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illdowhatiwantthanks · 2 days

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The Bell Pepper & The Big Tomato (The Surprise, Part 9)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, pregnancy times, some pregnancy pain symptoms, explicit language, fluffity fluff, innuendo, implied sex (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Worried, overprotective Emily can be a little overbearing, but she has your whole heart. And while Emily's mind adjusts to being a mom, your body continues to adjust, too.

Week 18: The Bell Pepper

“Em, come here!” you shouted from the bedroom, hearing the door open and shut. Your wife’s bag thunked as it dropped to the floor, heels pounding on the hardwoods as she full-on sprinted to the bedroom.

“What is it?! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” she rambled as she hurried over to you, her hands pressing to your forehead, your baby bump, your wrist, as if to feel for a pulse.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Did you just check for a pulse?! Do I look dead!?”

She shrugged sheepishly before leaning down to kiss your forehead, smoothing back your hair. “Force of habit.” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Really, though, are you okay? It’s 6:00. and you’re in bed.”

“My feet are just sore,” you grumbled, wiggling your toes. “They’re getting all swollen and fat.”

Emily exchanged her work clothes for sweatpants and a tank top, pulling her leg through and stumbling a bit. You giggled. She sat cross-legged on the bed near your bottom half, pulling one of your feet into her lap to massage it.

“I love fat feet,” Emily assured you, smiling and sarcastic. Then she realized what she’d said, and her face flushed. “I mean.. Not like that. Not in a weird way, just…”

You burst out laughing at Emily’s discomfort. “Wow!” you joked. “I can’t believe we’ve been together so long and I’m just now learning about your foot fetish!”

Emily tickled the bottoms of your feet in retaliation, and you squirmed and giggled, fending off the attack.

“Stop, stop!” you called, out of breath, as she fought off a smile. You let out a shaky breath, grinning. “Oh, hey,” you added, reaching into your nightstand. “I got you something.”

Emily froze. “Oh my god, Y/N.”

You looked at her, worried. “What?”

“It’s twins, isn’t it?!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up–equal parts anxiety and excitement.

“What!? No!”

For the briefest of moments, her face fell, but you could tell that deep down she was relieved.

“Why would you even think that!?” you asked, rummaging around in the nightstand to pull out the surprise you’d ordered for Emily last week.

“Last time you told me you got me something it was a baby,” she muttered, placing a gentle hand on your baby bump.

“Yeah, well…” you answered, dropping a stack of children’s books next to her. “That was a one-time deal. I’m not doing this again.”

Emily beamed at you, leaning down to place a kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “Quit hamming, and look at what I got you.”

Emily leafed through the books. She winked at you. “Building his library already?”

“No, honey, look at the titles.”

Emily examined Where the Wild Things Are, her eyes widening.

“Y/N, this is–”

“In Arabic!” you squealed, unable to contain your excitement. “Look at the others!”

Goodnight Moon in French. The Snowy Day in Spanish. The Rainbow Fish in Italian.

Emily’s words seemed caught in her throat as she flipped through the pages of Bonsoir Lune.

“You couldn’t figure out what to say to her,” you explained. “I thought maybe you could read to her. I thought…” You were suddenly and inexplicably nervous, afraid that Emily might not like to be reminded of all the places she’d lived, all the languages she’d had to learn. “I thought you might like to read to her in your other languages, but… maybe it was a stupid idea. It’s okay if–”

You made a little noise of surprise as Emily pressed her lips to yours, her hands on either side of your face. She kissed you again and again and again until you were out of breath and giggling and red-faced.

“They’re perfect, honey,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours. “Thank you so much.”

With one last peck on the lips, she positioned herself perpendicular to you, so that the back of her head rested between your breasts and your baby bump. She took a shaky breath, smiling, eyes wet, and cracked open Bonsoir Lune, placing a comforting, absentminded hand on your baby bump before starting.

“Alright, baby Jules,” she said. “Laisse moi te raconter une histoire.”

You didn’t understand the words, but you knew the book well enough that you could follow along. It was exciting to know that with a mom like Emily, your baby probably would understand the words–no matter what language they were in. After all, you were starting early.

You played with Emily’s hair as she read, running a slow hand through her cool, dark locks.

“Dans le grande chambre vert il y a un téléphone et un ballon rouge et un tableau…”

Week 19: The Big Tomato

Early May in DC was, in your opinion, perfect hiking weather. Just chilly enough for a jacket, not yet warm enough or nice enough for hordes of people to be out on the trails. Emily would almost always prefer the gym to a hiking trail, but she knew you loved being outside, that you missed being in proximity to nature downtown. So every once in a while, she indulged you.

This Saturday was one of those indulgences. She’d even gotten up early for you because you preferred a morning hike. Nice and cool. Dew still on the grass. Quiet. A thin layer of fog if you were lucky.

Sweet, sleepy Emily who took the coffee you pressed into her hand. Emily who grabbed your head and pulled it toward her and kissed it and said, “Baby, it’s too early for you to be this peppy.” Emily who yawned the whole way to Rock Creek Park, but squeezed your bouncing leg and smiled just the same. Just because she knew you loved it, and she was happy to give you the things you loved.

It was an easy hike, only about three miles. One you’d done plenty of times before. But Emily, still waking up, dragged behind you, the backpack–which included water, snacks, and first aid at Emily’s insistence–weighing down her shoulders. You were a little more taxed than usual, thanks to the little parasite attached to the front of your body, but mostly you were just excited to feel well enough to be out there.You skipped a rock into the creek from a bridge, relishing the smell of the moist earth and the little gurgling sounds of the water passing underneath you.

Emily leaned against the bridge railing and exhaled deeply, rubbing her shoulder. She smiled as she watched you root around for more things to throw in the water–sticks, leaves, big rocks.

“Did you see that!?” you called, the stone you threw skipping twice and then over a bigger rock.

She nodded, trying to appear as enthusiastic about the rock as you were. “Yeah, baby, that was great.”

You grinned and walked over to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you,” you said, unprompted. “Now give me this backpack.”

“No!” she protested, standing so you couldn’t reach it.

“Em, you’re tired,” you argued. “I can take it.”

“I’m not gonna let my pregnant wife carry the backpack while I carry nothing. Don’t even try.”

You shrugged and backed off. “Alright, but we’re only half a mile in. There’s a lot of hike left.”

“Nice try,” Emily said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You just walk and find your little rocks and look pretty, okay?”

“Okay,” you conceded, walking ahead to step from rock to rock. You gasped as you tilted forward on one of them, adrenaline flooding icy-hot through your veins. You’d never seen Emily move so fast in your life. She grabbed your arms hard, widening her stance around you to keep you from falling.

“Y/N!” she yelled, her voice sharp. You knew she wasn’t angry, just scared. She helped you step down from the rock, never once letting go of your hands.

You breathed heavily, a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead.

“You okay?” she asked, pushing your hair out of your eyes.

The world spun around you, making your stomach flip. You sat down heavily on the rock. “Yeah, just… really dizzy all of a sudden.”

Emily removed the backpack from her shoulders and squatted next to you, pulling a water bottle from the side pocket. “Drink.”

Normally, you’d have a snide comment ready. Something to reassure her that you were okay, still yourself.But your head was still reeling. You drank obediently, and that’s how Emily knew something really was wrong.

She watched you closely, eyebrows furrowed, hand steady on your shoulder, as you tried to breathe evenly, shutting your eyes against the spinning world. You placed a hand on your stomach as it fluttered. There were several minutes where neither of you spoke, you trying to slow the dizziness and Emily trying not to freak out about you.

“How do you feel?” Emily ventured after a while, rubbing your hand with her thumb.

You were silent, avoiding her eyes.

“Honey, I think…” she started, knowing it would break your heart. “I think maybe we should head back and go home.”

You still didn’t respond. You knew she was right, but you wanted so badly to be out here, to get back to normal. You knew the baby was worth it, but sometimes you felt like carrying her meant losing parts of yourself. And you didn’t know whether you’d ever get them back.

You sniffed, your eyes growing wet.

“Hey,” Emily soothed, moving closer and pulling your head to her chest. “Hey, it’s okay. We can try again next weekend. Hell, we can go every weekend if you want. Don’t cry, honey.”

“I’m scared, Em,” you whimpered.

“Scared of what?” she asked, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m scared I won’t be the same. I’ll just be a mom.”

Emily rested her chin on the top of your head, planting a kiss there. “Honey, you probably won’t be the same. Neither will I. But you’ll never just be a mom. You’re you and you’re a mom. It’ll be a part of who you are, but not all of it.”

“Just…” you leaned into her, keeping your eyes closed as your head whirled. “I don’t want to lose myself.”

“I won’t let you,” Emily reassured you. “I love you too much.”

She rubbed your back for a few minutes then leaned back so you could sit up, pressing your fingers to your forehead. “You think you can try to walk?”

You nodded, holding tightly to her arm as you stood. She kept her arm looped tightly through yours as you made your way back along the short stretch of trail you’d managed.

About halfway through you stopped and bent, wincing, as a sharp pain shot up through your groin and around your hips. Your stomach felt like it was doubling over on itself. You knew they were growing pains, your body making room for the baby. But they still took you by surprise as they wrapped around your pelvic muscle and snaked their way up your back like licking flames.

You shook, scrunching your eyes closed, your breathing labored. You were trying so hard not to move, not to do anything that would make it worse.

“Hey!” Emily cried, bending down to meet your eyes, her hands running all over you, trying to figure out where you were hurt and how she could help. “What’s going on!? Where does it hurt!?”

“Cramps,” you hissed, gasping as another ripped through you, nearly doubling over.

“What do you mean!?” she pressed. “Is this normal!? This doesn’t seem normal.” She was so frantic, you couldn’t really tell if she was talking to you or to herself.

Emily seemed to make a decision. “You know what…” she started, but didn’t finish. She bent down and wrapped one arm around your back, going under your knees with the other, and lifted you into her arms. It took you so off guard, your stomach did somersaults, and you grabbed onto her neck for support.

“Emily!” you protested. “Put me down!”

But Emily was beyond listening, beyond reason. The animal part of her brain that lived only to protect you and to protect her child had taken over, and she was carrying you swiftly down the trail toward the parking lot as if you weighed nothing.

“Babe, do you think it’s contractions!?” she asked, her voice urgent with both effort and anxiety. “Should we go to the hospital?!”

You watched her and felt a surge of love for your wife. She took such good care of you. Of both of you. “Honey, no,” you said, trying to comfort her as she huffed her way through the parking lot toward the car. “I’m only halfway through. It’s way too early for contractions. It’s round ligament pain. No big deal.”

She was panting as she lowered you gently into the passenger seat, watching you with scared eyes.

“Em,” you prompted, reaching out to push a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m okay, I promise. I probably just pushed myself too hard.”

She seemed to think about this for a minute, placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your baby bump. She sighed. “Alright. But we’re going straight home and you’re gonna lay in bed. No arguments!” she added, before you could object.

Emily got settled in the driver’s seat, starting the car and pulling hesitantly out of the parking lot. She kept shooting worried glances at you, like you might break at any moment.

“I’m fine, Em,” you told her, sliding your hand under her shirt at her shoulder and resting it there.

“If it happens again today I’m calling Dr. Delgado.”

You were both silent for a few minutes. Emily’s silence was anxious, but yours? Well, how were you supposed to feel after your hot FBI agent wife carried you to the car bridal-style because you had some pregnancy pains?

“Maybe,” you suggested, “you could run me a bath at home instead? That might help.”

Emily nodded, thoughtful. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“And, uh,” you continued, flushing, and placing a hand suggestively on her thigh. “Maybe you could join me?”

“Well, I'm not leaving you alone. Not right now.” Emily was not getting it.

You sighed, frustrated, and tugged at the waistband of her joggers. “You know what would really make me feel better?”

It finally clicked. She swung her head at you, then back to the road, a look of pure shock on her face. “That’s what you're thinking about right now!? I just had to perform a wilderness rescue and you want to have sex!?”

“Wilderness rescue, my ass,” you said, shoving her shoulder playfully. “We were like a quarter mile from the parking lot. And I could’ve walked if someone didn’t want to play knight in shining armor.”

She smirked at you. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

“Oh, I more than liked it.”

Emily grinned, cheeks red.

“In fact, I’d like to show you exactly how much I liked it,” you finished, taking her hand in yours.

“Alright,” she conceded. “But you’re getting in bed and resting after.”

“Fine,” you agreed.

“Fine.”

You sighed like a lovesick dog, watching Emily bite her lip as she thought about what was to come. “You’re really hot,” you blurted out without thinking.

She laughed. “And you're really horny these days. I gotta carry you more often.”

“Please,” you begged. And it wasn’t the last time you’d be begging today.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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lizaluvsthis · 17 hours

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Sparks in the air

This fanfic is dedicaded to @shygirl4991 and @alianarepasa for Mothers Day! Thank you for being our found family!

Summary- Smg4 receives an official invite from a group of famous content creators such as himself to work with them.

It's always been a dream for him yet he has to leave his home and friends forever. After careful consideration, he decided to pursue his dream and packed up his things.

His friends threw him a going away party, and he was sad to leave but what bothered him the most was that he hasn’t seen too much of his meme guardian partner lately since he announced he was leaving...

INSPIRED BY - The show “Friends”

References:

Notebook (from Spiderverse Part 1) -Liz

Holding hands episode -Aj

Written by @itsajanea and @lizaluvsthis

Illustrations by @lizaluvsthis

Gmods by @itsajanea

COMBINED IDEAS BY THE EGG N’ BEEG DUO

[AJ]

3rd Pov

“GUYS, GUYS LOOK WHAT I HAVE!” Smg4 yelled excitedly, running into the room, and waving what seemed to be a half-open letter. The crew looked at him with confusion but expected it was good based on his reaction.

“ I got an official invite to work with the best content creators!!” The blue meme guardian starts jumping up and down, waving the letter in the air.

The others were happy for him and celebrated with him.

Something slipped from the inside of the envelope and fell onto the floor, Meggy picked it up and stared at it before turning back to look at the happy Smg4.

“Ummmm Smg4, did you read the ENTIRE letter?” Meggy calls out to him, catching everyone else's attention as she waves a small plane ticket.

Smg4 looked back at the invitation in his hand and took out the letter from the envelope only to realize it was also talking about him moving away from his current residence

“Oh, it says that I will be going away for a long time…” What once was happy cheers turned into a sad moment of silence, until Mario shuffled up to him and gave him a big ol hug.

“Mario understands how much this means to you, and Mario is very happy.” He softly said, hugging the other tighter while he held back some tears. Smg4 hugged the red plumber back and soon everyone joined in the group hug, it was nice and comforting for the man.

All except for one, Smg3. He looked back at the group making sure no one noticed him hiding his tears before running off.

Smg4 Pov

It's been a couple of days since I got that invite… I should be finished packing by now, yet I don't want to move.

I’ve been lying here, staring at the ceiling for quite a while and I hear some noise outside.

They told me earlier that I should stay in here for a while so they’re probably throwing a party for me which is nice but… something feels wrong.

I sat up and looked at the boxes surrounding the room, I finally got up and walked around the place, reminiscing about the time I spent here.

I spotted a glimpse of a certain picture inside the box and I took it out. I smiled seeing the picture of me and the gang, we all looked so happy, I pulled out another picture from the box and it was of the two of us.

“Three…” I frown just thinking of him, I haven’t seen him in a while since I said to everyone that I accepted the offer.

And even when I DID see him, he’d just avoid me.

I bet he’s just mad that I got a good deal instead of him. I rolled my eyes and shoved the picture back into the box, walked away, and found myself looking back at the box.

Even though I'm a little mad at him… I’ll still miss him, like everyone else but I think I’ll miss him the most. But we know that I have to leave soon, so I better finish packing.

I grabbed an empty box and started packing some stuff in it, later on, I finished packing all my stuff so I took off my hat, lay on my bed and I stared at the wall to my right.

I waited for a while for the others to finish outside but I can’t help thinking about him. I turned to the left, looking at that space beside me and for some reason, I felt something was missing in that very spot.

I closed my eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.

…

Suddenly I felt a gentle breeze, I opened my eyes and found myself sitting on the grassy plains, staring at a purple sky, It was a sight to see and reminded me of someone-

I looked around the beautiful plains and saw 3 in the distance, I got up and rushed over to him yet I had a weird feeling.

When I called out his name, he looked at me with an enraged look, clenching his fists and what shocked me more was when he spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Congratulations Smg4, you got what you wanted, now you can go off with your new friends.”

He then started walking away, I tried catching up, pleading with him to understand what he meant. I thought he would understand.

I tried reaching my hand out to him

and then the next thing I knew… I woke up, realizing I was reaching for something that wasn’t there

I tried relaxing my mind because it didn’t matter, for now, maybe I’d see him later and we could talk if he would be here.

“Oh ES-EM-GEE-FOUR!” I hear Mario’s call, which means I can finally come out now. I fixed my hair, put on my hat, and was ready to get out.

When I stepped out, I noticed all the decorations and everyone I knew. They all yelled out in excitement and came rushing towards me. I was overjoyed, even though it may be the last, I'm glad to see everyone again.

While chatting with one of my old friends, I see Smg3 just standing there.

I excused myself and walked up to him til Mario just popped out of nowhere. I was stuck talking to him for a while and saw 3 leaving the party too soon. He looked at me with a cold stare before disappearing from my gaze.

What did I do wrong?

3rd Pov

It was after the party that Smg4 couldn’t sleep, that look 3 gave him shook him to his core. It made him angry for some reason. Why couldn’t he be happy for him just once, just because he was the one who got an amazing offer?

4 could’ve tried sleeping, his flight is in the morning but it bothered him too much to the point where he decided to go march over to 3’s place and give him a piece of his mind.

He took his hat and entered the shop, while riding down the elevator he thought of what to say and then

Ding

He got off the elevator and yelled out

“THREE! WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN AVOIDING ME THIS PAST-”

Smg3 sat on his bed, hugging himself while he cried in anguish. Surrounded by a mess and Eggdog, who was trying his best to comfort his beloved father he still weeps.

4 felt devastated, he felt sick to his stomach seeing the other in this state. He had never seen 3 in such a terrible state like this before.

“Three…” He softly says, slowly approaching the other before 3 stared at the man intensely, his eyes were red and puffy, and he kept gasping for air and felt his body tremble.

“Get out.” 3 quietly answered, pausing to wipe his face on his shirt. “Now…”

“But I-”

“I SAID GET OUT, GET OUT NOW” he raised his voice and threw the nearest object he could find at 4.

4 was able to dodge it but he still had goosebumps. Before he could speak, 3 threw another object at him and kept throwing more and more objects while yelling at him

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!”

[Liz]

A moment without thinking, he threw the only thing that felt important to him…

His secret diary… his notebook… the one that he hides most often when he’s around with four or any other of the crew members.

“Three! Please stop- we can talk about this-” Four trying his best to cover his face with his arm on defense.

He was brought by surprise just the second he saw a notebook coming closer that was about to his face.

It was too late for him to dodge it, right after the split second he noticed that it was SMG3’s diary. The sharp corner hit his forehead and fell to the floor.

“OW!” SMG4 knocked himself back to the ground, with his eyes closed. His hat fell off to the floor, and the amount of pictures and notes flew out of the pages from three’s notebook.

Like how it exploded in the air.

The notes and pictures that scattered across the room, gave Three a quick moment of realization then his face turned pale. Feeling shocked after realizing what he had just done.

Seeing Four has a tiny scratch from the impact and the purple notebook he owns. Just right in front of him…

Three starts to panic after he gave himself a second to think, he f-cked up pretty badly…

“SHIT- SHIT- SHIT!” he hurriedly grabs the photos and the other notes lying on the ground, and Four rubs his forehead then finally opens his eyes to see papers falling.

As one of them falls and lands in Four’s hand, he slowly picks up the note to try and read what the handwriting says.

Three’s handwriting is oddly new to him since he’d never seen much of his writing before, looking a bit closer now. He reads a simple note of-

“Today, Four made me laugh. I honestly hated how soft I am to this baka but the joke was funny tho.”

Then to the bottom after the text, it shows a doodle of him and Three laughing together, just the two of them sitting on the bench.

“What…” he saw two marked pink colored hearts, one beside four and one beside three.

Three’s heart started pounding, this can’t be happening to him right now. But then again it was too late to stop him.

As Four carefully placed the note down with now seemingly widened eyes, his other hand moved to the other side reaching out for another picture.

It was a picture of him and Three back when they were both in their recolored designs. Back when Three seemed to like Four a little bit…

The picture is back on Christmas when Four insists on taking a selfie with him and Three while Mario is the one to use the camera. SMG3 felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea but Four still insisted.

Grabbing him around the shoulder, Three is seen blushing red in the camera while Four just smiles casually.

[AJ]

“You kept this….” 3 took the picture away from him, his face was red and he was extremely frustrated with 4.

[Liz]

“I…” Three wanted to respond but never dared to. SMG3 felt like his whole world tore apart right after a single thing he’d done. Now everything about his friendship with Four is destroyed.

Four tilted his head from side to side seeing all of the notes that were all mostly drawings of him and the pictures Three and him have been together or even without three and just him only marked with pink hearts all over.

“Three… you… you’ve been hiding all of this from me this whole time…?” Deep silence caused Four to get more upset. “Three… please…” “Stop.” The notes three were holding are now crushed right after clenching his fist.

“YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AT ALL!” He slapped Four’s hand away after trying to reach him.

“Then just tell me-”

“FOR MEMES SAKE- WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO DENSE? I LIKE YOU IDIOT?!”

Three snapped out to Four as soon as he kept pushing Three to finally admit these feelings that he’d never given to him years from now.

Four, still lying down on the ground, looked up at Three to see the tired look on his face. His red cheeks were visible enough and had been caught in tears streaming down from his eyes.

He took a harsh breath and began to avoid his stare, he looked down to his side. “There…” he took every second to catch up on his words, taking deep breaths to regain his stamina.

“Now… you know…” his eyes kept watering, it made him want to wipe it off. He was still mad at him during this time, he just wished that Four would go away.

Yet the man refuses to leave him alone.

Smg4 Pov

“Why didn’t he tell me…?”

My thoughts wandered from his act, I had never seen him like this before.

But when he finally said that he had feelings for me… I didn’t know why it just stabbed my heart after hearing him this broken.

I spoke right to his front, trying to understand why he kept avoiding me.

"But why 3... if you felt this way, then why didn't you at least see me one last time?"

“Was it selfishness…? Was he jealous…? Did he hate it when I said I was leaving…?”

Three as soon as he wiped his tears, he turned to me and stared right into my eyes with hatred and pain.

"BECAUSE IT HURTS FOUR! It hurts so bad seeing you leave and I CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT IT…"

…

Oh…

(shit… I fucked up pretty badly… didn’t I…)

As much as I want to follow the path I’ve always dreamed of achieving, I promised myself to never hold back. Never LOOK back. But just seeing Three like this I don’t think I could ever say no just by baring to look at his eyes.

“Three… you know we both have been friends right…?” I saw him backing away from me and avoiding my glances, He kept picking up other of the notes that were left on the floor as soon as I saw the notebook right in front of me, one of the pages seemingly read as “SMG4” which was my name, is written on the lines.

“Dear Diary, I wish that SMG4 would have stayed here. But there's nothing that I can do now, I guess no one ever stays the same once there is one important thing way ahead in people's lives.

He’s leaving too. I don’t want him to, there's so many things that he’s done here. And now that he just started to leave? What kind of idiot does that man think he is? It’s not fair.”

There was a space gap in the paragraph, the last sentence is crossed out of the line. I leaned in closer to read the final letters. “I wish I could tell him- about how I feel-” The notebook is shut closed in my face as Three snatched it away.

“You’re moving away from us today… Leave me be… I don’t want to discuss any of this anymore” Three puts the remaining notes back on the pages and puts them back in the drawer, shutting it loudly.

Third Pov

“You should leave… Before you might miss the airport” Four got up from the ground and picked up his hat, putting it back on his head. “Can we just talk this out?”

“You don’t want to know how heavy it is to me when you’re gone.

I’ve waited every OTHER MOMENT of our time to get together but NO!

You wanted what you wished to get and you already had your time here, you enjoyed the celebration, the party, your friends, Mario, and everyone who was all up to support your dream. But me?

I’ve already run out of time, thinking about what could happen between the two of us, when you’re not by my side…”

Four wanted to speak to him, he wanted to hug him tightly. If he had to choose between the options of either leaving or staying, he could never decide.

What will he ever listen to? His heart or his head? But he could never decide about this, not with the one he loved, his friend that he broke his attachment to just because of moving far long away.

Which one should he decide…? Even though it was his dream… his partner…

He had already decided that following his dream was the only choice for him to do so, yet he also had no choice since he accepted that letter.

“I’m sorry…” Four backed away and ran to the elevator, Three was left alone from the scene.

—--

Four had finally had his luggage packed and was hugged by Mario and then by every other of his crew members.

“Mario’s gonna miss you very much!”

“I agree with Red, things are never the same without you around and…” Meggy and Mario gave each other looks and went completely silent right after they gave a sad one.

“Guys, what’s the matter?” They both looked at him with sad eyes as Meggy spoke the second time.

“Three was barely seen around the party. It seems like me and Mario wondered that it’s worrying him that you’ll be gone…”

Mario pulled out a meme quote out of the random. “Mario smells GAY DRAMA from you” His mustache grew as he sniffed him.

Four couldn’t help but think about what happened back to his lair. Was it all true? Did he- as in SMG3 have this kind of romantic feeling for him?

He tried not to think much about it since he was running out of time.

He knew he had to go but there's just something wanting to let him stay there, someone… who in particular was Three.

“Oh, yeah right. Him…” He immediately felt bad about the words he said to him, he couldn’t ever forget about it, it felt like the words were stuck to his head.

“SMG4- did something happen with your boyfriend? Did you both fight or something?” SMG4 flinched after hearing Mario say the word.

He began to back away from his words defending himself “What? We’re not boyfriends! He and I just had a misunderstanding- "On what exactly?” Meggy grinned in curiosity.

[AJ]

A honk of the bus caught everyone off guard, They all knew this moment would come sooner or later and they all had to be strong for their friend.

The crew gathered for one last hug before Smg4 stepped onto the vehicle.

He sat down and looked outside the window, seeing everyone waving him goodbye while the bus began to move.

He had one last glimpse of them, the showgrounds and Three’s Coffee shop.

He only saw for a moment, but swore that he did see Three watching him leave before going back inside.

The man in blue felt blue once again, he put on his headphones and watched some memes to make him feel better but nothing helped…

Smg4 then closed his eyes for a little while, waiting for him to reach the airport.

—--

After he was cleared for inspection, Four got on the plane earlier than expected. He should feel excited, overjoyed, and thrilled even for this wonderful opportunity yet he still feels upset.

He felt tired, he took his hat off for a breather and ran his hand through his hair. Looking at the lights and looking back down at his hat, noticing a small folded-up note inside.

Smg4 opened it up, expecting it was a fun quirky letter left behind by his friends but instead he was greeted with an old photo he took with Smg3 not so long ago, before the whole YouTube thing.

He had convinced Three at the time to take a selfie with him, Four giving his usual goofy grin while Three who was looking at the other just smiled, with his face colored with a bright tint of red.

There was also an added note written in purple ink, “I just love him and his goofy ahh smile so much” dotted with hearts.

The whole world felt like it stopped for Four, he held the picture close to face and he now knew for sure that deep down in his heart.

“I love him”

Smg4 Pov

“I love him, I do love him!” After so long I finally understood, I always felt that we were just more than friends. GOD I’ve been such an idiot, It's been so obvious this whole time!

I just love him so… but if I do love him, What the heck am I doing?

I look around me to see the plane filled up, If I do love him what am I still doing here?

This whole YouTube thing can wait, I need to see him, I need to get off the plane.

I put back the picture and wore my hat, grabbed my bag, and was determined to go after him.

Jumped out of my seat and rushed down the aisle, I could feel the stares of people I passed by but It didn't matter.

“Sir, you need to go back to your seat.” The flight attendant lady stood in my way, denying me the exit that was right there.

“But Miss-” I replied “I need to get off, I need to do something”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to leave-” We felt the plane shake as it began to take off.

Oh no.

—-

3rd POV

After a long day of serving customers, 3 placed a sign on the front door saying “We’re Closed”, grabbed a broom, and cleaned up. He sighs, wondering what could have been. If he had told 4 sooner than later, Would they have been happy? Would they still have to come across this problem? But, It's too late anyway, 4 made up his mind and he has to deal with it.

Smg3 kept on sweeping and sweeping, then he heard somebody enter.

“Oi! Shops closed!” He didn’t bother facing the person, he wasn’t in the mood at all.

“3…”

He recognized that voice, it was impossible. He turned around to see if it was real.

“I got off the plane” It was Four, standing in front of him with a sincere smile.

[Liz]

Smg3 scanned the area where Four dropped his suitcase.

The suitcase tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, and it landed face down, the wheels clattering against the floor.

Three’s face contorted into a surprised expression, His partner darted forward, sprinting to embrace him and open his arms wide.

Four’s arms held tightly to SMG3’s waist, and he lifted him into the air, spinning him around quickly, with their faces beaming with joy.

SMG4 carefully lowered SMG3 back down to the floor, their reunion now complete.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you for so long, you idiot…” Three said softly. They turned to look at Four, who was now facing them with a rage-filled expression.

He, however, was not so quick to forgive and forget, and he let go of SMG4’s arms. Turning around as he punched him in the face, with all of the anger and resentment he had pent up over the years. “Ow, that hurt-” “Well that’s what you get for leaving me!” Three said.

Four rubbed his cheek after the punch, his face hurting yet understanding why SMG3 reacted the way he did.

After all, he had left him without even saying goodbye, acting like a true jerk-face. “I guess I deserve that. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Four said trying to reach for his hand to mend their relationship.

Three backed his hand away from him, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Four’s gaze, avoiding eye contact with him. He started to speak, but stopped his sentence, realizing something. “You didn’t make it to the flight…?” He asked as if it had just clicked in his mind.

“I came back to tell you something…” Four replied. “To tell you how much I loved you…” He offered his hand once more, and this time, Three accepted his hand, their bodies finally close as they embraced each other.

Three’s voice rose in an upset tone as he asked, “But what about the invitation? The content creations?” Aren’t you supposed to be following your dream?”

Four gave him a soft and warm smile and replied “I decided to follow my heart, the path I want to choose. I chose you, and our other friends.” He hugged SMG3 tightly and said. “I’m sorry for leaving you…” his response surprised Three.

“So- you’re not leaving?” Three questioned with wide eyes, feeling so much relief that a smile spread across his face. Four shook his head in reply and said, “No, I’ll never leave you or anyone else. I promise.”

Three’s eyes welled up as all the emotions flooded his mind, he felt relieved and overcome with happiness.

SMG4 noticed this and quickly wiped the tears away from the man’s cheek, saying “Hey, you’re crying.”

Three gave him a laugh and replied, “I’m just glad that you came back…” He then gave the man in blue a kiss.

Four was taken aback by the sudden display of attention, he was not prepared for the display of affection that Three had recently given him just now.

Four’s eyes immediately closed as Three pulled him in for a kiss. The long, drawn-out kiss was now the end, and all that could be seen was two lovers locked in a passionate embrace.

-THE END-

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my art #shygirl4991 #alianrepasa #itsajjena #smg3 x smg4 #smg4 x smg3

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hecckyeah · 2 years

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i'm 100% broke but i am gonna need about 83 more flannels in preparation for this summer

#did i also buy a new pair of chacos bc mine were trashed?#maybe #that's none of your business #but they were half off though so i feel like i got a deal #just gimme all the typical granola girl stuff and i'll be happy #sadly it's expensive to be granola #:(

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wwwbestgoredotcom · 2 months

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Francis Mosses NSFW A-Z ♡♡

I love him <33

Reader is gn but has female anatomy.

A-ftercare (What're they like after sex)♡

Very very tired. Everything he says afterwards is either slurred or murmured. Very cuddly tho. Will not let you go. Very sappy afterwards too; telling you he loves you and how pretty and perfect you were/are.

Takes him a second to do it but eventually gets up to get you some water while you go to the bathroom (always pee after sex!).

B-ody part (favorite body part on you & him)♡

On you, he loves your hands and lips. He holds your hand a lot during sex even if hes absolutely destroying you. And he loves your lips because he just likes kisses (and how they look wrapped around his dick). Between tits or ass tho, I think he'd prefer boobs (not pun intended). Even if their small, he looves them.

On him, he'd say his hands are his favorite. He likes the way the have so much effect on you. Like when he fingers you or grabs onto your hips or thighs or when he grabs your hand during sex.

C-um (anything to do w cum basically)♡

I think he'd prefer to cum on your stomach or ass. Though I do think he'd cum inside every once in a while. When you suck him off, he let's you take control of his dick tbh. If you want him to cum all over your face, then he will. If you want it in your mouth, then he will. If you want it on your boobs, he will. He just wants to please you fr.

D-irty secret ♡

I feel like he'd have plenty of them. A main one tho is that he's stolen one of your panties and jerked off with them before. He felt guilty afterwards so that was the only time he did that. The others are small enough for him to forget about it

E-xperience (his past experiences)

♡

I feel like he had NO BITCHES before you came (tee hee) along. He was a quiet kid and just focused on himself, maybe had a couple gfs and intimate moments but you're probably the first "real deal" to come into his life in terms of love.

F-avorite position ♡

He'd like the classics. Like missionary, cowgirl, doggie, etc etc. He'd probably like missionary and cowgirl most. Missionary because of the intimacy. Cowgirl bc sometimes he wants some but he's tired (and boobs).

G-oofy (how serious/unserious are they during sex)♡

He's pretty in the middle. Sometimes he likes to slowly fuck you while you two have a normal conversations so sometimes there's jokes thrown in there. But if it's rougher/faster, he's more serious.

H-air (what kind of hair they got down there)♡

I think he trims it. Keeps it tame. He doesn't shave it clean tho, unless you tell him to, then he might. For the rest of his body, he does have some hair but not a lot.

I-ntimacy ♡

Oh this boy is INTIMATE. The kind of mf that looks at sex like "love-making" instead of just "fuck". Loves praising and listening to what you say. You say harder and he goes harder, you say slower and he goes slower, etc etc. Most of the sex you two have will most likely be when he's tired/half awake so all the praise and such are slurred in such a beautiful way yk.

J-ack off (how often does he jack off)♡

Other than what I said in the dirty secret section, he doesn't really do it anymore. Why imagine you when he has you right there?

K-inks ♡

Praise - he likes receiving and giving praise. He likes talking you through it, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves you.

Marking - he'd like to leave hickeys on you, not for a way to "claim" you, but just because he wants to and he likes your reaction to it when I sucks on your sweet spots.

Overstimulation - he likes to BE overstimulated. Sometimes he wants to keep going but his body doesn't or he's too tired so he just begs you to just ride him til he cries or passes out.

Nipple play - he likes to pinch and massage your boobs a lot. Even if you're not having sex, his hand lives on your boob. Most of your foreplay is him sucking and nibbling on your nipple, pinching your other one while he fingers you.

L-ocation (their favorite locations to do it)♡

I feel like he'd only want to do it at home. He doesn't like public stuff. At home tho, he'd do it anywhere; on the dinner table, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room, anywhere. He could do it in the car tho. Maybe if he gets too worked up after a date and your apartment is too far away.

M-otivation (what turns him on)♡

Tbh. Everything. Skin tight shirts, your sleepwear (no matter what it is), etc. He likes when you take care of him too, just loving him turns him on.

N-o (some turn offs)♡

I'm so sorry yall but I think he'd say no to bdsm. Like maybe SOME parts of it he can do but like hard-core bdsm is a no.

He wouldn't want to actually hurt you in any way. Spanking is ok if it's not full force but like actually causing you pain is a no.

And he wouldn't like shit with pee, poop, and vomit. Shits nasty.

O-ral ♡

Oh bro. He EATS. Man can eat you out for hourss if you let him. He was a little shit at eating pussy at first but with more practice, he gets better and better. Like I'm talking about EATING pussy. There's no kitten licking with him, he is in. There.

And he loves when you suck him off. He talks while you do but they're all murmurs so no one knows what he's saying. He fucks your face gently (unless you tell him you want it rough) everytime. Mutters praises all throughout it and let's out of raspy moan when he cums.

P-ace ♡

Unless he's dead tired, he goes at whatever pace you want. When he's dead tired he wants to go slow and sensual. But if he had energy, he'll go at whatever pace you want him to go at. He starts off slow but if you tell him to go harder and harder he will beat that pussy numb.

Q-uickie (opinions on quickies)♡

I think he'd want to take his time with you so quickies are eh to him. If you seriously cannot wait but you can't leave wherever you are for too long, he'll take you somewhere private to eat you out till you're satisfied (or suck him off until he's satisfied).

He will leave an event for the day to have sex with you tho. If it gets that bad.

R-isk♡

To keep it short, he'd be down for experimenting as long as it's not in his "no" list.

S-tamina ♡

Again, depends on you. If you wanna ride him till the sun comes up, he'll thug it out for you. He likes overstimulation anyway. But tbh he rlly only goes for 2 rounds until you have to take over.

T-toys (toys they own)♡

I don't think he has any toys for himself. And he wouldn't really care if you had your own toys. He's fucked you with your toys before; like a vibrator up to your clit while he fucks you or a dildo in you while he sucks on your clit.

U-nfair (do they tease? And how often)♡

He doesn't really edge or tease you, but when he does, it's on accident. Sometimes he pulls out to cum on your stomach and accidently edges you. He doesn't mind when you do it to him. Feels good.

V-olume (how loud are they during sex)♡

Loud asf. Like I said, he talks during it, like murmuring and slurring his words. He's a moaner and whimperer too. Occasionally groaning but not really.

He LOVES when you're loud tho. He encourages it actually. Turns him on more.

W-ild card ♡

To add onto "volume", he talks dirty so much, even if it's under his breath. Like omfg the filth that comes out of his mouth is so unexpected.

Also, the amount of times you two were getting rough with it and he got that phone call (ykwim), he doesn't stop. He slows down a bit but just continues while you struggle to not blow you're cover.

X-ray (what's in those pants)♡

He's pretty average. Long, kinda thin, a vein on the top of his shaft from the base to the middle of it. He's about 6-7 inches, and he knows how to use it. Tbh I can't decide whether he's circumcised or not so you can personally decide that.

Y-earning (how high/low is his sex drive)♡

Surprisingly high. He's down to fuck whenever. Unless he's literally about to knock out cold. But if he's awake then so is his dick. He barley asks for sex tho, he wants YOU to initiate it. He just gives hints.

Z-zz (how fast he goes to sleep)♡

Like I said before, he's literally so tired afterwards. Once he makes sure you're okay and comfy, he snuggles close to you and sleeps.

I love him your honor.

#fanfics #oneshot #x reader #female reader #gn reader #i love him so much omg #smut #fluff #francis mosses #Francis mosses x reader #not my neighbor #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader

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lovphobic · 11 months

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hope your ex burns tbh not only is it so fucked up but also manipulative as fuck kinda making it seem like you'd be dying to hurt them lol also kids?? with this line of thought your ex shouldn't even be allowed to drink much less be responsible for children

TRULY? HONESTLY? she was like ohh i dont know if i can commit to that and this and that bullshit. like ok so somehow being born like this WAS indeed my fault and i did it specifically to hurt you, who was born 4 years before me, who i wont meet for twenty whole years. yes that makes total sense. i gave myself this disease JUST to hurt you.

#another batshit thing she said to me. after telling her i literally cannot drive because my condition has made it so i have had multiple #surgeries on my one eye. ON. ON the eye BALL. and therefore im super light sensitive and THEREFORE would be super super fucking unsafe for #me to drive during the day (sun) and night (people who cant turn their fucking brights off) and she read all this and was like you cant jus #expect me to drive you around everywhere? like YES I FUCKING CAN? YOU WANT ME TO KILL MYSELF AND/OR OTHERS TRYING TO DRIVE MYSELF???#and then there was this other time where i was ''shutting down'' her suggestions to manage my depression. like go for a walk (outside. cant #be in the sun. live near a highway) or play online games (had horrible internet at the time. physically couldnt do that) and she got SO #fucking mad at me for shooting down her suggestions even though i wasnt doing that at all and giving valid reasons i could not do the thing #she was suggesting. and so i broke up with her! and i never got back together with her!#but oh my god she thought i did! and even though i told her multiple times that i made it clear we were not together and that i didnt feel #comfortable getting back together w her because she blew up on me over fucking nothing. she was like so you were just leading me on? you #dense cunt. i would not do that and the fact you have to ask if i would/was doing that proves you dont know shit about me #another time was when she told me. outright. knowing i am very uncomfortable w the topic. that she was going to. and i quote. 'cut the shit #out of my arms tonight' and then left the dm and didnt say shit for like half an hour. and im just over on my end panicking the fuck out of #my mind trying to reach her get any fucking message out of her begging her to fucking not. and then months later she was like heyyy um your #reaction to that moment was pretty toxic? i was having a meltdown and i literally couldnt respond to you in the moment. LIKE OK? YOU COULDV #SAID THAT IMMEDIATELY AFTER? NOT SAID THE INITIAL TRIGGERING THING TO BEGIN WITH?#she makes my fucking blood boil even to this day. there is so much more i could talk about but i think i have made my point crystal fucking #clear. like. you know what. did i deserve any of that? no. and im sorry for whoever has to deal with it next.#and we werent even together for a year. this all happened from december 21 to september 22. just let that sink in. just for a moment.#snail mail

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moonbakeries · 1 year

Text

HOW I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE IN A WEEK

BACKSTORY

So I decided to fully immerse myself in "persisting" and fulfilling when I listened to Lonely one by LOVA because I spent around an hour just sobbing because I related to the song.

the week that I started was around Easter break and I was under the most amount of stress I have ever been through and I could see it the effects on my body

I was breaking out with huge pimples even though I was on accutane, I was averaging 2 hours of sleep a day every week for 2 weeks, my period had going on for 2 weeks, I was losing weight rapidly (was under 35kg:( ) my anxiety was at an all time high because I got harassed again(sexual assault victim). I used to have severe depression and have had multiple failed attempts of suicide. AND YES I WAS DESPERATE AS FUCK TO MANIFEST THIS DREAM LIFE OF MINE WHICH IS NO LONGER A DREAM

in the mornings I would be super anxious but I learned how to deal with it and get myself into the state super easily

HOW I DID IT

I GOT OFF TUMBLR: you know how many times I doubted myself only to realise I was doing everything right

I also read and listened to Edward Art MULTIPLE TIMES

Within a week of fulfilling and persisting, I had manifested my dream life. just like that. I woke up one morning and everything I had ever desired was right there. and it was super easy.

all I did was affirm(to remind not to get), visualise and feel. I would only do these methods if I wanted to, if I didn't I wouldn't.

Within a few days, the anxiety lessened so much and it started to feel natural.

this was a question on Bambi's " how I manifested with hard circumstances " post which has now been sadly deleted but I remember copying this because it gave me hope at the time I copied it (don't hope, just know)

"But isn’t ranting “not letting the old story die out?” you and i could rant until our minds are cleared, just as long as you flip my thoughts, you are on the right track. I rant for 2% of my 24 hour days. The other 98% i was persisting in the fact that creation was done. as “time” went on, it began to feel more natural and I felt more at ease. I held onto that feeling because I knew this was when I would get my desires and I did."

and that was when I knew I shouldn't give up and I just kept going even when I wanted myself to just get on tumblr and overconsume

I actually nearly decided to see what I was "doing wrong". I clicked on one of Aphrodite's posts but I didn't read it. I just asked myself if I would look through it if I had my desires and I wouldn't and since I already have all of my desires I didn't.

Whenever the anxiety was too strong and I could feel the frustration and desperation building up, I would just rant and it helped me calm down and get back into the state super easily.

why?

because STATES MANIFEST THOUGHTS DON'T

which is why you can rant.

you know how many FUCKING DOUBTS I had, but I didn't even give them attention coz they didn't deserve any and how many times I wanted to just give up, but I was like NO, STFU, I DON'T WANNA LIVE MISERABLY ANYMORE and now I'm not :)

The affirmations I used:

It is done

I am living my dream life

I am in my desired reality

The 3d will conform as long as i keep persisting

Imagination is the real reality

I also daydreamed, but since imagination is the real reality they were real

WHAT I MANIFESTED

- desired appearance

- name change

- family change

- skills (drivers licence etc)

- apartment and furniture

- wealth

- a bunch of random materialistic things

- desired friend group (I absolutely love them!)

- desired uni and always getting good grades

- outfits from pinterest

and a bunch of other things

- I also ended up manifesting an sp without even knowing and he's pretty much I everything I scripted him to be(scripted a year ago because I didn't really care for a relationship) but this happened before I manifested my dream life

after a year and half of being on loablr I finally manifested my dream life. and you can too

(there was probably over 100 things I wanted but I realised what I want is not much, nothing ever is when you know about loa and yes, i was super desperate)

you don't need anymore information other than @angelsinluv states post and fulfillment challenge

you shouldn't ever be stressed or worried while manifesting whatever you want, because you wouldn't stress if you had it

TAKE YOUR TIME

YOU GOT THIS

#success story #affirmations #loassumption #law of assumption #dream life #manifesting #manifestation #loa

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theemporium · 10 months

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cece! pls james potter post quidditch game shower smut. thinking about his sweaty pecs and big hands and thick thighs. ily, ty 🤠

god he makes me so😵‍💫thank you for requesting!🖤

For most players, the second the final whistle blew and the game was over, they were hit with a wave of exhaustion that made them want to just kick back and relax and maybe enjoy some downtime with their friends.

Not your boyfriend though, he was anything but.

The second the final whistle blew, it was like James took a hit that just sent pure, raw adrenaline coursing through his body until he was practically bouncing off the walls. Regardless of the outcome of the match itself, he was always buzzed and bouncing and ready to work off the extra energy before he joined the rest of his friends in celebrating.

There had been many ways James learnt to deal with the extra energy. Maybe an extra half an hour or so on the broom after everyone else headed off to the locker rooms. Maybe doing a few laps of the quidditch pitch until his legs felt like jelly and he couldn’t run any longer. Maybe even trying to convince the other boys to take a last-minute gander through the woods with him if possible.

However, he found far more enjoyable ways when he started dating you.

You always thought James was dramatic about his post-match energy bursts but now—now you knew they were anything but a joke.

“Fuck, baby, I-I can’t!”

The hot water was spraying down on your heated skin but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as your nails dug into your boyfriend’s back, your head falling back against the tiles of the locker room showers as he pounded into you.

He had been insatiable the second he got his hands on you after the game. First, in the supplies closet whilst all the players cooled down in the locker room. He had your hands in his hair and your thighs squeezing his ears and he could barely keep himself from coming in his trousers. Then, he had you against the lockers, cheek and tits pressed against the cool metal as he pounded in you from behind, mocking the way you whined and begged to kiss and claw at his sweaty, toned torso. You barely caught a glimpse of it before his chest was pressed against your back.

And now you were in the shower, his cock ramming into you and his arms straining as he practically fucked you like a toy. You could barely stand but James wasn’t done. He wanted you, he needed you, even if it meant bouncing you up and down on his cock like his own personal fleshlight.

“One more f’me, baby,” he groaned, every muscle in his body straining as he held back his approaching orgasm. “Just one more. You just look so pretty, darling, it’s like winning the match all over again.”

“James,” you whined, feeling the way he tensed as your nails raked down his skin before he let out a low moan that echoed through the empty showers around you.

“That’s my girl, mark me up,” he growled, his eyes glued on the way your eager cunt took his cock, hitting deep with each thrust. “Want everyone to know who I belong to.”

“Me,” you gasped out, holding onto him as tightly as you could. “You belong to me.”

“I’m all yours,” James groaned, pressing your bodies close together as the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls. “Gonna fuck you like I belong to you. Think I can get another few outta you, love. What do you say? Gonna let me fuck this pretty cunt like a winner? Gonna let me show you what being yours means?”

“Please, Jamie,” you moaned, your eyes falling shut as your body jostled with each thrust of his hips. “Show me everything.”

“Gonna show you the world, gorgeous.”

He had you sprawled over the bench twice before you even left the locker rooms.

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romanticintheory · 13 days

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Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

1K notes · View notes

nouearth · 28 days

Text

let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal.

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited.

“Thanks—”

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in.

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed.

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket.

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other.

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late.

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.”

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen.

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus.

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it.

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat.

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.”

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit.

Something commanded you to let those words slip out.

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace.

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold.

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.”

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed.

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help.

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you.

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated.

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed.

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes.

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost.

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on.

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower.

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling.

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having.

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure.

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough.

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest; it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you.

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you.

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper.

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place.

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself.

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer.

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about.

“Never.”

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now.

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him? His question had been answered.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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melancholyhigh · 7 months

Text

SUNRISE.

ft. brother's best friend!leon x reader

synopsis. even though leon's supposed to be having a sleepover with your brother, he can't help but miss you, sneaking behind your brother's back to fulfil his desires.

content. 2.4k words. smut. subby!leon, handjob, fingering, quiet & sneaky sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), come eating, praise kink.

note. i'm finally active and the first thing i do is write for sub leon. old habits die hard.

masterlist. i love reblogs & validation !!

You stare blankly at your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. It’s currently 5 AM, and you’ve spent the entire night twisting and turning, trying to succumb to the sweet escape of slumber.

You believe it’s your body betraying you. Your brain understands his presence near you, but not close enough. It yearns for him and his touch, unable to function without it. He’s in the room across from yours, lying on the grimy couch in your brother’s room as he peacefully sleeps.

Your eyes begin to droop, and you allow yourself to give into the sense of vulnerability. Breaths coming out evenly, your chest rising and falling in sync.

All sense of tranquillity disappears at the firm knock on your door. What could your parents possibly want?

You let out a groan in frustration. In all honesty, you’re about to burst into tears. The comforting rest you’ve been anticipating since Monday swept away because you couldn’t handle your feelings correctly, up late at night just thinking about what could’ve been.

The quicker you get it over with, the faster you’ll be able to get some sleep. You highly doubt that, though.

A few minutes pass, and you rip the smothering blanket off you, shuffling to the door. Gripping the cool metal of the doorknob, you stall before turning it.

The door opens to reveal him. Leon. The source of your nighttime dilemmas. His lips curved into a shy smile, and his eyelids drooped with similar exhaustion to yours. Your anger and frustration dissipate when you meet his tired gaze. It’s astonishing how much control he has over your emotions, over you.

“Can I come in?” he asks sheepishly, his voice hoarse from sleep. You stumble to the side, silently allowing him to enter the confines of your room. It’s second nature to him when he falls not so gracefully onto your bed, snuggling your sheets.

Closing the door, you lock it before joining him on your bed. It wasn’t unusual for Leon to find comfort in your twin-sized bed despite barely being able to fit in it with you, his limbs dangling off the ledge. It was odd of him to entertain the idea while your brother was nearby.

He’s the cautious one despite asking you out first. He’s reluctant to face the consequences of your brother finding him intertwined with you in your sheets. You’re not mad at him for keeping your relationship private, but it’s not like you hate the idea of him showing you off or you, him.

You don’t care if your brother finds out. He’d get over it, but your brother’s a bitch when he wants to be. Though you’ve dealt with him for most of your life, it would be nothing new.

So, it confuses you why he’d want to doze off on your bed, risking facing your brother, and your silence doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I couldn’t sleep without you,” Leon mentions, words slurring from his drowsiness. If you were unable to sleep before, now you’re wide awake. He could’ve lied, saying that shitty recliner your brother got on a ‘deal’ was terrible support for his back. But no, he needed you just as much as you needed him.

“I missed you too,” you reply, nose almost touching his as you rest your head on his pillow. Every moment shared between you two, you can’t help but admire him. He’s so pretty, even like this. Blonde hair draped messily onto your pillow, his cheeks rosy, and his half-lidded eyes shine brighter than any of the stars you’ve gazed at.

A grin graces his usual pouty lips. Leaning over, he presses his mouth to yours — it’s less lust and more intimate, reminding you of the first kiss you shared. You had never been more grateful for your dumbass brother getting locked in the theatre’s bathroom stall.

Your mom had forced you to pick up your little brother and his friend from the movie theatre, and you hadn’t anticipated his cute friend, whom you may have liked, sitting in the passenger seat as you both waited begrudgingly for your brother.

You had seen him around, playing fighter games with your brother on his PS1 in the living room. He was your favourite of his friends. Not only was he handsome, but he was also a good influence on your troublesome brother. And you may have developed a teensy crush on him. You didn’t take it seriously because you’re his best friend’s sibling — why would he even consider you an option?

Until that evening when he proved you wrong, your brother was gone for 20 minutes, and you had no other option but to talk to the boy. He was a bit awkward, you were too, but you both began talking and surprisingly hit it off.

After mindless chatter, he confessed, which confused you til no end. He really wanted you? Your silence startled the poor boy, ultimately leading you to return his feelings with a simple kiss to end the night.

But it's different now as you entangle your fingers into his hair, tugging softly, a soft whimper falls from his parted lips — why was everything about him so pretty?

“Don’t be so loud, baby. Do you want him to hear you?” you whispered teasingly against his lips. His warm hands trail under your sleep shirt and grip your hips roughly.

“Fuck off,” he huffs quietly. The walls are thin, incredibly so. You’ve heard the movies Leon and your brother were watching during the night, and you’re sure they’ve heard you listening to music, so it was plausible that he might hear Leon’s moans and whines, but your brother slept like a rock.

And, even though the prospect of people knowing how good you please Leon was hot. The mortification of your brother, let alone your mother catching you, certainly was not.

Taking your hand in his, he guides it to his crotch, his erection straining his plaid pyjama pants. He lets you feel how badly he wants you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and leaving kisses down the column of your throat.

The sun slips into your room through the gap in your curtains, and you ponder how long you’ve been making out to get him so aroused.

“Let me feel you, baby,” Leon breathed into the crook of your neck. Your hand slips into his pants, fingers teasing the head of his sensitive cock, stringy precum sticking to them. Your own arousal pools in your underwear, clinging to your drenched cunt.

Deft fingers encircle his shaft, lazily stroking the base of his dick. Between shared kisses, Leon sneaks his hand into your shorts and underwear, rubbing your needy clit, and a sharp whimper falls from your lips. He tantalizingly glides his fingers through your slicked folds, teasing your sensitive nub with each pass of his digits.

The movements of your hand on his cock become messy and frantic, precum continuing to spill onto the material of his pants with each buck of his hip.

You’re not faring better when he plunges his fingers into your tight hole, thrusting, resulting in your cunt producing slick and embarrassing noises. Your combined gasps and whines fill the room despite being quelled by each other’s lips.

You melt away in each other's arms, forgetting about the conflict that would arise if anyone found you and him in such a predicament.

Drawing away from your swollen lips, Leon stills his fingers in your pussy, pulling them out, and you cease your hand on his dick. He groans at the loss of pleasure from your hands and the slick accumulated on his digits, unaware he made you so wet for him.

“Can I cum inside you, angel?” he whispers breathlessly into your ear. He’s thoroughly lost in pleasure, uncaring if your brother finds him knuckles deep into your cunt. His cheeks are flushed pink, the blush leading to his chest under his black graphic tee. Chest heaving up and down with each breath as he admires your equally fucked out expression.

“Mhm, okay,” you hummed, and Leon shifted his back flat on the mattress, allowing you to straddle him with shaky thighs when you rid yourself of your shorts and underwear. Leon’s palms instinctively went to your waist, gripping the flesh as he stabilised you, your ass sitting flushed to his clad thighs.

His shirt rides up, exposing his v-line dipping into his pants. Gasping softly when the fabric of his pants grazed his sensitive head, your hands eagerly dragged them down, revealing his pretty dick, flushed red to the tip oozing with precum.

Hovering over him, you guide his cock through your glistening folds with your hand's help. You collectively groan when you slide down his cock, taking every inch of him into your tight hole. As you adjust to his size and girth, you lean down, kissing him as he encircles his arms around your waist.

You rock your hips gently, and Leon groans into your parted lips. He trails his lips to your collarbone, biting on the exposed flesh. A sudden moan escapes you when he thrusts his hips upwards into your pussy. His needy and feverish behaviour reminds you of your first time together.

The squeaky opening of the door opposing your room results in you halting your movement on top of Leon, and he whines in protest. You clasp your hand over his mouth, glaring at him. With the tightening hold of your waist and the muffled moans, Leon is acting careless. He doesn’t give a fuck about your brother right now, too focused on the constricting grasp your velvety walls have on his throbbing cock.

The footsteps pad down the hallway, and you assume your brother is making his way down the stairs.

“Be a good boy f’me, Leon,” you whisper, moving your hand away from his face. You don’t know what overcame him for him to be acting so recklessly. Cupping his blotchy red cheeks, you note how dazed he looks, his blue irises hidden in his dilated pupils.

“Ah, don’t stop fucking me,” he breathed in response, his hips continuing to rut into your warm cunt. The intimacy of it all makes it even more challenging to delay his release, you moving up and down his cock, riding him slowly and passionately in the morning, beams of sun sprinkling into the room, setting the euphoric scene.

It almost makes him forget the absurdity of it. Letting his best friend’s sibling fuck him into an incoherent mess at 6 in the morning, yet he regrets nothing. He can’t help but grip your soft thighs encompassing him as he thrusts half-haphazardly into your hole, dripping down and sticking to his skin.

He spills into you with a soft moan, staining your walls with his cum at the combination of your teasing words and soft lips on his.

“Good boy, Leon. You did so good,” you coo at him, and Leon whimpers at your praises and your tightening cunt around his overstimulated cock.

Slipping his softening dick out your hole, you collapse next to him, chest heaving as his cum trickles out of you, staining your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut, and drowsiness finally takes over your overworked body.

Though, next to you, Leon brews in self-thought. He came after you did all the work, leaving you high and dry. What kind of boyfriend was he?

“You didn’t cum.”

“S’fine, Leon. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you grumbled, blinking your eyes open to glimpse at him. He’s pouting, and despite how endearing you found it when he couldn’t control himself around you, cumming prematurely like some bumbling virgin (he was), Leon still feels like a selfish lover.

“I can still make you cum. Please? You deserve it.” Before you can disagree with him, your brother is awake downstairs, probably looking for him — Leon quickly situates himself between your thighs, eager to satisfy you.

“Y- Yeah, okay, sure,” you stammered, because how could you deny your pretty boy, peering up at you through his long lashes between your thighs?

Spreading your thighs open, hooking them over his shoulders, Leon admires his cum leaking out your hole, stretched out due to his fat cock. You feel bashful as he marvels at your stuffed cunt, moaning in surprise when a glob of his spit falls onto your messy folds mixing with his release.

Hungrily he laps at your cunt, his skilful tongue nudging your overly responsive clit. Leon loves to make you cum with his mouth. He loves to make you feel good, and it’s dirty the way he grinds his once again hardening cock against your sheets, chasing the friction while he messily eats you out, your cunt dripping with arousal mixing with his cum.

You entangle your fingers into his hair, shoving his pretty face further into your cunt, your back arching. Biting your lip, you nearly draw blood, trying to conceal your groans.

He enjoys your pussy like it’s the main course after an appetiser, tasting his salty cum and your contrasting sweet juices as he delves his tongue into your hole. His fingers rub your throbbing clit, and your thighs shake around his head. Leon’s muffled moans and whines reverberate throughout your body, adding heat to the coiling in your tummy.

“Am I doin’ a good job?” he questions, desperate to be good enough for you before he returns to your cunt, dragging his tongue flat against you.

“You’re amazing, baby. ‘M so close.” His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, leaving indents. You roughly pull at his hair as you climax, your body trembling when Leon moans into you.

He continues to sloppily make out with your pussy even after your high. When he pulls away from you, a gloss of your combined cum stains his plush lips. He kisses you softly, allowing you to taste both him and you on his lips.

He helps you into your shorts, pulling his pants up, attempting to look presentable, which is unlikely with the dried cum that stains the fabric of his PJs. He lays in your bed with you, cosying up to you with him in your arms, face in your chest. Caught up in his fantasies, he fails to face reality.

“I think you should leave. My brother might be looking for you,” you mumbled into his hair. Leon huffs in annoyance before untwining with your limbs. He wants to ask since when do you care so much about such trivial things, but he complies. He knows you’re just looking out for him.

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