#I apologize I got carried away whoops | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bosbas · 11 months ago

Text

Alternate Ending: I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

series masterlist original ending || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x wife!reader WC: 5.2k words (whoops I got carried away)

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, benedict being so down bad for this woman, unrequited love, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy/birth

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: The timeline for this ending diverges after chapter 12!! This is how life would look like if Chapter 13 and onward didn't happen.

March 3, 1820 - B,

I apologize for my delayed response – I’m sure you’ll understand that I was a tad occupied giving birth. But she’s finally here! It was easier than the other three, so I'm personally delighted, though Anthony seemed just as stressed as usual. And, as usual, he'll most likely be resting for the next five days. If he ever stops looking at her in awe, that is. It would be quite adorable if I didn't need to wrestle her away from him to nurse her every few hours!

Although, I will say that Anthony being taken with her has worked out quite well for me. I was able to finish my novel and get a full night's sleep last night. I'd love to see you soon if you're up for it. You can meet her and we can discuss your latest painting, which I heard was absolutely breathtaking. Anthony and I will both be home for the next week at least, so feel free to pop by any time.

Yours, Y/I

You finished addressing the envelope to Benedict right as Anthony walked into your bedroom holding the tiny form of your newborn daughter. Twisting in your seat to face them, you cooed when you saw her fast asleep in his arms. She was wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and you couldn’t help but marvel at her tiny fists opening and closing absentmindedly as she slept. She looked so peaceful in Anthony’s arms, and it was terrifying to think that a human being this small would grow up to be an adult and that you would have to guide her through it. Well, she would have Anthony too, you thought. And the thought did a lot to quell your fears.

For as long as you had known him, Anthony had been a steadfast figure in your life. He’d been the eldest of the Beaumont-Bridgertons, and he certainly acted like it, too. The responsibility he felt for his family was evident in everything he did, and it was one of the qualities you admired most about him. Now, seeing Anthony cradle your newborn daughter with such gentleness and awe only solidified your feelings for him.

You had decidedly not been in love when you had married him, but one couldn’t simply have four children with someone and not develop at least a little affection for them. The two of you had been wonderful friends even before you were married, and you still were, but along the way, it seemed that you had learned to love each other in your own funny sort of way. It wasn’t the sort of all-consuming love you had for Benedict all those years ago, and that perhaps you had still in a corner of your heart. But it was comforting and safe and built upon a deep respect for one another, and your life was all the better for it.

Perhaps you and Ben had never been destined for a life like this, you thought. Your childhood intention to wed Benedict had been just that: a naïve plan. That night in the studio with Benedict, after he had found out in the most unfortunate manner that you and Anthony were courting, you had needed something safe and constant. And Benedict had given you the complete opposite. For so many years, he had been your anchor, but that night you felt like the ground had fallen away below your feet and you were in free fall. You had so much love for Benedict that you didn’t even know where to put it. You could feel it from your heart to your fingertips, and it was terrifying. You thought about Violet and Edmund in that moment, and how destroyed Violet had been when Edmund passed. The thought of that happening to you and Benedict made you sick. The thought of taking the risk and putting your heart in his hands only for it to crumble.

Maybe running away from Benedict at that moment was the cowardly thing to do. Maybe you should have faced your fears and given in to the overpowering love. Maybe you should have kissed your best friend and dealt with the consequences later, holding his hand the whole way through. But you hadn’t. You had sought out safety instead, running up the stairs to Anthony’s room and knocking incessantly until he opened the door, eyes startled and hand holding a handkerchief to his cut lip.

“We’re getting married,” you had declared, breathing ragged and arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked, hoping you meant you and Benedict but suspecting otherwise given that you were currently at his door looking furious.

“You and me. And we’re going to do it as soon as possible.”

Anthony uttered a soft, “Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say. “And Benedict…” he added in a questioning tone.

“No,” you said firmly. “No Benedict.”

He had expected you to say more, but you just stood in front of him, unmoving.

“I suppose I can start the arrangements,” Anthony said finally. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I am sure.”

God, Benedict must have truly done something stupid, he thought. “Very well, then.”

“Good night, Anthony. We can inform our families of our engagement tomorrow morning.”

He just nodded in response, still too stunned to fully process your words.

You cleared your throat and your stoic façade faded slightly. “And thank you, Anthony. For everything,” you said, suddenly very aware of what being married to Anthony might mean.

He shook his head. “No, no. It was nothing. You are family.”

A month later, you were married at the church near Aubrey Hall. Benedict barely stayed long enough to see the two of you say your vows, citing an urgent problem with his cottage in the countryside. His family was kind enough not to question his obviously fabricated excuse, but he couldn’t miss the endless looks of pity sent his way. He had been hurt. Well, you had hurt him. You hurt him when you walked away from him, and you hurt him when you announced your engagement to your family without telling him first, but most of all, you hurt him when you chose Anthony even after two decades of history with Benedict.

Maybe none of your fears would have come true, and you and Ben would have been happy. Maybe he would have treated your heart with the same love and care with which he always treated you. But it didn’t do to dwell on what could have been. Your marriage with Anthony was real. It was concrete and it was grounding, and you couldn’t imagine a more stable presence in your life.

Bringing you out of your musings, you felt Anthony kiss your cheek in greeting and ask, “Do you want to take her?”

You nodded eagerly, setting down the letter in your hand so you could hold your daughter. “I’m surprised you’re willingly letting me have her,” you teased, laughing as Anthony all but collapsed onto the loveseat across from you, clearly exhausted.

He had been an awfully attentive father the past few days, ecstatic to finally have a girl after three boys. Though she had brought out a heightened sense of protectiveness he couldn’t seem to shake. It was rather endearing to see him so frazzled over a baby that weighed less than eight pounds, but you suspected there might be something more to it.

“She’s so tiny!” he defended, gaze fixed on her admittedly minuscule form in your arms. “I can’t help it…” He trailed off, deep in thought. You glanced up at him, noticing the change in his tone and his hunched posture. After five years of marriage, you had him memorized, and reading him came as naturally as reading a book.

“Is anything the matter?” you asked gently, already having a general idea about what was plaguing him.

But he shook his head, murmuring a soft no and focusing on the writing desk behind you instead. “Is that for Benedict?” he inquired, nodding in the direction of the letter.

“Yes, I’m just telling him that she’s here and asking him to come visit,” you answered, still eyeing him carefully.

“So, he’s coming to visit, then?” pressed Anthony, eyes back on your daughter, who was currently sleeping soundly in your arms.

“Well, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. Why do you ask?” You changed tactics, trying to seem nonchalant about your concern.

“Alright. That’s good. Yes, that’s good,” he muttered, seemingly satisfied with your answer but his mind was obviously miles away.

Growing increasingly worried, you stood up and carefully laid your daughter in her crib, ensuring she remained undisturbed. With her settled, you approached Anthony, who hadn't shifted his gaze from where you had been sitting. Kneeling beside him, you reached out and gingerly placed your hand on his. The touch seemed to quiet his restless thoughts, and he turned to meet your eyes, acknowledging the weight of his anxiety.

Anthony spoke softly, carefully. “I just want to make sure that you and the children are taken care of. In case something happens to me. I want you to have someone.”

You should have known that this was what plagued him. During the first year of your marriage, you settled into a comfortable dynamic with Anthony. It was not quite love, but something like it had blossomed between the two of you. However, it was after the birth of your first son, Arthur, that Anthony reached a breaking point. He realized that his grand plan to marry someone he didn’t love to avoid any undue heartbreak was not, in fact, foolproof. Even if there hadn’t been growing affection between you, Anthony completely fell in love with Arthur from the moment he was born. It was like nothing he’d experienced before; beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was terribly frightening.

He had shared his fears with you–he’d had no choice in the matter when you were as stubborn and insistent as you were–and you had shared that you, too, were scared. But you trusted one another, and so the two of you navigated parenthood in tandem and Anthony’s fears subsided. Regardless, you could understand that the birth of your daughter brought back this fear in full force, and he felt a greater need to protect her from danger than he would with his sons.

“Anthony, I won’t need someone. You’re right here, and you always will be.”

He shook his head, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. “How can you know that?”

You pursed your lips, brows furrowing. “Even if you aren’t, it won’t be your fault. You’re a wonderful father. And a wonderful husband.”

With a deep sigh, he clasped your hand and stood up, bringing you with him. “Just promise me you’ll ask Benedict to take care of you if I go?”

Your heart softened. Knowing he needed to hear you say it out loud, you nodded, “I promise.”

---

March 5, 1820 – Y/I,

One would think Anthony had been the one to give birth instead of you! I’ll pop by today to give him a talking-to. And to meet my lovely niece, of course.

Yours, B

You found yourself in the nursery this afternoon, your three boys gathered around you and your daughter fast asleep in her crib. It was a lovely day out; sunny but not too hot, but the boys hardly noticed. Instead, they sat still, completely enthralled as you read from your current novel. Though you adored reading to your children, you found children’s books rather boring and repetitive. Thus, you had shifted to reading them excerpts from your own reading material. It made the endeavor much more interesting, and the boys seemed to love it too, evident as they hung on your every word.

“‘Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder,’” you read, and your sons gasped, not quite understanding the meaning of the word but easily catching onto your surprised reaction. You continued, “‘and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I ask-’”

“Surely I’ve heard wrong and you’re not reading to your children about murder!” came Benedict’s voice from the doorway.

Immediately, three voices squealed in delight and Frankenstein was completely forgotten as your sons rushed over to their uncle. Charles was only one year old, but his brothers’ excitement only fueled his clumsy crawl toward Benedict’s waiting arms.

“They don’t exactly know what it means, Ben,” you laughed. “Besides, it’s wonderful literature. And it keeps them entertained.”

He picked up Charles in one arm and Arthur in the other, making his way over to you as Bernard clung to his leg. “Well, I’m sure you know better than me, darling,” he commented and kissed you sweetly on the top of your head.

“Isn’t that usually the case?” you teased, standing up to properly greet your best friend. Though you hadn’t joined the welcome committee, you were positively glowing now that Ben had arrived. It had been over a week since you had seen him, and you had missed him terribly. You smiled brightly, instantly at ease in his presence.

Eyebrows raised and eyes shining with mirth, he teased back, “You forget I have three very bloodthirsty boys on my side who have just learned what murder is.”

You looked at Arthur, who was completely focused on attempting to undo Benedict’s cravat, and Charles, who had two fingers in his mouth and was unsuccessfully attempting to put in a third, then glanced back at Benedict.

“Quite bloodthirsty, aren’t they?” you deadpanned as you gently pried Charles’ hand from his mouth.

Ben couldn’t help the waves of laughter rolling off him as he observed your sons. “It seems they still have a way to go before they get there.”

Then, spotting the pink crib across the room, he gasped and set down Arthur and Charles and somewhat successfully shook Bernard off his leg. Walking over to the crib, he stared at her, completely awestruck.

"She’s so tiny!” he exclaimed, careful to keep his voice down so as not to wake her.

You giggled, making your way over. “That’s exactly what Anthony said,” you smiled at him.

But your smile did nothing to soothe the dull ache that had blossomed in his chest as he remembered all the things he could have had with you. The pain was not as unbearable now as it had been five years ago, but he was inclined to think that it would be there for the rest of his life. In the back of his mind, Benedict wondered if he would have been as good of a father as Anthony. He supposed he would never know, having devoted himself completely to his art and extinguishing any lingering hopes Violet had that her second son would ever marry. But you seemed happy, and that was truly all that mattered.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he smiled sweetly back down at you. “What’s her name? Something starting with a D, I’m sure. Otherwise, Anthony will have lost his mind.”

“Yes, naturally,” you giggled. You tugged on Ben’s sleeve to bring him closer to the crib. “Benedict, meet Diana Bridgerton.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Bridgerton,” he murmured, intently observing your daughter as she slowly blinked her eyes open.

“Quite eager to meet her uncle,” you observed, but Benedict was too mesmerized by her to respond properly.

“She’s got your eyes,” he whispered after a few seconds, turning back to you and placing an arm around you. Your arm snaked around his back, and you drew him in a little closer.

Leaning down to place his cheek on your head and hugging you tighter, he spoke softly, “I thought you might name her Daisy. Flower names and all that. Besides, it starts with a D.”

Benedict didn’t quite know where the comment had come from. You hadn’t mentioned flower names in years, but the thought had suddenly popped into his brain quite unexpectedly and he had been unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. He knew he was so incredibly lucky to know you and to love you and to have a friendship with you, but it was at times like these when he wished he didn’t know you quite so well. At times when knowing you was only a reminder of what he lost.

In that moment, you were thankful to be facing Diana’s crib instead of Benedict, because you could feel the tears prickling at your eyes. The flower names. Of course Benedict would have remembered. You had never truly regretted marrying Anthony, but what you had with Ben transcended anything you could ever have with anyone else, and sometimes it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t your person anymore.

Shaking your head to will the tears away, you responded, “No. No, I could never.”

“What? You always said you wanted to name your children flower names.”

“No, Benedict. I wanted to name our children flower names.”

He felt all the air in his lungs escaping all at once. It felt as if someone had reached deep inside of him, taken hold of every organ inside his body, and squeezed very tightly. Wanted to name our children. Our children. Our. Just a simple word, three letters in total, had managed to leave him completely disarmed.

It was silly, really. You were married and had four children with his brother, of all people. And Benedict was still completely and irrevocably in love with you. He rather thought that he would always love you, in some form or another. Benedict suspected that Anthony knew this too, though his older brother was far too tactful to ever broach the subject.

Seemingly unaware of Ben's internal turmoil as he tried to reduce his feelings to their usual dormant state, you grabbed hold of his hand and led him away from Diana toward the door. “Nurse Edwards can watch the children while we go downstairs to have some tea. I must hear about your painting displayed at the National Gallery! I wish I hadn’t been about two days from bursting so I could have gone to see the unveiling.”

---

November 17, 1820 – Benedict,

Y/N has fallen ill, and I am away on business unable to tend to her. Go to Aubrey Hall as soon as possible and make sure she’s alright.

Please.

Anthony

Benedict could barely hear the rain pouring down outside his carriage over his racing heartbeat. Anthony’s frantic note had left Ben in a state of panic. He had left for Aubrey Hall immediately upon receiving the note, but he still worried that he might be too late. What on earth had frightened his older brother to the point of asking Benedict for help? A million possibilities, each one as devastating as the other, raced through his mind.

The sight of your home interrupted his catastrophizing, and he swung the door open and ran toward the entrance before the carriage could come to a complete stop. Benedict was somewhat aware that he was getting completely drenched in the rain, but his mind was far too focused on getting to you to care.

The front door was already open when he reached it, and Benedict burst through, barely hearing the butler’s, “Upstairs in her bedchamber, Mr Bridgerton,” before he was frantically climbing the stairs to get to you.

Once he reached your door, Ben stopped quite suddenly. He didn’t want to startle you by bursting in unannounced, so he waited a few seconds to catch his breath. Finally, he turned the doorknob slowly, hands shaking nervously as he entered your bedroom.

In between shockingly vivid dreams and a splitting headache, you vaguely registered what looked to be Benedict’s tall frame standing in your room. You shook your head, confused by his presence and not quite trusting your own eyes, but the effort left you breathless and you coughed violently.

“It’s alright, darling. You just rest,” he shushed you, shrugging off his drenched coat before he came to your side.

It killed him to see you like this, pale and sweaty as shivers wracked through your tired body. He had never seen you look so ill, not even when you came down with influenza when you were ten years old, and he was trying his hardest to hold himself together.

“Have you called for a medic?” his voice came out a bit strangled as he asked your lady’s maid, Rose, who had been nervously fidgeting off to the side.

"Yes, Mr Bridgerton. It's pneumonia," she said softly, her voice filled with concern. "The best we can do is keep her comfortable and give her fluids until her fever breaks."

He nodded, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. But you had drifted into fitful sleep, and your shallow, ragged breathing was only making him more worried.

Nevertheless, he had to think clearly. Anthony was away, meaning that Benedict was now entirely responsible for you. The realization steeled his nerves, so he straightened his waistcoat and released a controlled breath, ready to face whatever came his way.

“Where are the children? I trust Nurse Edwards is with them now,” he said firmly.

Rose nodded. “They’re asleep now, but she is there in case they need anything. They’re taken care of,” she reassured.

“Very well. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance to them.” Then, clearing his throat, “Ring for tea, please,” he instructed. “And bring me towels and a bowl of lukewarm water.”

She nodded, hurrying out of the room. Benedict moved closer to your bedside, his heart twisting at the sight of you in distress. He didn't hesitate, pulling a chair close to the bed and sitting down beside you. Gently, he reached out to feel your burning forehead, but you immediately flinched, the pain evident in your eyes as they shot open.

“Too cold,” you rasped. “Please don’t.”

He cursed under his breath, heart cracking slightly at your reaction. But he withdrew his hand immediately, settling instead for sitting on a chair next to your bed, watching you intently for any signs that your condition was worsening.

You looked awfully pale, paler than he’d ever seen you, and your lips had turned a concerning shade of purple. Though even when you were drenched in sweat and shivering, you still were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he thought. Even now, years after you had married another man, you remained his muse. The heartbreak he experienced that summer had been an admittedly excellent source of inspiration, and his new works helped propel him forward in the art world. It had served as a distraction, proving especially useful when Ben heard the news that you were pregnant for the first time so soon after the wedding. But now he supposed that art was no longer a distraction, and had instead become his life.

Maybe it was better this way, he sometimes thought. Maybe fate had never intended for him to be with you, though he couldn't fathom why the universe seemed so cruel. But the conclusion that he most often came to is that this was some sort of punishment. And he supposed he rather deserved it. He had continuously run away from the person he loved most, his best friend, the love of his life, time and again while you had only waited patiently for him to love you back.

Looking down at you now, he still felt the need to take care of you. The instinct would never go away. But it was a shame that the only reason he was allowed to do it now was because your husband had asked him to.

Your lady’s maid cleared her throat, standing at the doorway with the items Benedict had requested. He waved her in and had her place the tea on your bedside table, but he took hold of the towels himself and dipped one of them in the bowl of water.

“How long have you been here?” Ben asked Rose, taking in her exhausted appearance.

“Since midmorning, Mr Bridgerton,” she responded, stifling a yawn. "But I'm happy to do it. Lady Bridgerton seems to need it, too."

“Well, I think you ought to go to bed now, Rose,” he responded, gently placing the damp towel on your forehead. You let out a soft sigh of relief, and the tightness in Benedict’s heart loosened the tiniest bit.

Hearing his words, Rose could have collapsed right then and there. “Thank you, Mr Bridgerton. Please call for one of the servants if you need anything,” she said gratefully. And then, before he could change his mind, she hurried out of your bedroom.

The towel had seemed to rouse you from your sleep, and you sat up weakly so you could take in your surroundings.

You opened your eyes, happy to find Benedict still in your room. “Hello, there,” you croaked, but he shushed you, immediately holding a teacup to your lips. You took a hesitant sip, but the warm liquid ran down your throat so soothingly that you grasped the cup with your own hands and drank the entire thing.

Ben laughed softly, delicately taking the teacup from you so as not to touch you, not having forgotten your earlier protests when he placed a hand on your forehead.

“How long have you been here?” you asked Benedict, a particularly strong shiver making your teeth chatter. Noting his look of concern, you rushed to reassure him, “I’m fine, Ben. Promise.” However, you didn’t know how convincing you had sounded, given that you started violently coughing immediately after the words left your lips.

“I can see that. You look great,” teased Benedict.

“I bet,” you shot back, and he was unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “I’m–” you started, but another coughing fit prevented you from continuing. He looked at you, eyes overflowing with worry, and exchanged the towel on your forehead for a fresh one, hoping it would provide at least some relief.

Once your coughing fit subsided, you were overtaken by a wave of exhaustion. Sliding back down into bed, you turned to Benedict. “I think I need to sleep if that’s alright,” you said softly, eyes already drooping shut.

“Mmm, I think so, too,” he agreed.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing your joined hands to your chest. “Please stay, Ben,” you said, eyes already closed.

His heart nearly skipped a beat, having completely forgotten just how right your hand felt in his. “Always,” he murmured, reaching over to kiss you on the forehead. Benedict settled into the chair beside your bed, carefully watching you to make sure your breathing remained even.

An hour later, a particularly intense shiver ran through you and you woke up to find that you were still clutching Benedict’s hand. He was staring at you intently, and you felt an overwhelming sense of tenderness for him. Even though you had married Anthony, he was still here by your side, ensuring that you were safe. Even though you probably looked about two minutes away from death, and even though he probably had much more interesting things to do, he was here.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you whispered, not quite sure you wanted him to hear but needing to say it anyway.

His brow furrowed, not quite sure why you were apologizing. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, I am. I’m so sorry,” you said, barely registering the tears running down your face and mixing with your sweat.

Ben wiped away your tears with one hand, the other still holding yours. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.

You shook your head and the towel fell from your forehead once again, which he immediately replaced with a new one. “I don’t regret marrying him, but I regret hurting you,” you choked back a sob. “It was cowardly of me, and I’m sorry.”

Benedict was at a loss, your confession bringing his complicated feelings to the surface. But before he could find the right words, you had fallen asleep once again, eyes closed peacefully and your breathing even. He sat back in shock, attempting to process the meaning behind your words while still being careful not to move his hand too much so you could sleep peacefully.

Benedict sat there for what felt like hours, his mind in a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt weighed heavily on his heart as he watched you sleep, your hand still clasped in his. Surely you were at least a little delirious, he reasoned. How could you apologize for something he had caused?

Hours later, the morning sun filtered through your curtains and you stirred awake. You blinked your eyes open, a bit disoriented as you took in your surroundings. You glanced down, seeing Ben sitting in a chair next to your bed, fast asleep in what looked to be an incredibly uncomfortable position. Your hand was still clasped in Benedict’s, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand. You felt a pang of guilt at the sight and cringed slightly as you remembered your tearful apology the previous night.

Sensing that you were awake, Benedict stirred, half opening his eyes to make sure you were alright. Wincing as his neck cracked, he sat up and asked groggily, “How’re you feeling this morning, darling?”

“Much better, actually,” you responded.

A sudden wave of panic washed over you. “Who’s with the children?”

“Don’t worry! They’re alright. Nurse Edwards is with them,” he assured you. “Perhaps it’s for the best; they might get to engage with some books actually meant for children.” He kept his tone light and teasing, not entirely sure if you remembered your apology and not wanting to open up the conversation if you didn’t.

“Oh, thank you,” you sighed in relief, relaxing against your pillows once again. Then, swatting his arm, you scolded, “And they enjoy the literature, mind you!”

“I suppose you are feeling better if you had the strength to hit me,” he remarked amusedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could have hit you last night. Easily.” But your expression turned sincere. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t mean to be a burden; I know you’re working on a new piece.”

“It’s nothing,” he waved his hand. “You could never be a burden.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “And I meant what I said last night. It was ill-timed, I know, but I am truly sorry.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head. “There is nothing to apologize for. I didn’t treat you the way I should have and I was the one who hurt you. I’m just glad I can still have you as a best friend.”

You smiled at him, pulling him into a hug. “We seem to be quite good at that, don’t you think? Being best friends.”

“Oh, the best,” he smiled at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

—

orginal ending || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List: @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirlloriannaa @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhilll @sadprose-auroras @merlieve @khaylin27 @cherrytop02 @little-duck @angerpearl @shondlenoodle @lyssamay52 @bags10 @angerpearl

190 notes · View notes

undeadcannibal · 2 years ago

Text

Summary: Subspace headcanons of Task Force 141!

Pairing: Price/Gaz/Ghost/Soap/Reader

Genre: Smut, headcanons

Warnings: Subspace, slight(?) pet play content as well ( they refer to you as pup every so often, whoops), rough oral sex, rimming (female receiving), multiple partners, ‘nsft’ content, AFAB reader, no use of y/n, spoiler free, not beta read

A/N: *tosses this into the trenches* Listen... I’ve no excuse for this over than it’s very self-indulgent. Don’t judge me. Or do. Whatever floats your boat. I definitely got carried away with this and I apologize lmao. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! ( gif credit: xxx )

So, I couldn’t get the idea of Price asking you - his submissive - if you’d be open to the idea of letting the rest of the 141 crew have their way with you during a fake briefing. After you and the rest of the crew agree and go over everyone’s terms and limits, all bets are off.

Price is sitting down in his favorite lounge chair at home. Leisurely enjoying a cigar as he has you get prepared. Having you dress down to only your underwear and collar while he watches. Afterwards, he orders you down onto your hands and knees. “C’mon, pretty girl. You know your place...”

Just as you hear the door open, you’re crawling forward towards Price till you’re sitting between his legs. Straddling one and then wrapping your arms around his calf, hugging yourself to his form as your cheek comes to rest on the top of his knee. Soap is the first one to break the silence.

“Steamin’ Jesus...” Seeing you in nothing but your underwear and a collar was a sight he wasn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon. Sorry, Price.

Despite you being there, they all do their best to act as if it’s any average debriefing they’ve done. Although, neither Soap or Ghost can look away from you nuzzling at their Captain’s thigh. Gaz, however, isn’t afraid to take the first few steps forward. Taking a seat on the couch to admire you for now.

“Gorgeous as always, love~” Gaz doesn’t do anything right away. Content with watching for the time being. Soap and Ghost though? Oh, those two are glued to the spot. Unsure of what to do and where to even begin. Excitement and tension thick in the air.

Price will gently nudge you and tell you to help get things going for everyone. Looking down at you and giving you a look that lets you know exactly what he wants. Even so, you don’t leave his side right away. Price will rub your cheek as you nuzzle into his palm. Only after you’ve had your fill, you’ll crawl over to where Soap and Ghost stand.

Smiling up at both of them as Soap breaks first; reaching down to pet the hair on the top of your head. Ghost, however, watches like Gaz and Price as you kneel before Soap so you can begin to undo his belt and pants. By the time you’ve his pants halfway down his thighs, he’s helping you with the next part. Pushing his boxer-briefs down till his semi-flaccid cock springs free.

You lick your lips as you lean in and begin to kiss and nip at his muscular thighs. Wasting no time in moving over to his groin so you can kiss and stroke his member. Working him up till he’s hard enough to take within your mouth.

“You weren’t kiddin’ when you said she’s an eager one, were you, Cap?” Soap doesn’t push you to go faster or take more than you can handle. Instead, he’s appreciating the view of you on your knees before him, your plush lips sealed around the tip of his cock. Just as he releases a pleased groan, your taking more of him in your mouth till your confident enough to work up a good pace with him.

All three of the men that you aren’t tending to are watching you care for Soap till he’s grabbing the hair at the back of your head and pulling you off of him. Soap’s grinning down at you as you clean the saliva and pre-cum off of your lips. “Heh, good girl~” He praises, then glancing over to Ghost.

“Go on, pup. I can’t wait to see the Lieutenant use you.”

Moving over to Ghost, you take your time in working your way up to the front of his pants. Starting from his calves, you slide your palms up his strong legs till he’s smacking your hands away. Beating you to undoing his pants till his hard cock springs free. Smacking against your cheek as you giggle and turn your head, lapping at his tip before sliding your tongue down the length of him. Unlike Soap, you work him up in a different way. Kissing and gently taking his balls within your palm to fondle him. You can feel yourself become wet with arousal when you feel his dick twitch against your face.

Before you start, he’s pulling you back by your hair and taking himself into his own hand, pressing his cock against your lips till your mouth opens to welcome him in. “Take a deep breath.” Is all the warning Ghost gives you before he’s gathering your hair in a ponytail. Pushing your face down after you take a deep breath, he doesn’t bother asking if you’re alright with it. He’s heard enough from Price. Knows you can take it all and much, much more...

He face fucks you mercilessly. Using the grip on your hair to pull you back before he’s pushing you back down on him again. Making you take more and more of his length despite the drool and pre-cum spilling past your lips, even thrust he makes you take making you gag in the process with his pace and intensity of his thrust.

Just as your eyes begin to water and you begin to moan around Ghost’s unrelenting throat fucking, your eyes widen when you feel a sudden pressure against your mound. Soap had taken it upon himself to indulge a little. Pressing the toe of his boot against your clothed cunt. Digging it in directly against your clit and then wiggling it so he was roughly stimulating you. Making your thighs quiver and shake.

“Fuckin’ hell, Soap...” Gaz can’t help but speak out as he watches both men work you over. Although, admittedly, the sight of Soap jiggling his boot against you till your crying out around Ghost has him twitching within his pants.

He's stepping forward, not even bothering to ask what exactly Ghost and Soap have planned for you. Instead, he takes it upon himself to drag your panties down, exposing only your ass since Soap was having too much fun with his boot and your pussy. He could even see the crotch of your panties were already sporting a wet spot from where Soap's boot had been digging in. Hot as it may be, he has other things on his mind for this evening.

Ghost finally relents just as you feel your ass being spread apart by Gaz, pulling you off of his cock with a lewd and audible ‘pop’ just in time for Gaz to lean in. Lapping at your tight ring of muscle and causing you to whimper and push back against his face and Soap’s boot in the process. Overwhelmed and surrounded by the trio of soldiers.

Price takes his time finishing his cigar as he watches the boys take you apart bit by bit. The sounds your making as Ghost fucks your mouth with little care, Soap’s slick toe of his boot squeaking against you, the moans and sighs you gave as Gaz ate your ass... All of it had him nearly bursting out of his trousers at that point. Though, he chooses to hold off for now. Instead, the Captain was temporarily content with appreciating the view, as well as giving the occasional order or two.

“You’re being such a good girl for us, love. I think we might need to get a new tag for your collar... ‘Property of 141′ ”

If you had a tail, it’d be wagging non-stop.

Needless to say, they all come to enjoy using you till you can’t even think straight. Each taking their time in indulging everything they’ve thought about doing to you leading up to the event.

After it’s all said and done, they each take turns giving you their own form of aftercare. Having asked Price what would be best for you to help you come down from everything. Reassuring you your the best submissive/pup they could have asked for~

#call of duty x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #my writing #simon riley x reader

874 notes · View notes

silverzoomies · 1 year ago

Text

Great Pumpkin

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, drunk sex, halloween party, porn with feelings, use of the speech quirk "yer"

word count: 7,878

a/n: meant to finish this one before halloween. whoops !! at least november is the spook before christmas !! or halloween 2, electric boogaloo !!

some notes about this one: i wanna apologize for the needless plot. i know it's unnecessary, but i got a little carried away. if anything feels awkward, out of place, or weird? that's my bad. sorry. i was havin' too much fun writing the less smutty stuff. some other notes - think of this as an au, i guess. where erik is hiding out at xavier's for...reasons? idfk. sitcom logic. everyone's living together !! but there's tension !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

All Hallows Eve.

Prior to the X-Family’s spooktacular bash, Hank whipped up a little something special. Using his Einstein brain - or wizard sorcery. Peter couldn’t be too sure - the beastly scientist conjured a powerful inebriant. He heard Peter joke one too many times about his inability to get drunk. Since the speedster’s body filtered through substances at break-neck speed. Leaving not a second’s worth of intoxication time.

No exaggeration there. Peter once tried chugging his mom’s entire stash of liquor, along with a bottle of Purple Toad wine. Some really fruity stuff. Such a mass of booze only left a burn in his throat, along with an onslaught of nausea. All of which lasted 0.2 seconds.

Hank wanted to do Peter a favor for all his hard work lately. And now, he could finally participate in what he missed out on. After all these years. As long as he didn’t use the substance for any nefarious purposes. Per Hank’s request. Whatever that meant. Not like Peter planned on playing pranks at this year’s party. C’mon…really? He’s a teacher, for Geddy’s sake! He's gotta set a good example.

Spoiler alert: he had planned on it. Keyword being had.

Until the inebriation actually kicked in. For the first time in his unconventional life, a warm buzz pooled through Peter’s bloodstream. One of the major side effects? Debuffs to superspeed. Which proved an otherworldly experience. If not a little uncomfortable. Still worth it, for a one-night-only lesson in drunkenness.

Peering lazily into his red solo cup, Peter blinked. His eyes followed swirls of neon cyan. Luminous in its irradiated glow. He couldn’t comprehend the science behind Hank’s glowstick booze. But he knew it filtered through his body at a much slower rate than other substances. The drink felt syrupy on his tongue, and tasted like - coincidentally enough - candy corn. Its effects proved weaker than Peter expected.

Given his cells operated so incomprehensibly fast, Peter didn’t find this too surprising. So, what? He’d never get frat party wasted. Oh well. Peter came to accept that fact about himself forever ago. Still, fluorescent booze made him mellow enough to slow down a lot. Peter could totally vibe with mellow. No complaints there. Mellow’s copacetic. He definitely owed Beastie for his magic potion of slow-mo. Peter oscillated between a nice, tipsy balance. Muddled enough to let loose and enjoy himself. But conscious enough to avoid making any ultra stupid decisions.

Or, he thought so, anyway.

Hobbling around the mansion, Peter pushed through crowds of partygoers. All dressed in their spookiest, sexiest, or most low-effort costumes. Twinkles of orange and violet lights kept the mansion somewhat lit. With spoOoOoOoOoky decorations scattered amongst the school. A perfectly campy atmosphere for Halloween. Oh. And those decorations? All Peter’s doing. Of course, it’s no surprise the professor deemed him prime event decorator. He took mere microseconds to spice up an entire plot of land. Throwing forth all his effort, Peter dressed the building in balls-to-the-walls, haunting decor.

Fake spiders with prickly fur lay strewn about in random places. Ghosts made of old, torn sheets swayed in the breeze. Skeletons hanged by the dozens. Streamers of orange and faded black dangled from the ceilings and doorways. String lights lined the mansion’s trim. Outside on the grounds, Peter even garnished the grass with inflatable Snoopys.

During his decorative escapades, he cracked jokes to the kids. Peter asked, “You guys think the Great Pumpkin’ll show up?”

They squealed with laughter, stomping their little feet. Candy buckets in hand, the kids yelled, “Mr. Maximoff, the Great Pumpkin’s not real!!”

In the midst of rearranging another Snoopy, he gasped, “WHAT?! He is too real!! Better not let him hear you say that!”

A haunted trail veered off into the woods surrounding the mansion. It led to an old barn, stocked full of hay and populated with jack-o-lanterns. All carved by the mutant kiddos themselves. Another set of glittering lights decorated the barn, creating an autumn glow. A pair of giant speakers - Peter paid for them, mind you - roared Halloween tunes over the entire property.

Cool stuff. Talk about a hell of a set-up. Peter couldn’t help but be proud of himself. Such a slew of decorations might put even Scrooge Mcduck himself in holiday spirits.

Wait. No. What? Scrooge Mcduck? Wasn’t he more of a Christmas thing? Fuck. Peter might be more mixed up than he thought. He gazed absentmindedly into his red solo cup again. Blinking slowly, he wondered…what the hell did Hank put in this disco concoction anyway?

Whatever. By the end of the night, Peter hoped the kids got a kick out of his hard work. Not that he broke a sweat putting it all together or anything. But he wanted to live up to his awesome teacher reputation. The highest of honors, really. No way he’d let anyone else trump him on that front.

Then again… Peter nibbled his lip, grinning to himself like a huge doofus. He took another long swig of his drink. Candy corn sweetness tickled his taste buds.

Okay. So, he might’ve had someone else in mind while he decorated. Somebody he desperately wanted to impress. A lot. Or, just a little bit, actually. Like, on a microscopic level. Maybe.

That somebody? You. Except, not really. No way.

Pffffttt…he definitely didn’t do it for you. C’mon! Why would he? Think of the kids! Those precious, lil demon spawn! They practically worshiped him. They’re what it’s all about, right? Riiiight.

Peter’s holiday decorations tempted any passing trick-or-treaters to drop by. And the professor prepared quite the spectacle of treats for them too. King sized, candy bars and all. Hank and Raven - showing off their mutant glory without an ounce of shame - passed the candy out to children.

Human children.

Magneto - still unaware he had a son sprinting around the mansion on any given day - dubbed the gesture hopeless naivety. Or something along those lines. Inviting humans to join in on a night of mutant fun? Totally bogus. Which…yeah. From Erik’s perspective? Fair enough.

“You think they’ll learn to accept you through meaningless, holiday gestures?” Erik griped, arms crossed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Raven merely rolled her eyes. She made a comment about the inherent innocence of children. Erik didn’t appear to care. He groused some more after that. But Peter didn’t hear much of it. Nor did he imagine he even wanted to. At least, not tonight. Maybe once Peter sobered up a bit, he wouldn’t mind lending an ear. If his father ever felt the need to open up about his woeful turmoil.

But Erik disappeared upstairs. Out of sight. Still in hiding, all alone. Poor dude.

Unlike his misguided papa, Peter didn’t mind human inclusion so much. One: because he considered himself a pretty open minded guy. Easy to say, since he didn’t harbor anything remotely comparable to his father’s trauma.

And two, on a less serious note: Human girls. They gravitated towards Peter like moths to a flame.

Throughout the mansion, the theme to Killer Klowns from Outer Space rang. Conversations buzzed around Peter like radio static. Candy corn booze made it impossible for him to comprehend them. Some partygoers played wallflower. Idling by snack tables, feasting on as much junk food as their stomachs could handle. It took every ounce of restraint Peter had, not to raid those tables himself.

Peter’s Terminator costume wasn’t much of a costume at all, really. It left most of the ladies confused. He didn’t recognize half the costumed cuties who pulled him in for dances. But they sure as hell recognized him. When another pretty girl pressed herself against him - tits bouncing, and bare thighs rubbing his pants - she’d ask the dreaded words, “What’re youuuu supposed to be?” Twirling her hair and giving Peter fluttery bedroom eyes.

Peter gave the same responses every time. Covered head to toe in black clothing, wearing a pair of sunglasses; he raised a prop shotgun from his back, responding with his best Arnold impression.

“I’ll be back.” Right on the money, Peter thought in his buzzed haze. Totally accurate. One to one.

If the girlies didn’t get the reference? So be it. Peter ultimately felt like a massive dork. But he got some sexually charged groovin’ out of it. A bit of groping here or there. He didn’t mind taking the L, if it meant grabbing some ass in the process.

But as the party clamored on, Peter knew he wanted only one thing.

To find you. Just to hang out, catch up, and have an innocent time. No other reason. Seriously. Honest. Why else would he wanna find you? To mess around a little bit? Nahhh. Why would he wanna fool around with you? And risk a long term friendship? He couldn't have that.

Not when you carried enough patience to put up with his day-to-day bullshit. Always listening to his senseless ramblings. Even if he spoke too fast for you to keep up.

During his lunch breaks on school days, Peter usually spent time with you. The two of you talked in the kitchen, or chillaxed in the lounge. Those chats? The highlight of his day. As corny as it seemed. He just couldn’t resist you and your kindly wiles. The wiles of his colleague. His…very pretty colleague. His…very pretty… platonic colleague.

Someone please end his misery now.

Peter wandered aimlessly. He danced his heart out and chatted up some more cute gals. Soon enough, he found you. Leaned over a set of snack tables, you picked through sugary sweet treats. Peter noticed the way you swayed in place. A little heavy footed like him, eh? He snickered to himself, sneaking up behind you.

Lacking any filter or restraint, Peter blatantly gawked at your ass. A fitted, white gown draped your body. Flowing in an angelic fashion, it harmonized with your every curve. Even tipsy, Peter recognized your costume the microsecond he saw it. Princess Leia. Star Wars. Episode IV. Very sexy. Beyond sexy, even.

A flirtatious whistle caught you by surprise. You whirled around with a doe eyed look on your face. A kind of gaze that made his brain turn to mush. As if the alcohol hadn’t already. You licked the frosting off a funky colored cupcake, as Peter’s gaze flitted down your body. His eyes followed the smooth creases of your gown. A tasteful peek of your thigh kept his attention locked. Until the perky tease of your nipples captivated him instead.

Awesome. Amazing. 11/10. Best night ever.

“Ohmygosh!” You laughed, reaching out to touch Peter’s chest for whatever reason. Not that he minded one bit, “Peeeter, I’m sooooo sorry! I’m a little tipsy right now! It’s really unprofessional!”

Scarlet bloomed in his cheeks, burning hot enough to make him dizzier. Peter ogled you like the last Twinkie on the planet. A dollop of frosting caught the plush of your lip. You swirled it away with your tongue. Drawing in a hitched breath, Peter blinked.

Focus. He needed to focus on anything else. Not the parts of you he wanted to be on, inside of, and all other configurations of carnality.

“And?? You wanna hear somethin’ cray-crayyy?” Peter asked, lamely slurring his words. He raised his red solo cup, waving it in a clumsy motion, “So am I, princess! I’m totally hammered. And I looooove it!” He threw his head back, belting a loud, “WHOOOOO!!” Feeling more like a free spirit than he had in years.

Moving closer, you couldn't control your laughs. You shushed Peter, keeping your hand on his chest. Patting you on the shoulder, Peter chuckled. He feigned offense, but his sizeable hand lingered on you. A thumb grazed the soft cloth of your dress. For a beat, he wondered what you looked like under it.

“Whyyyy?? Why should I keep it down, huh?? It’s a party, baby! Everybody’s yellin’!” He shrugged. Peter smirked, throwing his head back again. He shouted another, “WHOOOOO!!”

A crowd of partygoers kept their eyes on the two of you. Their gazes lingering for a little longer than necessary. You snickered again. So tipsy, you could hardly get a word in through your giggling.

“You really are drunk, oh my gosh. You’re crazy, Peter! I can’t even-” Dropping your head into his chest, you erupted in woozy huffs of laughter. Great. He loved the closeness, “Peter, sorry, I’m sooooooo-”

“Mind-blowingly hot?” Peter lazily blinked, “Because yer-...you-ohhhh, man. You look really hot. Like-” He made a meaningless gesture with his hands, shaking his head, “Like, WOW! Have you seen yourself? Someone tell ‘Ro to make it rain. ‘Cuz yer on fiiiiiiire!” He joked. Cheesy and lame, but too smashed to even care.

You scoffed, cheeks set ablaze, “Oh, please! Give me a break! Mister Terminator casanova over here. Are you trying to butter me up like you did all those other ladies?” Playfully, you pushed off his chest. Peter mourned the loss of your touch, “I saw you! Getting all handsy out there!” You said, your tone lighthearted. Still accusatory.

Somehow, you recognized his costume. That caught him a little off guard. Peter’s heart did some kinda funny, fluttery thing. Jumpy, warm, and beating beating beating in his chest. But…nah. Couldn’t be because of you. Could it? Maybe the booze did it. Yeah. Irradiated Beast hooch must’ve give him palpitations. He’d tell Hank about this side effect later.

Peter arched a silver brow, “Oh, yeah? Mmmhm. Sounds like yer just jealous. ‘Cuz the ladies find my inner Schwarzenegger, action hero totally irresistible.” Bullshit. Most of them thought he dressed as Neo from the Matrix. Wrong action movie. Peter kept talking out his ass, “I bet it drives you up a wall to see ‘em all over me like that.”

“Oh, you think? Suuure. Like Leia would ever have the hots for some dollar store Terminator.” You teased affectionately, “Likely story, Quickie.” Fuck. Quickie. He loved when you called him that. You deceived your own protests, pressing your body against Peter's.

Your nails dug into his shirt as you palmed his chest. So…you wanted to play this little game now, huh? Alright. Fine. Peter bickered back and forth with you for an indiscernible amount of time. Standing in a corner by the snack tables, away from the noisy, party bustle. Unbalanced and wobbly, Peter leaned in. Keeping you both pressed together in a way too intimate for wandering eyes.

He almost spilled his neon concoction on your dress. Exchanging giggles again, Peter lingered even closer. His lips on the cusp of reaching out for yours. But in a clouded moment of self awareness, he stopped himself short.

“D-Do you…uhhhh-” He swallowed dryly. His nerves buzzed all through his body, “Y’wanna…get outta here? Maybe go do somethin’ reallllyyyy dumb? Like-uh…maybe make a mistake you’ll regret in the morning?” Peter suggested, wiggling his brows.

You gave him another lidded look, igniting a blistering fire deep in his bones. With your body still pressed to his - bodacious and oh-so-tempting - you brought a hand up. A beat of silence passed, as you moved his sunglasses up over his hair. Silver strands fell loose. You gazed into his puppy dog eyes directly.

“And what makes you think I’d regret it?” You asked, your voice smooth and somewhat slurred. Oh...were you being real with him right now?

Your fingers traced flirty circles over his chest. Scorching flames in Peter’s heart burned warmth through his veins. Heat gathered in his groin. Peter’s eyes widened to a planetary degree. Clutching his solo cup a little too tight, he brushed your ass with his other hand. By accident. He only intended to pull you closer. You held his intoxicated gaze.

Peter let his lips ghost yours again, without any direct connection.

“See, that’s-uhhh…hah…that’s just the booze talkin’.” He whispered with a soft chuckle. Steadily, he pulled himself from you, “Wanna know what it’s tellin’ me?” Peter gave you another lazy grin, nibbling his lip, “Youuuuuu and meee…” He sluggishly said. He dragged you along with him. Stumbling backwards, “...should-uh…gooooo have some…adult fun, yeah? A little romp in the hay?”

Did you know he meant that verbatim? Probably not.

Moments later, Peter clumsily navigated through the party. He made a beeline for the entrance hall, holding your hand the entire way. Floundering with every step, he traversed the crowded halls. Through each doorway the two of you passed, fluttering streamers dangled above. Soft tissue brushed across your face, tickling your nose.

The streamers proved more unkind to Peter. Staggering through the last doorway, he became tangled in them. Peter tried to shake the tissue off, twisting around and flailing his arms. He cursed aloud, making a spectacle of his embarrassing predicament. Caught in a web of orange and black, he looked like a Halloween decoration all his own. The streamers wrapped around his body and arms, even covering his head.

“MOTHER FU-” He cursed, jerking the tissue down with a rough tug. Peter tripped forward in the process. But he caught himself just in time. Compensating for his humiliation, he laughed, “I’m okay! I’m okay! Allllll good, guys. I’m good. Totally good! Meant to do that, actually.” Peter cleared his throat. He averted his glassy gaze from any partygoers nearby.

One of them being Hank, who stood alongside Raven. The two shared a few drinks and quietly chatted. The big, beast of man wore torn, red flannel. His blue fur peeked out from the undone buttons, appearing frayed. His costume? A smurf werewolf. A smurfwolf. Or something. Peter couldn't tell. And Raven? She hadn’t dressed up at all. Labeling Halloween: The one time of year she chose not to disguise herself. Why? Because, in her words, "It's funnier that way."

Raven stifled a laugh at Peter’s expense. But Hank didn’t hold himself back. He roared a rumbling chuckle, “I see the serum’s treating you well, Peter!” Hank teased, cradling a drink in his fluffy paw, “Why, it certainly looks that way. You seem to be having-uhm…fun? Yes! Fun. I'm delighted to see it!"

Peter idled in the middle of the doorway, swaying a little on his feet. Forgoing the streamers, he left them tangled around his limbs. Fuck it. His costume could use some added flair.

“I’m havin’ a-uhhhhh…a total blast, Beast my mannn!” Peter slurred. He passed Hank on his way out the mansion’s entrance. And roughly patted the scientist on the shoulder, “Thanks again, buddy ol’ pal! I owe you one!”

You giggled, beaming an elated smile as Peter dragged you out the door. Once you flew ungracefully by, Hank and Raven both did double takes. They gave you cautious looks, as if to say - uh, do you think this is a good idea? A little too sloshed, you failed to register their concern. Following Peter out the door with an inelegant skip in your step, you waved the pair goodbye.

“Well, now…that’s certainly going to be awkward for him tomorrow morning.” Hank joked, looking down at his drink. He swirled the beverage, the cup appearing itty bitty in his clutch. Showing off a crowd of snaggle teeth, he yawned.

Raven shook her head, scoffing, “Oh, it’ll bite him in the ass later. That’s for sure.” She added, sipping her own drink, “You proud of yourself?” Raven quipped, arching an orange brow. Hank held up a single claw, playful in his self defense.

“Not my fault! I gave him that serum because I thought he could have fun with it! And he is! Didn’t you see him? What he does under its influence is completely out of my jurisdiction!” Hank shrugged, stating in a matter-of-fact way, “I’ll have you know, I did try to warn him!”

In hindsight, Peter should have heeded Hank’s warnings. What he did under the effects of disco liquor proved supremely stupid. The nanosecond your feet hit the grass outside, he lost any restraint he had left. Peter kissed you full on. Ushering your sweet lips into an alcohol induced session of heavy smooching. Tongues interweaving, lackadaisical and reckless, the two of you shared careless kisses. Under decorative spider webs and amongst inflatable Snoopys.

But no Great Pumpkin in sight.

You slung your arms over Peter’s broad shoulders, letting him devour you. His sizable hands slid over your hips. He pulled you closer as he stumbled like a complete klutz. Thick fingers curled into the cloth of your dress. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Peter didn’t dare consider any consequences. With no filter to hold him back, one of his palms felt for your breast. He copped a handful, before you stopped him in his tracks. You tore your lips from his candy corn kisses.

“Heyyyy! Hey, hey, hey! Not here! What are you even doing??” You laughed, giving his nose an affectionate nuzzle, “Someone might see us, doofus!”

Peter hummed, pulling you against him in a more firm grip. He stole frantic kisses, heated and mouthy. Squeezing your hips, his nails scratched across your gown to your ass. Kneading your plush cheeks with little shame.

“So what? Let ‘em enjoy the show!” Peter snickered, diving in for yet another kiss, “I’m not gonna miss out on a chance to touch you like this. Now that I finally got you…”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t seem to take him seriously. In an attempt to pull yourself away again, you stumbled backwards in the grass. Even with his reaction time outta wack, Peter managed to catch you before you fell. In one awkward motion, he scooped you up bridal style and carried you into the woods. The streamers coiled around his limbs came loose, at long last. Flitting away behind him in the wind.

He held you in his strong arms, following the mansion’s haunted, Halloween trail. The hayride already closed down for the night, leaving the trail - and the barn - open for some private necking.

Finding his way to the barn, Peter wobbled, slowing his stride. In his arms, you took a moment to admire the decorations he put so much effort into. Orange, twinkling lights lined the barn’s entryway. Vibrant in late night darkness. Magical, and kinda romantic. Through the trees in the distance, the garnished mansion appeared visible. A Halloweeny spectacle, engulfed in simulated fog.

Party music echoed from afar, faint, but clear enough he could hear. Peter perked up, overhearing a classic, Hallow’s eve tune.

“‘CUZ THIS IS THRILLLAHHHH!” Peter shouted off key, moving backwards into the barn. His steps were careless, “THRILLAH NIIIIGHT!” He sang, falling into a bed of cool hay. Strands of straw bounced in the air. You came down with him, and he kept singing, “AND NO ONE’S GONNA SAVE YA-” He cut himself off, leaning in to feast on your lips. Peter cradled you in his arms, humming Thriller amidst awkward kisses.

You laid bridal style over his legs, dipping your head back. Inviting Peter to devour your neck like a thirsty vampire. Without all the grace of Bela Lugosi. More like a hammered Nosferatu. If either of you had second thoughts, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. He left that baggage behind. In the morning, sober Peter could unpack it all. Right now, he wanted his hands on your body, under your dress.

“Ohhhh~! Oh my-” You moaned, tacking on an erotic squeal of his name. Giggling in a kittenish tone. The sound made him wanna bite you harder, “W-Wait-...Peter, maybe we shouldn’t-oooooh~! Maybe we shouldn’t be-”

His sloppy kisses cut your hesitance short. Peter nodded his head in a lazy, loose motion. Bringing more dizziness upon himself.

“Mmmm? What? No-...” He hummed, “Baby, we should. We definitely should. Don’t even worry-” Peter paused for an abrupt beat. Holding you tight, he adjusted in the hay. Uncomfortable, Peter knitted his brows, “Wait-...this hay’s so-...why’s this hay so fuckin’ itchy, man?”

At the chime of your silly snorts and giggles, Peter’s words became lost on him. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t think clearly enough to recall them. Instead, he drew his attention back to you. Peter’s lips found your neck once more. Your floral scent replenished his lungs, a lifesource he desperately needed. Hot kisses peppered down your chest. In his clouded stupor, Peter buried his face between your breasts.

He loved the flustered squeal you made in response. Enough that he couldn’t help but do it again.

“Ohhhhh…hot damn, baby.” Peter groaned into your chest, motorboating your knockers. A graceless gesture. Lifting his face, his hair appeared a disheveled mess, “Yer so awesome, y’know that? Liiiike…yer really great. I know I’m pretty drunk right now, but-uhhhh…” He slurred, sneaking thick fingers under your dress, “I do mean it. No joke. I think yer really cool. Cool and-uhm…and-uh…hahaaa….I really like you.”

You erupted in more buzzed giggles, parting your lips to protest his drunken confession. But Peter silenced you with shushes, “Shhhhhhhh! Shhhhh, don’t-” He hiccuped. Your laughs were so contagious, he couldn’t help but giggle as well, “Shhhh! Don’t tell anybody!”

“I won’t! I won’t!” You chuckled, gently holding his cheeks. You pulled him down for more smooches, lips meeting in a slower embrace, “I like you too, Peter…but shhhhhh…keep it a secret.”

His fingertips danced along your inner thigh, clumsy and unsteady. Peter’s hand disappeared between your legs and under your gown. Hot digits grazed your panties. A flimsy, soaked piece of fabric awaited those digits. Breathing a low huff, Peter whispered, “Fuck.” into your neck. The steamy word tickled your skin, giving you chills.

Blindly, he wormed his fingers into your panties. Peter dipped his digits into your honeyed heat. Thick, syrupy cushions sealed around him. He focused on parting your tight walls. A little too uncoordinated to pleasure you in a more ideal way. Rough, repetitive motions curled at an awkward angle. Digging so deep, Peter could hear the squishy call of your insides - leaking wet, all for him.

Your body tensed, knees spreading on instinct. Cool air caressed your thighs. Peering down into your lidded, baby doll eyes, he held your gaze. As your cunt pulsed around his digits, soft and constricting, he knitted his brows. Humming another groan, Peter dove down for your neck. He sucked mouthy, wet hickies into your skin. Leaving gifts for sober you to discover later tomorrow.

Speaking of sober.

Sober Peter never had trouble keeping up with anybody. Moreover, everyone else found it impossible to keep up with him. But in his buzzed daze, he could barely follow your lead. One blink, and his fingers buried themselves to the knuckle in your cunt. The next blink, you took initiative. Throwing him for a loop, you changed positions. You pushed Peter further back into the hay, straddling his lap.

As you fumbled for his jeans and pulled them open, more giggling ensued. Heated tension hung over the two of you like those glimmering, barn lights. You felt around, guiding your hand to a hot thickness in his pants. It rested in a curly bed of silver hairs, limp and untouched. Your giggles ceased, and your expression shifted.

“Peter, you’re not even-” You started, squeezing the softness of him in your hand. You gave him a few loose tugs, your voice teeming with hesitance, “Are you…are you sure you want-”

“Yeaaaahhhhh. Yeah. Yanno, it’s just-...I never thought I’d be the one gettin’ whiskey dick. Haha.” Peter joked, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. Buzzed and uncoordinated, Peter harbored little patience for foreplay. His fingers sought for your weeping heat again. He pushed them through your soft, supple pussy lips, “Sucks a lot. I was really hopin’ I’d get to-uhmmm…ahahaaaa…” He bit his tongue, laughing, “Really wanted to show you a good fuckin’ time. But this shit feels like rocket science right now, sorry…”

Eventually, through sheer determination, you worked up enough sorcery to liven him up. Waking his cock from its soft slumber. Peter fumbled, clumsily guiding his dick to your flowery mound. It took some serious concentration on his part to do so. His tongue poked between his lips, brows furrowed tight. He leered between your sweltering bodies. Humid air clung to his skin, contrasting the sharp coolness of an October’s night. The smell of booze permeated in your sweat, mingling with the scent of your perfume.

You sank over his cock, taking the now raging length of him fluidly. He bottomed out in a single intake of breath. Peter moaned, rolling his hips upward. Your fluttery walls stretched, cozy and soft around his dick. He dropped his head back into the hay, howling a goofy shout. It echoed through the trees, catching autumn wind.

"OHHHHHHH~! THAT'S IT! WHOOOOOO~!" He yelled. Peter chewed his lip hard, meeting your bounces with sluggish thrusts, "That's it. That's what I'm fuckin' talkin' about. Hoh-fuck..."

His rhythm was a little off beat, but he blamed the booze. Clenching the fabric of your dress in his fingers, he bunched it up tight. As if to hold you by horse’s reins, arduously guiding you on your ride.

Far in the back of his mind. Like, so far, Peter may as well have been on another planet. He had his first conflicting thought. Screwing you for the first time like this - hammered and careless - struck him as kind of…wrong. Really, he should have waited it out, and done this sober. But Peter couldn’t deny himself either.

"Peter, ohhh~! Feels really good~!" Your squeals of erotic, but sluggish pleasure sounded too much like music. Now cemented as one of his all time favorite songs, "Sooo good, I-aaahhh~!"

The bubbly feeling brought upon by Beast liquor made his body burn with ecstasy. His cock throbbed inside you, loving the tight embrace of your walls. Pleasure burned to an incomprehensible level of intensity.

Even your dress felt unreasonably soft on his skin. Peter moaned again, drilling your cunt in unsteady surges of carnal bliss. He breathed thickly, the air between the two of you now sweltering. Choking on air, he kept his slow pace. His cock dug tunnels through your walls at a slacking speed. Completely unnatural for him. But overflowing with intoxication, he thrived in it.

“N-Not gonna-” Peter laughed. His voice a rough, breathless mess of incoherency. Sticky heat flushed his cheeks, and his tone wavered, “‘M not-...god…not gonna last. Fuck. Oh my fucking-” He swallowed another groan, suffocating on it. Peter’s hips rolled, their movement leisurely, “Sooooo tight. Feels like yer tryna-...like yer gonna-...aaaahaaaaafuck.”

Playing with your pearly clit, you squealed. The swollen nub burned, tingling as you circled it. With difficulty focusing, Peter brought his head up. He watched your little fingers while you pleasured yourself. His lidded, dark eyes stared, so spacy, so clouded. A growl caught in the back of his throat. You toyed with yourself a little longer, spreading glossy slickness under your fingers.

Your whines stayed at a respectable volume. Quiet enough, no one outside the barn could hear. But Peter refused to keep his enthusiastic voice down. He dug his big hands into your hips, fingernails clenching your dress. Scratching rough lines into the white cloth.

"Fuck, you gonna-...you gonna keep touchin' yourself like that? Gonna cum for me?" His words slurred. Peter used his immeasurable strength to hold you in place. Stuffing his cock through your pussy’s luscious, spongy grip. He fucked you in lethargic, but needy ruts, "P-Please-ohmygod-...please cum for me, baby. Lemme hear it, please?"

"Noooo~! Pe-ahhhh~! Peter, I cannnn't! Someone might-...Peter I can't-" You whimpered. Swirling your clit, you pushed yourself even further towards climax. A delightful, oncoming wave of scorching pleasure surged in your body. Sizzling through your veins, "OH, FUCK, QUICKIE~!" A sharp squeal bounced from your throat, as Peter surprised you.

"FUCK!! Yeah? You sound so fuckin'-Ah-...Yer so fuckin' good for me. Don't hold back, baby. Wanna-ohhhh~! Wanna hear you scream. Don't you fuckin' hold back-" Moving suddenly fast, he slammed his cock in deeper. His cherry red dick shattered your poor cervix. Burying himself to the brim, he slapped your mound hard with sharp pounds of his pelvis, "Mmmmmmfucking-...gonna fuckin'....aaaahhaha..."

Peter’s body tensed. His heels scuffed along the ground, crushing hay under his boots as he braced his feet. More loose strands tickled his skin where his shirt bunched up. Making him itchy again. But his intoxicated rutting never dwindled. He whined again, his voice cracking. Ruthless, quickening grinds of his cock knocked you hard. Sending you straight into a dimension of overwhelming, euphoric pleasure.

As tremors hummed across your sweaty skin, bliss ruptured deep in your core. At that moment, Peter forgot to consider any further risks. He burst with a hot, white pop of gluey heat. Rocking your sore cunt in sloppy, shallow thrusts. Peter soaked his dick in your sweet, inebriated love. The scent of booze and sex simmered in his nostrils. Lifting his hips, he met you in one or two more reckless, offbeat bounces.

Barely conscious of reality, Peter panted. Lying with you in a clumsy heap, he shared lazy kisses and steamy breaths with you. Had he been anymore sober, Peter would’ve rushed you off to the nearest bathroom. In dire need of a minute’s recovery, he laid there. Splayed out, Peter’s limbs rested loose and flimsy. The seconds passed, and he sobered up quickly. Post-orgasmic haziness began to clear.

You snuggled up next to him, grazing his cheek with your nose. The scent of alcohol lingered on your breath. Remind Peter that, unlike him, you were probably still a little drunk.

“You okay?” You asked out of the blue, tickling his neck with a giggle, “What are you thinking about? You’re not second guessing yourself already, are you?” Your fingers toyed with the zipper of his jacket. Which he gave you to wear in the cold, shortly after fucking you senseless.

In the distance, the faint roar of the party continued on. Rustling from inside the mansion and seemingly endless. Peter stayed silent, before snickering. He turned his head to the side, returning your nuzzles with a kiss. His lips met your hair. The smell of your conditioner made his heart skip a beat for some reason.

“Nothin’. It’s not-” He shrugged, turning his head again. Peter stared up at the glittering string lights hanging in the barn. His coffee bean eyes jumped from twinkle to twinkle, “It’s not super important. Kinda weird to be thinkin’ about it after-uh…” His voice trailed off again. Peter cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush, “Seriously, no big deal.”

You rolled onto your back, watching the lights sway in a cool breeze, “You sure?” You laughed, humming an, “Uh ohhh!” Before you continued, “Did somebody sober up and realize he made a dumb mistake? Hehe…” You teased, though he could hear the sliver of hesitance in your tone. A beat of silence passed, and you hugged his jacket closer.

“Regret wh-...huh? Nahhh, baby. You kiddin’? That was awesome.” He snickered awkwardly. Peter brought his hands to his face. He sighed, “I-uh…I was just thinkin’ about how…I could be spendin’ this holiday with my dad. I mean, shit…maybe he wouldn’t wanna spend it with me, but-”

He assumed you might take offense to this. Wouldn't it come off as a little inconsiderate? To think about his dad right now. After such an intimate moment between the two of you. But being the understanding person you were, you rolled over to face him. Drawing gentle lines into his shirt, you snuggled up close to him again.

“Is that where you wanna be right now? With your dad?” You asked, your tone gentle.

Peter swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A pounding headache swarmed him from nowhere. The repercussions of Beast hooch. Hopefully, such ailments would pass just as quickly as he sobered up.

“I-...yeah? I guess? But…it’s not like I can just-...like, I can’t go see him. Since he still doesn’t know about me, y’know? It’d be weird if I just showed up on Halloween. Like, hey, man, wanna hang out? Goddammit.” Peter shook his head, sitting up fully in the hay. Straw-like strands stuck to his clothes. He brushed them away.

“Well…hey, I got an idea, yeah?” You tried to follow his lead, sitting upward. Swaying a little as you did, Peter could tell you were still on the edge of tipsy. You giggled, “Let’s go inside. And I’ll…try to get everyone together for a movie. Maybe a horror? And you can run off! Go find him. Use the movie as an excuse. Offer him the opportunity to come down and watch. Sound good?”

It didn’t. Erik wasn’t the type to indulge in such activities. Still, Peter smiled fondly at your consideration. Nodding, he stood to his feet in a flash. You blinked, finding yourself lying bridal style in his arms again. With a hand to his chin, you tilted his head down. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks…” He hummed, his half lidded eyes gazing down into yours, “I really did have…such an awesome time with you. I haven't done that kinda thing with anybody in a while. But lemme-uh…” Peter bashfully chuckled, “Lemme get you to a bathroom so you can clean up, 'kay? ”

After the surprisingly deep chat he shared with you, Peter rushed you off to a mansion bathroom. Leaning against a wall, he waited outside the door. As the party settled and people filed out into the streets, he became more nervous. The two of you spent the rest of the night together, by the other’s side. Treating each other as normally as you would any other day. Soon, you sobered up enough to gather the X-family for a late night movie.

Peter took your advice, despite expecting the worst. Zipping upstairs and all through the mansion, he searched for his estranged father. To Peter’s surprise, Erik caught him off guard with a yes. But before he made his way downstairs, Peter took a moment to chat with him. He asked Erik how he was doing, and what he’d been up to. Ever since he chose the mansion for a temporary hideout (an arrangement most everybody felt uncomfortable with).

Erik - for good reason - wasn’t the most emotionally open. He kept their conversation short, before dismissing Peter. They both caught up with everyone else in the living room. The X-family sat together with snacks and drinks, joined for a movie. Erik chose a spot next to Peter on one of the sofas. Something he hadn’t anticipated at all. Since he didn’t get much out of the guy too often, he felt he could settle for his company, at least.

Sitting at Peter's other side, you eventually passed out. You rested your head on his lap, and he raked his fingers through your hair. By the time the movie ended, everyone veered off for bed. At last, calling Hallow’s eve quits. But Erik remained. He spoke to Peter a little while longer. Chatting about nothing at all, and everything at once.

Come next morning, Peter stood tiredly in the mansion kitchen. It was an unreasonably cold Monday in November. Freezing weather seemed to hit Westchester out of nowhere. He held a mug full of coffee, milky white and loaded with enough sugar to send anyone else to the hospital. Scratching his head over a mess of silver hair, Peter yawned. Even though he had more important things to worry about, he couldn't stop thinking about last night. For several reasons.

The impromptu bonding time he spent with his father lingered in his mind. Even if said father didn’t know what their interactions meant to Peter. It happened all thanks to your tipsy encouragement. Peter knew, even sober, you would’ve pushed him to do the same. Because you cared about him that much. Always inspiring him to step out of his comfort zone.

Aside from the estranged dad stuff, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more…steamy moments the two of you shared. Intimate interactions he still hadn’t sat down and discussed with you. Peter didn't have a clue what that little fling meant to you. Or if it meant anything at all. Distracting himself, he focused his attention elsewhere. Like the Halloween decorations littered about the mansion. He planned to take them down today after classes.

You came padding downstairs and into the kitchen not even five minutes later.

“Gooooood morning!” You cheerily said, blinking your sleepy eyes. Groaning, you brought a hand to your head. Your fingers touched your temple, “You know what’s surprising? I actually don’t have that bad of a hangover!”

Peter’s heart did flips, and he felt his stomach tangle in knots. Humming into his coffee, he threw you a casual nod of his head. Play it cool, “Mmmm. That’s good, though, right?”

You headed straight for the cabinets, standing on your toes to reach the highest one. You flailed around for the near-empty tub of coffee grounds. He left it up there without any consideration for short, mansion inhabitants like you. Totally absent-minded. Peter almost felt thankful he did. As you reached, the itty bitty, sleep shorts you wore rose by a touch. The cheeks of your ass caught his eye. Your bottom appeared etched in faint scratches, painted with red splotches. Damn…what the hell did he do to you last night?

Sipping his coffee with a groggy look on his face, Peter grinned.

Man alive, he wanted to screw you sober. Doing it drunk really wasn’t enough. Quickly, he dismissed that thought. Filing it away in his scatterbrained memory for later.

“Did you talk to Erik last night?” You asked, pulling Peter from his not-so-safe-for-work thoughts. You stretched a little further up, really reaching for that tin tub of Folgers.

Peter blinked, “Sorry, what?”

“Erik. I asked if you talked to him last night? Because I kinda remember you two having a chat. But then again, I was pretty out of it!” Your shorts hugged the shape of your cunt as you stood on your toes. An ache stirred in his groin, but he shook it off. Holy shit. What were you trying to accomplish here?

Peter’s heart skipped twenty beats. Sifting through the disorganized cabinets in his brain, he retrieved his previous thought. Ah, yeah. Screwing you sober? Not a want, but a need at this point. Focus, Quickie. He needed to focus. Especially if you planned on talking about something as important as his father.

“Uhhhh…” He ran a hand through his messy locks, taking a moment to process his racing thoughts, “Yeah, we talked. Not a lot, though. I meant to say thanks for that, by the way. Since I didn’t get to last night…” Peter brought his mug to his lips, averting his gaze, “Really. Thanks a lot. Don’t think we woulda had that time together, if you hadn’t pushed me to ask him 'n stuff.”

Still struggling to reach for that tin, you sighed. Your heels hit the floor, as you lowered your arm and turned to meet Peter’s eyes. Your sweet voice brought him an unexpected feeling of comfort.

“Hey, anytime, Peter! I know it’s been really hard for you. Seeing him around here lately. And you don’t need me to tell you the obvious. But-” You timidly gazed down at your toes, shrugging. Peter knew exactly what you were about to say, before you parted your lips to say it.

Something along the lines of: Maybe it’s finally time you told him the truth. Or whatever.

It was too early for this kinda deep, introspective talk. Peter didn’t give you the chance to continue. Setting aside his mug on a countertop, he appeared by your side in a fwip. The breeze from his abrupt movement tickled your cheeks. He reached into the cabinet for the tub of coffee grounds. Handing it off to you with a tired, hooded expression. He sluggishly grinned.

“We got class in, like, twenty minutes.” Peter interrupted, and you took the bait. Whether you knew of his intent to dissuade the previous conversation, he couldn’t tell.

“Oh! Yeah! Shit!” You slapped a hand over your forehead. Peter gazed down at you, admiring your early morning features, “I’m so screwed!” Not yet you’re not, “I totally forgot to put together a lesson plan! I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do today!” Well…you could always do him. Again.

Jeez. Dude. No. The hell’s wrong with him?? Be reasonable, guy! At least take your buddy out to dinner first. Which...yeah. Might be time to think about asking you on a real date.

“Yeahhh. I kinda forgot too. Had a bunch of other stuff on my mind, yanno?” Peter said, completely lethargic. He shrugged, “I’m so bad at my job, man.” He kept his eyes on you, as you threw together your own pot of coffee.

“Actually, that’s bullshit. And I think you know it too. You’re amazing at it. That’s why all the kids love you so much.” You replied. Smiling like you meant every word. Because you did. Man, why'd you have to be so freakin' sweet?

Early morning sunlight beamed through the windows. It bathed your hair and face in sparkling gold. Peter wanted to kick himself for swooning. He opted to change subjects.

“I gotta take these decorations down eventually.” He said, gesturing to the streamers hanging from the kitchen ceiling. For an instant, he remembered tangling himself in them last night, “I keep puttin’ it off. But it’s gotta happen sooner ‘er later.” Taking initiative, he reached up to tear some of them down. Balling them up in his hands.

“I could help you! If you need an extra hand!” You offered, innocently sipping your coffee. Peter took in the curl of your lips as you smiled. He cleared his throat, chuckling.

“Y’know you don’t have to, babe. It’ll literally only take me a second. I just gotta stop sittin’ on my ass.” Peter said. He tossed the balled streamers with a failed, Michael Jordan-style execution. They landed in a nearby trashcan, “Pretty soon, I’m gonna have to put Christmas decorations up too. Might get started on 'em as soon as these ‘re down.” He smirked, “I’m thinkin’ I get everyone some seriously ugly sweaters. Even Mags, if he's still around by then. Oh, and I'll need more Snoopys. The crotch goblins love Snoopy.” Peter paused for a beat, his dark eyes drifting down your body. A subconscious instinct, “And-uhhhh…gonna need lots of tinsel…uh…”

Peter reached for his coffee mug. What was he talking about again?

“Oh? That all sounds nice!” You tilted your head to the side, flirtatiously grinning at Peter. As if you could tell how distracted he was by your body. Heat set aflame in his cheeks, as he glanced up into your eyes. Noticing the way they seemed to twinkle, “Think you’ll decorate the barn again too?” You asked, a flirtatious tease pouring through your tone.

He choked on his coffee mid-sip.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #txt #happy belated halloween !!! oooooo !!

305 notes · View notes

perseephoneee · 1 year ago

Note

Ice-scating with Diego Hargreeves please 🥺

ice skating (diego hargreeves x gn!reader) ficmas 2023

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 3 of ficmas!

a/n: sorry this one is so short, but i hope it still brings all the holiday fluff vibes that are necessary.

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ join my taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Diego glared at the ice skates in his hand, looking at the rink currently populated by families, teenagers, and even the geriatric population. He didn’t want to ice skate. He didn’t want to be here at all. Except that you wanted to ice skate because “the-world-is-ending-and-if-we’re-all-going-to- die-I’d-like-to-do-this-with-my-boyfriend-once.” He had never been that good at turning you down. He just also wasn’t that good at ice skating. You, on the other hand, were a freaking angel. Diego couldn’t peel his eyes away as he watched you glide across the ice, smiling. You even managed to turn backward and let the skates take you. He hadn’t seen you laugh in a long time. You ended up sliding right over to him, hands stopping your motion against the wall as you stared at Diego sitting on the bench.

“Are you going to ice skate or what?” You raised a brow, looking at your boyfriend in amusement.

“I’m working on it.”

“You’re terrified, aren’t you?” you chuckle, poking him in the shoulder as he swats you away.

“I’m not,” he snaps, letting out a huff of air. “Just…never done it before. Don’t want to embarrass myself,” Diego mumbled. You leaned over and took his hand in yours, your mitten-clad hand enveloped in his own.

“You won’t embarrass yourself; you have me,” you smiled before gesturing back to the ice. “Plus, Klaus is embarrassing himself all on his own.”

True to your word, Klaus was prancing across the ice like no one's business. It's not that he couldn't skate (he was excellent). He was acting like he had taken shrooms before getting on the ice. Knowing Klaus, he likely had. His arms were wiggling around as he balanced on one leg and spoke out loud the whims and wiles of the ice. You were glad he was having fun, even though Diego was annoyed that Klaus had invited himself (again) to another one of your couple activities.

“Please? We can get hot cocoa after,” You pouted, and with an eye roll, Diego finally relented. He tied on the skates and wobbled to a standing position, hobbling over to the entrance. You held out your hands, reorganizing your stance so you could support him if he started to fall. Diego slipped a little as he grabbed the wall and your hand, a panicked sound leaving him. “You gotta bend your knees, don’t freeze up.” He let out a hiss, which made you laugh, but he hesitantly moved one foot in front of the other, letting the ice carry him around the perimeter. You skated right next to him, reaching out occasionally to keep him studying. Eventually, he started to relax, and you smiled as he got the hang of it. Diego laughed excitedly as he let go of the side wall. He even whooped as he made his first lap without any help. By the second time around, you skated and grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers with him.

“Thanks for indulging me,” you said, looking up at Diego. He could be a stubborn ass at the worst of times, but he always made you feel supported in ways you hadn’t experienced before in your life. Diego brought your enjoined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your palm.

“Ice skating is pretty cool,” Diego admitted. “Manly, since it has blades.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you chuckled, waving as Klaus circled you. To cause mass chaos, which you were starting to think was Klaus’ mission in life, he reached out for Diego’s open hand and dragged the two of you behind him. This didn’t work out with the intended effect and instead led to all of you sprawling across the ice like a hockey accident.

“Klaus!” Diego growled, reaching to beat up his brother. Klaus rolled away, sending an apology as he skated away. Diego crawled over you like a starfish on the ice as you lay. “Are you alright?” You smirked instead of answering, grabbing the front of Diego’s jacket and kissing him.

“I’m perfect,” you laughed. Diego kissed you again before helping you up, letting you lean against him as you shuffled over to the side of the rink. “Should we get hot cocoa now?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Diego huffed, helping you off the rink and holding your hand to the hot cocoa stand the entire time.

#12 days of ficmas #ficmas 2023 #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fics #the umbrella academy fics

181 notes · View notes

jjkeremika · 1 year ago

Text

The Betting Games

description: it started as an innocent game to pass time, to keep you and eren entertained during the tedious cadet lecture days. it ended as an excuse to torment the other, in more ways than one.

eren jaeger x fem!reader

disclaimer/warning(s)?: fem reader; lowercase; profanity; public touching(fem receiving); NSFW

“hey, eren,” you whispered to the taller boy next to you, the boredom from the guest lecture eating you both alive, “i’ll bet you a chore that jean kisses this dude’s ass.”

you saw him bite back a smirk in your peripheral, and you felt oddly proud for breaking his guard.

he shifted more weight onto his left foot, edging closer to you. “i’ll bet you two that armin does it first,” he wagered.

**************

eren was flicking his pencil against the table when he slid a piece of paper to his right, in front of you. you glanced up at the garrison guest lecturer before moving the paper closer, peering at the sentence lightly scratched into the material.

bet you a meal ticket that armin asks five questions

you snickered behind your hand, which caused eren to look away from you and a few surrounding classmates to look at you. you glanced over to armin, who sat at the front of the room, writing note after note after note.

you snatched the pencil from eren’s hand and quickly wrote a response, sliding both across the table back to him. the grin overtook his face, he tapped the pencil eraser against the table, then nodded.

two for ten.

*****************

eren appeared next to you when you were watching mikasa and annie stretch before their set. he mimicked your stance, his legs anchored into the ground and arms crossed.

you didn’t acknowledge him, but you felt his body heat radiate onto your side and you felt a budding smile.

“what are your thoughts?” eren finally asked once mikasa and annie were called to the field, started to position themselves on the painted ground.

you smirked. “definitely annie.” eren hummed, but you could hear the disagreement. “i’d bet ten chores on that.”

“i’ll take you up on that,” he added, nodding slowly and walking away.

************

“hey, y/n,” eren whispered from the seat next to you, hiding his face from the military police lecturer with his hand, “bet you five chores that reiner asks historia out.”

he gestured with a tilt of his head towards the two blond cadets the row over. you watched reiner draw various shapes and faces on historia’s notebook, and you watched historia giggle and draw something back in response.

you snickered once your eyes carried over to ymir, who sat behind the two flirting cadets with daggers for eyes. “double that for ymir beating him up when he does.”

and eren laughed out loud, a short spontaneous guffaw that was cut short by an authoritative command for silence. eren waved his hand and apologized to the lecturer, turned to you after with wide eyes, pink cheeks, and a smile.

“whoops,” he tittered, slumping a little in his seat and covering his mouth with his hand.

************

“hey,” eren greeted, starting to walk in line with you, “i have a proposition for you.”

“right to the point, as always, i see,” you chuckled lightly. you peeked at him from the side. he was wearing the jacket you bought him for his birthday. “what have you got?”

he took a sharp inhale, which caught your attention. “i was thinking we could bet more than just chores and meal tickets,” he said simply, like you would already understand what he was implying.

“uh, and bet what instead?” you scrutinized, squinting curiously. chores and meal tickets were the perfect bartering chips because they were infinitely supplied and easily passed on. why would he even want to change that?

his face was faintly lit with surprise. “well, uh,” he stumbled, feeling remarkably less confident than he was a few minutes prior, “i’m not sure.”

you laughed, which influenced eren to smile. “well, alright then. great chat.”

*********

the next day, before the first lecture started, right after eren waltzed in and sat in the empty chair next to you, he made his proposal: “ill bet you a month’s chores you can’t stay silent all day.”

“for everyone?” you asked, to which he nodded, an arrogant smirk on his lips.

you leaned back in the chair, put your foot against the tabletop. you hated chores—you knew it, eren knew it, everyone knew it—and, as of last night, it was officially your month to clean the stables.

and you hated the stables.

“starting when and until when?” you followed, which caused eren to lean forward onto his elbows, pleased with how deeply you were considering it.

“as soon as you agree, and after last class.” he gestured to the clock on the wall. “can’t speak at all. to anyone.”

you rolled your eyes. “c’mon. easy.”

“so, you’ll do it?” he was visibly excited at the idea, his eyes lighting up with a thoughtful plan.

you shrugged, and held your hand out. “yeah, why not.” he shook your hand and smirked, and your stomach churned like you might’ve made a mistake.

***********

just before the last hour was up, during the day’s final strategies and formations class, when you were starting to fall asleep into the palm of you hand, you felt eren’s knee brush against yours.

the slight touch lifted your stomach slightly, and you were pretty sure you heard his chair scrape a little closer.

you opened your eyes to see the front of the class when eren’s chair was right next to yours, when eren’s thigh was leaning into yours.

the heat spread to your cheeks and chest when you barely tilted your head to see him with a failed bit-back smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes. he kept his gaze fixed to the lecturer while his hand crept from his thigh to yours.

you squeaked lightly once you felt his fingertips sliding from your knee to your upper thigh, hid your mouth behind your hand and bit the fabric of your sleeve once his hand wrapped around the muscle, firmly held it in his grip.

you glanced at him in your peripheral, but he was already staring at you with a straight, flat face, a stern reminder that you’re supposed to be silent for more reasons than one.

you mouthed a halfhearted threat to him, telling him he’d regret it if he didn’t stop, but the weight dropping in your stomach and fizzling like wildfire meant that you knew you’d regret it if he did.

you watched his attention return to the front of the room as his hand confidently slid to the apex of your thighs, to the dip in your pelvis below your abdomen.

you noticed eren bite his lip at the airy gasp you released in your palm, watched him move his other hand to his own crotch as he tentatively pressed his finger onto yours.

you slumped in your seat, separated your legs to give eren more access, make it easier for him to please you, and you bit back a giggle at the blush glued to his cheeks.

you shivered as his fingers intimately caressed the button on your jeans, breathed a little easier as soon as the button was freed.

his hand easily slipped into the band of your underwear. you blushed furiously from embarrassment, wondered if he’s done this before, wondered if he cared about the hair at all, before he touched his fingertip to your unexpecting bundle of nerves and your entire mind was wiped clean.

your breathy exhale garnered some attention from your peers, but if anything eren secretly thrived off of it, running his finger against your inexperienced, extremely sensitive skin a little faster and alternating the pressure.

thoughts spontaneously entered and exited your head, but all were fleeting. the only one you could focus on was the fixation of his finger of your clit, his being the only finger other than yours to ever be felt, and you can’t even exclaim about it.

your head rolled back and you crossed one leg over the other as eren’s finger sped up, as it rounded out in circles and ovals and who even cares. you fought every instinct to keep your eyes open and mouth closed, directed the growing tension and turmoil towards squeezing your legs together and digging your toes into the soles of your shoes.

he covered his growing smirk with his hand as he felt your thighs tighten, as he kept going. you considered moving the hand that was tightly gripping the chair to the erection he was hiding under the table. you kept your hand on the chair, deciding you’ll win first and repay the bet later. when he’s cleaning the stables.

you bit your bottom lip until you tasted iron on your tongue as the electricity riled inside of you, building into a heated twisted energy held by a capacitor until you heard eren involuntarily groan at how wet you were and you just had to let it all go.

you hid your face in one hand, bit your bottom lip until it bled, tensed every muscle in your body, and dug your toes into your shoes as you felt the spark spread outwards and rush through you. you tightly grabbed his hand, digging your fingernails into his wrist until he stopped, until eren moved his hand from your lap to his.

your chest heaved to catch your breath and you wondered if it was noticeable, and your mind reeled with every thought you’d neglected previously, like whether or not anyone was aware of what was happening or whether or not eren planned it all from the beginning.

five minutes later and the teacher signaled for the class to dismiss, the final lecture done for the day. before eren could stand, you hit him in the shoulder.

“you, fucker,” you sneered, your heart still beating quickly, intending to be quiet but failed miserably, and hit his arm again, your cheeks blushing with another heat when your first thought was to squeeze it, to feel how strong his bicep actually was. “have fun cleaning the stables.”

eren laughed, which took you by surprise and made your stomach flutter, “oh, believe me,” he started and winked, “i will.” you stared flabbergasted at him as he stood up and picked up his backpack, easily slinging it over his shoulder. “bet you four meal tickets you come visit me,” he whispered, winked and smacked your ass, then walked away.

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger x fem!reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren x you #jjkeremika

133 notes · View notes

cinematicgf · 2 years ago

Text

After Hours- 18+ dbf!joel

Summary: coming home from college and staying with your dad means that you get to see his attractive best friend, Joel, all the time, from nights in to neighborhood parties. but as the two of you start to see each other regularly when you’re home for college breaks, feelings start to get involved, all leading to one night in a hotel room.

Pairing: (pre-outbreak) dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smut, minors DNI, dad’s best friend Joel, age gap, fingering, pet names, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, reader in uni, drinking, no use of y/n, a little hint of fluff and lots of smut

~ 3.9k

A/N: hey again<3 this was suppose to be a drabble but i got carried away whoops. I hope you guys enjoy this work of dbf!joel smut and as always, your feedback is always welcome so please like, comment and reblog!

ps. I wrote this over a bottle of wine before going to friends place to drink another bottle of wine so apologies if there’s any mistakes. enjoy<3

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

I'd give it all just to hold you close

The morning sunlight seeps through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the hotel room in a soft glow. Your eyes crack open at the breech of your slumber, as you take in the unfamiliar setting. Usually, in a situation of waking up to unknown territory your heart would skip to your throat and panic would set in, if it weren’t for the warm body and heavy breathing encased close behind you. One large, muscular arm keeping you in place draped over your waist and an all too familiar hint of yesterdays cologne and musk relaxes you into a blissed-out morning attitude. Behind you, of course, is Joel. Joel of contractor and fourth of July barbecue fame in your neighborhood. The man who you had been crushing on since you were a teenager, and now, with your transition into university and spending time apart from your hometown and the residents, coming back meant that you have changed.

You left a naive teenager with a passion for history and came back as a young adult, ready and willing for what life through at you. And no one had noticed this change more than Joel. Taking extra-long glances at you as your back was turned whilst you were studying in the living room, taking peaks at your ass as you bent over to grab yourself a beer from the fridge, oh so kindly provided by your father, and oh god almighty, who could forget the pet names, anything from ‘honey’ to ‘pretty girl’ which, admittedly, use to just be a friendly affirmation of care from the older man, but now sent an electric shock of arousal straight to your core.

There was one slight problem to both of your developing feelings was the Joel was your father’s best friend. Although you and your father were somewhat close, after your mother had decided to bail and your new slutty stepmother had been brought into the mix of your home life, your not-so-subtle feelings of despise toward the woman were apparent. Of course, you wanted your dad to be happy but CMON... did it have to be with Slutty Steph who flirted with quite literally every man who came within a 3-mile radius of the woman?

In your trips back from university to home over the past six months, your “friendship” with Joel had grown into the two of you flirting back and forth with hearty banter which always led to a filthy comment from either of you- (“What would my father think if I told him, you were just checking out my tits, old man” you shot at him with a smirk. “I would simply tell him his darling little girl was wearing these low-cut shirts only when she knew his best friend was coming over”, he retorted, his breath hot in you ear as he brought his hand up to grip your bare waist under your crop top.). Eventually the flirting turned to a sloppy make out sesh one night when your father had gone to bed early and left the two of you with a bottle and a half left of wine. After that night, every time you would come home from university, the two of you would secretly meet up, either to make out and explore each other’s bodies in the back of his truck, or to dip out of a neighborhood get together so he could have your up against a door, blocking anyone’s unwelcomed entry, as he held you with one huge hand under your thighs and another laced your waist, as he whispered the most filthy string of words known to mankind in your ear as you moaned softly as his cock twitched inside you and he fucked up into you at a brutal pace . Eventually, the hand on your waist would have to be brought up to your mouth to cover your moaning as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, the top of his large cock hitting your g-spot at just the right angle, this, accompanied by the leud sounds of slapping thighs and wet noises throwing you over the edge, with his hand still pressed to your mouth as you came, hard, party makeup and mascara running down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and shook in his arms as he fucked you through your high. It wouldn’t take long for his thrusting to get sloppy after you clench around him tight and he would cum deep inside you, holding you still as he stayed in your pussy, muttering praises of, “that’s my sweet girl, god almighty you did so well baby, squeezing me tight like that. Such a good girl for me, always”. This within itself almost made you come again, but soon enough, after he had gone limp and after a few more slow thrusts, the two of your would have to clean yourselves up and go back out to the familiar faces of your neighbors, pretending a man twice your ages and twice your size in height and muscle hadn’t just fucked you so hard against a bedroom door that your knees were now jello and the shirt you had changed into had a higher neckline to avoid suspicious glares at the many bitemarks and hickeys decorating your neck.

Joel, being the most eligible bachelor in the town, or so your high school friends commented one night when you were out smoking in her car on a university break, always had looks from women, mostly his own age, who were so eager to settle down with the respectable, stable (and ever so filthy) man. Sometimes you thought these little neighborhood parties your dad (and Joel too) would insist you come to were just ways that he could find someone and settle down finally. I guess everyone hoped so, or they hoped that they would be the one he would choose. I mean, with his structured face and messy brown curls, his patchy yet groomed beard, muscular arms, giant hands and not to mention the ever-present bulge in his jeans, all the grown woman in the neighborhood would swoon when he entered. He entertained their boring conversations about work and sometimes ever their husbands, but hell, you would never admit to the jealousy it made you feel. Sometimes, after one too many and a boiling of envy in your veins, you would retreat into the house of whichever neighbor had the honors of hosting and lay on the couch so as not to see the women drooling over the guy you were fucking on a regular basis. The one who was so handsome when he got down on his knees between your legs after racing to your fathers house, knowing he was at work. He would kiss and thrust his fingers into your tight hole until you came around them, back arching and moaning so loud you were surprised you didn’t get a noise complaint. The one who, afterwards, would tangle his hands in your hair as he pulled you onto his lap, feeling his achingly hard cock swell against you as your lips collided, sloppy and lovingly, tasting yourself on his tongue. The one who would whisper how sweet you tasted and who always praised you with a “good girl” after taking his cock so deep it would leave you aching for days.

When you were in the house, having the much needed lie down after your subtle (or so you thought) jealous outbreak, it wasn’t long before guess who wanders through the sliding door into the living room, which you’ve occupied. “Sweetheart…”, he drawls in a knowing tone, “Let’s get you to bed”. His voice is low as he leans against the door, one hand placed on his hip while the other rests on his thigh right next to where his jeans look awfully tight. Your jealousy is quickly forgotten in your drunken state, as you feel yourself get slightly wet from his muscular stance and understanding smirk. He noticed your absence and came looking; that’s gotta be something... right? “Why don’t you join me”, you coo, narrowing your eyes and moving your arm slightly to lean on your side, thus emphasizing your breasts in your lowcut shirt. He grins to himself, rubbing his bead as he adjusts his jeans around his crotch. “C’mon, then, bedtime for you”. He steps over. “Weeeeeeeee”, you exclaim as he picks you up bridal style, giggling the whole time. “Are you taking me for round two?”, you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and looking at him doe eyed. “You”, he gives you a kiss on the forehead once you are both halfway up the stair, “need to sleep it over, sugar”. He puts you down in a room and gently kisses your forehead again, “G’night pretty girl”, he whispers. You smile up at him, drunk and looking with such fascination at the attractive older man. “You’re the pretty one”, you whisper, before he chokes back a laugh and kisses you softly on the lips. “Get some sleep, sweetheart, I’ll check on you tomorrow”.

At first it had just seemed like simple fun. Two grown adults fucking around with each other when you came home from university every few weeks for a break. Despite being your dad’s best friend, Joel spent an ungodly amount of time with you, either when you were staying, and you two fucked in private, or when you were back at university, and you would receive those oh so delicious late night calls of him stroking himself, telling you he had been thinking about you and asking when you were coming home so he could taste how sweet you were again. You were glad your roommate had left earlier in the year, leaving the dorm to yourself, because your moans mixed with Joel’s filthy words of pleasure and praise as you rubbed your clit and eased two fingers inside of you while his hand gripped his cock had you both climaxing at the thought of each other and, to be frank, neither of you were very quiet about it. God, your fingers did nothing compared to having his cock inside you; hell, even his fingers.

“I miss you, doll, when are you back.”

“Joel… I was there last week”, you giggled, breathlessly after you came down from your hig.

“I know, I just miss you is all”, he smiled, rubbing his beard, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot actually, I just wanna make sure that uni is taking care of my sweet girl”.

After a few hours and a knowing of morning sleep deprivation because of the call carrying into the early hour of the dawn, you both hung up. You felt different, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of them. That is when you knew that, maybe, you had fucked up a little. It wasn’t just a casual meet and fuck when you were in town anymore. You were both thinking about each other when you were alone and when together, the sparks would fly. But… you couldn’t be in love with your father’s best friend. It was out of the question. Shit… what if he found out? What the hell would he do? You started to overthink and the more you did, you were drawn back to his words, “I miss you” “MY sweet girl”. You decided that you needed to talk to him, fuck it. He would know what to do, and there were only really two options of what could happen. You could tell him your feelings and he could laugh at you and shut it down, maybe even coming to the realization that you were indeed his best friend’s daughter and perhaps this was a bad idea; (despite how fucking incredible you looked when you were straddling him, leaned back a little to take him deeper as you bounced on his cock, riding him so good. He would often come back to that image late at night when he gripped himself and jerked at a rapid pace, pretending he was inside your tight hole). The other option was too exciting to even think about, but you knew it wasn’t exactly ideal… or that he would feel the same. “Sure, he misses you. He misses fucking you, is all”, you speculate to yourself. He is a grown ass man, he has been fucking women since before you were born, what makes you think he is going to want you? A third-year uni student who, may I reiterate, has been his father’s best friend for the better part of roughly seven years. You sigh to yourself as you sit in bed, your textbooks discarded to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry at the inevitable fate of your quick fling with Joel. You decided, fuck it, and sent Joel a text that you needed to talk to him.

And this all had led you here, lying in a hotel room in your university town with your dad’s best friend wedged behind you, naked and fast asleep. Despite your groggy state you think back to yesterday’s events. You had texted him in the morning, throwing your phone aside because of nerves but after the familiar ding a few minutes later, you took a peak and, low and behold, a message from Joel saying he would be there soon. Your nervy state only jumped at this, your uni town was two hours from home, and he was wiling to come today to talk. “Calm down” you told yourself, “It’s not going to go like that”. You laid back down, trying to ease your anxiety, before hopping in the shower to wash off all the unwanted nervousness and brace yourself for tonight. Late notice aside, he had been out front of your dorm by midafternoon, leaning against his truck, sunglasses and a t shirt stretching over the expanse of his chest, tight jeans (thank god for your sunglasses because lord forgive, your eyes immediate go there) and his arms folded. He grins upon seeing you, “There she is”, he chuckled pushing himself up from his truck and untucking his arms to greet you with a strong, warm hug. His cologne fills your senses, making you feel at home again, in his arms. He places a kiss to your forehead, opening the truck door for you as you both speed off away from the uni and through town.

Despite the nerves still kicking in your system, you start to make conversation.

“So, why come all the way down here”, you start, looking at his side profile from the passenger seat and god, if he doesn’t look beautiful. His strong nose and trimmed beard making up the artwork that is his face.

“Because you wanted to see me, sugar”, he replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, about that, how long are you staying, because this may take a little bit”. You stare down at your hands, fidgeting slightly in your seat.

“I got a hotel room in town, we can talk all night, doll” he chuckles, glancing at you quickly with a grin before returning his gaze to the road.

God, you wish you didn’t have this weight on your shoulder, you wish you could just get this over with and be tucked up in bed to cry yourself to sleep once his definite answer, that being, of course, that you two should end it, is said and finalized.

Once the two of you arrive at this hotel room it is early evening. The sun is caressing the outskirts of the horizon, flaming the coast, as your heart is rapidly thrumming in your chest. Joel kicks off his shoes and drops heavily on the couch provided by the room and you sit rigid on the arm, not daring to meet his gaze and not being able to utter a word as the nerves, not most insistent, claw at your throat. Joel notices and pushing himself into a sitting position, his thighs push apart of his hand falling between his legs as he watches you, waiting, his brow slightly furrowed as if he knows what is about to happen. Only then do you decide to meet his gaze. Fuck it, lets just get it over with.

“I want to, um, I wanted to talk about us”, you start, meeting his gaze briefly before your eyes return to your palm as your other hand rubs it. “And about what you said on the phone the other night”.

Joel is still looking at you, his brow has furrowed out of slight confusion, or what was that concern… maybe?

“I have found”, you begin again, slowly, not daring to look at him, focusing on a spot on the floor where the carpet meets the linoleum of the kitchen. Perhaps if you just get it all off your chest first without waiting for a response, you’ll feel better. “That I enjoy your company. I mean. Besides the sneaking away and fucking and video calls”, you say slowly. “I enjoy spending time with you at the parties and I find myself getting excited when I get a response from you over text, it’s just… maybe I’m delusional Joel but, I think I’m starting to have feelings. And trust me, I know that wasn’t the deal going into all this, and I know that I’m just a fuck to you and it’s thrilling, having that danger to a relationship, such as sleeping with your best friend’s daughter, but I can’t help it”, you voice is wavering and slightly speeding up to get this all over with quicker. You can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you continue, nevertheless. “So please, just tell me that you don’t want anything now and it can be over with. We can go to those shitty neighborhood parties and talk to each other as if nothing happened but please, Joel, if you don’t want this, tell me now.” A hint of a tear drips down your cheek as you finish your dramatic speech. Your heart is trying to break out of your chest and your hands shake slightly at his awaited response. You still don’t meet his gaze. He is still sitting in the same position, frowning slightly as he takes in your words, before he lets out a heavy sigh. A small tense silence engulfs the room.

“I feel the same”, he says, just barely a whisper. Your head whips around to finally meet his gaze. You look down at him from where you are perched on the side of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t realize sooner”, he continues, “especially after the call, and what I said to you. When you are gone, I really do miss you, doll, not just the sex, but… you”. He meets you gaze with a tired smile, and you can’t believe your ears. Your towns hottest, most eligible bachelor; the only guy who has made your heart jump like this and, for the record, the only guy who has actually made you come, has reciprocated feelings for you.

You smile lightly at him, “Really?” you choke out through unwanted tears which started at nerve crying turned into happy sobs. He chuckles, reaching his long arm to intertwine your finger with his, “C’mere babygirl”. You push yourself off the arm of the couch and slide into his lap. One hand laces around your waist while the other is on your thigh, holding you steady. His lips meet yours in a closed-mouth kiss. His hand on your waist travels up to tangle in your hair as he inhales a moan from you, using the opportunity to weave his tongue into your mouth, intertwining yours and his in a heated kiss as you grind down on his hardening cock. He pulls away to gaze at your blissed out face, lips swollen and plump, you smile at him through your daze of joy and love for the man in front of you. “My pretty girl”, he says, caressing the back of your hair, bring his hand around to cup your face and running his thumb over your kiss-drunk lips. You kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re mine, sweetheart, my gorgeous girl”. He uses his thumb to ease open your mouth before reconnecting your lips in a tongue and teeth clashing kiss. “I don’t care if your father finds out”, he says between hot kisses and your uncontrollable light moans, “you’re my girl and that is all that matters to me”. You feel the arousal warming your panties at his words, as he slips his hand from your thigh up your skirt. Feeling how wet you are makes him grin against your lips, “all for me?”, he whispers more so to himself. “All for you”, you confirm, gasping as he slips a finger through your wet folds. Collecting your arousal, he coats his fingers and slips them inside you. Gasping, you grab onto his shoulders for support, as he reconnects your lips with his. You bring your hand up to caress his face, as he pulls your body closer with the hand that’s not inside you. He swallows your moans as you ride his fingers. “Good girl, you’re doing so well for me baby. You’re taking my fingers so well”, he praises, pressing his forehead to yours as you both watch his fingers moving in and out. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten quickly, and you squeeze his fingers. Joel speeds up slightly, your mouth falling open as a string of moans and gasps escape you. “Joel, I’m—I’m gonna “. “That’s its baby, come for me”, Joel whispers, sending you over the edge as your head falls to his shoulders; your teeth meeting the skin there. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as he continues to move his fingers in and out slowly, riding out your high. When the stimulation gets too much, you bring your hand down to his, moving it out from inside you. You kiss him, ardently, as he brings both muscular arms to engulf you. When you both pull away for air, you notice your bitemark on his should. “Oh shit”, you run your hand over it, “I’m so sorry baby, heat of the moment I guess”, you breathe. He follows your gaze and chuckles, “Sweetheart, I didn’t even feel it”, he assures you, a cheeky, horny look decorating his features, “Besides, I’m sure that’s not going to be the first time tonight”, he chuckles. You roll your eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder as he hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he carries you to the hotel bed, lips nudging that sweet spot behind your ear.

The day, which had started out as unwanted nerves and hopelessness, as you mourned the inevitable death of your relationship with your dad’s best friend Joel, had ended so much better than you had expected. And as you feel asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his shallow breathing as one large hand was tucked around your waist, rubbing circles on your bare skin, you couldn’t help but smile. He was yours. Now and always.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #ellie williams #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #∘* ✧･ﾟ ➳ audie writes

655 notes · View notes

idontplaytrack · 21 days ago

Note

heyyy! First I love your fics!! Hoping for some more regressed janis! My idea is she’s out with damian and regina in public and she accidently regresses and gets really mad/ upset. Tantrum level. They have to take her home and tell her why it wasn’t ok to throw a fit.

✧ Freak the freak out

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George (ft. Damian Hubbard)

Warnings: age regression, tantrums, crying, implied domestic violence, bit of coarse language, fluffy ending

Enjoy this short little drabble. I hope

“Janis!” Regina hollered, running after the petite brunette in the carnival crowd.

“What—” Damian stares at the chaos in front of him, startled. He was holding onto a churro in one hand, half-eaten. And also Janis’ slushie on the other.

The blonde’s head whipped around, and she spoke through gritted, “Help me, Hubbard.”

The guy gulped and quickly caught up.

“You carry on running and we’re going right home!” Regina warned. Janis slowed to a halt at this threat, she didn’t want to go home yet— she was having fun.

“I told you not to get her the slushie.” Regina huffed.

“It’s just one thing, Reg.” Damian sighed, “She isn’t usually this easily hopped up on sugar.” He swiftly pulled her back by her shirt, “I’m gonna stop you right there because you’re girlfriend’s gonna give you an ass whooping if you make her run any more.”

“I am not that violent, bitch.” Regina snorted, glaring at Damian jokingly. Janis sulked, Regina put an arm around her shoulder. “Cheer up. I only told you not to run because it’s dangerous. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

Janis wriggled free from Regina’s hold and sulked the rest of her way through the night. Even though she was quietly just sipping on her slushie now, Regina knew something was going to go wrong. It was not the first time. And of course, Regina was right. She usually was. After three tries at a carnival game, Regina was down six bucks but still couldn’t win a prize for Janis. Usually, the Hawaiian would simply be bummed. But tonight, she just…screeched and started crying.

Damian and Regina stared at each other, completely stunned. “Yeah, we’re going home.” Regina decided, going back to her car with Damian and holding Janis close. “Come on, baby.”

At this point, Janis wasn’t even looking at where she was going, her face buried in Regina’s side as she wept. Regina hands the keys over to Damian when the shorter girl showed no sign of letting her go. “It’s okay.” Regina held her face by the chin, Janis just looked away, pouting. “C’mon, what’s wrong?” Regina sighed quietly.

Janis doesn’t talk, but the tears just keep flowing. Regina knew Janis really wanted that stuffed panda, but wasting money on that game wasn’t the way to go. She would rather just buy it for Janis at the store. And she was going to. ”It’s not okay to just scream and cry in public like that, Jan.”

“I know.” Janis sulked, “…’m sorry. Is not nice.”

The rest of the ride home to Regina’s was filled with uncomfortable silence. Regina didn’t know what else to do but hold her. She knew Janis was regressed, and had been for the entirety of the evening, but Regina only wished she knew what caused it this time so she could help her better.

“You sure you don’t want me to stick around for a while?”

“We’re fine, go home. It’s late.” Regina smiled appreciatively, “I got this.”

“Alright, good night. If you need anything, contact me.”

Regina leads Janis up to her room, closing the door behind them both. “What’s the matter?” Regina asked, crouching down to Janis’ eye level as she sat Janis down on her bed.

Janis shook her head, mumbling, “ I dunno.” Then she started sobbing again, and apologizing ever so often. “Did Cady make you watch a scary movie?”

“No.” Janis mumbled, “Sad.”

“Oh.” Regina had a similar frown on her face, “I’ll get you that panda soon, baby. I promise.”

“…’m scared, too.”

“Why, baby? What happened?”

“Mama threw something.”

“What? At you?”

“I made her mad.” Janis nodded.

“Oh, you’re okay now. I promise, I’m right here.”

“I don’t like it.” Janis choked on a sob, “Feel funny.”

Regina’s brows furrowed together, studying Janis closely. Then she sees that Janis had a hand on her chest, massaging it like it was hurting. “It goes so fast.”

“Baby, look at me.” Regina held her chin, “Look at me, okay?”

“Reggie, help me. I don’t like dis—”

“Janis, I’m gonna need you to look at me, kiddo.” Regina repeated firmly, “Do what I do, breathe. In and out.”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Baby, you can. You got this, I’ve got you. You’re okay, I promise you.”

Took some time, but Regina got Janis calm again. And asleep. Calm, and asleep. Perfect. But her back was starting to hurt after being on her feet all day. When Regina tried to set Janis down, she woke up, “No, stay.”

“I know, I know.” Regina hummed, “I just want to set you down because my back doesn’t feel good. But I’m gonna snuggle with you, alright?”

Janis agreed after some seconds, “…kay.”

At last, Regina carefully put Janis on the mattress then laid down next to her. At least this way, they were both happy and Regina didn’t have to deal with a heck of a flare up of her back pain the next day.

“You feel better?” Regina asks, watching Janis’ face. As Regina brushed the hair out of her eyes, Janis smiled softly, “Mhm.”

“That’s great, sweetie.” Regina stroked her cheek with her thumb, smiling in relief.

“Thank you Reggie.” Janis laughed sleepily, eyes cheekily peeling open. Regina grinned, pinching her cheek, “Don’t you wanna sleep, hm?”

Janis giggled, nodded her head then snuggled closer. Instinctively, the blonde’s arms around her tightened. “G’night.” Janis murmured, face smushed up against Regina's chest.

“Good night, sweet love.” Regina planted a kiss to her forehead, “Good night. I love you.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

This was sitting in my requests since October😭 I really need to stop taking my time—

#auli’i cravalho #renee rapp #janis ‘imi’ike #regina george #jaquel spivey #damian hubbard #mean girls 2024 #mgmm fics #rejanis #cw agere #sfw agere #wlw sfw #character x character #gxg #anon request #requested fic

22 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Note

Hii, i have gone through all your ffs love them ❤️❤️, i got this video on my fyp and it just made me think of hobie. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJnnLQDt/ It could be a us babysitting kinda thing

Hello, angel! Thank you for requesting ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Synopsis: you and Hobie play pretend with Mayday's toys.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mentions, FLUFF.

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Finally putting Mayday down for an afternoon nap, you stretch your tired arms from carrying the toddler a bit too long. Walking towards the living room you hear Hobie cleaning up Mayday's toys.

"What is Peter feeding that kid? I swear she keeps growing every time we babysit" you stop in your tracks when you see Hobie casually scooping up fake ice cream into a plastic cone. He sits criss crossed on the carpeted floor, in front of him is the plastic ice cream stall.

The toy is from Peter's dimension, Hobie's curious at how the fake ice cream sticks to the plastic scoop with ease, And how it stays on top of the plastic cone without it falling. He whispers a question to no one, 'magnets?' The toys look tiny in his hand.

You giggle, "can I order uh, chocolate with sprinkles"

Hobie immediately plays with the bit, "we don't have sprinkles, just plain chocolate on a cone" he plays the part of a disgruntled employee, Hobie says his line flatly.

You stifle laugh, "fine, three scoops of plain chocolate, please" you sit in front of the toy ice cream stall, Hobie holds the plastic scooper in his hand.

"No three scoops, just one or two" He points at the stall, various 'flavours' of ice cream are displayed in pairs.

"What kind of ice cream shop only offers one to two scoops?"

"There's a dairy crisis" he says the sentence so matter-of-factly, you can't help but guffaw at his straight face.

"A dairy crisis?!" You play along, Hobie cracks a small smile.

"Yeah, and our CEO's lactose intolerant, he doesn't let anyone have their fun. Also he's a wanker for being a capitalist pig" he spits out the last word with so much malice.

You laugh loudly, covering your mouth with your hand so that Mayday wouldn't wake up from the noise. "Two scoops then, in a cup please" you say in between laughs, there's tears in your eyes from all the laughing.

"We don't have bloody cups!" Hobie gestures towards the toddler sized stall, "do you see any cups here?!" Hobie plays his part well. If not for the small smile he has, you would've thought he was actually mad.

You wipe the tiny tears welling in your eyes, "okay" wheeze "okay" giggle "um two chocolate in a cone, please" you manage to let out.

Hobie scoops the ice cream angrily, plastic thumping against plastic. "Here" he hands the toy sundae in your hands.

"Thank you," your laugh finally subsides, clearing your throat. You act, patting your imaginary pockets for your wallet. "Ah, I think I forgot my wallet at home" you smirk at him, "do you take kisses instead?"

Hobie finally cracks, laughing deeply. "Little shit, come 'ere" He lifts his arms up towards you. You scooch, closing in the small distance between you.

Hobie cradles your cheek, thumb grazing your lips before he leans in. You feel his lopsided smile through the kiss, you sigh, looping your arm around the back of his head, the fake sundae in your hand almost stabs him on the cheek.

You pull away breathlessly, "whoops" pecking the side of his face as an apology. "I'm gonna have to report you to management for the bad service" you joke, peppering kisses all over his jaw.

"Snitch" he whispers with a lovestruck grin.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

257 notes · View notes

crazyrav3n · 7 months ago

Text

The devils Mark - Chapter 5 (Peter Steele x reader)

THE BIG REVEAL WHOOP WHOOP

it makes me so happy to see that people actually are enjoying my writing you guys don't know how much I just wanna stalk ur profiles and kick my feet giggling. PLEASE PLEAAASEE PLEASE interact with my works.

Anyway- heres a new chapter! erotica with the big big man coming soonnnnn!

“The show is finished- are… are you alright baby?” Peter mumbles softly as you wake up, nodding your head softly in response. You feel quite sick.

“Let me go start the car. You can return to my place tonight- I don't think you should be alone. Someone roofied you- or something.” Peter mumbled quietly, setting you down on the couch slowly and softly as you heard the door click.

It's hard to not fall asleep as he goes and starts the car- so you sleep for a few minutes before the next time you open your eyes…

He's got his arm behind your back, and his other arm holding your legs up as he carries you quietly out to the car.

“You're okay.” he softly mumbles to you as you feel his thumb rub circles into your back softly.

You can’t muster out more than some groans of pain- feeling sick and extremely tired.

Consciousness slips in and out of your grip, and you feel like you're losing your mind from the lack of sleep.

All you see when you wake up for those few minutes and seconds- is the soft lights of traffic as Peter drives home, the light dim in the car, and no more noise besides the soft clicking in the car.

“Sleepy, huh?” you feel Peter's soft hand run through the strands of your hair.

He chuckles softly as you slip out of consciousness again.

You drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of movement and muffled voices. When you finally come to full awareness, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you realize you're lying on a comfortable bed, wrapped in a soft blanket.

A cool, damp cloth rests on your forehead, and you notice you're wearing an oversized sweater that isn't yours. The scent is familiar - it's Peter's.

As if on cue, Peter appears in the doorway, holding a glass of water. His face shows a mix of relief and concern when he sees you're awake.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching the bed. "How are you feeling?"

You try to sit up, feeling a bit dizzy but much better than before. "I'm... okay, I think. What happened?"

Peter sits on the edge of the bed, offering you the water. "You got pretty sick at the concert. I couldn't just leave you, so I brought you back to my place to keep an eye on you. I hope that's alright baby.“

You take a sip of water, noticing how Peter's eyes never leave your face. "Thank you," you murmur.

There's a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words. You're both acutely aware of the kiss before the concert, the tension of the past few days, and now this unexpectedly intimate situation.

Peter clears his throat. "Listen, about what happened before the show..."

You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue. The air feels charged with possibility.

“I'm sorry for blowing up on you- I was just… Jealous. I wanted you to know- whenever you are around I can't speak.”

Peter takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. "I want to apologize," he begins, his voice soft but sincere. "I completely overreacted at the party and then again with Kenny at the concert. I had no right to get jealous or upset darling.“

“I just-…”

He mumbles, filling the room with silence for a few moments as you two stare at each other, communicating everything without words.

“you- you should know that I like you y/n. I-… I want you all to myself. I realize I can't see you with anyone else after the concert. Let me treat you right.” Peter muttered quietly to you.

He crept closer to you, sitting on the edge of the bed and hurrying back to put his hand atop yours.

“I have-I have more to tell you as well. I don't know any easy way to say this.” Peter mumbled quietly, looking away from you.

"There's... something else I need to tell you," Peter says, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not easy to say, and it might be hard to believe."

You lean in, curious and a little concerned. "What is it, Peter? You can tell me anything."

He takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity you've never seen before.

“Have you seen- my canines when I talk? How…Um… pale I am?” Peter's voice was a little on edge as he spoke.

“Y…Yeah?” You muttered in response. There was no denying you had noticed it quite a bit.

“So- a while ago… maybe… I was around… 15 or 16… and I got attacked- not by… something human.” Peter trailed off, and you felt like you knew where this was leading.

“A…what you would call- someone who…feeds off of blood. Specifically… Human.” everything began to make… sense. The possessiveness- the way he lingered his eyes over any slight glance of blood on you… the paleness…

“I got infected. You may not believe me and all but… I'm what you would call… ”A vampire“ in fiction.”

“This is- a lot to take in… peter,” you mumbled softly- your voice still slightly raspy from getting sick.

“I know- I just… Since I like you- and I want to continue something… I think you should know. I promise to be completely honest with you from now on.” Peter mumbled back quietly, putting his hand on top of yours.

“I have so many questions-” you mumbled quietly to him.

“Ask away sweetheart.” Peter lightheartedly chuckled.

You and Peter talk for a while- asking questions time and time after… trying to comprehend the information he just dumped on you.

“I've been without- well… My food- your blood for days. It's kind of a pain in my ass.” Peter grumbled softly.“ Your mind began to wander- what if… did you offer some out to him? Could it help?

As you slowly swallowed the large pill of information… the more you began to overthink. How were you going to cope with the fact the man you loved… was a monster? Feeding off of other people, harming other people for his benefit?

#peter steele x reader #peter steele #type o negative #reader x peter steele #ao3 writer #fanfiction #wattpad #vampires #gothic horror

39 notes · View notes

thelaughtercafe · 11 months ago

Text

Aoi, Mikan, and non despair! Junko finding out you're ticklish

Tea Type: Rose Boba

Potential Triggers: N/A

Pairing: Aoi/F! Reader, Mikan/F! Reader, Junko/F! Reader

Length: 608

Summary: N/A

Aoi Asahina:

Hina definitely finds out after you guys swim together.

She’s playful, and still fired up even after such an intense workout, well, for you anyway.

She isn’t called the Ultimate Swimming Pro for nothing.

“You’re not nearly out of breath enough yet!! If Sakura was here she’d say we should keep going but…”

She smiles brightly.

“I don’t wanna kill you or anything- swimming can be really tough, or so my brother tells me. So instead!”

She claps happily, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Are you ticklish? I can just tickle you instead so you get a bit more out of our workout!”

You try to stammer in rejection but Hina isn’t gonna have it, sorry lol.

A quick tickler, she likes to jump between spots and you’re so worn out you can barely even keep up, let alone fight back or retaliate.

All you can do is laugh and squirm a little, so you do.

“Wow! This is definitely working! Listen to how loud you are~”

She means well, I swear!

Her aftercare is godtier too, will totally give you a non-ticklish massage to make up for wrecking you so suddenly.

“Sorry if I got carried away; kinda couldn’t help it when you looked all cute and blushy haha…”

Mikan Tsumiki:

Mikan finds out when tending to a wound you have. This is pure self-indulgence for me but let’s say Nagito’s luck “backfired” and left you with a small cut on your stomach. Y'all were cooking and he was cutting the vegetables and when he swung his arm out- whoops. Thankfully, you backed up so it was surface level but Mikan is panicking anyway. You didn’t miss the twinkle in Nagito’s eyes as he sent you off and told you to “enjoy yourself”.

You brushed it off as him being weird as usual but when you got to the hospital with Mikan, and she goes to touch the area around the wound it clicks.

You curse him under your breath as you look away to hide the grin that breaks across your lips as her gentle touch tickles like Hell. She puts a bandaid over the wound after making sure it’s not in need of more severe treatment but when she pulls down your shirt you totally slip up and squeal before a laugh escapes.

You were gonna strangle Nagito later.

Mikan, for her part, smiles sweetly up at you as she stands.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish! That’s so cute! Can I?”

She asks you flat out, all polite so you just nod in shock.

She’s careful around your tummy even with how small the wound is and you find out Mikan, of everyone on the island, has a sadistic streak.

She apologizes profusely after, getting you water and letting you catch your breath but damn.

“Your laughter is just so pretty!! I’m sorry, please don’t hate me!”

She quickly runs out and you’re too tired to pursue.

…Maybe you won’t kill Nagito after all. Maybe.

Junko Enoshima:

Honestly, I think Junko would put it together before she does it- like Byakuya.

She’s got the Ultimate Analyst talent after all; she notices the small reactions you have with others and herself.

Thinks it’s fucking adorable

Initiates it when she notices how sad you are one day, I think she’d bide her time, rather than striking as soon as she knows.

When she does though? Oof she’s a mean ler. Her analyst talent ensures she already knows all your worst spots but she wants to hear you tell her anyway.

“Aw come on, it can’t be that hard right? I’m not even really trying, you know? Maybe you should try being less ticklish!”

70 notes · View notes

monsterfuker3000 · 2 years ago

Text

Training Room

Wrote a little sub!Leon for the people (this is so totally for me. I’ve never written something so self-serving in my life.)

Warnings: sub!virgin!Leon, it’s implied reader has some experience, reader is afab, NSFW, oral (m receiving,) p in v, crying, unprotected sex (*sprays you with a spray bottle,*) RE2 Leon cries after sex and I will not be taking questions or criticisms. Not proofread we die like men, I’m positive there are continuity issues in this but I wrote it with my pussy and not my brain so I apologize. This is for you babes sorry for the wait @jacaerysthinker

Word count is a grand 3,479 I got carried away whoops. I wrote a part 2! It’s called A Lesson in Dining Etiquette

Alright, this isn’t how Leon necessarily imagined this sparring session going, but considering how good it felt to have you grind against him, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

The two of you had gone to police academy together and had quickly become close friends. By sheer dumb luck, you were both assigned to two newly vacated positions in Raccoon City. What are the odds?

Leon was good at what he did, scary good. You, on the other hand, had some trouble. You excelled in every category but sparring, the one curriculum that had allowed you to pass just by the skin of your teeth. Leon worried for your safety because of this, and you knew you needed practice. That’s what landed you in the practice room late one night after everyone had gone home.

You’d been here for hours already, sweating and losing patience. Leon, on the other hand, had barely broken a sweat, his stupid hair still falling perfectly over his stupid face. You were working on an especially critical move, one that would have you sweeping a suspect’s legs out from under them and wrestling them to the ground on their stomach, allowing you to easily cuff them behind their back. This one was really giving you trouble, and you were growing frustrated that Leon seemed to fight you off as easily as he’d swat away a fly.

Nearly every attempt landed you straight on your ass. Leon was kind enough to help you up, but as your best friend, he couldn’t help himself from laughing.

“Maybe we should take a break, you’re not going to get anywhere when you’re this frustrated,” he mused.

“Not yet, I can do it this time,” you spat. He barked out a short laugh.

“Fine. I’ll give you one more try, and after this we’re breaking for dinner. I’m starving,” he replied with a smile. He was enjoying this too much. You, sweaty and panting, alone with him for hours? He’d been half-hard since the two of you stepped into the practice room and hoped to God you didn’t notice.

You didn’t, thank God, you were too busy cursing his name as you tried like hell to take him down, determined you’d do it this time if it was the last damn thing you did. You nodded. You could do it this time.

You moved into your defensive position and signaled to Leon to begin. He moved to attack, and you ran through the steps just as he’d been showing you for the last few hours. Sidestep, grab his arm, kick the back of his legs. Yes! You did it, you finally got him on the ground. Now, to complete the move you just had to turn and plant a leg on either side of his back so you could place your body weight on him, pinning him.

The first half of the move went off without a hitch, you were certain you had him this time. What you didn’t foresee was Leon rolling onto his back just as you came down on him, landing you square on his crotch. You were ecstatic you’d gotten this far, not paying attention to where you’d actually landed, but Leon was a bit distracted by your position.

“Yes!” You cried out, pumping both fists in the air and bouncing slightly. Leon grunted underneath you, but you were still oblivious. “I got you, I got youuu~” you practically sang as you swayed back and forth, still sitting on him. With this shift, however, you felt Leon’s semi under your ass and your eyes widened. “Oh, oh Lee I’m so sorry, I-“ you began as you tried to stand. His hands flew out to grab at your hips, keeping you there.

“No!” He cried out. “No no no, please,” he panted, his eyes screwed shut. “Please don’t move,” he trailed off, his voice small.

Oh my God.

Leon, your best friend, the man you’ve been pining for for months, was whimpering underneath you. You hadn’t told him the huge, embarrassing crush you have on him of course, how could you? You gave an experimental roll of your hips against his and he cried out again, a high whine from the back of his throat. Oh. You could work with this. You rolled your hips again and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“You got a problem there, officer?” you teased. He shivered and his face flushed such a pretty shade of pink, the color dusted across his cheeks and even his nose. You could feel he was now fully hard beneath you. Cute.

“I-I’m sorry I. . . I’ll get up, you don’t have to-“ you cut him off, pressing against his chest as he tried to sit up. You leaned in, your lips just an inch away from his as your breath ghosted over them, giving him a chance to pull back. When he doesn’t, you press your lips to his.

You began gently, placing a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, testing the waters. Leon had other ideas. He moved one hand from your hips to the back of your head, pulling you in and kissing you hard. You gasp, and he uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth. You pull back, surprised, and Leon instantly begins fumbling again.

“I’m so sorry, that was too much I. . . I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long and I should have asked you and I don’t know whatcameovermepleaseforgive-“ you place a hand over his mouth and give him a soft smile.

“Lee, honey, it’s okay. You did nothing wrong. Now,” you replied, glancing down at the very obvious outline of his now rock-hard cock, “are you going to let me help you with that, sweetheart?” He nodded, looking at you with what you could only describe as idolatry.

You removed your hand from his mouth and watched it fall slack, his eyes wide. You lifted yourself off him and moved to unbuckle his belt, but stopped. “Lee, is this okay?”

“Yes, God please, it’s more than okay, just please touch me, baby,” he whined. Even cuter. You still hesitated.

“Have you done anything like this before?” Your question seemed to take him by surprise, and the adorable blush on his cheeks only deepened. He seemed to shrink in on himself as he shook his head slowly. You were astounded. A man like Leon had never moved past first base? Astonishing, but something to ponder over another time.

Your silence and surprised expression did nothing to comfort Leon, and he only became more unsure of himself, seemingly trying to make himself as small as possible. He sniffled a bit, and your heart broke as you watched those big blue eyes fill with tears as he stumbled over an apology.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to do anything, I don’t know how to make you feel good. . .” he trailed off. You gave him another gentle smile and placed a hand against his cheek, stroking it with your thumb.

“Well, Lee, we’re in a training room, aren't we?” You grinned, watching him relax a bit. “Besides, I want to help you. Will you let me?” you asked, looking into those still-teary eyes. So pretty.

He nodded, still shy, and you smiled. You unbuckled his belt for him and undid his pants, pulling them down to his knees along with his boxers. He cried out and you winced; only then did you consider that the rough drag of his boxers over his cock and the slap against his stomach as it sprung upward might be too much for him. Oh, but what a pretty cock it was.

About six inches long and girthy as all hell, it was beautiful. There was a thatch of curly hair at the base, just a bit darker than the pretty blonde on his head, and the tip was such a deep red that it almost looked angry. You couldn’t help but swipe a finger over the bead of precum gathering at the slit and pop it in your mouth, earning an incoherent cry from Leon, along with damn near the widest eyes you'd ever seen. You moaned and smiled softly around your finger at the heady taste, both satisfied and wanting to put on a bit of a show for the man.

Leon was fairly certain you were trying to kill him.

You took him into your mouth as he still laid sprawled on the ground; he decided this was just fine because he knew the second you opened your mouth for him he would have fallen to his knees, whether that be from weakness or exaltation, he did not know.

You took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could, allowing it to push into your open throat and brushing your nose into the curls at the base. He cried out, sounding almost pained, but were you not torturing him? Both of his hands were curled tightly into fists at his side, banging against the padded ground as he tried desperately to keep from grabbing the back of your head and fucking into your mouth. This just would not do.

You pulled away, and he lifted his head to look at you and whined at the loss of contact, his lower lip even sticking out a bit and his eyes still teary. God, so cute.

“Relax, sweetheart, hm?” You took one of his hands in yours and moved it to the back of your head. He wound his fingers tightly in your hair and gave an experimental pull, letting go as if he was burned when you moaned.

“‘M sorry, did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I swear-“

“Lee, it felt good. Besides, what did I just tell you?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he breathed deeply.

“I’m relaxing, I promise, I’m relaxing.” He dropped his head back to the floor and looked up at the ceiling.

You sat up to look at him more directly, once again taking in the full view of that pretty pink blush on his face, and he met your eyes.

“Leon, I want you to do what feels good and natural for you, okay? I promise that if I don’t like something you do, I’ll tell you right away, and I promise I’ll do the same for you. You promise you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or you want to stop?” He nodded but you shook your head. “I need to hear it, baby, promise me you’ll be honest with me, no judgment whatsoever.”

He cleared his throat, wondering when it began to feel so dry. “I promise. I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t like something so please touch me, let me touch you, anything,” he answered. You smiled down at him.

“Of course, honey,” a hint of condescension in your voice. “Good boys get whatever they ask for, don’t you know that? Are you a good boy?”

Leon’s breath caught in his throat and his cock jumped. ‘Oh my God,’ he thought, ‘she’s seriously going to fucking kill me.”

You moved to stand, undoing your pants and sliding them off to give him a view of your panties before sliding them off as well. You straddled him again, sitting so that the underside of his cock was pressed against you as he moaned. You rocked your hips forward, coating him in your slick. His hands flew to your hips and grabbed them, hard. You smiled, he was finally letting loose a bit. You continued to rock gently back and forth, giving him some time to adjust to the sensation before lifting your hips and using your hand to line his cock up with your entrance before using your other hand to grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

He stared, wide-eyed, cheeks slightly squished and eyelashes still wet from unshed tears. “You okay with this Lee?” you asked.

Jesus Christ, was he okay with this.

He whined, hips bucking upwards searching for some friction, stopping when you gave him a stern look. Words. Words. You only accepted words. He could come up with some words, right?

He was frustrated, he just wanted you to touch him already, he wanted you so bad he could barely think. A nearly pained cry ripped from his throat before he began babbling.

“Please, please sit down, please fuck me, please touch me I’ve been such a good boy I promise I have! Please just take whatever you want, fuck me however you want, use me-fuck!”

You cut him off by sitting down, sheathing him in you completely, balls pressed to your ass. You didn’t think he could get any prettier than he already was. But with his back arched, his teeth gritted, his brows furrowed, and his big blue eyes screwed shut, this was definitely the prettiest you’d ever seen him. You tried to bounce on him a bit but he gripped your hips, keeping you flush with his pelvis.

“No, please don’t move yet, give me a second,” he whined. He was fairly certain that if you moved he was going to cum within seconds, and he wanted to make you feel good before he did that. He took a deep breath. “Can you. . . Show me what to do? Is there something I can do with my hands that will make you feel good?” He asked, still shy.

You smiled fondly at him, deciding not to tease him this time, as easy as it would have been. You nodded and lifted one of his hands off your hip, guiding his thumb to your clit and showing him how to circle it just the way you liked. You let go of his hand to let him take over, and he kept up the pace perfectly, even adding a bit more pressure here and there, causing you to buck your hips and moan softly. Quick learner, hm?

“You can move now, please,” Leon whined. As much as he wanted to get you off he didn’t think that he could keep lying on the floor, balls deep in the person he’s loved for months without going crazy.

“Okay baby, I’m going to start slow, okay? Tell me if this is alright,” you said. He nodded and you decided to cut him a break just this once. You placed your hands on his chest and lifted yourself up just a few inches and dropped back down, and he keened, a pathetic sound that reminded you of the time he dislocated his shoulder in training. You picked up the pace, bouncing on him gently as he damn near writhed beneath you, his thumb fighting to keep circling your clit all the while. He’d already gotten you close when you were only seated on him, so it didn’t take long for your climax to approach.

“Lee, baby,” you panted, “I think I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop what you’re doing, keep going just like that.” God himself could not have ripped him away from you right now, so he obliged. You began to lose your rhythm, but Leon, bless him, kept circling your clit like his life depended on it. You came, rutting your hips sharply against his and digging your nails into his chest. He watched your face closely, taking in every detail, every twitch in your expression, knowing damn well he’d be imagining this moment every time he jacked off for probably the rest of his life. Leon’s thumb began to feel a little too rough, the overstimulation getting to you, so you lifted his hand away from you and placed it back on your hip.

“Lee honey, you wanna cum in me?”

Oh my God.

“Are. . . Are you sure?” he asked. He may not know much, but he knew cumming inside was no small thing.

“Mhm,” you replied, nodding and leaning down to peck his lips. “Plus,” you continued, “I want your pretty cock in me when you cum. Don’t you want to see your cum leaking out of this pussy? And I keep telling you baby, relax. I want to hear more of those pretty sounds that I know you’re trying to hold back.”

Jesus Christ. You were actually trying to kill him.

When he didn’t answer because he was fairly certain his brain had turned to mush and started leaking out of his ears, you rolled your hips against him again, snapping him out of his haze. “Come on baby, you gonna ask to cum in this pussy?” you asked. He whined. He would fall to his knees and beg for this opportunity if he had to, and here you were, offering it up on your own.

“Please, angel, please let me cum inside, I wa-want to so bad. I was so good for you, wasn’t I? Darling, I’ll do w-whatever you ask of me, I swear, just please, please let me fill you up with my cum.”

Good enough.

You picked your hips back up and slammed them back down with an intensity you’d been holding back until now. You fucked him almost brutally, and good God did he let loose so you could hear him.

He looked beautiful like this, his hair mussed and spread out on the ground like a halo, his mouth hanging open slightly and his big baby blues glazed over and once again filling with tears. You had him so tightly wound that it didn’t take long for him to get close.

“I-I think I’m-I think I’m gonna c-cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, fuck baby I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” He repeated this like a mantra and you took mercy on him, finally slowing down so you could feel every twitch of his cock as he pumped you full of his cum and fat tears spilled freely from his eyes.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” you asked, gripping the front of his shirt and using it to haul him into a sitting position as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. He buried his face into your chest and freely cried as you stroked his hair and rocked him back and forth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated through sobs. There was nothing you could do but continue trying to soothe him and tell him he had nothing to be sorry about.

He finally stopped crying a few minutes later, settling back down into only the occasional sniffle. You peeled him away from you to look at him, holding his face in your hands and wiping away a few stray tears with your thumbs.

“Hey, honey, what’s wrong? Did you not like something? Talk to me here baby,” you spoke to him gently as if you were trying to soothe a wild animal. He sniffed, his nose red.

“I. . . I don’t know,” he cried, unable to meet your gaze. “It felt so good, I don’t know what happened, I’m so sorry-“

You cut him off. “Hey. Look at me,” you said, and he finally lifted his eyes to meet yours. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lee.” You paused, trying to come up with the best way to explain this to him. “When you cum, Lee,” you continued, “your brain releases tons of endorphins, and sometimes that makes people cry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay?”

He sniffled again. “Really?”

“Really,” you replied. You pulled him back in for a hug and he once again buried his face in your chest. He took a deep breath. He had to ask.

“Is this. . . Is this a one-time thing? Do you want to just stay friends?” He asked, hoping to God that’s not what you wanted.

You chuckled lightly. “No Lee, I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I’d love to do this again, maybe go on some dates, if you want to take me.”

He straightened, moving to look at you as his eyes lit up. “Really? You want to go on a date with me?” he asked, almost comically enthusiastic. “I’d love to take you, there’s tons of places I’ve thought of taking you to, there’s this restaurant-“ he cut himself off abruptly, eyes widening as he realized he just let slip he totally had a crush on you and also totally had said crush for a good long while. You laughed.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, Officer Kennedy,” you replied playfully. He couldn’t help but smile, flashing that crooked grin you loved so much. Then he watched you wince, looking at you curiously with his head tilted to the side like a puppy. You’d felt his cock finally soften, slipping out of you and being followed closely by his cum that was quickly seeping out onto his belly. “Before we do that, though,” you said, “we have got to find some paper towels.”

ZOO WEE MAMA thank y’all for reading! Might write a part 2 where reader gives Leon and intro to *ahem* oral presentation hehe

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re4 leon #spotify #leon kennedy reader #re leon #smut #resident evil #re2 #re2 leon #re2make #re2 remake

394 notes · View notes