you and him changed. You’re closer, and he’s honestly disappointed that it took so long for him to acknowledge you.

–-

Leon sighs. Why did most nights end up with him thinking of you? It had been worse since he was away for a few weeks. He feels neglected even though you owe nothing to him.

He lets his mind wander, thinking about your touch featherlight along his body. He allows his hand to trail to his tummy, abs flexing, as he mimics how you would touch him or how he wishes you would handle him.

Leon gasps softly, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his boxers. His eyes squeeze shut, and his other hand squeezes his pec.

Fuck it. Grabbing the phone off the bedside table, Leon dials your number, placing his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you answer.

“Hey, Leon, everything okay?” your ask, your voice soft, and you’re clearly exhausted. He feels wrong for calling, but his need outweighs his morals.

“‘M good. I just wanted to talk to you,” Leon says, trying to keep his voice from faltering. He hears a laugh from the other side and the rustling of your blanket, he assumes.

“It’s late. You should be getting your beauty sleep, pretty boy.”

Leon scoffs, hypocrite. Though the way you mutter the pet name has him breathless.

“I miss you,” he grumbles, eyes squeezing shut again.

“Oh, really?” The tone is teasing, and he imagines that’s what you’d say when he’s pleading for your touch.

“Yeah– can you tell me how your day was? Talk to me, please?”

“Uh, okay, Leon. Are you sure you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine! J- just keep talking, please.”

You were thoughtful, asking him if he was alright, but he’s selfish. Getting off to your voice because he was so fucking horny for you.

“Well, my day was pretty bad. My week, actually. It felt like something was missing, ya know?” You sigh.

“Uh-huh,” Leon responds, not even sure what you said.

His body is so fucking warm. It feels like he’s burning. Not just from arousal but the guilt that lies with him as he shamelessly pulls his boxers down, his dick swollen as it slaps his stomach.

The guilt washes away when you tell him you missed him too. Blood runs straight to his cock as he moans loudly. He hasn’t even touched himself as yet.

Your thoughts are cut short, and there’s a beat of silence as you gather yourself.

It’s over. Leon thinks.

“Leon? Are you touching yourself?” you questioned. You sound confused, not mad, and he wonders if there’s not enough blood pumping to his head. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“Is that why you called me at one in the morning? Pretty baby just wanted to cum.” You mock, and fuck does it go straight to his cock.

“I needed you so badly,” Leon exasperates. He got onto his tummy, burying his head into his pillow and rutting his hips into the mattress. His precum dripped onto the sheets of his bed.

“Mhm, did you come as yet, pretty boy?” your whisper.

“N- no, mommy.” It slips out, and he can’t help it. Gosh, can he embarrass himself even further?

“Oh? Did you want mommy to help you, Leon? It’s okay, baby,” you sigh before instructing, “Want you to stroke your pretty dick f’me, honey.”

He shifts onto his back again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he grasps the shaft and gradually tugs it. Soft groans escape him as precums oozes out the tip, leaking onto his tummy.

“I wish it was your hand, mommy,” Leon whimpers. He’s so far gone. He had wished for moments like these where he’d be yours, though he hoped for different circumstances.

“Me too, baby. I’d take my time with you,” you mumbled breathlessly. He wonders if you’re touching yourself. Rubbing your puffy clit as you listen to him whine in your favour, your cunt stuffed with your fingers.

He increases his pace, pumping his aching cock faster. He’s so loud, and he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t encouraging him to be louder.

“You sound so sexy, Leon. I can’t wait to have you.” How were you going to have your way with him? Maybe you’ll stroke his cock like he’s doing, pinching his nipples, sucking on them til they're abused and red. He hopes you’ll ride him, bouncing on his cock for pleasure, not letting him come once.

Sloppily fucking his fist now, his head tilts back into the pillow, his hair sprawled out, and his phone is next to his ear as he listens for your quiet moans.

He can’t wait to get his hands on you, sucking on your tits or clit, as you ride his face until utter bliss.

“Come for me, Leon. Come as if you’re inside of me.”

“Holy shit.” Leon groans, the knot inside his tummy snapping as he spurts his cum out, trickling onto him as he rides his orgasm out.

You’re still on call as Leon breathes heavily, trying to collect himself. You break the silence.

“Wish I could’ve seen you coming,” you huff out. “Bet you look even prettier.”

“Did you touch yourself?” Leon asks in disbelief, cleaning himself off with the box of tissues near his bedside table.

“How could I not? You had me dripping. I have to change my sheets now.” you joke, and Leon blushes, grateful you can’t see him. He couldn’t believe he had such an effect on you.

“Can I take you out sometime?” Leon asks nervously. He hopes this doesn’t change the relationship you shared for the worse just because he was a horny mess.

You giggle, and he swears it’s the most gorgeous sound ever.

“Sure thing, baby. Where do you plan to take mommy, hm?”

You weren’t going to let him live that down won’t you? Not that he minds, of course.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #re4 smut #re4 #✩‧₊˚ fics

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777gojosgf · 2 months

Text

WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: morally grey!f!reader x satoru gojo

IN WHERE :: no one has an idea who you are but somehow you are always there to help them out with special grade curses.

a/n: something different for once. might start a fanfic on ao3/wattpad and write their entire story?

THE SOUND OF YOUR HEELS hitting the pavement reverberated throughout the deserted street of shibuya, tokyo. after handling a battle with a special grade curse, the cold weather caused your hair to flap in the wind as you adjusted the mask you were wearing to hide your identity. although some would mistake you for a top jujutsu sorcerer, you saw yourself as merely a sorcerer and had no desire to have anything to do with that organisation.

the reason for that was because, up to the point of her death, your mother—a sorceress who studied at a jujutsu academy—had never been treated fair. when you lost the lady you most looked up to, you were just twelve years old. you therefore had every motive to oppose them and any other organisation that chose to employ young youths as jujutsu sorcerers in order to carry out their nefarious plans.

you despised all of them.

ironically, you shared the same extremely complicated cursed energy from birth, but you didn't realise until you were eighteen years old that your father belonged to a well-known clan whose history dates back centuries. however, because you were born out of marriage and so labelled a "bastard," you were not named as the clan's heir.

little did they know that the reason their reassigned heir was killed was because you had caught him trying to drunkenly assault the female workers in a casino while gambling his fortune away.

even though you were getting invitations to join cults on a daily basis, you were too conscious of your morality to become a curse user. since everyone had heard about you, they all wanted you. though not many could claim to have seen you.

your talent was stealth.

he’d trained you himself, having been placed in an orphanage whose owner had experience with kids just like you. helping you discover your inner strength and the vast power that resides within you. he had never seen power like that before.

well, admittedly the power of the six eyes couldn’t be denied.

“back again?” his voice was heard from behind you and you couldn’t help the smirk that was appearing onto your face.

"just afraid you will miss me." standing towering on the roof, you purred in the same taunting tone he had used although you like to spend your nights overlooking the tokyo skyline from the top of this favourite skyscraper, you weren't the only one who knew about this location.

which made you remember the night you had met him.

now as you were standing up on the skyscrapers railing, your back to the fall that would ultimately claim your life, it was evident enough that he would follow you, and you could feel his presence standing directly in front of you. the combined energy that the two of you held was probably enough to bring down the milky way along with the world.

however he was known.

and you were not.

not even to him.

there was no way he could have recognised you, not even if you had told him your name. in addition to the mask, you were wearing black contacts to cover up the violet tinge that touched your iris and gave away your clan.

the power that you held.

“i have known you a little over four months now. do you still think we are not on first name basis?” he questioned while rising his eyebrow.

“keeping count i see, but guess not. try again in maybe ten years?”

he scoffed and moved closer towards the railing, standing almost next to you now. “you are easy to find, mask girl. would have thought it was harder to find you on a night like this. don’t you think?”

“i’m only found when i want to be found,” you started with your voice as cold as ice.

“so you wanted me to find you?” he asked while pursing his lips in thought.

foolish.

“we all want so many things, gojo. you shouldn’t dwell too much on the small details.” you answered and realized that this conversation wasn’t going to be as innocent as the ones were before. no, he had come here with a mission.

to figure out who you are.

and the ways to break out of this discourse with the gojo satoru were few. running would not be beneficial since he may intercept you and tackle you in the middle. additionally , there were no other buildings that you could leap over, and even if there were, you couldn't get away from him.

he would still follow you.

so, you decided on the most forward answer.

you leaned backwars and gave him a feverish smile, “nice talk, gojo. but i hope you know i’m not as stupid as you believe me to be.”

and with that, you threw yourself off the building, falling back, giving yourself up to the air and letting it carry you all the way to the pavement. as you peered up into the sky and saw the white-haired man staring down at you as you dropped, a wave of adrenaline shot through your body.

it felt quite liberating.

and you employed your invincibility technique to absorb any contact for the next five seconds without getting hurt till you were roughly thirty meters off the pavement. the drawback is that at that moment, any other curse user might locate you.

but that only excited you.

let them come.

once your feet hit the ground you wondered how long it would take for him to teleport towards you and if he even would bother to do so. maybe he wouldn’t after all.

you soon realised that he wouldn't show up, so you picked up the pace and ran through the late-night streets of tokyo. you’ve never felt more alive. the rush of the free fall was still coursing through your veins, giving you the impression that anything was possible at this point. you were relieved that you didn't have to report to any wackier higher ups or be bound by missions that you didn't care about. and it's obvious they wouldn't about you.

as they hadn’t about your mother.

and the day would still come to that you would make them pay.

all of them would.

however, you were aware that not even satoru gojo, who you discovered shared your distaste for the higher authorities, would permit you to accomplish so without first passing him.

an exciting fight that would be, right?

a/n: ummmmm you know what’s coming next😁😁

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jolapeno · 6 months

Text

8. dark olive

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eight of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. frankie has a little panic attack as he shares canon things. an: this one would be called the revelation.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Rounding the corner, hands pushing the cart, you spot him immediately. Hands busy, comparing two types of tape in the middle of the aisle he’d left your side for.

Fuck, the tape looks so small in his hands.

A thought you're quick to shake out, eyes glazing past items on the shelves as you wander to him.

This store is so different from the one you met him in—the one he works in. Even if the circumstances feel oddly similar. Him, down an aisle; you, hopelessly and completely out of your comfort zone, still struggling to understand what it is you're here for.

It also smells different here. The place is a lot brighter, the lights above gleaming—newer, more LED than bulb—and the floor has little to no stains. You’d also noticed that the paint tins live across several aisles, with more colours than you thought possible.

Mostly, you miss Harold.

Oddly, for saying you’d rarely been there, you feel like you’re cheating on him. Almost betraying Harold's Hardware by being inside this larger, more fancier store.

A thing which tugs at the corner of your lips when you come to a stop near him. Finding Frankie turning his chin, wearing a puzzled look across his ridiculously handsome face. One that almost makes you break out into a smile, instead choosing to drag your tongue across your bottom lip as you inhale—trying not to let your eyes drop from his loose curls to his dark jeans.

“Do you feel like you’re cheating?” you ask, voice dropping as you come to a stop next to him, watching as he simultaneously places one tape back and one in the cart as he moves around to where your forearms are resting. “Because we’re shopping in a store that isn’t yours.”

Sliding his fingers under your chin as you straighten, making it easier to slide his mouth over yours.

Smirking, you bite your lip. “I feel like he’s going to know—Harold. He’ll smell it on you.”

“He’s not a vampire.”

“Could be. Instead of blood, it’s wood chippings and—”

Fingers crawling up your cheek, you catch the whisper of shh before he kisses you.

An attempt made to steal your breath, a thing you allow him to take willingly, practically handing him all you have in your lungs as your smirk and thoughts fade. At the feel of his hand sliding around you, you melt. Hands sliding from the cart to his face, feeling the fuzz of his hair against your palm, the smile that adorns his face against your mouth as you do all you can to hold back a moan in the middle of a tool and supplies aisle.

“Morales,” you warn as your mouth parts from his, catching the sound of him groaning—even from the back of his throat.

Tongue peeking through his teeth he snorts. “Morales? Ay?”

“Butterscotch in the sheets, Morales in the streets.”

Even if he shakes his head, you spot how soft his eyes are—all adorned with mischief, love. A sight you can't get over as it does a good job of making your heart flutter, especially as he continues to stroke your cheek—his calloused thumb dragging back and forth in gentle movements.

One he woke you up with the other day; one he does when he can tell your heart is racing quicker than your worries.

Fuck, you like him.

A lot.

His thumb still drags along your cheek as you think as much, as he sighs—all faint, with ease. As though he’s thinking something similar. Or maybe, you're just hoping.

“I think it's our little secret,” he murmurs.

His hand slides down, brushes down your body before he reaches for another item on the shelf. Not even looking—just knowing.

And, for the third time since being in here, it makes you warm. Makes you hot. It makes you want to drag him back to his truck and ask him to park it somewhere out of sight.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, hands finding the cart again. “I just…”

“You just?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you lift your chin. “I don’t know how you just… do things, sometimes. You’re so—”

“Handsome?”

“—Competent.”

Narrowing his eyes, he tries not to smirk. You can tell. Giving you that look—the one he gave you in your kitchen, in the aftermath of when he almost choked on his juice, when you said you had breakfast he could eat. Meaning eggs. Even if the two of you burnt them doing something far more fun.

“Do you like that, Rainy?” You try not to warm at the pet name, at the nickname that’s grown to have more meaning than your own. “That I’m competent?”

Grabbing the cart, you nudge it into him. “Stop.”

Smirking, he winks, adding a noted before he begins leading you. The two of you weave through the aisles, mundane items ending up in the cart—the mess of things all rolling around the metal frame. On occasion, he mumbles something before scratching his forehead with the back of his hand, while you hover, not at all sure if he's naming a product or just making up words.

And, you just admire.

Completely in awe as he calculates something and then looks at you—like you’re the answer. Or because he knows now that it somehow turns you on.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

Rolling your lips, you shake your head, watching him add more things to buy.

“Twice, actually.”

Pulling a face, and moving closer, he hooks a finger around the loop of your jeans. “Doesn’t feel enough.”

“No?”

Shaking his head, you stare at him—right into his eyes, falling into them. “We should go pay.”

He smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling into something more as he nods his head and leads you to pay—joining an empty checkout.

"Same time next week?" he asks.

“Are you making these hardware dates with me a regular thing?”

“Why not? Maybe we can visit them all—I know some guys take girls to new cities or towns, but I wanna show you all the hardware stores.”

Laughing, you watch him empty everything, shooting you a grin each time he grabs something else from the cart until it empties.

Then, you bite the inside of your cheek when he goes to grab his wallet, fumbling for it. Your eyes spot it, that line—the one you love to smooth out with your palm—and how it begins to deepen. Moving from your place as you slide your phone out, ass brushing against him as you mumble that you’ll get this one.

It’s only when you hear the distinct beep of the payment, that you look over your shoulder. “You didn’t lose it,” you announce, watching him pause, face smoothing out. “Your wallet.”

Hands pause on the back of his jeans, he stops.

“It’s here,” you continue, patting the pocket of your jacket, “But, I’ll let you buy me lunch if you want?”

The cashier chuckles, hearing it, distantly, something about your girlfriend is funny—even if you’re focused on him, on how his eyes soften and his lips have curled into a grin.

We should think about constructing your shelving soon.

Good afternoon to you too, baby. That sounds fun. How do we do that?

Hello baby. I’m thinking, as it’s entirely bespoke that we get some drawers from IKEA, but the shelves above we make ourselves.

Does this mean you’re going to show me how to use power tools?

Yeah, sure. Probably be safer at mine, then I can transport them over to yours when we’re done?

Sounds good to me. So, an IKEA date?

Yeah. That can be next week's Hardware trip.

Oh, how you spoil me.

You know it, hermosa.

I still need to pick a paint, right?

Yes, you thought about any of the swatches you’ve done?

Frankie answers in record speed, your back leaning against the wall—staring at the now smooth wall the two of you had gotten pristine.

“Thought this would be easier.”

“Admit you missed my voice.”

Fighting a groan at the sound of the way he lowered his voice, you flex your toes in your socks. “You’re getting awfully big-headed, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, you hear a crash from his end of the phone, and the distinct sound of the phone being brought away before he shouts to Luca.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s building the equivalent of Jurassic World in my living room.”

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You sound thrilled.”

“Tim and Vinnie needed a home. And, it’s cruel of Daddy to make them homeless—”

Nodding, you glance at the swatches as you listen. Eyes flicking over taupes and golden yellows, over soft pinks and sea blues, but you keep being drawn back to one shade each time.

One that makes you linger, before gazing away from it—hesitant, somehow. The reasoning is half-known, yet you don’t want to unfold or unravel it properly.

Because you know why you like it—why you’re drawn to it.

Why it makes you want to smile, why it makes you feel at ease and calm, safe—

“—Is that your friend, Daddy?”

“Luca—”

“Hello, Daddy’s friend!”

His voice, all little and high-pitched—almost out of breath, as you imagine him running—makes your heart flicker, managing to croak back a, “Hi there.”

“My name is Luca and I’m—Daddy no—”

Your hand comes up to your mouth, grinning behind your fingers as you hear giggles and little screams. Frankie’s voice jokingly calls out that he’s a little monster—the phone clanging and clattering before the most joyous sound of two laughs blending into one before you’re picked up from whatever place you’d fallen to.

“I’m back.”

“Hi, baby.”

Sighing, he apologises, “Where were we?”

“Olive green. I like olive green.”

He makes a noise, one that you can’t help but think he’s surprised by.

“What—green is growing on me,” you add.

And he makes a different noise, one you suspect is married to a smile—a grin. One you’re pretty sure you’re mirroring neighbourhoods away, as you hear Luca in the background cheer at the sound of another crash.

So, I know you mentioned us going out for dinner tonight, but I wondered if I could interest you in something else.

I’m intrigued.

Well, you said you were still sore from training yesterday with Ben and I know you’ve been doing extra at the store, so how about UNO and pizza?

Baby, I promised you I’d take you out.

And you are. From my kitchen counter to my living room.

Is this what you really want?

Yes. Please.

I'm starting to think you don't like going out.

Why would I want to share you with more eyes, Morales?

Let me bring pizza then.

I guess I can agree to that.

Throwing down the last card, cheering, you watch him scowl—the few UNO cards he had left thrown down onto the table as you grab another slice of pizza. Wearing your win on your face, letting it descend like mist to your shoulders, hips as you do a little wiggle—all cross-legged on your living room floor.

He, on the other hand, huffed in faux annoyance, a glint in his eyes—the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Best out of three?” he proposes, already reaching forward and shuffling the deck with a smirk.

“You know you’ve lost two already.”

“Best out of seven then.”

And so, the game continues. Frankie on your sofa, leaning forward over the coffee table—surrounded by the remnants of pizza and scattered UNO cards. The glow from your lamp cascaded over the room, his curls teased and pulled on as he lost another game.

“Alright, cheat. Last round,” he declares.

As the game unfolds, you can't help but feel so incredibly happy. Just being here, with him. It's a simple night, nothing fancy, yet it feels more special than any other night with any other people.

You don’t even mind that he wins the last round, rolling your eyes at the triumphant grin on his face. “Told you I could beat you,” he gloats, gathering up the cards.

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile on your face. "Alright, alright, don't let it get to your head," you tease, unfolding your legs as you stand, grabbing the plates and napkins.

After everything is tidied up, you both settle down on the couch, snuggling into each other. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You look up at him, a soft smile on your face. “I had a great time.”

“Because you won?”

“Because I won.”

He swallows, shaking his head lightly as he stares at you—as you purse your lips and think about throwing your legs up over his. Heart doing a steady skip, the longer you stare, mouth opening to ask if he wants to stay when his opens and beats you to it.

“I want you to meet Luca.”

Face softening, your eyes widen to match the smile spreading over your face. “Yeah? You do?”

Nodding, he runs his knuckles over your chin. “I talked to Sam—Samantha. ‘Cause I wanted to make sure she was okay with it, y’know?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to do it without her being okay with it.”

Smiling, his hand drops to your knee, drawing a square. “You’re also… the first person,” he adds, nose scrunching as the words wash over you.

“Oh. Well, Frankie, I’d love to meet him. When you’re ready.”

His eyes drop, and you feel it—the air shift, something changing—before he clears his throat again. Retracing his hand, the heel of his palm runs across his forehead, and your heart’s pattern changes, and alters.

A dread falls out, sliding down over your skin, cooling the warmth that had been steadily growing all evening.

“But,” he swallows, fingers brushing over your knee. “I need to tell you something first.”

It’s quiet, the okay that escapes. That slithers out and spreads its fingers towards him. A panic rising in you, twisting—knotting. It makes you want to clear your throat, swallow, and do all you can to make it shift, but you can feel it pulsing, waiting.

Swallowing again, you spot Frankie’s hands twitching nervously. "Remember I told you about when I helped a friend—the dangerous thing?”

Eyes flicking, watching his hand lock over the other—fingers moving back and forth, scratching, eyes on you like a hawk as you nod, bracing yourself.

“Well…”

And it falls out of him. Listening, even over your racing heart—taking it in, as much as you can, more than bits and pieces, but not confident the full thing is reaching your brain.

You match the names of his friends to the ones you met, two shadows forming in the picture he paints—briefly wondering if they were in the photo at his, if they were people you’d heard about before, and never known. Hearing names like Ironhead and Pope, not realising until a second later explanation of who they were.

The more he spills, the more panicked his voice becomes—the more breath he attempts to take in. As though it's been shoved somewhere inside of him, crammed in a space too large, it bursting out of him now. All visibly affecting him, making his hand continue to scratch, nails digging deeper into the other. Red lines appear, clawing into the back of his hand as he continues on, and on—

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I do, baby. I do because—” he chokes, a sob there—likely bubbling and unwilling to burst in his throat, eyes shimmering, swimming in unspent tears, “—I made a rushed call, and… and my friend—“

“Frankie.”

“He died.”

It feels like you’ve been hit in the chest.

A hand reaching in, twisting in past your ribs. A tightness that had been turning and shifting, suddenly explodes, leaving you breathless. Your mouth falls open, thoughts empty as you simply stare, blinking.

Not because of what he said, but because you knew it before he said it. Before he confesses the next thought, which you had a feeling had been eating him alive since he first began—

“And it was my fault.”

Your heart breaks, shatters for him.

Worsened by the way his words catch on his teeth as he shakes his head, as a tear falls down his cheek—as his nails continue to scratch, and scratch, more words tumbling out from his tongue.

The weight of his confession presses down on you, a suffocating force that threatens to crush your spirit. The air is heavy in the room, charged with sorrow and regret, his eyes encased in torment as his skin begins to peel apart—a raw wound laid bare, both metaphorically and literally.

“—and if I hadn’t crash landed, if I hadn’t taken the shot, if I hadn’t—“

If I hadn’t. If I hadn’t.

If I hadn’t.

The words are balled up, dropping out—followed by other things. Failings, all of them. Ones that have rippled inside of him for longer than you care to think about; them all likely rotted, become a mass of heavy regrets that have clung to the inside of his chest.

You whisper his name, but it’s like calling out a person in the centre of a stadium full of noise.

It’s swallowed, smothered. Barely reached his ears as you want to reach out and touch him, to centre him, bring him back to you. In all the ways he does so with you.

“—It's why I couldn’t fly, why I took the job, why… she left me.” His eyes snap to you, all clear, focused—unlike they’d been a moment ago. “You deserve to know—to choose, to know who you're with. ‘cause I fuck up. I fucked up and I took a man from his kids. I lost my head, I just needed to get out and I—”

Eyes flicking to his hand, you stand up, all suddenly, forcing his voice to trail off as he stares up at you. The room falls quiet as big, brown weeping eyes watch you shift your weight from side to side.

He looks lost, floating in a sea of pain that’s drowning him, that he can’t kick up from as he tries to keep swimming.

And he says your name. All broken, the edges of it chipped—cracked and fractured.

It’s quick, the way you mumble one minute before moving into your kitchen. The way you scramble for the green box, knocking over bottles of cleaning products and bleach as you hear him crumble, as the sound worms in your chest and cracks you. Hearing it, the distinct sound of shit and the way he curses himself for fucking up.

You barely shut the cupboard behind you when you’re moving back to him, seeing him panicked, gasping for breath between sobs. Sorries echoing, vibrating out. They're all a mashing of words and syllables, yet you can discern every single one as you drop back beside him.

Watching him try to shift away, your hand grabs his—quicker, smothering out over the one that sits on top of the one he’s scratched.

“Breathe. In, and out.”

Your name slithers out, between gasps and shakes.

“In for four, that’s it—then we hold for seven, like me—and exhale. Good. Again.”

Watching him come down, settle—ease falling out over him as you hold his hand, grip it, hold him so tight so he knows you’re not going anywhere.

“You don’t have to—”

“I just needed to get this,” you soothe, grabbing the first aid kit, placing it between the two of you. “You… you’ve cut yourself, baby.”

Swallowing, he blinks—either at the name, or the softness of your tone—before he glances down.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, a double meaning.

Opening the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages, feeling him watch you as you gently clean his wounds, his breath hitching when the antiseptic stings, but he doesn't pull away. Not even when you ask if he's talked to someone, or when he nods, when he explains that he had to, that he hadn't been able to sleep and he was worried about having a baby overnight.

Frankie doesn't move even after you’ve cleaned it, or when you softly bandage it. Your fingers move with precision, all the while careful not to press too hard.

When you're done, you let your hand linger on his, your thumb gently rubbing over the bandages. You meet his gaze, seeing nothing but pain—wishing you could light a flicker of hope, do something to ease it.

“I need you to hear me say something, Frankie. Can you do that or would you prefer I wait?" you ask, voice steady, even though your heart pounds in your chest.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting.

Swallowing, he averts his eyes. “Yeah. I can hear it."

Your heart falls in your chest. “Frankie, I'm not ending it." You reassure, thankful his head shifts to face you. “Baby, whatever happened, it happened. It doesn't—it doesn’t change things for me. Doesn’t change the person I know. I know it’s a part of your story, a thing I can never heal for you, and I know there's likely more there, but you don't need to tell me. I don't need to know the whole thing.”

His eyes don't leave yours, and you see them fill with tears again. But this time, there's relief in them, too. Your hand lightly brushes over the bandage.

“Because what I do know is how much I like getting to know you. I know how Ben talked about you—how good Will said you were, are. I know what person I’ve been seeing, so, I don’t feel any different, about you—about us. Okay?”

Nodding, chewing his tongue for a moment, he slowly pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your neck. And, you hold him just as tight—hand stroking his back, feeling his tears on your skin. How his breathing steadies, and becomes more regular.

Only when he loosens his grip do you pull away slightly. Seeing enough to catch his face, how he's looking at you with such raw gratitude and vulnerability that it makes your chest ache. Pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you take it in, you lay a soft kiss on his mouth, taking a moment, letting it all settle.

And then you clear your throat. “But, you are really bad at UNO.”

He snorts, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like really bad—maybe the worst person I’ve ever played UNO with—”

Grabbing you, almost tickling you, he half-smiles, somehow having shifted himself to be above you, pressing you into your sofa cushions. “Yeah, alright”

Smiling up at him, you flick your eyes from his to his lips. “Do you want to stay and make me eggs in the morning?”

Rolling his lips, he takes a deep breath, before slowly nodding. "If that's okay?"

"I'd like you to."

Baby, you were fast asleep when I had to get up for work, so I made you a thank-you-for-listening-to-me-omelette. The recipe was complex, with lots of various thanks woven into it, so I hope you like it. I also spotted my brand of coffee in your cupboard, I’m trying to stop grinning at that, so I’ll try and call on my break if you want—so you can remind me how bad I am at UNO.

I just woke up, so I’m going to hunt down this omelette that definitely didn’t need to be made from thank-you-eggs.

Okay, first report, your omelette is almost as good as your coffee. Which yes, I bought.

Starting to think you really like me, Rainy.

I might do, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

AN: hope we're all doing okay

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 10 months

Note

we’ve talked about stepbro!rafe but what about stepbro!jj… 🤭🤭

i read this request whilst tipsy and giggled sm because oh my GOD

so let’s say jj’s dad kind of gets his act together, gets help or whatever— still an asshole, but not so awful anymore. jj’s relationship with him is still totally up in the air, but atleast he’s not a danger to himself or others anymore. he meets your mother, sad and recently single — and they become inseparable.

they’re great — really, JJ wasn’t the most trusting of this relationship at first, worried it would go up in flames and he’d have to pick up the pieces when his dad eventually spirals — but it seems they’re pretty good for eachother. he’d even go as far to say your mother brought the best out of his old man.

but that wasn’t really what he was focused on.

they moved in together pretty fast, and along with your mother — came you. god, so pretty — totally his type, like if he’d seen you at one of the pogue parties on the beach, he’d be all over you. sweet, in that girl next door way, cute smile, innocent. he feels sick.

where it was discussed before in my stepbro!rafe post, rafe has very little worry regarding the morality of the situation, happy to take you under his wing and bend you to his will. jj however, is just… better than that. he knows it’s wrong, recognises how fucked up it would be — but it doesn’t stop him from feeling a type of way toward you.

he tried to sister-zone you, ruffling you on your head and pinching your cheek and treating you the way he would a regular little sister — but that only made him feel worse, because he couldn’t stop the burning attraction he felt toward you bubbling in his gut like something that had been left on the stove for too long, steam clogging his brain.

you just seemed so oblivious to his constant battle, and if you weren’t so naive he’d think you were doing it on purpose. you always stood too close when you spoke to him, and he’d have to press his lips together in restraint at the way you’d look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes melting the ice around his heart. sometimes you’d go as far as to touch his chest absentmindedly, and he’d think about how it would look to a bystander, his little step sister all over him like this, practically touching him up. god, it was wrong— but it made him so hard.

you didn’t seem to worry about how wrong it would look when you’d steal his t-shirts to sleep in, or kiss him on the cheek before he leaves to run around with his friends for the day. your parents were none the wiser, just happy to see the two of you were getting along. you’d even begged him to let you hang out with the pogues, and he couldn’t say no to you, so of course he allowed you — only to immediately regret his choice when he had to spend the day with you bouncing around in your little bikini, tits pressed to his side when you’d hug him, outline of your chubby cunt visible through the white bikini bottoms when you’d come out the water. he was visibly disgusted when he went home and jerked off that night. came a bunch of times, though.

the straw that broke the camels back was when he’d heard this… pathetic whining sound from your room, and being the great guy he was thought maybe you were injured or sad— only to find you, who thought you’d been home alone, face down on the bed, naked from the waist down, grinding your glossy pussy against a pillow. he was wrecked.

he begged himself to walk away, leave the room and you’d never know. hell, go be a pervert and jerk off over it in your room, you’ve seen enough — but he couldn’t, not whilst the opportunity was just presenting itself to him like this. he even had the audacity to hope you secretly knew he was home, and was hoping he’d find you. jj being jj chooses to awkwardly clear his throat, scrunching his face as you yelp, scrambling on the sheets to cover your dignity. there was no point covering yourself now however, the image of your pretty pussy was burned into his retinas, haunting him every time he blinked like someone had tattooed the sight to the inside of his eyelids as some kind of sick prank.

“hey, uh—” he starts, cringing at himself already. you fire off into a barrage of apologies, face all hot and tears at the ready.

“jayj, i had no idea you were home! i’m — i’m so sorry you had to see that i’ve just been so — so frustrated lately and needed to —”

he nods, scratching his cheek and comes to sit by you on the bed.

“you uh— you don’t have to apologise. i was gonna ask if you… need any help.”

once these things start, it’s hard to wrap them up. easy to let them go too far. that’s how you end up with his face between your legs, and then clenching around his fingers, and then shockingly— cumming around his cock. he’d had plenty of experience fucking, he messed with lots of girls in the past— but the way his heart swelled each time you whined his name, the way tears would slip from your eyes when you came, this was different. more intimate, shit— the L word even sprung to mind a few times.

he came all over your tummy, and even cleaned you up afterwards because you were too sleepy. once everything died down that guilt returned, biting at the inside of his abdomen and clawing around his throat as he stares at your ceiling, your warm body snuggling into him, breathing softly into his neck. he thinks he might have a heart attack when you sleepily mumble “y’such a good big brother jayj, thanks for lookin’ after me.”

he must be sick, perverted. especially because he knew he would be doing it again.

#anon #tw stepcest #stepbro!jj #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank smut

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dyeher · 8 months

Text

WHAT DADDY DESERVES| NSFW

Includes: toji fushiguor x fem! reader

Warnings: age gap, shibari, smut, knife play, fear play, light humiliation, degradation, female identifying reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, impact play [pussy and ass spanking], choking, face fucking, cum eating, edging, dacryphilia, cucking [sort of], creampie, overstimulation.

Summary: toji’s never been given a gift like this before. bless megumi’s little heart for knowing his daddy so well.

“What the hell is this?”

Truthfully, Toji couldn't say for certain what he expected when Megumi had announced after dinner that there was a surprise waiting for him in his home office. Maybe an expensive bottle of liquor, a new handgun, a cologne, a card, or nothing at all. Though the latter was more a self-deprecating expectation than anything else. Further, he didn’t think his son was capable of surprising him. Toji, up until this exact moment, had convinced himself that he had seen enough in his lifetime to ensure nothing would ever truly surprise him.

And yet, the sight of you- gagged and artfully tied in golden ribbons- kneeling next to his desk has left him stupefied.

“Megumi- What the fuck?” he gestures to your trembling body. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I see the way you look at her old man,” he can feel Megumi’s eyes on his back. “You can take what I’ve so graciously offered or you can look a gift horse in the mouth. Either way, she’s yours for the rest of the night.”

If Toji’s cock wasn’t one wrong move away from bursting the seams of his slacks he might have denied Megumi’s observation until he was blue in the goddamn face. You were too young, too beautiful, too innocent, too much of his son’s fucking girlfirend to be sitting next to his desk with nothing but literal scraps of fabric covering your...important parts. As it stood his cock was embarrassing him, and it wasn’t helping that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at you since he spotted you.

God but you were beautiful. Admittedly whether you were wrapped up like a christmas present or fully clothed Toji knows he’d still be staring at you, granted in the latter instances it would be easier to tear his gaze away from the wealth of exposed flesh, because there would be no exposed flesh.

“Be gentle with her, don’t get her pregnant, no anal,” Megumi says, and maybe Toji makes a sound of agreement because his son leaves after that, a mumbled ‘Happy Father’s day’ his parting words.

The slamming of his office door makes you jump, and the delicious jiggling of your breasts as a result leaves Toji reeling. You’re staring up at him with such open abandon that Toji slumps into the closest chair. Evidently, Megumi hadn’t forced you into these shibari knots, you’d gone willingly. Toji supposes there’s something to be said about the fact that his son knows his tastes well. From where Toji sits on the single arm chair in the room, he can spot one particularly aggravating knot that he loves. Nestled next to your clit, he imagines the knot is likely soaked from your constant shifting.

There’s something morally wrong with wanting to stuff your son’s girlfriend full of cock. Unless, your son gives you the green light and said girlfriend is looking at you like you’re her salvation. Then it’s a matter of self defense, because obviously the two have conspired to ruin his already crumbling mental factions and thus, as he stands and approaches you he convinces himself that he’s fucking you for the sake of defending those mental factions.

The gag is drenched and Toji doesn’t care that they’ll get saliva on the paperwork laid out on his desk, he has half a mind to rub the sopping material along the length of his cock before your mouth opens on an adorable ‘ah’ that makes his cock twitch in anticipation. First, he needs to get you out of these ties because he needs to feel all of you. He needs to feel every inch of glorious skin and he needs it like he needs his next fucking breath.

So he cuts you free of the looping material, doesn’t even bother to listen to your little huffs of protests as your hands spring free and then your legs, and then your breasts relax when the ribbon at the bottom and the top come undone. He pulls you to your feet and drags you to the chair he’d previously occupied. You follow after him, standing between his thighs as he cuts you the rest of the way free.

The knife grazes the inside of your thigh teasingly, Toji doesn’t need to cut that part- the part pressed achingly close to your clit- free he only needs to tug on the knot, but when your hands fly to his shoulders coupled with an adorable whimper and he looks up to find your lips parted, eyes glazed over he brings the knife higher.

Your breath hitches and Toji can’t swallow his surprised chuckle fast enough.

“You like playing with knives, angel face?”

Your response is a jerky nod that Toji’s sure you had no conscious control of. He flips the knife so the dull back of it drags along the inside of your thigh, when it reaches the soft, puffy lip of your pussy he has to wrap an arm around your waist to stop you from collapsing. He pulls it away and helps you onto his lap, pressing your back against the chair’s arm and draping your legs across his thighs and over the other arm.

“Tell me something,” he urges, the knife in one hand held away from your body and the other gripping the back of your neck to keep your face angled to his. “Do you want this?”

“Yes- yes sir,” you lick your lips nervously and Toji nods.

“And did Megumi force you to do this?”

You glance away. Toji’s entire body goes taught. If Megumi forced you to have sex with him, if he’s blackmailing yo-

“It was my idea,” you admit.

Toji blinks, unsure he’d heard correctly. “Say that again?”

“It was- it was my idea, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji takes a long look at the way you’re spread out for him, your skin dented where the knots were pressed against your flesh, covered in a thin layer of sweat that leaves you glowing under the harsh lights of his office. Your breaths come in quick harsh pants, your legs twitch with each breath and Toji’s certain the dampness of his slacks has nothing to do with the fact that his cock is leaking into his boxers.

Toji wonders for one insane second what he could have possibly done to deserve this kind of gift. As far as he was concerned he was a mediocre parent at best. Love could really only provide so much emotional cushioning before it wasn’t enough. Not to mention his constant absence from his kid’s life because of work. It didn’t make sense that Megumi would give him something as precious as you. If he were a better man he would turn you down nicely, reassure you that it wasn’t that he didn't want you but it was just messed up. Thank the stars in the sky that he wasn’t a better man.

He glances down at you squirming in his lap and shuts off the part of his brain screaming at him to stop. He grasps a handful of your tits and squeezes gently, rolling the puckered nipple in between his fingers until your back arches off the chair arm. He drops the knife onto the end table next to him and uses that hand to drag down the center of your body as he sucks the nipple into his mouth.

“Oh,” you gasp.

His hand settles at the top of your pussy and he chuckles at your desperate whimper. He keeps it there as he switches to your other nipple. Toji takes his time, he operates on the belief that this is the only chance he’ll ever get to explore your body, to touch you however he likes without worrying about repercussions. So, as he sucks languidly at your nipples he rubs slow circles at the top of your pussy, right above your clit. A taste of what he could do. When you’re squirming so bad he’s forced to tighten his grip on you he finally pulls away from your chest he peppers kisses up your sternum, and along your throat until he reaches your lips.

“Are you sure you want this, angel face?” he asks.

“Yes- yes please,” you answer shakily.

“Good, you know what the stoplight system is?” Toji hides his excitement at your nod. “We’re gonna use that system, angel face. Remind me what it is?”

“Red means I want you to stop whatever you’re doing, yellow means slow down because what we’re doing is making me feel a little uncomfortable, green means I’m okay with whatever you’re doing and I think you should continue.”

Toji smiles, “Just about. What’s your colour right now?”

“Green,” you pant, wiggling so your ass settles between his legs on the chair. Toji is momentarily distracted when you brace the soles of your feet on the chair arm and your legs butterfly open. He catches a glimpse of slicked pussy lips as they part, strings of your arousal connecting them to each other.

“Good,” he answers absently and then he’s dipping his fingers into your messy little cunt. “So fucking wet,” he glances up to find your eyes glued to where his fingers have disappeared between the lips of your pussy.

He drags two fingers along your slit, collecting and spreading your cum up to your clit where he rubs light circles around it. Your responding whimper goes straight to his cock. He pulls his fingers away and with his eyes trained on yours he sucks your cum off his fingers. Your eyes widen adorably and Toji ducks to kiss you.

It dawns on him, when your lips part immediately under his, warm and soft and compliant that his son has probably fucked you under this roof. He uses the kiss as a distraction as he reaches for his knife. He flips it so the blade is facing him and gingerly runs the handle along the inside of your thigh.

Your body jerks.

“Easy,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”

Toji watches you struggle to regulate your breathing, but you’re shaking so bad it’s a little concerning. When you manage to squeak out your affirmative he leaves a chaste kiss to your mouth and turns his attention to his knife and your pretty pussy.

“I have to ask,” he starts conversationally, as the handle continues to climb the sensitive skin. “Why this and not something uh...normal?”

“What?” you ask dumbly.

He chuckles. “Well, Megumi could’ve gotten me a blank card and I’d have been grateful-” he stops just before he reaches your pussy lips again and flips the knife around so the blade is pressed flat against the inside of your thigh, “-but you suggested this-” he drags his eyes along your exposed body, “-so I’m asking you why this?”

You gulp when the blade bumps into your labia. “I- I don’t-”

Toji presses the blade flat against your cunt, covering one labia entirely.You inhale sharply, your limbs locking as you struggle not to close your legs around the knife. The cool press of the blade against the heated flesh causes goosebumps to erupt along your skin. He waits as you exhale slowly. He doesn’t move, just stares at you expectantly.

“Well? You still haven’t answered, angel face.”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you stutter, your body trembles with the effort it takes not to move less the knife cuts you.

“I think you do,” Toji tuts. “You must, because I’m sure you’d have to convince Megumi somehow and you couldn’t have convinced him if you didn’t know.” He pulls the knife away and slaps at your cunt with it before pressing it back to your labia. “Try again. Why this?”

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and Toji can just make out the way your pulse is pounding at the base of your throat. “I- I wanted to- I wanted to fuck you,” you answer. “Meg- Megumi- Megumi can’t say no to me.”

Toji freezes. “Who else?”

“Mr. Fushi-”

“Call me Toji. Now answer the question.”

The knife presses harder against you and your body twitches, the tears spill over and a half sob breaks free as you scramble to grab onto his arm.

“Who else has my son let you fuck, angel face?”

“Satoru-”

Toji pulls the knife away from your pussy and presses it to your throat. “You’re a little whore aren’t you?”

You gulp, your breaths stuttering out of you. You can only stare wide eyed up at Toji, the reality of your situation sinks into your gut like lead. This man kills people for a living and now you’re naked and spread eagle on his lap with a knife pressed to your throat all because you’re a horny little shit. You should’ve listened to Megumi. This was a bad idea. And yet, even as the knife presses deeper against your throat, your legs trembling and your heart racing, you don’t know where the arousal ends and the fear begins. Your body, that traitorous bitch has your nipples pebbling and your pussy leaking.

“You think I’d fuck your little pussy now? Knowing you’ve been giving it to anyone who makes your panties damp?”

You find yourself frowning deeply, your bottom lip wobbling at his words. “I- I’m not-”

The knife vanishes and fingers appear at your cunt, dragging through the mess you’ve made. Toji grins wolfishly. “Your cunt says otherwise, angel face. You’re wet and messy. Your pussy is sloppy and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Please- I’m sor-”

Toji laughs. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be. Can’t believe my son’s dating a little slut like you. Can’t believe he’s letting you take advantage of him.”

You hiccup, your eyes blurring with tears as he sinks two fingers into you abruptly, his pace is harsh and unrelenting and when you try to grab onto his wrist he pins your arms to your stomach with his free hand. The lewd sucking sound your pussy makes as he moves his fingers in and out coupled with the way his fingers twist inside you, searching for something are enough to have your eyes rolling into your head. You’re almost to the edge when he pulls away.

“No!” you cry out, hips jerking up in search of his fingers. “To- toji please.”

“What’s your colour, angel face?”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s asking. “Green, so green, please- please touch me-”

The knife returns and you’re so stunned you don’t react as he uses the dull back of the blade to drag along your cunt, you watch liquid pool on the blade before Toji brings it up to your lips.

“Taste yourself, but be careful, wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty mouth before I use it.”

You latch onto his wrist, holding him steady as you run your tongue along the blade, licking up your cum.

“Fuck,” Toji grunts. “Such a good little slut.”

You keen and he drags the tip of the knife from the space between your breasts to your clit. Goosebumps follow the cool metal until the hairs on your body are standing on end. You tense when the tip brushes against your clit.

“Toji?” you lick your lips when he circles the sensitive nub. “What- what are-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos. “I’m not gonna hurt you, remember?”

You nod dazedly, “Okay.”

“I’m a little upset though,” Toji sighs. “And disappointed. Here I was thinking you were a good girl. You really had me fooled.” The knife makes another circle around your clit and you whine. “Megumi’s too blind to see what you really need,” the knife disappears again, “a little punishment.”

You’re not prepared for the harsh slap that lands on your cunt. Toji’s hand is heavy and the stinging spreads from your clit all the way up your torso, your body bows. Another two echo in the room coupled with your helpless cries, you have no doubt Megumi can hear them.

“What do you think, angel face? Ten on your slutty cunt? And then another ten on your ass?”

You can barely form a coherent sentence as you attempt to disagree, but Toji ignores you, and another harsh smack has you breaking out in a full body shudder.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry,” you slur. By the seventh slap you’re sobbing outright, but your cunt is soaked, the final three slaps are lewd and the tacky sound of Toji’s palm against the wet lips of your pussy would have been embarrassing if you had the presence of mind to feel embarrassed.

“Good little slut,” he chuckles, releasing you to flip you onto your stomach across his thighs. “Colour, angel face?”

“Green, ‘m green,” you hiccup. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be go-”

You’re babbling as Toji caresses your ass. He massages into the flesh gently, until your babbling dies to a low whimper, and then the first slap makes you jump. Toji groans, “If you take your punishment like a good girl, maybe I’ll make you cum.”

You shut up instantly, muffling your cries by chewing on your lips. Each slap seems to get harsher, harder. He’s on the fifth slap when the babbling starts anew, Toji ignores you as he continues his spanking. You lose count at some point and only realize he’s stopped when he dips two fingers into your pussy from behind. You inhale sharply, a sob of relief bubbling out of you as he curls his fingers into your walls, he adds a third finger and your body hums happily. You’re so close you’re drooling, your lips parted as you pant out thank yous. Just as you’re about to cum he stops and you scream in frustration.

“Oh, angel face,” Toji mocks. “Did you really think your punishment was over?” He maneuvers you onto your knees in front of him. “You haven’t even sucked my dick yet.” He frees his cock from his slacks and your body lurches forward as soon as it bobs free. Thick and long, and wet with precum, your mouth waters at the sight of him. Briefly, you note that Megumi’s cock is eerily familiar. “Open up,” he instructs, slapping the thick length of it along your cheeks, and smearing his precum along your lips.

The weight of him as he slides onto your tongue and bumps into the back of your throat is so satisfying that your eyes roll. He’s nothing like Megumi. Where your boyfriend would give you a moment to adjust, to take the reins and suck him off however you like his father is not so patient. He cups your face with one big hand, his fingers splayed out on your neck and his thumb pressing your lips open and fucks your throat harshly. Spit layers on his cock from each thrust into your throat, it fills your mouth until there’s nowhere to go but out and onto your chin and chest. Strands of saliva decorate your lips and his cock each time he pulls out far enough for you to breathe.

“God, yes, just like that,” he grunts, as though you’re doing anything other than struggling to keep your throat relaxed and oxygen in your lungs. “Open your eyes.” You do, though you can’t say when exactly they slipped shut. Watching Toji as he grappled to keep his self-control was one thing but watching as that self-control snapped was awe inspiring.

He yanks you off his cock and pulls you to his desk, “Colour?”

“Green,” you croak, throat raw and pulsing from its use.

“Thank fuck,” Toji mand handles you onto his desk easily, he pushes you down and spreads your thighs wide enough for him to fit his wide shoulders. He pauses to take you in, sprawled on his desk, bare as the day you were born. His grip on the back of your knees tightens as he pushes them open and back. “Here’s how the rest of this is gonna go, angel face,” he licks his lips, eyes trained on your cunt. The attention makes you squirm, your hole clenching around nothing as he continues. “I’m gonna shove my face in this pretty pussy and eat until you’re begging and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. How do you feel about that?”

You gulp, “I think- I think that sounds good.”

He glances up the length of your body as he lowers his mouth to your pussy. You watch, transfixed as he flattens his tongue to your slit and drags it from your hole all the way up to your clit where he leaves a soft kiss. His eyes close as though he’s savoring the taste and then he ducks to your pussy and spreads your thighs wider.

Toji eats you out ravenously, like he’s never had anything more exquisite in his life and he doesn’t know if he ever will so he’s eating his fill now. He eats you like a man starved, like a man who was fasting for a long, long time who has finally been given reprieve. He sucks each labia tenderly, laps at each puffy lip with his tongue, kisses and caresses each one. Drags his tongue along your slit teasingly at first and then hurriedly when your moans grow louder. He brushes soft kisses onto your clit and then licks teasing circles around the sensitive nub before suckling on it until you’re twitching in his hold.

When your body begins to tremble violently he pulls back to bury his nose between your folds and inhales deeply. And then he starts the process all over again, helping you up the slope of your orgasm and just when you’re about to crest he pulls back, leaving you to stumble back down. He doesn’t use his fingers and by the time he’s satisfied with how drenched you are, half of his face is damp and sticky with your cum.

When he presses a kiss to your ankle you feel the stickiness of your arousal and when he leans forward to kiss at your knee and then your stomach and sternum and suck each nipple into his mouth you feel the residual dampness of it on your body. When he kisses your mouth, teasing your tongue with his own, licking and biting at your lips you taste yourself on him and it heats your blood, has you reaching up to slide your fingers into his hair and hold him steady as you lick the remnants of your pussy from his face until your mouth latches onto his once more and he releases your knees to wrap your thighs around his waist.

He kisses you as he sinks the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Shoves his tongue into the back of your throat to drown out your surprised cry as he bottoms out in one rough thrust. He pulls you to the edge of the desk and cups your ass with one hand as he spreads his thighs and begins to fuck you. Short, quick thrusts that stir his cock along the softest part of your walls. You think for a brief moment as he’s fucking you with his tongue and his cock you hear the voice of some divinity telling you this is what heaven may feel like if you’re good throughout your life. But then he’s rearranging you to prop your legs on his shoulders and bracing himself against the desk to fuck you in slow deep thrusts and then you’re not sure of anything. Not if you’re breathing, or if he’s kissing you, or if you can feel your legs, because his cock is dragging along parts of you, you didn’t even know existed. Parts of you that have you drooling pathetically, the muscles in your body going soft and pliant under him.

He switches positions again, you think, because your orgasm slams into you with the force of a tsunami, and by the time you recover from screaming Toji’s name your back is pressed to his bare chest and a hand is wrapped around your throat while the other rubs at your clit. You barely recover from the first orgasm before Toji is demanding more from your body. His grip on your throat holds you steady and his other hand moves to squeeze roughly at your breasts and run up the length of your body. He tugs on your throat and your back bows until your head is tilted back and you can see that sweat has matted his hair to his forehead, his eyes are closed in concentration but you’re sure he can your harsh breathing and the loud slapping of damp skin on skin as his thighs smack against yours, his hips cradling your ass with each thrust.

You may have been about to say something about how good he looks like this. Head bent forward, expression fierce as he focuses on pummeling your insides but Toji reaches for something on the desk and suddenly his hand is replaced by the cool metal of the blade of his knife.

“Fucking cum,” he growls in warning. “Cum right now.”

You cum so hard your knees give out, and with a delirious sound like a garbled mix between a laugh and a scream. You forget our name. You forget where you are, how you got here, whose cock is inside you, as the orgasm washes through you, the pleasure drowning your senses and reducing you to a mass of nothing but sensation. Your eyes roll so far back you feel a moment of pain as the organs are stopped by the muscles. Your mouth parts on a silent scream, all the oxygen leaving your body in a single exhale.

“Fuck,” Toji groans. “Oh fuck, yes, good girl, oh- fuck-” Your insides flood with warmth and somehow Toji filling you with his cum sets of another orgasm in the middle of your orgasm. Your mind shuts down entirely.

Toji stares at Megumi, standing on the other side of his bedroom door, a scowl on his face as he tries to peep over his father’s shoulder. Sometimes it unnerves him how much of himself he sees in his son.

“You looking for someone?” Toji asks, propping himself against the door frame and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Where is she?” Megumi asks.

“She’s asleep,” Toji shrugs. “And she’ll stay asleep until I think she’s rested.”

Megumi finally looks at Toji, his scowl melting into a frown. “Why can’t she sleep in my room?”

“Did you fuck her to sleep Megumi?” Toji squints mockingly.

Megumi purses his lips, eyes narrowing on his father. He steps back and Toji straightens away from the door frame.

“I feel you should know that...the next time you let her fuck someone that isn’t you-” he points at Megumi’s chest, “-or me, I’ll be forced to do something reckless,” Toji says.

Megumi looks stricken for a moment. “I don’t let her do anythin-”

“Do you want to walk around with the weight of a man’s life on your conscience Megumi?”

Megumi gulps.

“Exactly, keep her away from other men or them away from her, I don’t care. Do what needs to be done to keep them alive and me happy kid, and if she ever gives you any trouble you know where to find me.”

The door slams in Megumi’s face and not for the first time that day does he stop and ask himself, “Did he really deserve it?”

@s4no @kenuis @audrinui

#toji x reader #toji smut #jjk smut #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x reader #jjk: beyablade!

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to6ge · 1 year

Text

Various atsv men x gn!reader

Pairing : Miles Morales, Pavitr Prabhakar, Miguel O Hara, Hobie x Gn!reader ( separate )

Summary : When they realize they fall in love with you and what they do to make them realize it

Mainly headcanons

Cw : None! This fanfiction is purely fluff

Gwen’s note : I dont know what to do for 100 likes special HAHA but maybe requests will be opened uppp, idk yet but most likely that. I got this idea from prompts I found.

Possible ATSV spoilers.

Pavitr was a dumbass when it came to love,, he didnt realize his own feelings. He constantly showered you with gifts and compliments, he would also be very touchy with you and he’d be hugging you almost every time he sees you if you’re comfortable with it! He would constantly talk about you to Hobie and Gwen, “Oh, you know? [Reader] is sooo cool, like oh my god? I’d like to live with them for my whole life! No-no, I’d love to! They are the absolute best and they’re so so stunning.. there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them!” he rambled about how cool you looked and how cool you were every time they spoke to each other, and when he does speak about you, Gwen and Hobie would just give each other looks and whisper how dense and how idiotic he is for not realizing his own feelings. He would constantly take you out to “hang outs” and he even introduced you to auntie Maya! And you immediately got along with auntie Maya. Then one day, Pavitr spoke to Gwen and Hobie nervously, “I think I like [reader]” then after he said that, he tells why and he could never stop talking about you. And Hobie just replied with “Congrats, you’re the last one to know!”

Miles realizes once he feels his heartbeat picking up speed when he has a conversation with you, even just a simple “Hi, Miles!” His heart feels like it was gonna explode. He doesn’t know when exactly to bring it up to you, but boy will this guy try to talk to you and stick to you every time. When he sees you, hes gets so nervous and can’t focus at all. He will never stop drawing you in his sketchbook, he’ll probably draw you two together and hang the drawing on his wall. He probably also non-stop talks about you. His parents probably know and he will always ask his mom and dad for advice on how to kinda get with you. “Mama, I kinda have a crush.. and I want to get with them but, I don't know how to!” he asked, “QUE?!!” He always made sure you were okay and you weren’t hurt if you got in trouble. He’d doubt that you like him unless you tell him like 5 times that you do like him!

Hobie probably just developed feelings for you midway, you had a great friendship with him and he just kinda started to develop feelings for you, once he realizes that he does like you, he’d wait for maybe around 2 days and drop out several hints like “G’day mate, wanna hang out? Call it a date,” and he’d wink or smirk after that, then he’d actually confess. I’m telling you, this man is bold as hell. He’d confess in the middle of a “hang out” and he’d be like “Y'know what, I like you, you’re stunning and I want to be yours,” and once you tell him you like him back, he’ll want to be with you all the time and he’d be practically glued to you. He’d wrap his arm around your shoulder all the time if he doesn’t wrap his arm around your shoulder, He’d wrap his arm around your waist! He’ll play a song for you, he’d always make sure you’re safe and unharmed. He’ll be there when you need it, he promises!

He’d smile around you, but Miguel would never notice he did till someone points it out. He’d just smile at you randomly till someone, most likely Hobie, Miles and Pavitr says “OOOH!!MIGUEL O’HARA IS SMILING!!!” and they’d shout that out loud. After they say that, Miguel would just frown like usual. He is unintentionally kinda touchy with you, like, he’d unconsciously touch your hand as a signal of “canwepleasepleasepleaseholdhands?” and whenever you both sit together somewhere, maybe on the sofa or something, he’d scoot a little closer to you. Hes wayyy more gentle, considerate and kinder with you, he’ll try his best to be calm around you. He would never ever try to hurt you, never. He cares about you a lot but he never realizes. Then he starts thinking about you, sometimes he’d even smile when he thinks about you. When he talks with other people like maybe Miles, he’d say [reader] instead of ‘Miles’ like “Hey [reader]” “What? my name’s Miles?” then Miguel would say “Oh I meant Miles,” ( no apology ). ( If you wear perfume / have a signature scent ) He’d smell you out of nowhere even though you’re not there, but he wished you were. And that’s when he realizes he’s so madly in love with you, when he starts thinking about you.

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neetily · 2 months

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Tempted — (SDV) Sebastian

— ✧ warnings: foreplay heavy, cheating, virgin reader, dubcon, manipulative sebastian, creampie, brothers best friend sebastian, praise, cunnilingus — ✧ word count: 9,457

— ✧ A/N: reposting some favs from my old account! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

It’s too good an opportunity to pass up. You, sat trembling on his lap while his warm hands rest gently against your exposed thighs, the skirt you had decided to wear today riding up just a little as he lightly strokes his thumbs up and down against the edges of it. There’s just something so… dirty about the whole situation, y’know? Which makes it all the more exciting, his heart positively fit to burst out of his chest at the shy look you give him, the small shake of your thighs every time his thumb swipes against you. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that just maybe… This is where you’ve wanted to be all along, rather than the excuse you gave upon entering his room.

“You gotta start out slow, okay?” He sighs fondly, resolved in his decision to indulge in just a little bit of fantasy before you prance out of his room and back into the hands of your boyfriend. Even just thinking the word makes him feel sick, wishing deep down that it was him instead— but you’re off limits. Always have been, probably always will be. You know, being Sam’s younger sister and all that: he’s always been forced to swallow his ever growing feelings for you in the name of the bro code. Silly fucking code in his opinion, and yet alas, he’s remained faithful to it. At least up until today, until you timidly entered his room and graced him with your presence to ask one question and one question only.

How does sex work?

It’s obvious that you couldn’t have asked your brother such an embarrassing thing, and upon further questioning it seems you were too scared to admit your virginity to your current boyfriend too. And so here he is, sitting up with his back against his bed headboard with you placed dangerously snug on his lap. He promised himself he wouldn’t let things get too far, after all, you are taken. Like, ignoring the morality of fucking your best friends sister, he also has to account for the ethics of cheating with you, of which he’d like to avoid. Besides, you’re a good girl— evident from the fact that you’re still a virgin, so he can’t imagine you’d be up for more than just a few tips. Even if his cock stirs awake in an effort to convince him otherwise, exhaling a shaky breath before you to try and calm himself down enough to remain level headed about things. That skirt is so cute though, and the way you’re sitting has the backside of it flipped up, meaning that your ass is currently sitting directly against his—

“A-And, don’t let him pressure you into anything you don’t want, ‘kay? If he knows what he’s got, he’ll take it slow with you. But don’t be afraid to say stop.” His voice is low, almost whispered as a distraction against the demure eyes you look at him with. It doesn’t help that you’re so soft under his touch, your inexperience showing clearly from the way you don’t seem to know what to do with your hands, the slight squeeze of your thighs against his own as you effectively straddle his lap. He has to fight with himself not to lean further back against his bed and fuck his hips right up into your clothed cunt, swallowing thickly instead to remain on track. Right. Helping. “Start slow, yeah? You gotta build some tension, make him really want it, okay?” He smiles softly, waiting for you to nod down at him. “Watch, I’ll show you what I mean.”

It’s a selfish action, his words hiding behind faux innocence of just wanting to help, and yet still he allows his hands to wander. Just helping, he’s just answering your question, he tries to convince himself, ignoring the obvious nagging at the back of his mind over just how long he’s waited for this exact situation. Just. Helping. Starting with slow movements up and down the length of your thighs, both hands leaving a finger trail of goosebumps on your skin as you shake on his lap. Has to bite his lip in response to how responsive you are, watching your reactions through hooded lids. You’re so cute, you know that? So pretty as you avoid his gaze, letting your head hang just a little low while he stares you down, tickling his way up to the border of your skirt before placing both hands on your equally as exposed arms. You jump in response to the sudden change, but he hushes you softly. “Just relax into it, yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” He coaxes, still smiling casually, as if this were a normal thing for friends to do. Because first and foremost, you are his friend, and he’d hate to ruin things with you because of his barely contained lust. Focusing on running his palms over your shoulders instead of his thoughts, begging to turn his brain off and to just enjoy this moment with you, circling his hands over your skin, up and down your arms with intent on warming you up. Your breaths come out in gasped trembles and it’s how he knows he’s doing a good job, smirking more now at how receptive you’re being. “See? Just a little petting and it already feels good, right?” His cock certainly agrees, twitching at the meek nod you offer in return. He really didn’t need your confirmation, the state of you noticeable from the deep blush you wear all the way to how your hands have finally found home on his chest. The feeling of which causes his back to straighten up more, inadvertently pushing himself further into your touch, not that he thinks you’ve noticed thanks to his wandering hands. And how could you, since it seems this is your first time being touched at all, his fingers creeping under the sleeve of your shirt to thumb at your bra step, digging under it gently just to hear you choke on a gasp. Oh, and you sound so pretty too… Much better than how he’s always dreamed of. He’d like to hear more.

Plus, he thinks you’d like to give more seeing as how you pout down at his feather light touches, the cute look you wear drawing a low laugh from him. “What is it, sweetheart?” He affectionately calls to you, letting one of his hands drop to your hip while the other tilts your chin up, the sight of your cute furrowed brows causing him to sharply inhale air through his otherwise gritted teeth. He’s playing a dangerous game here, he knows, but with a gulp of confidence and a quirk of his brow he continues the private lesson. Just giving you some assistance for your boyfriend, just helping you learn how to act when the time comes.

He’s patient to wait for you to reply, but it seems you aren’t even aware of what it is you’re seeking. It’s cute just how needy you are regardless, fidgeting around on his lap in a quest for what he can only assume is more, but your virgin brain struggles to find the correct words for it. It’s all right, he knows how to help, looking over you once to double check that you still want to continue the lesson. Cautiously, the hand under your chin dips to poke lightly at your neck, right at the thin skin under your ear. “Y’see right here? It’s sensitive. I’m sure your boyfriend would like it if you kiss here.” He whispers, naturally allowing his head to follow his touch as he ducks down to press the smallest of kisses there— completely intending on leaving it at that, but the sweet sound you make in response convinces him to continue. He swallows a deep groan of his own before planting a few more faint kisses down your neck, doing his best to savor your taste when you inevitably have to leave his hold once the lesson is over. It’s not entirely self indulgent, anyone (including your boyfriend) would enjoy such soft and tender touches, and really when he thinks about it— that’s what he’s here to teach you. Though he can scarcely deny the butterflies that fill his lungs as you tilt your neck for more kissable surface area. Blessed with the small squeaks and sighs you let out, your sheer unfamiliarity with the situation stroking his ego so well as he grows more confident in his actions. Slowly rubbing soothing circles against your hip while he lines your neck with kisses, traveling his way across your jaw until he almost makes it to your lips. Though here, he stops. Allows a knowing smirk to tug at his lips at the way you shudder from feeling his breath ghost over your face before laughing a little breathlessly. Not at you, but rather one filled with love and awe. You’re so cute, it’s impossible to control his cock brained actions.

“Your turn.”

Not that he expected much else from you, but the soft shy reaction you give at his two words still sends a chill down his spine and a throb in his cock as he watches your eyes narrow, feeling the weight of your determination as you almost immediately start to mimic his actions by placing your curious hands against his bare arms. It’s a gentle action, one that proves endearing enough through how new you are at it, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He’s honestly a little surprised at how self-assured you are to be able to dive right in, but you won’t find him complaining. Shivering into the light playful rubbing you do up and down his forearms, letting his head lean back a little once you reach up to his biceps. “That’s it, just like that.” He quietly encourages you, letting you explore his body on your own terms without providing much more guidance. It’s more fun to learn hands on anyway, isn’t it? And you’re doing such a good job, too. For a virgin, anyway, but because it’s you he feels you carry this certain charm with you. Your actions send a pleasurable chill down his spine.

“Is this okay?” You suddenly speak, and he’s a little taken aback from how winded you sound from just a little foreplay. Oh, he can’t rightly leave you in the incapable hands of your boyfriend now, can he? He doesn’t trust him to look after you properly, to take his time with you like how he is right now. His mind clouded with you and your touch, ignoring the annoying reminder that you’re off limits— for now, at least.

“Mhm.” He nods, wanting to reassure you as much as possible so that you don’t stop touching him, his body hot with the thought of you feeling his hard cock beneath you. Been hard since you popped the question, if he’s honest. “Jus’ keep going. Remember what I taught you.” He hopes his words are convincing enough, allowing you a moments breather before tapping your thigh for attention. “You can do it. Felt nice, promise.”

And with that encouragement you start once more, letting your fingers linger on his arm before giving him a bashful look. He’s just about to ask you whats wrong but you cut him off completely as you promptly lean down, the feeling of your wet lips attaching to his neck causing him to bite down on his lip to swallow a moan. Thankful that your face is hidden so that you can’t see the way his eyes roll back at such a minor thing, though his hands unfortunately give him away as he accidentally squeezes your hips a little too hard as a way to calm himself down. It’s embarrassing for him to admit, but you truly have him feeling like a virgin again. The way his body reacts to you so easily, slipping down the bed just a little to subconsciously get closer. A small reward for your efforts, wanting to show you just how much you affect him by letting his sneaky hands play with the waistband of your skirt. A small ping here, a gentle tug there, all while you adorn his neck with increasingly confident kisses— just as he did to you. He makes a mental note that you’re a quick learner, a loving smile plastered on his face by the time you manage to kiss along his jaw, his cheeks warm at the sight of your fluttering lashes before him. Here, you also stop. Faces mere inches from each other as you pant against him. Not that he’s doing much better, mind you. His own lungs struggle to keep up with how his night has turned, squeezing once more at your hips as thanks. “Exactly.” He hums, all soft and low so as to not frighten you. “Don’t worry, we’re not actually doing anything…” He trails off upon seeing your wandering eyes, watching closely as they travel down to his lips and then back to his eyes, noticing how your lips part slightly at the minimal amount of petting you’ve endured thus far. And he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince more with his words, your pretty face or his cock— so rock hard just from your close proximity to him. But he leans forward anyway, lets his lips meet yours in just the softest kiss ever, and one he’s overjoyed to feel you immediately reciprocate. “Just practicing.” He whispers against your lips, smiling into the forbidden kiss before he has to pull away lest his tongue slips down your throat in horny eagerness.

He pulls back, takes in the sight of you looking so needy. The harsh heave of your chest, the pink of your cheeks and his saliva coating your lips. Must be your first kiss, huh? Ah, he laughs internally. You sure are a sight to see, and his crush is in full effect as you await further instructions after your stolen first. Your cautious hands taking root in his shirt, fisting it into a tight hold as if you were struggling to keep yourself steady— and all of that from just a small kiss. You’ve got to know just how intoxicating you are, right? How he’s beyond love drunk, smiling down at you with this dumb expression he can only put down to infatuation. “See, doesn’t that feel nice?” He coughs, trying to distract himself from the lewd look you stare back at him with, an attempt to hold onto the last shred of responsibility he has left. “Make sure you go slow with him before moving on to anything else.”

“What’s next?” You quickly ask as soon as he’s done speaking, and he swears you know just what your innocence is doing to him. Though that much is immediately known false, his cock can’t seem to agree. Straining hard against his gray sweats with greedy insistence, begging for you despite the fact that you’re off limits. “What about this?” You ask shyly, dropping your gaze to the fat bulge in his pants.

Well, a little more tutoring wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Especially since you’re asking for it.

“Hm…” He pretends to think, casting his gaze to the side in faux thought while you eagerly tug at his shirt. There’s so much he wants to do with you, filtering through all of his nasty late night fantasies before settling on a tame enough one for your experience difference. He can’t go too far, remember. “Wanna know how to really get your boyfriend going?” He cocks his head to the side to question you, sighing deeply to restrain himself when you reply that yes, you’d like to.

He’s kind enough to at least guide your hand, helping you hop off his lap momentarily to let you sit between his legs now. “Here.” He holds your hand gently, dragging it closer and closer to his cock until you can feel the heat of his arousal directly under your palm. A soft curse escapes his lips, a strained fuck as he feels your fingers twitch against him, the smallest gasp exiting your own lungs as his cock jerks in return. The corruption he’s putting you through only fueling his lust, feeling it pool in the pit of his stomach when you go wide eyed staring at the way his cock trembles for you. How long has he been waiting for this, for you to hold his perverted cock in your tiny hands? Too long, it seems, for the moment you eventually do wrap your hand around it he can’t seem to help but let a growled moan sound. He knows he’s going too far, but he’s wholly incapable of slowing down. Who would, when their dreams are coming true right before their very eyes? Surely your boyfriend wouldn’t blame him for that, right?

“Sebastian?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s only natural, yeah? Of course I’d get hard, we aren’t gonna actually do anything. Promise. Just— Just bend down for me a little, okay?”

You seem confused at his instructions, and so he tries again. Applying a little pressure to the nape of your neck so that your head lowers, helping you situate your mouth right above his cock while your hand instinctively squeezes around the fat of his length. Oh, you’re such a good learner, aren’t you?

“Like this, okay? There you go.” He smiles wide, laughing lightheartedly at the strain in his voice. He’s got it so bad for you, and it seems you’ve got no idea. Expectantly looking up at him as you stay seated in the position he so kindly manhandled you into. Doggy style, though with your face almost pressed right against his leaking cock. Fuck, shit— maybe this was a bad idea after all, a fat bead of precum dribbling from his tip just from looking at you in such a lewd position. “Fuck— okay, just— Stick your tongue out.” He all but begs, quickly flustering to correct himself with: “Just pretend, remember? Practice.” He inhales sharply when you immediately follow suit, tongue out and pressed against his fat cock just like that. It’s all too easy for him, there’s no way he can hide a moan, looking down at you with such need that he’s sure even your virgin ass could pick up on it, though you’re quick to correct him when you don’t do much more than what he’s asked.

And while he loves the sight of your tongue flat against his hard and hot cock, he’s sure your boyfriend would want more. And by boyfriend, he means himself. “Lick it.” He gasps. And when you send him a questioning expression in return he sighs. “Just trust me, lick it. He’d love that—” his lies are cut off by your followed instructions, the feeling of your tongue gliding up and down over his still clothed cock causing his hips to buck up, voice caught in his throat. He’d apologize if he meant it, but God he doesn’t, not when you look so pretty like this. All eager to please and avoiding his gaze, the small wet spot from his leaking precum soon swallowed up by your cute tongue and leaving his front soaked in your saliva as you busy yourself with following his help until he says otherwise. You’re almost hypnotizing to him, his thumb coming down to stroke kindly at your cheek for your efforts. “Yeah, fuck, he’d like that a lot— I think.” He swallows thickly, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he watches you tongue at his hard on, the dirty nature of getting off without direct content to his cock causing his tummy to tighten. And he’s so desperate too, fuck, has been ever since he can remember. Can’t quite believe his luck knowing now that you’re still a virgin, happily accepting your clumsy experience with open arms. He deserves to be your first, doesn’t he? Been waiting long enough anyway, and as he buries a hand in your hair to help guide your mouth up and down his cock more to his liking he grows more convinced that you are his for the taking. Why else would you allow him to touch you like this? Be your first cock sucked, yeah? Even if it’s only over clothes, he has to take things slow with you. Has to, even if he doesn’t want to. Thing is, his resolve has never been the strongest with you. And his moral compass ever gray. So it’s no surprise that when you decide to look right up at him while licking him through his sweats he chokes. His eyes rolling back into his skull unashamedly while his grip tightens in your hair, fisting at the strands for some sort of stability in the face of your obscene purity. “Mhm—” his tone is almost smug, pouting back down at you as you flick your tongue directly over his sensitive tip. “God— Your— Your boyfriend is so lucky—” He laughs, releasing your hair to instead pet the crown of your head, cooing sweetly when you beam at the praise. Anyone would be lucky to have you it’s true, it just so happens that he’s decided you’re his now. “Sure this is your first time?” He teases, smirking wide at your sudden stop to defend yourself. You’re so easy, though he’s really got no leg to stand on with how hard his cock throbs for you too.

“It is! C’mon, you said you wouldn’t make fun of me…” You huff, pulling off of him and sitting up straight to reprimand him properly. Even like this, he thinks you’re cute. Even when whining he wants to fuck you senseless. Even when you’re clearly embarrassed and acting all shy he thinks you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s fucking desperate.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it baby.” He tuts, leaning over to caress your exposed skin some more now that you’re off him. “Besides. I was being honest. You’re really good at it. I really liked it…” He whispers his last words, hoping you don’t hear him before coughing to further obscure his true intentions. “Your boyfriend will really appreciate all your practice, I mean.”

His words seem to sate you for now, though he’s not quite done with you yet, placing both hands on your hips to drag you closer to him while keeping you sat neatly between his legs. “I can show you something else, if you want?” This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea, but he can’t seem to help himself when you look so wanting before him.

You’re all too keen to nod too, happy with the praise he’s offered you thus far as you plead with your eyes for a little more help.

And he’s only too happy to give.

He’s cautious to remain calming, doing his utmost to care gently for your naive attitude. Because while you are such a good learner, he can still pick up on the slight hesitance on your face. The leftover worries regarding such a new experience— and he’d hate to ruin all that he’s built up tonight. Would never forgive himself if you walked out of his room worse for wear than when you came in, and so he’s soft with it as he taps on your shoulder. “Lay back, trust me.” Tenderly murmuring instructions so as to not overwhelm you too much. Even if his cock is practically ready to burst just from watching you do just that: lay back. The sight of you under him is one he’s only ever fucked his fist imagining, and so now that you’re actually on your back for him like this it takes him a second or two to catch up to reality. His vision hazy and his cock twitching, pointed directly at you and easily seen through to egregious wet patch you’ve not only left yourself but also drawn out from his dribbling tip. More than anything, he’s thankful you decided to wear a skirt today. It makes this private lesson a whole lot easier as he situates himself to hover above you, his pesky pervert hands finding their way to your inner thigh to pinch and hold while the other stabilizes himself by planting down on the bed next to your hip.

“Like this?” You seek his reassurance, and he sucks on his teeth from how small you not only look but also sound.

“Uh-huh, just like that baby.” His hand rubs your thigh up and down, his eyes unfocused and attempting to take in the whole view of you so submissive for him but he’s struggling. Never in his life did he think he’d actually pin you down like this. Fuck. The taboo nature of touching your best friends little sister gets to his head, his heart racing as he inches his fingers up, up, further until he reaches the hem of your hidden panties. His cock throbs at the little gasp you let out when he does so, knowing full well that you’ve no idea why you’re making those sounds and only that it feels right to make them. Exactly, he thinks to himself. If it feels so right, then surely it can’t be that wrong to help you so candidly. It’s all he need to tell himself anyway as he swallows thickly to instruct you some more, bunching up his bedsheets in a fist for some semblance of control. “So pretty like this baby. If you just lay back like this for your boyfriend then— Oh.” His fingers graze against your panties, thumb pressing gently against the wet patch over your hole as he seeks to please you instinctively. For a moment, it feels like he can’t breathe. All time stopped as he watches your reaction intently, more precum leaking from his tip when you scrunch up your face in interest. Has to stall himself abruptly and momentarily else he’s liable to just shove his cock in right there and then, face flushed and fingers twitchy. He wants to makes you feel so good that you forget all about your boyfriend, internally telling himself that to do just that, he has to remain patient. “He should— If he’s a good boyfriend then he should take his time with you, okay? I’ll show you what I mean.”

You tense up a little as he shuffles closer, bending down to mimic the position he had you in earlier. Both hands come under your ass to lift you up, meeting his face half way before you scurry to pull your skirt down over yourself. “S-Sebastian, wait—!” You panic, and his heart stutters at how cute you sound all confused.

“It’s okay, shh.” He coos at you, nevertheless not stopping despite your hesitance. “We’re not gonna do anything. Jus’ wanna show you what your boyfriend should be doing. So you know what to expect, remember?” He lies through his teeth, fully intending on doing that which he’s just promised not to. It’s just— he can treat you so much better, y’know? Has to take this chance while he’s got you literally in the palm of his hands, squeezing at your ass just to hear you gasp some more. There isn’t a prettier sound in the world if you asked him than you needy embarrassed whines while his breath fans over your thighs, his nose nudging knowingly at your skirt until he flips it up with his face in one swift motion— his hands too busy cupping your ass cheeks to do the job themselves. Besides, the squeak you let out at his flirty advance is more than worth it with how hard his cock jerks to fuck another one out of you. “You gotta make sure he does this with you. Otherwise, he’s not worth it sweetheart.” He confidently asserts, peeking out from between your thighs just to watch your eyes widen in surprise. Sure, you’ve no idea what he’s talking about, but thats why he’s doing this. To show you exactly what he means, wolf whistling once his eyes cast back down towards your plain panties. Even here looks pure, so innocent are your white panties that he can barely stand the sight of them. Not as a turn off, but because he adores them, loves you so much that even this small symbol of your innocence is enough to rile him up. Who was he kidding, there’s no way he was ever going to be able to last the moment you walked into his room. No chance in hell at keeping himself composed as you sit there obediently, his fingers itching to stretch you out properly already. But they’re too occupied absentmindedly squeezing your ass, keeping him calm and collected enough to at least still communicate his desires with you, his sweatpants growing insufferably tight with how hard his cock aches for you. Not a single thought given to the ethics of touching your best friends taken little sister any more now that he’s face to face with your virgin cunt. Unable to stop himself from sniffing at it like a dog, his cock drooling to the humiliated whines you let out. “Fuck—” he quickly shoves out his mouth, shuddering from your mere scent alone. While you may not know it personally, your body sure seems to want him.

And so he gives in to you once again, repeating the previous actions he had you endure by letting his tongue lay flat against your wet spot and sucking hard. Far harder than you deserve for your first time, but he can’t stop himself. Just one little taste through your wet little panties alone and he’s hooked, grabbing at the fat of your ass with much more urgency as he immediately flattens his tongue in an attempt to swallow you whole, running it up and down your hidden slit before placing a greedy kiss right over where your clit is. It's stupid how erotic things feel despite still remaining fully clothed, his cock harder than it’s ever been just from lapping away at your panties, huffing harshly at the primitive urge he feels to put you in your place. “Taste so good, yeah?” He pants, too deep into his delusions now as your cunt rests against his face to keep up the facade of just helping. “Jus’ a little more, okay? Jus’ need to— need t’move these.” He whispers against your underwear, his breath doing little to cool you down with the heated kisses he presses against you in between his gasped words. And he doesn’t even wait for your consent, dropping you down with an urgency that he’ll apologize for later before peeling your sticky panties off your cunt and down your legs, the shocked whine you let you and the immediate closing of your legs causing a growl to rise to his lips. He’s quick to move though, digging his fingers into your thighs to pry them open again and humming deeply at the sight that greets him. A wet and ready cunt. “Pretty.” He seethes, jaw tight and tummy tense with just how much he wants you, how eager he is to prove his worth to you. That, and the fact that you have the cutest little cunt he’s ever seen, salivating over you as you attempt to hide those adorable expressions he so badly wants to enjoy. It’s fine, he’ll see them soon enough, smiling away to himself when he lets go of your legs and you keep them open. Such a good girl, aren’t you? And for your first time too! He’s so proud of you, making sure you know just how much by trailing soft kisses down your open thigh. Murmuring sweet nothings on his way down to his goal, a trail of saliva in his wake until he once against meets your cunt with a grunt.

Not much else is said for a few long seconds, his own words lost on him at just how good your cunt smells, too focused on making sure he doesn’t bust a load before he has a chance to satisfy you to adequately voice his love for you, and he assumes you’re quiet out of sheer anticipation for what he’s about to do next. You’ve no idea, and that excites him to no end. Has his cock all twitchy, one of his hands lowering to palm over the too sensitive tip to release some of the built up tensions he holds for you. He’s got no time to tend to himself fully though, merely content to just palming at his cock while his free hand spreads your pussy lips apart. To any normal person, maybe even including your boyfriend, they might get embarrassed if they were acting as fraught with need as he is right now— but it’s hard to care about such things when his tongue rolls up your slit, openly drooling down it with a shuddered moan exhaled right against your puffy clit. Virgin cunt tastes so good, and he lets you know just how much he’s enjoying himself by lowering his head to make out with your hole. All messy and sloppy, he simply can’t afford to act any other way with you right now. Not when you make just the prettiest little whimpers, his efforts doubling the moment he feels your hand fist at his hair for stability. So good, such a good baby, doing exactly what he wants without prompting— this is why you should be with him and not your lame ass boyfriend. Look at how much you squirm on his tongue, the way your legs shake as he fucks it in and out of your untouched little hole, squeezing his cock hard at the thought of adding that to the list of firsts he’s taking from you. Getting off himself from getting you off, adding in the pressure of his thumb to your clit as he laps up everything your hole offers him, his head spinning with the sounds of your enjoyment while you claw at his scalp for any sort of purchase— but it’s no use. Hearing you cry out for him to stop, hold on a second! And feels funny, Seb—! only encourages him to keep going, the wisdom of previous sexual encounters he has over you looming between your legs as he sucks at your slick faster, incentivised to stroke the whole length of his cock over his (for all intents and purposes, see through) sweatpants when your legs clamp down over his head. Best earmuffs he’s ever worn, honestly. Though he can still hear the loud sob of his name loud and clear falling from your pretty lips as you very quickly, and easily, cum on his tongue. Not that he’d expected much else from a virgin, but still the speed at which you moan for him strokes his ego about as well as he imagines your cunt will in a minute, your back arching so nicely off his sheets as you ride his face to completion. He only comes up for air once he’s absolutely sure he’s drank every last drop of cum you offer him, and also because you start to push him away from overstimulation. You can’t rightly blame him for wanting to remain tongue pressed between your sticky thighs, you taste so fucking good, and now that he’s had that taste— he’s never gonna let you go. Big brother Sam and your boyfriend be dammed, he’ll brand your insides as his by the end of the night.

He’s gasping as he comes up, suddenly aware of his frenzied state as he has a chance to look you up and down. But oh, what a mistake that is. Your messy hair, body all blushed and shaking, a mess of fluids painting your legs pretty. He could cum right there and then if he’d allow himself too, stopping the shameful inevitable with a rough fist firmly choking the base of his cock. Something within him snaps when you reach out for him, all teary eyed and practically begging for more with the cute pout you wear. It’s enough to have him crawling up you, tugging his sweats down just enough to have his cock hang out before placing both hands at either side of your head. It’s difficult to focus on the task at hand rather than his selfish objectives when you offer yourself up on a silver platter like this, but he does his best anyway. “Make sure he makes you cum first, just like that, okay? He has to get you prepped enough for— Ah, fuck.” His exposed cock grazes against your slippery cunt and disrupts his teaching, instantly his hips buck into the warm heat and slip up to knock against your clit. And upon hearing your muted moan he reflexively repeats the action, humping his precum up your slit with infuriating precision. Can’t quite believe how close he is already, having to mentally remind himself to slow down, all the way until he’s eventually strong enough to stop. Difficult as it is, he still cares about you enough to give you a small breather before taking what was always his. “Oh, you feel so good. Just… Just the tip won’t hurt, okay? Only the tip, I promise.” He hushes your high pitched whines, tenderly brushing his open palm against your shaking shoulder for reassurance. “Promise, baby. It’s not cheating if it’s just the tip, okay? Just so you can see how it feels.” He hides behind a smile while whispering falsehoods down your ear, almost completely bent over you and pressing you further into the mattress below with no intention on keeping his word. Not that you realize, of course. A weak little nod as consent and he’s pouncing on you.

Sure he can’t just thrust it into you, but fuck if he doesn’t want to more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. Wanting to go the same speed he usually fucks his fist to when thinking about his best friends little sister, all those festivals and band sessions you were present at while he was too busy petting his pervert cock— he wants to shove it into you so bad. But he’s nicer than that, or perhaps more cunning is the right word. If he’s slow with it now, letting his fat cock catch on gently to your dripping hole and stroking himself against it slowly, making sure you’re comfortable and happy enough for him to continue by rubbing smooth circles against your hips and praising you from his higher position, then maybe you’ll see just how much of a better option he is. “Look at you.” He mocks, though it’s said only with adoration, as if he can’t quite believe just how naughty you manage to look while taking cock for the first time. Your enjoyment apparent as he jerks off against you by your open mouthed mewls, your unfocused eyes attempting to beg for more from him, and he’ll give you it. Don’t worry, he doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to— and he certainly doesn’t want to do that. “You want it? Oh, your body wants it so bad— Can you feel that? Hear how wet you are? Ah, promise. Promise just the tip, okay? It’s only fair. It’s only fair since I made you cum first, kay?” He laughs lovingly, giving you only a second more to catch up to the situation before gently, far too gently for his tastes, pushing his tip further into you. A collective sigh shared upon his intrusion, his heart beating so hard in overwhelming pleasure from how tight your virgin hole is. So warm and wet, welcoming his leaking tip so well after he tongue fucked one orgasm out of you already. Still, he notices the pain wash over your face, his head lowering to meet your level with a hushed tone. “Oh, baby... I know it hurts, I know.” He sucks on his teeth, trying to bear himself to how snug this fit is, stretching your never fucked before cunt out with his fat cock, thankful for the copious amounts of precum he’s dribbling inside of you mixing with the slick you gush out each time he shifts a little closer, pushes his cock more in the smallest amount. He’d never want to hurt you, but he knows that if you put up with him for just a bit longer, he’ll have you crying from pleasure instead. Softly wiping your tear stained cheeks with another muted whisper. “It's all right, just breathe for me. It’ll real feel good real soon, and then— Fuck, and then what you gotta do to impress your boyfriend is— is wrap your legs around my back, yeah? C’mon, look at me.” He ends up begging, his brows knitted and thighs shaking as he takes you for the very first time. Patiently waiting for your eyes to open and rest on his, a small smile breaking out on his face when you finally manage it. “There ya go. Pretty girl…” He pauses, allowing you a moment to just breathe with his cock tip sitting nicely inside your cunt. And then: “My pretty girl.” As soon as you follow through with his instructions, keeping him pressed against you missionary style with your legs locked around him. He wishes he had taken the time to undress you, to love on your whole body as well as showcase his own, because he knows you’d love the skin on skin contact— but he’s not got the time nor the patience to go through that process right now. The heart wants what his cock needs, and right now that means being buried so deep in your cunt immediately so that all you can feel is him.

He moves without warning. Not that it was his intention, but the pitiful whine you let out at his words causes his cock to take control. A small hump, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of him with how ruined you sound immediately following. A matched cry from the way he splits you in two, despite his minimal movements, he knows this must be scary for you. “Just a bit more, okay? Promise, only a little more. You’re so close to taking it all, yeah?” He misleads you, his cock throbbing at the mere mention of fucking more into your poor little cunt. But still, you nod up at him. Even through babbles of pain and shaky breaths of uncertainty you trust him enough to keep going, and it proves fatal to his self control. Restraint forgotten about the moment you whisper his name. A soft, broken sound spilling from such pretty lips. There’s no way, no fucking way, he could hold back after that. And he’ll apologize to you later for his rashness, sure, but in this moment he’s absolutely powerless to stopping his hips from bucking into you. Pushing the rest of his cock into your warm hole until his balls finally rest against your ass, your skirt bunched up in your own small hands for some sort of comfort, but fuck it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The oppositional sight of his cock stuffed fully inside your tight little cunt and the innocent action of tugging on your skirt goes straight to his balls, all tight and taut and want to mark you from the inside out— but he stalls. Lets his cock rest inside of you for now, taken to doting on you from above to distract himself enough to not cum already.

“That’s it— Look!” He breaks into a kind laugh. “You took it all in. Took me all in, yeah? Told ya, a natural. Fuck, you feel so good—” His cock throbs some more, thick beads of precum spilling out inside for your comfort, his eyes briefly rolling back from the way your walls choke his length at his words. “Promise to make you feel good too, okay? Show you how your boyfriend should be doing it.” He continues to lie, bending down to press a barely there kiss to your sweaty forehead only to pull back up. He wants to watch you fall apart. Needs to see the moment you realize that after all this time, he’s been right here, waiting, patiently, for you to realize his presence. That he could be everything you could ever want for and more. Gradually drawing his hips back and his cock with him, choking at the sight of your silent moan from the feeling, and then calmly pushing back in. The confused stare you regard him with makes him dizzy, working on autopilot as his hands come down to hold on to the back of your knees and gently pushes them down while he starts a lazy pace into you, biting down on his lip from his front row seating as your expression slowly turns into one of pleasure with the slow in and out he forces you to endure. He feels as though he’s melting into you, the stupidly lewd squelch of his cock steadily fucking into your hole, the wet pap! of his balls every time he fully sheathes inside of you, God, he’s so fucking in love. Simply mesmerized to the sight of you taking cock so well, and for your first time too! And the sweet sounds you make every time he forces his way back inside, molding your insides to the shape of his cock— he never wants to hear anything else again. Cursing lowly to himself at the realization of just how badly he wants— no, he needs you to be his. “Feelin’ good, pretty?” He asks you, a cocky smirk spreading on his lips when you mumble a subdued yes. “Told ya— Ah, told ya it’d feel good.”

This is just the start though, his hips experimentally fucking just that little bit faster into you to satisfy his forever urges, though your reaction is instantaneous. A quick breathy intake of air as you attempt to pull your skirt closer to your face, inadvertently flashing him more of your body despite your want to hide. Cute soft tummy that one of his hands immediately presses into, forcing a laugh out of his struggling lungs at your adorable display. And then it fully hits him. He’s fucking his best friends little sister, finally, after all those years— His pace snapping into a more brutal one at the thought, far too quick for your first time and only made more evident from the surprised wail you let you as he begins fucking into you like you deserve. Short snappy thrusts into your tight cunt, a resounding smack of his balls hitting against you filling the space left between his grunts and your moans, harsh huffs for air fanning over you as he adds a little more pressure to your spread legs. “O-Oh my God.” He manages to stutter out, unable to take his eyes off you as they flit between your puffy cunt and your pretty fucked out expression. He’s practically drooling over your reactions. “Jus’ for practice. It’s just practice—” he reassures you, filling your hole up so full, much fuller than you’ve ever experienced before with his quick fucks. Fucking so fast that his head goes empty, a babbled “Good girl, good girl—” over and over again down at you at the feeling of your walls squeezing him, your soft little mewls turning more high pitched and cracked with each eager drag of his cock. Can’t help but dig his fingers into your thighs, his head hanging low while he sits up a little off the back of his heels to fuck into you at a deeper angle. It’s obviously too much for you, the seemingly tell-tale shake in your legs letting him know that you’re close again, and he can’t fucking stop himself. “You gave me your virginity. You gave it to me.” He growls, a playful lilt to his tone at the embarrassment present on your face, the way you pull him closer at his dirty words like just hearing them was shameful, though he easily gives you the contact you’re seeking until his chest is pushed right against your own and his mouth latches on to your neck to suck just a little. A small reminder of your lesson, if you will.

“You gonna remember everything that I’ve taught you?” He whispers down your ear, and he’s sure you can hear the smirk through his voice with how tight you clench around his speedy thrusts. Running his mouth more than he’d like just simply because your cunt feels that good, has him in a choke hold. “Maybe you don’t need him. Maybe you should just be with me instead, huh? Mhm. I think you should just be my girl.” His confession emphasized with slower but deeper thrusts into you. Really taking his time to fuck his full length into you, breathing deeply to continue his long awaited admission by way of letting his lips connect with your own. A messy kiss, more tongue than anything as he shoves it down your throat to drip saliva for you to drink up, openly moaning into your mouth just as much as he swallows your own for himself. It feels too good, your little virgin cunt sucking him off better than anyone else has, persuading himself that this must mean that you’re his, right? “Only do this with me, okay?” He whispers in between sloppy sucks of your tongue. “If it feels so good with me, why would you wanna do it with anyone else? You should just be mine instead.” He all but groans, his tone throaty and dry despite the clumsy kisses, voice fucked out of him by how well your cunt takes him. And it’s clear you aren’t doing much better, able only to nod back at him with a cute dumb look on your face, his mind reeling with sadistic want to fuck it off of you. Grinding his fat cock into you with his hips flush against your ass, his rough thumb coming down to swipe over your abused clit only for a few seconds before he can feel you cream his cock. And fuck if it isn’t the best feeling he’s ever experienced, mind completely blank with the show you put on for him. One of his hands remains on your knee, pushing it down further so he has a better view of your cunt convulsing around his cock, his tip dribbling so much for you at the feeling of your slick trickling out at every small hump he offers you. It feels better than he could have ever imagined, your cute cunt already promising to ruin his every future experience unless it’s with you, and so he lets your ride your orgasm out with the addition of light flicks to your clit. A gentle push of his cock as he rests flush against you, at least until you’ve finally stopped shaking so much and your breathing is more stabilized from your first fucked orgasm.

“Look so pretty when cumming, angel.” He praises you, a sneaky smile on his lips as he once again returns his hand to your other knee, pushing your legs down as far as you’ll allow him while he completely rises off his heels now. His stance looming over you as he tenderly gazes at your barely open eyes, the dopey smile you wear telling him all he needs to know as he pulls his hips back hopefully for the last time tonight— and then fucks back into you as hard as he can. Practically bouncing you up his sheets from how powerful his thrusts are, his words gasped and trembling from the amount of weight he throws behind each thrust. Not that he hears you complaining, instead a stream of broken moans and half started cries of his name spill from your lips. Pretty. “Want me to cum inside? It’s only fair. I’m gonna be all your firsts.” He utters, voice all strained and forced as if it pains him to talk right now. And it does, your cunt wrapped so nice and tight around his cock that it’s difficult to make any sound besides moans, so warm and wet with your two orgasm that it’s a struggle to even think anything coherent. Though it doesn’t take him long to give you what you want seeing as he’s been hard practically since you showed up in his room in that cute outfit. At the very least he’s happy to have made you cum twice, and for truly being your every first. First kiss, first oral, first orgasm, first fuck. And now, your first creampie. Your name falling from his lips in a hushed gasp almost as quickly as you plead for him to finish inside, all breathy and barely there from how powerful his orgasm is when spilling his seed deep into your tiny cunt. His best friends sister, tainting you forever with his cum as he continues to fuck himself into your tight hole, fucking his cum deeper against your womb in a primal effort to mark your insides. The grip he has of your thighs tightens as he milks himself inside of you, nails digging into your skin with a soft apology, barely conscious of what it is he’s doing until it’s already done. And even as he’s running empty and satisfied with how stuffed you are, even then his hips won’t stop, continuing to stroke himself lazily into your overfilled with cum cunt until you whine for him to stop. “Sorry— fuck, I’m sorry—” he uselessly rambles, wincing as he pulls out of you only to stare down at your used hole. Shocked at the amount of cum that spills out of you, looking up at you apologetically until you smile wide back at him.

“Thanks, Seb.” You whisper, all cute and silly. It causes him to mirror your grin regardless though, tucking his spent cock away and shuffling to lay beside you rather than forcing your surely exhausted body into any further movement. You’re so attractive all the time, it’s no wonder he was unable to treat you any differently tonight.

“My pleasure.” He hums, laying an arm over your tummy and resting his chin atop your head. He’s so happy. So completely overjoyed with being able to be your first everything and managing to confess his love for you in one go. It’s a little dizzying if he’s honest, but he can’t help but be hopeful at the way you snuggle back in against him, turning to your side to nuzzle your face against his chest. Even the sound of your deep breathes is alluring to him, so obsessed with all that you are that he pulls you even closer, his softening cock slowly but surely growing harder at your soft affections. “I was being serious, you know.” He suddenly says, though there’s a hint of hesitance in his voice.

“About what?” You sleepily yawn, taking hold of his shirt once more. A comfort thing, he’s sure, but he’s still so in love with the feeling that it coaxes the words right out of his mouth.

“About you… Being with me. I’d like that. Makes sense, too. Since y’know…”

You don’t say anything back, and he thinks that’s fine. A lot has happened tonight, and he’s willing to wait for your eventual answer. Though he worries he’s maybe ruined the mood just a little with his heartfelt emotions, and so he flusters to fix the apparent issue with a breathless laugh. “Just… Y’can’t tell Sam, okay?”

“Promise.” You reply, and given the amount of promises he’s told you tonight, he’s not sure if you’re telling the truth or not. Swallowing the mounting fear of Sam finding out he’s messed with his beloved baby sister by kissing the top of your head a few times. Though he did thoroughly enjoy fucking you for the first time, he’d like to share more soft moment like these with you too. Delicate and giggly, the hand he has over your tummy drawing a hidden I love you against your skin while you cuddle into him. He’ll clean you up later, like the gentleman he is. But for now, he’s happy to simply exist beside you and praise you for how well you did for your first time. Sweet reassurances and smiled fondness. He loves you, and despite his less than kind actions tonight, he thinks you might just love him back.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv seb smut #stardew valley seb smut #sdv sebastian smut #stardew valley sebastian smut #sebby🐸

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