❥Pairing: Logan Howlett x AFAB!Reader (no pronouns other than 'you' mentioned)
❥Summary: You and Logan, drugged with truth serum, get trapped in separate cells during a mission. Things ensue...
❥CW: 18+, smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, minor use of pet names (Logan says 'baby' once or twice), 1.8k words
❥a/n: Need his big mutant cock rearranging my insides right now. Wrote this really fast to satiate the new hyperfixation lmao. Not proofread, might edit later if I have time! hope u enjoy!!
The mission was a mess from the start. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance turned into a disaster when you and Logan got ambushed by a group of well-armed mercenaries. Despite your best efforts, you were overpowered, captured, and dragged into a hidden underground facility.
Now, after being relentlessly questioned with truth serum, you found yourself in a cold, dimly lit cell, the metal bars mocking your current predicament. By the time they threw you back into your cells, your head was spinning. The serum had forced out every truth, every hidden thought, and you were left feeling raw and exposed. Worse, the lingering effects made it hard to think straight, amplifying every emotion. The worst part wasn't the isolation or the confinement—it was knowing Logan was just a few feet away, locked up in a cell next to yours. You couldn't see him, but you could hear his frustrated growls and the occasional clang as he tested the strength of his restraints.
"Logan?" you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the narrow space.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice a low, rough rumble. "You okay?"
“I'm cold,” you answered truthfully, the effects of the truth serum lingering in your veins, rendering you incapable of telling even a white lie. “Are you okay?”
Logan huffed a laugh at your response. “I'm fine,” he replied, voice deep and gravelly sending shivers down your spine.
"We need to figure out how to get out of here," you said, trying to focus on the mission. "Any ideas?"
"I’m working on it," Logan grunted, and you could hear the strain in his voice as he tested his restraints again. "These bars are tough, but they won't hold me forever."
Silence fell between you, broken only by the sounds of Logan's efforts to free himself. Each grunt, each frustrated growl sent your mind wandering to places it shouldn't, especially given your current situation. You tried to shake off the thoughts, but the truth serum was making it hard to keep control.
You had always been drawn to Logan—his rugged exterior and intense demeanor had always sparked something deep inside you, but you'd managed to keep those feelings under wraps, focusing instead on the mission. Now, confined and vulnerable under the effects of the truth serum, those suppressed desires came roaring to the forefront. Every grunt, every restrained growl from his cell fueled your imagination, making it impossible to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. The harsh reality of your situation only seemed to intensify the electric charge between you two, turning the once manageable attraction into an uncontrollable blaze. A shuddering sigh passed your lips as you closed your eyes, trying to think of something, anything other than Logan fucking you, those low grunts a hot breath in your ear as he pounds his thick cock into your aching cunt.
"What's on your mind?" Logan's voice cut through the silence, startling you. Your sigh didn’t pass Logan’s ears, his enhanced hearing picking up every little sound you made. You were lucky the wall between you was blocking the scent of your arousal from him.
You hesitated, biting your lip, knowing the serum would force out whatever you were thinking. "N-nothing" you grunted, voice straining from the effort it took to tell that small lie, but your voice betrayed you.
"Come on," he pressed, his tone softer now. "Talk to me. What are you thinking right now?"
The words slipped out before you could stop them. "You," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m thinking about you."
Logan went quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel the intensity of his gaze even through the walls between you. "What about me?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity.
You took a shaky breath, unable to lie. "The sounds you're making... they’re making me think of... things. Things we shouldn't be thinking about right now." You cursed yourself for admitting this so easily, for getting caught in the first place.
A low growl rumbled from Logan's cell. "Tell me," he urged, his voice darkening with desire. "Tell me what you're thinking."
Your face flushed deeper, the truth serum forcing out your most private thoughts. “I was thinking about how you might sound if we were in the same cell,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “What noises you’d make if you were inside me, taking me on the floor.”
The cell fell into an expectant silence, Logan’s breathing becoming more laboured. After a moment, he let out a low, appreciative growl. “Oh yeah? That’s quite the thought,” he rumbled, voice thick with a mixture of satisfaction and dark amusement. “You’d be surprised how much I can imagine what it’d be like, too. The way you’d moan, how you’d squirm and gasp on my cock. Bet you’d be so fucking responsive.”
You shivered at his words, the combination of the truth serum and his filthy words making your thoughts spin wildly. “You think so?” you asked, voice breathy and eager.
Logan’s response was rough, laden with desire. “Hell yeah. I’d make sure you felt every inch of me. And you’d be begging for more before long, that’s for damn sure. Just imagine it—bet you’d take me so well.”
The vivid imagery of his words sent a shudder down your spine, your mind swirling with the possibilities. Despite the dire situation, the raw honesty between you both was creating a new kind of tension, one that was both thrilling and unnervingly intimate.
You couldn’t help it–your arousal was too much. You slowly trailed your hand up your thigh, fingers circling over your clit through your pants. “I–I’d be…so good for you, Logan,” you panted out between moans. “Need you so bad.”
Logan's breathing hitched at your admission, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Yeah? You’d be good for me, huh? Tell me what you’d want me to do if I was in there with you.”
You could hear the raw need in his voice, and it only spurred your own desire. You let out a shaky breath as you slipped your fingers under your waistband, teasing your already sensitive clit. “I–I’d want you to kiss me, touch me.”
The muffled sound of his zipper being yanked down could be heard through the wall, the thought of him fisting his cock to your voice now spurring you on, quickening your strokes. “Yeah? Touch you where, baby? How do you want me to touch you?” he responded, the smirk evident in his voice.
The rough edge in Logan's voice sent a jolt through you, mixing with your own mounting arousal. You could hear the slight rustling from his side, the thought of him responding to you in such a primal way adding to the intensity of your desire. You whimpered, fingers working in slow, deliberate circles around your clit as you imagined his touch.
“I’d want you to start with my neck,” you gasped, voice strained. “Kiss and bite me there, tease me until I’m begging for more. Then move down, touch me everywhere. I want to feel your hands on me, everywhere.”
Logan's breath quickened, his voice rougher with need as he now stroked his cock. “Fuck, keep going.”
You could almost feel his touch, the way he’d explore your body with that intense focus. Your breaths grew quicker, each one a mix of gasps and moans as you continued to pleasure yourself. “And then I’d want you to put your cock inside me,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. “Feel every inch of you inside me, make me come with you buried deep in me.”
Logan's voice was thick with desire, mixed with a hint of smugness. “I love the way you sound when you touch yourself thinking about me. Fuck, it drives me crazy.”
You could feel the heat building inside you, each stroke of your fingers sending waves of pleasure through your body. The images of Logan’s rough hands and his powerful presence were fueling your arousal, driving you closer to the edge.
“Logan…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with anticipation. “I’m so close. I need you… so bad.”
Logan’s voice came through, rough and filled with raw desire. “I’m right here, baby. Just thinking about you coming while you touch yourself, it’s driving me wild.”
The pressure inside you intensified, each moan and gasp escaping your lips growing more desperate. You quickened your movements, your fingers pressing harder against your clit, teasing and stroking with the intensity you craved. The thought of Logan’s deep voice, his body pressed against yours, only heightened the pleasure.
“Logan, I’m gonna…” you whimpered, your orgasm building like a tidal wave, ready to crash over you.
With a final, shuddering moan, you came. Your body convulsed with the intense release, your fingers still moving in frantic circles as you rode the waves of pleasure. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as the last echoes of your climax slowly faded.
On the other side of the wall, Logan was experiencing his own tormenting pleasure. The sounds of your moans and gasps mixed with his own grunts as he fisted his cock, imagining the way you’d feel around him. The fantasy of your touch and the way you’d sound as you came was too much for him to bear.
“Fuck, yes,” Logan growled, his voice thick with need. “I’m right there with you.”
His hand moved quickly, driven by the intense images and sounds filling his mind. With a deep, guttural groan, he came, his release spilling out with a force that matched the intensity of his arousal. The sensation of climax wracked his body, his grip on his cock tightening as he rode the wave of pleasure. His breaths were heavy and uneven, each one coming in harsh, satisfied gasps.
Both of you lay there, spent and breathless, the aftermath of your climaxes leaving you in a state of both physical and emotional exhaustion.
As the echoes of your climaxes settled into the heavy silence of the cells, you and Logan were left breathless and spent. The raw, electric tension between you had transformed into a shared, unspoken promise, even amidst your grim circumstances.
Logan’s voice cut through the quiet, rough and filled with a heated intensity that made your pulse quicken all over again. “When we get out of here,” he growled, each word dripping with desire, “I’m gonna show you just how good it can be. I’m gonna make sure you feel every bit of me.”
The thought of his words sent a shiver through you, the anticipation mingling with the lingering effects of the truth serum. Even as you lay there, exhausted and vulnerable, the promise of what was to come fueled a deep, burning desire that only added to the intensity of your situation.
thinking about calling logan “kitty” just to piss him off and see what he’ll do😵💫
MDNI 18+
goddd calling him kitty in different scenarios, too.
the first when you're casual, standing in the bathroom and marvelinig at how his hair just sits like that without any interference.
he's tired, eyes low, face sitting in a permanent soft smile as he stares at you.
"you're like a kitty," you say, tapping the tips of his makeshift ears. he snorts, resting his hands on your hips and moving you out of the way.
"uh-huh, whatever you say." he's dismissive, not caring much.
but then when you start calling him that, particularly when you're searching for him in the house, he lets it slide the first couple of times before then he gets stern, typically rounding the corner and letting you bump into his chest as he tells you, "don't call me that."
so you stop. it's cute seeing him pissed, but you don't want to aggravate him too much.
when you call him kitty in bed, it slips out. you're a little wine tipsy, resting back in the center of the bed with your legs spread, waiting for logan to come crawling towards you, you can't help it when you sing, "here kitty kitty."
you're lucky he only teasingly bites your inner thigh in response.
Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.
Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds
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You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.
On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.
Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.
After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.
You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.
,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.
"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.
You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.
A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.
He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.
You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.
Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.
"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.
"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.
"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.
You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.
He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.
"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.
"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.
"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.
He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.
You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.
You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.
Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.
You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.
You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.
You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.
"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.
"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.
"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.
,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.
Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.
You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.
You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.
You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.
"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.
Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.
Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.
When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.
You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.
Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.
You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.
Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.
Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.
Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.
,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.
He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.
He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.
When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?
He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.
The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.
After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.
He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.
"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.
Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.
Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.
Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.
He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.
After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.
It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.
It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.
He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.
You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.
His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.
He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.
Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.
Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.
But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.
He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.
,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.
Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.
The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.
The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.
"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.
Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.
The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.
He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.
If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.
You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.
After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.
Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.
Warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), riding, (brief) dry humping
Summary: it's your first time and Logan tries to go slow, he really does, but some things just can't be helped
Word count: 1.6k
A/N: i'm not too practiced in smut so sorry if it's shit 😭
Logan knew you were on the shy side of things. During the start of your relationship he’d had to coax words from you, feelings and opinions you held until you felt comfortable enough to share them without being asked. You’d be nervous and fidgety when asking to see him, acting like he was an attractive stranger when he was your boyfriend.
In all honesty though Logan didn’t mind. He enjoyed your shy, almost naive personality, and was more than happy to wait for you to be comfortable with him before suggesting going any further.
Sure, it was difficult for him to wait, but not impossible. If his pants tightened slightly when you walked in the room with ridiculously short shorts and practically sat in his lap with them, you didn’t notice. When you were sleeping in bed together and would unconsciously rub yourself against him, causing him to have to leave the bed for a bit lest he did something he'd regret, you remained blissfully unaware. And if he was putting away your laundry and came across a pair of lacy black panties with bows adorning it, you wouldn’t even notice they went missing.
Logan was more than okay to wait.
You, on the other hand, were not.
It started with small changes in you and your actions, though Logan couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. You were more flustered around him than usual, jumpier and shier than you’d been before. You were quieter too, staring at him with more intensity than before, as if trying to read his mind. Yet it wasn’t as if you were pulling away from him, because you were much more touchy and clingy than usual, always needing to hold him and often being the initiator of any make out session you two might have- which is as far as you’d gone.
It was during one of these sessions, having started when you both grew bored of the movie playing on the screen, that you started straddling Logan, kissing him with more fevor than you usually did. Surprised, though certainly not disappointed, Logan kissed you back, hands resting on your thighs and occasionally running up and down them when his control slipped.
When he felt you rock against him slightly he knew something was up. You were never this forward with him, and was always the one to stop Logan when he got a bit carried away. Yet there you were, gently rocking against him while you kissed, moving against his jeans almost desperately, rubbing against him until there was a rock hard bulge for you to move against and Logan had to gently push you off him.
Immediately you started apologising, looking at your hands nervously fidgeting with your t-shirt, refusing to so much as glance at Logan.
“Hey, hey, you’re alright Bub,” Logan said gently. “I just don’t want to do anything before talking about it first.”
You risked a glance at him, trying to find any lie in his face. “You’re not angry at me?”
Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t worried about upsetting you further. “‘Course not. I fucking loved that, actually, but we can’t do it, or anything like that, without talking about it first. I gotta make sure you’re okay with it.”
You nodded your head with such eagerness Logan’s cock twitched in his pants. “I’m okay with it.”
He smiled at your needy demeanour and had to hold himself back from gladly going along with it. “What exactly do you want, Sweetheart? I gotta know that.”
You bit your lips shyly, glancing up at him from your lashes in such a way Logan was tempted to be fucked with all of this and just take you. He’d been waiting for months, however, so he could certainly wait a few more minutes, and restrained himself as such.
“I want to feel good,” you mumbled quietly. “Want you to make me feel good.”
Oh fuck.
Logan wasn’t sure he could handle this. Desire was coursing through his veins, his cock was throbbing almost painfully against his pants as he watched you, shy and naive but so wanting for him.
“Alright Bub, we can do that,” he eventually said, because fuck he wanted to make you feel good too. He wanted you moaning and whimpering his name, whining and panting underneath him because of him.
Yet as soon as he had you undressed and under him he could tell it wasn’t what you wanted. You looked petrified, eyes squeezed shut as you waited for Logan to enter you, and that just wouldn’t do.
“I’m not doing this Sweetheart,” he said, moving away.
You opened your eyes, seeming both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “What? Why?”
Logan sighed, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing your neck. Even with both of you naked it was surprisingly not desire filled and simply comforting. “Because you obviously don’t want it.”
You shook your head and turned around to face him, straddling him in a similar position as before. “I do want it. Just… it felt a bit scary like that.”
Logan thought about her words for a moment before inspiration struck him. “Do you want to ride me instead?”
You actually gasped, your eyes widening at the suggestion, yet he could also see the desire radiating off of you- he could smell it too- and feel the slick coming from your cunt at the thought. He smirked, taking that as a yes.
“I’m going to lift you up and slowly place you down on me. You can stop me at any moment, okay?” he asked you, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with this.
You nodded your head, looking apprehensive but also excited, as you glanced down at his hard on, licking your lips slightly. “I don’t know if it will fit.”
Logan nearly groaned then and there. “It will.”
Hesitant but sure, you let Logan’s hands wrap around your waist and lift you up, positioning his cock at your entrance. He gave you a few seconds to back out, and when you didn’t, staring at him confidently, Logan sunk you down on his cock.
Fuck even just his tip inside you felt like heaven, your cunt squeezing against him. You let out a gasp and he hesitated, waiting, and you slowly nodded your head, giving him the go ahead to continue. He did so gently, making you take him inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to get used to the feeling of him until you’d finally taken all of him inside you.
The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock was heavenly. He could barely think, and all he wanted to do was fuck you hard and fast, chase the release he so desperately wanted. Yet he waited for it to feel comfortable for you, waiting for the pain to ease before he did anything.
“Okay… what now?” you asked in a timid voice.
Logan had to muffle the sound threatening to escape him at the sight of you blinking bashfully at him while he was inside you. It was too good to be true.
“Now you move,” Logan said roughly, because he didn’t trust himself to move and not fuck you viciously like he wanted to.
You thought for a moment before giving an experimental rock, gasping at the pleasure accompanying the action. You repeated the rock again, then again, creating a slow but sure movement that was slowly killing Logan.
Every sway of your hips, the way you rode his cock eagerly if not skillfully, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it baby,” he rasped. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me baby.”
You rolled your hips, whining at the praise and closing your eyes but only increasing your motions, one hand moving up to cup your breast. You grounded onto him, gasping when he hit that perfect spot, whispering Logan’s name like a prayer
He swore at the sight, and couldn’t help the jerk his hips made, a small gasp escaping you. It felt so good, the spike of pleasure overwhelming and your readily response too much, and he did it again.
You moaned this time, a dirty, high pitched sound that was ringing in Logan’s ears, urging him on as he took your hips in his hand and lifted you up, only to slam you down on his cock again. Your moan was delicious, and you placed both your hands on his chest, moving forward to make him go deeper.
Logan did groan this time, and used your hips to continue moving you on his dick, his large hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You were a whining mess, eyes glazed and body limp above him.
“Feel so good,” Logan grunted, thrusting into you. “So fucking good for me.”
You whimpered, gasping as your eyes fluttered closed again. Logan grinned.
“You like that baby? You like me telling you what a good girl you’re being, riding my cock so prettily.”
Your moans came more frequent, panting every second, and Logan could tell you were close. He increased his pace, wanting to see you fall apart in front of him, and wasn’t disappointed by the result.
“Come on baby, cum for me.”
With a cry you threw your head back, ecstasy painting your face as you came, your walls tightening. The feeling of them squeezing Logan’s dick, your cunt milking it for all its worth was too much and he felt himself fall after you, his load of cum shooting into your already stuffed hole.
“Fuck baby,” he cursed, helping you ride out both your highs, moving your hips over him.
You were still panting as you slowly came down from your high, boneless as you laid against Logan’s chest.
“You did so good for me darling,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.
You let out a sound, nuzzling his neck, and he happily held you against him, pressing kisses to your face and neck till you were ready to move.
warnings: AFAB!reader, age gap, mean!logan, yelling, dacraphyillia, slightly dark, vaginal fingering, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics
You can feel Logan’s eyes staring holes into the back of your head on the jet. You fucked up on this mission and he made sure you knew it. Loudly. In front of the rest of the team. He practically ripped you a new one with his harsh words, insulting your intelligence, strength, and ability to use your powers. Jean, the sweet angel she is, gently talked Logan down and saved you from facing more of his anger. Unfortunately, no one will be able to stop him once you get back to the mansion.
When you land, you hurry off the jet so Logan isn’t able to catch up with you. He made his point perfectly clear earlier, and you don’t need to hear any more of his yelling. You gather your things and make it back to your room without interruption, leaving you alone to clean up from the mission and deal with the day’s events.
Earth-wielding powers aren’t something to use when distracted, but so many things were happening at once that you slipped up. Storm got caught between two large rocks that you had moved and she was almost seriously hurt. Luckily you caught your mistake before any damage was done, but Logan still found your actions unacceptable. Guilt stews in your stomach as you think about what could’ve happened to Storm. You never would have forgiven yourself if a mistake you made got one of your teammates killed.
By the time you’re fresh from the shower and dressed, it’s late. You should head to bed and forget this mess of a day, but you can’t let yourself. You decide to go to the library, a place you usually go for privacy away from those with enhanced hearing. You sit in one of the armchairs with your legs tucked under you. The fireplace in the room is always lit and it give an orange glow to the cozy room.
As you sit, you remember all of the things Logan had said to you. It was as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin, targeting all of your insecurities like they were written on your face. Those insults from anyone else may not have hurt as much as they did coming from Logan, the man you’ve been in a relationship with for weeks now. You can’t stop the tears leaking from your eyes, and your stomach burns with shame as you recall what Logan had called you earlier. A crybaby.
“You’re a pathetic little crybaby who doesn’t deserve a spot on this fuckin’ team.”
He spit the mean words at you like he has been waiting to say them for a while. You thought you were getting closer with Logan, perhaps making a romantic connection. Your relationship with him started as something purely physical, but you felt like you were growing closer to him. Perhaps that was wishful thinking. You’re surprised you held back tears then, but now, away from prying eyes, you let them fall. You muffle your sobs in your shirt sleeves, but you’re obviously not quiet enough. Your attention is grabbed by a figure standing in the doorway.
Logan’s shadowed figure blocks the dim light from the hall as he looks in on you, sobbing in the dark like the crybaby he knew you were. He looks uncomfortable like he’s trying to find something to make this awkward encounter better, but he comes up short. Instead, he walks into the room and behind your chair. He places a heavy hand on your shoulder and squeezes it slightly.
“I’m sorry about today,” he says after some time. “I… didn’t mean to yell at you like that.” You don’t respond because, honestly, what could you say to that? He humiliated you in front of everyone. Logan says your name gently, wanting you to respond, but you stay quiet.
With a sigh, he steps around the chair and squats down in front of it so he can be at eye level with you. “Please say something,” he urges.
You look up from your lap at him, and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach. He looks beautiful in the glow from the fireplace, but his features are blurred a bit by the tears in your eyes. His expression grows even more guilty when he sees your tear-stained cheeks and glassy eyes.
“Aren’t you gonna make fun of me?” you ask, voice thick.
Logan’s eyes furrow. “What are you talking about?”
“You were right. I am a crybaby,” you mumble.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that, I just… I got carried away.” Logan pauses for a moment. “Let me make you feel better. Please.”
Hearing The Wolverine plead for permission to console you is unexpected, but not unwelcome. You nod and he gently scoops you into his arms before sitting down in the place you just were. He settles you on his lap and he wraps his arms around you. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the musky smell that you’ve come to love. You let yourself cry into his shirt, making the fabric damp with your tears.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers.
He lets you cry for a little while longer before the guilt catches up to him again. “Sweetheart?”
You look up at him with your glassy doe eyes and he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re so sweet, so innocent, so naive, and sometimes it gets the better of you. Logan looks at your red-rimmed eyes and your swollen lips and he thinks you’re beautiful. He wants to kiss those tears away and he feels like a monster for it. He’s the reason you’re crying, for fuck’s sake.
“Yeah?” you ask.
Whatever he was going to say went out the window. Sometimes Logan feels like he is no better than an animal, especially during moments like these. The girl he cares most about is in his lap, shaking like a leaf because of what he said to her, and the only thing the feral part of his brain can think about is how badly he wants her. It’s the predator instinct, to want to pounce on the helpless little lamb. He knows it’s wrong, he knows he hurt her and this is no way to make up for it. But sometimes he just can’t help himself.
“You’re my little crybaby, ain’t ya?” he asks. The question is condescending, but he keeps that same sympathetic tone.
Your brows furrow. “What?”
“I’m sorry about before, baby, I really am. But you cryin’ like this in my lap… you’re so goddamn sweet.”
Logan brushes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and you instinctively open your mouth and let him in. You suck on his thumb gently as fat tears fall down your cheeks again. He watches with half-lidded eyes as you take more of his thumb into your mouth like you’re greedy for more, despite being so upset.
“You cry so fuckin’ pretty,” he praises, and just to be an asshole, he adds, “I should make you do it more often.”
You pout around his finger, which makes him grin down at you. “Let me make it up to you, baby. Would my dick make you feel better?”
You should tell him to fuck off. How dare he berate you and then expect to fuck you a few hours later. You should tell him that your relationship is done. You shouldn’t want him to fuck you senseless right now.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod. Gently, Logan adjusts you in his lap so your straddling his thighs. Only the small pair of cotton panties that you were wearing under your sweatshirt and his jeans separate you. He undones the fly of his pants and frees his cock easily, the weight of you on top of him not hindering him any. His fingers find the elastic band of your panties and he pulls them to the side easily, exposing your wet pussy.
When he feels your slick on his finger, he gives you a questioning look. You feel like explaining that it turns you on when a man comforts you is a conversation for another day, so you just shrug innocently.
Logan works his fingers inside of you to prep him for his cock. He’s big, but thankfully it doesn’t take too much work to get you ready for him. Both of you are impatient by nature, and right now especially, you’re not in the mood for much foreplay.
Once Logan deems you ready, he positions you and sinks you down on his cock. Your greedy cunt swallows every inch like the good girl you are and he praises you for it. Once you’re fully seated, you try to ride him but he stops you.
“I’ve got you, doll. I’ll do the work and you can keep crying it out. How’s that sound?” he asks in that infuriatingly hot voice he only uses when he fucks you. Leaning forward, you hide your face in the crook of his neck and you nod. “Yeah, that’s my good little crybaby.”
reblogs are always appreciated and my inbox is open for logan thoughts!
car sex; cucking; mutant reader MDNI 18+
w/ LOGAN HOWLETT ft. WADE WILSON
chronically thinking about logan in that fuckass honda odyssey, but just fucking him. yeah, maybe there's blood every fucking where. maybe some of your wounds are still healing as are his. but the main event is the way his large body takes up the entire reclined seat, the pants of his suit pushed down to bunch at the center of his thighs. his gloves are still on as they grip at your bare hips, guiding you up and down on his cock.
everything about it was hasty. the center of your suit was peeled open to reveal your tits, your bottoms thrown in the drivers seat along with most of your weapons. in the midst of the battle you'd lost a few of them.
the odyssey might be a large car, but you barely have any space. one hand pressed up into the forever stained roof, the other pressed into logan's shoulder where your gun blew a hole only a few minutes ago. of course it's healed now, but the evidence is still there.
"this doesn't..." you try to speak but then logan thrusts up into you and he hits a spot that has your head lolling to the side, your lips parted and you think there's a bit of drool gathering at the corner. "this doesn't mean you won, by the way," you're eventually able to slip out through breathy gasps.
logan grins below you, looking completely relaxed and in control of the entire situation. "i think it does, bub." he tilts his head as he says it, scrunching his nose with an air of superiority.
and through it all, there's wade in the backseat, attempting to back seat drive all while holding his cock in his hand. he calls your name, getting your attention from logan's eyes to the white slits in wade's mask.
"do that thing where you pull his little ears again. he likes that, don't you big boy?"
you're just about to do it in the name of curiosity by then logan reaches back with his claws revealed and slashes wade's thigh. when wade groans, you can't tell if it's out of pain or pleasure. knowing him it's likely both.
note i’ve had a singular draft titled “riding his abs FUCK!!” for like 3 days and it makes me laugh so here you go
♱ ‧₊˚ “i oughta put a leash on you, kid” logan howlett muses from below you.
with all the blood rushing to your head, you can just barely make out what he’s saying; hands pressed against his shoulders as you rock your hips along his abdomen.
he’s peering up at you, amused, the magazine he’d been flipping through now tossed away to the other side of your shared bed, arms spread behind him where his head rests. casual. he was just entertaining you, like he couldn’t give a fuck what you were doing as long as you got what you needed. his girl’s needy, and he’s too lazy to do shit about it. he’s just happy you found yourself a solution, loving when you became resourceful— because there’s nothing that turned him on more than the way you worshipped him, his body and soul, taking advantage of his build and his features to satiate your desires.
“i’m just— fuck— doing what you told me to do,” you pant, eyes scrunched shut as your bare cunt rolls over his abs, flexed for your pleasure. he’s slick, hot from the lack of ac in his unit and covered in your juices. it drips downwards, collecting in the divots of his v-line, the hair that trails down south sticky with it. you audibly moan when he shifts slightly, his torso twisting as he adjusts himself— and you feel your lips part wetly against him. your clit grazes slowly on the ridges of muscle, back and forth, back and forth. your thighs ache from the exertion, but you can’t stop; so close to getting what you were begging for, and logan reaches forward to run his hand up your stomach, past the valley of your tits, before settling around your neck. he holds himself there, pressing lightly against your carotid, and he smiles wide, “close, aren’t you?”
you shake your head, despite your body agreeing. you were close, but you just didn’t want it to finish. it couldn’t finish, not yet at least. he rolls his own hips and you choke, a sharp inhale seizing you from moving, hips stuttering when his muscles ripple against your thighs, your cunt, and your body betrays you by quickening the slow and comfortable pace you set for yourself. from below, logan is instigating. yeah, yeahh, i knew it. give it to me, girlie. know you wanna give your old man some sugar. keep going. his other hand snakes behind your back to press you down, harder, egging you on— daring you to cum. he wants it so bad, to see you fall apart like this, his dirty little girl so eager for him she’ll ride just about any part of him to get off. you try to fight back, not letting him take this from you. he didn’t want to help you. he doesn’t get to interfere with your orgasm. not now, at least.
but he just feels so good, and your little brain melts when he’s like this; so soft and encouraging. he’s easing it out of you, slowly, so he can get back to what he was busying himself with before, have you back laying in his chest so he can stroke your hair until you fall asleep. it’s late, he’s too old to be up at this hour, he just can’t compete with the younger generation— always up and ready and so eager for anything. he loved you, but you were restless, and he needed his sleep.
so, he presses you down harder and harder, your hips slowing with the added pressure, tutting when you throw your head and body back, hands reaching behind you and onto his thighs so you can keep your balance. all you hear are his soft pants, the sound of your cunt dragging and dragging and dragging, and his fingers dig into your back in a deliciously painful way and you’re seeing stars.
“good, good, good girl. keep it coming. make a mess f’me.”
Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, TW Blood, CW injury.
The Fall Masterlist
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Part I >>> Part II
You lay awake alone on the plush mattress that's not your own. Morning light filtering through the curtains, shining warmth right on your cheek. Your hand roaming around the soft fur of the blanket as the clock ticks slowly to eight. Eyes above the detailed swirling patterns on the bed's canopy, mind drifting back to the home you've left just a few days ago.
Tick.
Taking the ad for this house-sitting gig went better than you thought it would be. Thinking the house you would be watching over will just be a regular house in an urban subdivision. Not an estate full of ancient history situated in the middle of nowhere with only an elderly dog as a companion.
Tock.
At least it's better than your dead end job that makes you feel your soul is getting sucked with every hour you stay on the eighties musky carpeted floors, tapping away your entire life on the grainy screen of the corporate issued computer. The pay's good, better than what you were getting before anyway, even though it's only five months of house sitting it's way above your salary grade. You thank whatever entity out there that blew over the newspaper that literally landed on your lap while waiting for the bus stop, the 'help wanted' page open and glaring right at you. You only wish the job's longer though.
Tick.
The house being nice is an understatement, all oak and narra floors, fixtures and furniture made of the same wood. No sign of modernity in the entire estate. Even the kitchen is in an old style, well except for the coffee maker and microwave. Every hall and wall is covered in oil paintings, portraits of people dressed in old garb keep watch of your every move. The house creaks and shrieks during the late hours of the cold autumn night, always prompting you to keep your eyes tightly closed in an attempt to tamp down your curiosity.
Tock.
It's secluded enough that the air here feels crisp and cleaner than in the city. Trees whisper in the wind, moss clinging to its trunks. You suspect the house is as old as the woods that surround it. With vines curled and looped around the house's exterior and curved stained glass windows decorate its walls. Mudwood Manor they call it for every time it rains, mud gathers around the estate, threatening to swallow you like quick sand.
Chime!
The old grandfather clock's hand reaches eight, the sound echoes around the large room you've settled in. With an exhale, you reluctantly sit up, feet cold from the icy floor. Yawning, you wipe the sleep off your face, bones crying out in protest.
Lumbering your way through the usual morning routine, you change out of your pajamas even though no one else would see you in it, you still wear your usual day clothes, always feeling like you have to dress appropriately in this opulent house. If jeans and a jumper is considered appropriate in the massive estate.
The bathroom is no different than the rest of the house. With the large stark white bathtub in the middle of its tiled floors, twin sinks covered in dark marble, golden faucets squeak open as you turn the knob to brush your teeth. The entire bathroom is as big as your flat back in the city, you scoff at the extravagance of it all.
You like to think the owner of the place fits well with the manor, as eccentric and elegant as their home– all pearls and gold rings, silk and cashmere on their body. But alas you've never met him or them personally, only talking details on the telephone, his gruff voice vibrating against the receiver. They leave the key under the large mat after you've driven three hours to get there. The only clue you have of them actually existing is the instructions they've left you. The note now pinned on the fridge stocked full of food that could last you the entire five months, not to mention the large pantry that could feed an entire village.
You've got everything you'll ever need to survive five months alone. The thought scares you for a bit, but with the silence, fresh air and an entire library of books that you've never thought you could read in your lifetime, the loneliness isn't all bad, the place calms you down; if not for the bouts of sadness, you could see this place as your home for the time being.
The old border collie waits for you in the kitchen, mismatched eyes staring at your form, her tongue lolling on the side, greeting you with what you see as a smile.
"Morning, old Nellie" you greet back with a quick pet on her fluffy head, taking the time to scratch behind her ears. She wags her tail happily, while her eyes are closed in content. You've decided to talk from time to time so that you don't lose your voice, which Nellie appreciates the chatter.
You feed Nellie her breakfast first before fixing one yourself. She eats it in glee. The instructions written in neat cursive jumps at you every morning before opening the fridge.
You can't help but read it again.
1. Do not let anyone in.
You thought that was reasonable enough, it's not your place to invite people in here anyway.
2. Do not wipe the salt line on the doors and windows.
Now that's weird, you've always thought, but to each their own. The salt probably helps with keeping out the smell or rodents. Right?
3. The house is old, the sounds at night are from the metal pipes and scaffolding. Nothing to worry about.
Creepy, it's not like the place needs an extra creep factor added in it.
4. Feed Nellie three times a day without fail. Take her on walks around the estate every morning and before the sun sets.
That's alright, taking care of pets was part of the deal anyway. And it doesn't hurt that Nellie's a good dog to hang around with.
5. Do not in any circumstance go to the woods.
6. Wear the necklace at all times.
Your eyes drift over to the simple circular metal necklace sitting on the counter top, scoffing, you chose not to wear it just because an eccentric millionaire tells you to.
7. Only eat and drink the food I have provided.
You don't think you want to meet the owners now with how creepy they are just based on his instructions. Possessive much?
8. Be wary.
A shiver runs down your spine by just reading those two words.
You shake it off, opening the fridge, nothing piques
your interest this morning. Huffing, you have a hankering for fresh bread, alas you've eaten the last loaf yesterday. The strawberry jam inside the fridge mocks you. You recall on your drive to the manor you've passed by a small village, you're sure the place has a bakery or even a café in it. You crave a different scenery, and to use your voice other than for talking to Nellie.
Turning around, you put your hands on your hips, smiling at your companion who licks at the last bit of food in her bowl.
"What do you say for a stroll, Nellie?" She tilts her head in question, ears perking up, tail wagging excitedly.
—
You've never felt more isolated from civilization while walking towards the village, no houses run along the bumpy road, just miles and miles of trees with its aging wood, wild violets swaying around its trunks. The tall grass makes it hard to see the path. Mist blanketing and moistening the soil.
The walk was a lot longer than you thought it would be, now you're absolutely starving after walking for almost an hour. Nellie wasn't complaining though, for an older dog she seems to have so much energy in her. The village has clearly seen history, with its cobblestone streets, iron lampposts and ancient bricks. The fog thickens, blanketing the roofs of the village like marshmallow fluff.
You tie her leash around a lamp post, petting her fluffy head, you instruct her to sit and stay. She obliges, staring happily at you through her blue and brown eyes.
"Good girl, I'll be back in a flash" you make a mental note of buying her a treat for being such a good sport while you drag her from the manor.
Entering the shop, the bells chime signaling your arrival. Freshly baked bread wafts your senses as various meat is on display over at the counter, waiting for your perusal. You smell the soup of the day, judging by the aroma, you deduce it being butter squash soup, your stomach rumbles at the thought.
The modest shop has quite a few people in it. They chatter amongst their friends whilst eating breakfast and drinking their morning tea. Another patron enters behind you, she greets everyone by name, while the others immediately greet her the same. Well, except for a group of strangers sitting at the far end, they pay her no mind at all. It's a small village, you never doubted for a second that everyone would know every person that lives here. You've anticipated it actually, so used to being alienated from the crowd, you haven't noticed the old woman beckoning you over with a smile.
"Bonnie?" She calls for the third time.
"Oh! Sorry, I was thinking what to order" you move closer to the counter, the chill from the cold cuts display seeps through your jumper.
"You're the new caretaker at the old manor I presume?" She grins sweetly, showing her smile lines around her lips.
"House-sitter, I'm only here for five months" you're wary about telling her vital information, but she's an old woman. What's the harm in telling her that?
"Oh, I see he's going for a quick business trip this time. He would usually take an entire year away, y'know" her thick accent makes it hard for you to understand some of her words. Nonetheless, you don't miss the vital information about your mysterious employer. "But I don't gossip" she chuckles, "what will it be, deary?"
"You know Mr. O'hara, the owner?"
"Aye, known him since he was a lad. Good kid he was." She shakes her head. "There I go gossiping again, what are you havin'?"
You want more answers to feed your curiosity, but you don't want to pester the poor woman. "A BLT with cheese if you have them, lightly toasted and some of the soup, please." she nods, heading over to her station to prepare your sandwich when an older man chides in your conversation.
"Oh please, Orla y'know stopping yourself from gossiping just hurts you more" he laughs from his belly, white beard bouncing as he guffaws with his friends sitting him with.
"This" Orla, gestures from you to her. "Was a private conversation, where's your manners?"
"Don't know where I last put it!" He laughs again, shaking the wooden table in front of him. "Miss, let me guess, O'hara gave you those crazy rules?"
You perk up at the mention of the list. "Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"
He shrugs while the other patrons listen in, "he does the same thing to his other caretakers, there's a 'be wary' one, right?"
"Yes, it's really creepy"
The old woman pipes up, talking over her shoulder as she slices your sandwich. "It's a necessary evil after what happened to his daughter"
"What happened to his daughter?" You ask with trepidation.
"Don't tell me you actually believe that, old woman?" The older man argues back.
"Believe what?" You feel like there's an inside joke you keep missing.
"She was taken by them." Orla, turns around with your soup packed in a tupperware. You look at her questioningly.
"Bullshit if you ask me" the old man mumbles behind his mug. He sees your confused look, "she's talking about the fae" you thank him with a nod.
"It's true!" She wraps your sandwich inside foil, carefully putting it inside the paper bag. "There's no logical answer on where she is! Now it's just O'Hara in that massive estate."
"Kid just ran away, that's all!" Another older man argues back.
"Pssh," Orla swats him away with her hand, he turns away with a scoff. She turns back towards you, ringing your order up in the cashier. "Just do what his list says and you'll be fine" she says it like a warning to never stray far from the rules.
"Why do you think it's the fae?" You give her the payment she needs.
Humming, she clicks her tongue. "Just know it's them."
"Okay, um thank you" drifting away, she holds your arm back, taking your attention again.
Orla looks at you with wide eyes. "You know about them, yes?"
"Yes, like don't eat their food or you'll get stuck or don't give them your name or say thank you. I've heard the folk stories"
"Not just a story. The wood sings and they crave an audience." she lets go of your arm, your breath hitching, goosebumps appear on your skin.
You shake the thought, or try to at least.
The door chimes as you leave. Nellie lays on the pavement, tail wagging as she sees you come back to her side.
"Hi, got you something" she stands up, barking at you in excitement. "Okay, okay, here" Chuckling, you take a slice of bacon from your sandwich, giving it to her.
Nellie carefully takes it from your hand without biting your fingers, she chews happily.
"Good?" You scratch behind her fluffy ear. "Let's go back" untying her leash, you juggle the sandwich and her lead with your hands. The horror stories you've been told in your youth echoes in your mind, as your soft footfalls on the moist pavement. Wind rushes past you, pushing you back towards the manor.
—
Arriving inside the gates of Mudwood Manor, you gaze at the large brick building. It casts a shadow over you, its stature imposing. Fading bricks and trellises crawling with overgrown vines that's starting to wither and turn dark with bits of oranges and red still clinging to its last life. The large red door of the main entrance adds to your uneasiness. You attribute the fear from what the deli owner told you, the woods don't look much better. Tall trees with leaves so thick it blocks sunlight from hitting the undergrowth. From where you're standing, darkness seems to prevail inside. The thick fog added to the eeriness of the scene. It drapes over the treeline like curtains, swirling smoke falling down to the tips of your shoes, hiding something behind you can't quite see.
Just staring from the woodland edge gives you a sense of belonging with every second you stand idle. You have no idea why this feeling encapsulates you. The wind tries to push you towards the dark, flashes of autumn colored leaves swirl past. Eyelashes fluttering in the wind, your lips part as you listen to the flora dancing in the wind, as if it beckons you over. Daring you to cross the edge.
You wake up from the trance as Nellie growls at a squirrel taunting her from the ground. She pulls at her leash, the rope taut, your hand aches at the burn. You let go of the paper bag, half eaten soup spills over the grass, now holding the leash with both hands, you struggle to control the border collie.
"Nellie, calm down!" You yelp in pain when Nellie lunges, escaping your hold. The rope leaves angry marks on your palms, skin aching from the piercing pain. Nellie runs, following the grey squirrel into the woods. You can hear her barks fading in the distance. "Nellie! Come back!" You yell but it's futile as the old dog disappears from view.
"Fuck!" Without thinking, you run after her, legs carrying you further into the thick trees. The fog parts, opening the way. Eyes roaming the moss covered soil for her footprints. "Nellie!"
You're gonna lose your job, the thought makes you run faster. Tripping on a rock, you land on your already injured hand, dirt and grime sticking to the angry gashes, blood mixing with soil. Ignoring the pain, you push through the thicket.
Running, muscles aching, there's a stitch on your side as you stop to catch your breath. Hands on your thighs, you inhale and exhale. Nellie's footprints are barely visible under all the green and orange. Standing to your full height, your heart thumping like a drum under your ribcage. Eyes widening at the darkness that envelopes you, whirling around, fear overtakes your entire being.
You're lost.
Everywhere you look, identical trees fill your vision, cold seeping into your bones, smoke escapes your parted lips. Fingers turning stiff, you turn around when you hear Nellie's familiar bark.
"Nellie! Come here, girl!" You clap your hands to get her attention. "Nellie!"
Another bark echoes out in the dark, with only bits of sunlight filtering through the thicket, you let your other senses guide you to the sound. Speed walking, dry leaves crunch under your shoes, you call out to Nellie again. Narrowly avoiding a tree root protruding from the ground, you step over it so you don't land face first into the moist soil.
You stop when silence permeates the woods again. Standing still, a ring of mushrooms at your feet, you breathe heavily. "Nellie!" Frustrated, you yell again.
Instinctively stepping past a mushroom, you move your neck around, eyes roaming, looking for her white and black fur. Your palms land to your clammy forehead, wincing when you graze your injury.
"Fuck!" You stop circling around when the woods seem to expand right in front of your eyes, moving, flinging away, adding to the acres of wooded land. Vision focusing and unfocusing as the expanse extends further away. Fear once again blankets your nerves. Your mind claws at you to keep running.
"Lost?" A deep voice asks behind you. Alluring, tempting you to answer back.
Your blood suddenly runs cold. Primal fear makes your heart leap out of your chest.
Light suddenly appears behind you, your shadow gets taller and taller until it finally leaves you. Alone, you don't dare look behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up despite the warmth radiating from behind. Trepidation howls inside you.
Blood rushes in your ears, knuckles tighten, nails digging into skin as crimson drips on the tall grass below.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, curiosity wins over you.
｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. friends to lovers, a little bit of awkwardness, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), reader has a t-dick, very sweet sex (bordering on love making), creampie, hobie gets a little sappy at the end. you've been long time best friends with hobie for years, both secretly pining after each other. you both think nothing will ever come of your feelings until hobie asks to draw you nude.
wc: 5k
The sun was hot on your face. The rough sound of pencil meeting paper tickled your ears. Hobie hummed a soft tune while his hand carved out the rough shapes of your face into paper. His eyes kept flicking from his sketchbook to you, his gaze lingering on your closed eyes before wandering a little lower to trace the shape of your honeydew lips.
He reached out, his hand tenderly caressing the side of your face to get you to turn your head to the slightest degree so that the sun hit your face at just the right angle to make you glow honey gold. He touched you like a masterpiece, one of the old greats, like you would crumble if pressed too hard. His thumb traced your lip and you shivered ever so slightly.
“Have ya ever though’ of letting me draw ya nude?” Hobie had a way of saying things. Careless or carefree, you chose because he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, too busy drawing or playing the guitar.
You open your eyes, a deep frown painting itself across your honeydew lips. “You want to draw me what?” You sat up on your arms and Hobie sat up with you on his knees, his hand on your chest to push you back down onto the smooth wood of his deck. “Nude. Was I no’ loud enough? Keep still, dove. ‘m no’ done.”
You sigh and relent, laying back in the sun with your head tilted towards him to catch the golden rays. Hobie settled back down beside you and began sketching again.
You won't say Hobie didn't rattle something within you. Nude was intimate, nude meant vulnerable, nude meant served on a platter with all your feelings splayed out so brazenly before him. You couldn't hide anything from him while naked, couldn't hide how every gentle touch of his warm fingertips made your heart leap and your groin ache with feelings you’re forced to call want. You couldn't hide from his wandering gaze powdered with the stark neutrality of someone who didn't care either way.
“Why would you want to draw me naked?” You try not to move too much while you talk, try not to make a big deal out of his request. Why would he want to draw your body? Your body didn't look like everyone else's, the crescent-shaped twin scars cupping your chest made sure of that. Not to mention all the changes gone on between your legs. You’re not the most ideal person in the world to draw nude according to every societal standard.
But Hobie wasn't one to care about a social standard. “Why wouldn' I? I draw ya all the time. Yer my lovely lil muse.” He touched his pencil behind his ear and set his sketchbook down closed beside him. He shifted himself, laid down right beside you with his head propped up on his hand, looking down on you as you lay below him.
Hobie reached out and pinched your cheek. “Jus’ think ‘bout i’. No pressure. I wan’cha to be comfortable with the idea.” He lied down completely beside you, just the two of you lying on the deck of his boat, shirtless, arms touching all the way from shoulder down to the backs of your hands. You could grab his hand if you wanted to. He could grab yours. Your finger twitches with the idea of it. But that's not what friends do.
“What would happen if I agreed?” You asked timidly. Hobie turned his head, eyes carefully tracing the lines of your side profile. “We’d wait a week before we did anythin’. Jus’ in case you became a chicken and wan’ed to back ou’.” He teased as he always did and that set you at ease as you turned your head to meet his gaze.
His deep-set eyes traced the contours of your face with dedication and admiration. If you hadn't known any better you might have said he did it lovingly. But he was an artist at the end of the day and your best friend. Any love he had beyond a platonic one was for what you do for his art. “You bring it to life.” He once said. He did not love you the way you loved him. You were sure of it.
“Lemme finish this piece then we can grab a bite, yeah?” Hobie sat up and placed his hand on your chest, patting you the way a friend pats another in the back. He doesn't let his touch linger even though every atom of your body begged and pleaded for him to just touch you, touch you anywhere, you didn't care where. Just let it stay there, let it linger a little longer, let it hold so you might know that he's real and he’s yours.
You consider it while he draws with your eyes closed and your hands resting on your belly, tracing imaginary lines and imagining it’s Hobie doing it with the tips of his nimble fingers. He wouldn't make it weird, wouldn't tease you about it for the rest of your lives, wouldn't embarrass you by telling others. That's not how he is. It would just be between the two of you, from one man to another.
Hobie sits beside you in silence, hoping he didn't ruin anything you two had, the soft progress you have made with each other years in the making. He’s been dropping hints for years now, the obvious ones only made in the last few months. Unnecessary lingering touches, brushing his hand against yours to give you the opportunity to grab on and stay that way. He holds your face so softly so fucks sake, leans in so close he might just kiss you but leaves it to you to make the final move. You never do. He called you his muse, told you his art is nothing without you and yet you still look at him with that blank, oblivious look in your eyes that makes him want to tell you straight up that he’s in love with you. You’d probably still tilt your head like a puppy, confused and unknowing.
His eyes lavish over your body, every piece of exposed skin being feasted upon by his greedy gaze. Your eyes are closed, you’d never know. He wants to trace his fingers along your scars, kiss them, kiss you, feel your skin on his and know you a little more than he already does.
“I’ll do it.” You concede. “You can’t show it to anyone though. I’d die of humiliation.”
“Never planned to, dove.” Hobie smiled. “It’ll just be between me ‘n you. It’s just anatomy practice.” Anatomy practice sounded good, sounded reasonable, sounded like he wasn't just trying to find any excuse to witness you naked. Did it make him sick, perverted, what he’d end up doing with that drawing as he did with nearly all his other drawings of you? Did it make him bad that he’d end up with his hand firmly wrapped around his cock, pleading for a single moment, a single chance? Did it make him wrong that he’d ruin the page with cum and would have to redraw it all over again?
You remind him, “I don't have regular anatomy.”
“I don't need regular, dove.” Hobie looks up from his sketchbook, flipping his pencil to erase a small imperfection in his work. “I just need you.”
-
Hobie gave you a week. An entire week to reconsider and yet you remained steadfast in your decision. It wouldn't be weird. Hobie has a way of making awkward situations completely comfortable with his light-heartedness. He never took anything seriously so why should you?
Boarding his boat meant accepting wholly that you’d be naked in front of him and a part of you, while nervous, was comfortable with that. If you were to be naked in front of anyone in the entire world, you’d want it to be your best friend, the person you trust most in this world.
Hobie was waiting for you inside, guitar in lap while strumming some cords to a melody he was humming. You kicked your shoes off at the door and let it slam shut behind you as if it were sealing you in. You can't back out now. You had promised.
Hobie put his guitar down on it’s display rack and tossed the pick into a small box of picks he had sitting on a small table beside his bed. “Mr. Punctuality ova here. I wasn' expectin’ ya fo’ anotha hour.” He hopped down from the ledge he was sitting on, stumbling a bit but ultimately landing on his feet. He came over and tossed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a half-hearted hug.
“You told me to come at 1.”
“But when I say tha’ I really mean 2. You know ion run on other people's time.” He offered a cheeky little dimpled smile across those dark lips of his that you adored more than you could ever say. He rubbed your shoulder a little before patting it and letting you go. You wanted to run back to him, to tell him to embrace you once more but fully this time. You didn't want to embarrass yourself by doing so.
“Are ya sure ya do this?” He offered you one last chance to back out before the two of you started. “We can always stop if ya feel uncomfortable,” he assured you.
You nodded slowly, lips curling into a soft, self-assuring smile. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.” Your heart beat so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat and hear it in your ears. You balled your hands into fists, thumbs in your palms, squeezing with anxiety. You trusted him, knew he would do nothing to make you feel uncomfortable.
“I’ll be back in a momen’, you can get on the bed when you’re ready.” Hobie went to leave to afford you some privacy. You appreciated his thoughtfulness and watched him go with a shaky breath. You wrung your hands, grasping the hem of your shirt to sooth yourself before you began.
You started with your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding it up neatly before placing it on the edge of Hobie’s bed. That was soon followed by your pants, then your underwear. You’re not used to being naked, especially not in Hobie’s boathouse. You felt vulnerable, your hands immediately went to cup your love and cover yourself without so much as a second thought.
You climbed up onto Hobie’s bed and covered yourself with his duvet, waiting for him to return so that you can get this over with. You tell yourself it’s for anatomy practice, that it’s nothing more than that. But there’s something oddly intimate about being wrapped up in his planets, lying in his bed with his deep, musky scent permeating your senses and soothing your raging nerves.
You lay there with your face pressed into his pillow awaiting Hobie’s return. Your fingers gripped his sheets, twisting and fingering the fabric anxiously as you watch the door crack open and Hobie’s head poke inside to ensure you’re properly prepared. He saw you curled up in his bed and smiled with a tender softness. “You ready?”
You nodded, nipping at your bottom lip. Hobie came shuffling in, closing the door behind himself gently. He rummaged about his flat, grabbing his sketchbook and a sharpened pencil before coming over to you in his bed.
Hobie climbed in with you, shuffling over to kneel beside your covered body. He set his sketchbook down and carefully reached out to grasp the edge of the blanket you had covered your modesty up with. “May I?” His eyes were soft looking upon you, they ask for permission too, ask for you to let your guard down for just a moment. They ask for you to trust him
You do. You trust him wholeheartedly. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nod subtly and let go of the blanket. You let him peel it away from you but your hands return between your legs to keep yourself covered.
“Jus' relax f’me, dove.” His slender fingers grasped your wrists, carefully and gently pulling them away from your tender lips. You don't resist him, you let him take your hands in his and remove them from the spot where you find yourself feeling the most vulnerable. There's something about his touches that feels more intimate than before. Your nudity amplified every caress of his hand against your skin. You could feel it linger throughout your body.
Hobie gazed at you, his eyes scanning down the length of your trembling body, hitching at your chest and groin for just a lingering moment. You don’t hear the way he murmurs soft prayers under his breath, a plea for strength, for the worthiness to admire such a sacred body in its most bare state.
Starting the sketch was the hardest part. Hobie was used to touching you, holding your face, dragging a finger along the curve of your jaw, his fingertips kissing your eyelids, tracing the underside of your lips. He was a physical learner and with time, he knew your face like he knew his own palm, all the lines and shadows that made it up.
But he didn’t know your body. Not the way he wanted to.
You could see the frustration crossing his face as he turned his pencil and erased his work for the second time, “Is there anything I can do to help?” Your voice was timid and beautiful, ringing with an air of genuine concern. You hadn’t expected Hobie to ask to touch you.
“F’r visual purposes only. I don’ – know ya body yet. No’ like I know ya face.” His hands wrung against his lap, refraining from making himself too comfortable with your pretty body. He imagined your skin would be soft beneath his palms, supple as he dipped his graphite-covered fingers into your flesh. “You don’t have’ta.”
“You can.” You say almost too quickly. Did he catch the desperation in your voice? Did he catch the way you leaned in just a little further, the way you crossed your legs at the mere thought of his hands stroking down the length of your bare skin. Had you given yourself away? Had you shown all of your cards like an amateur?
You watched Hobie place his things down and come over to climb back onto the bed with you. You sat up and let out a startled little gasp. Hobie was suddenly closer than you had expected, sitting beside you with his hands on either side of your legs to prop himself up.
“Jus’ tell me when t’stop, yeah?”
He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but to touch. Hobie started at your face, the familiarity of it offering you ease and comfort. His hand cupped your cheek. Brushing a soft thumb under your eyes, palm cupping along your jaw and his thumb moving up slightly to skim over your soft eyelid. The pads of his fingers move to your lips, tracing them left to right, right to left. His eyes flick between your lips and your coy gaze, too shy to fully meet his every time he looks at you.
His other hand skimmed at your waist. His fingertips touching at your chest, tracing your scars with such loving care. Hobie likes the way you shiver under his touch, likes the way your body rolls as he makes his way lower to your belly where your happy trail begins, leading lower and lower. He doesn’t go all the way though you so desperately wished he would.
His hand touches your thigh, the other trailing down your shoulder, to your elbow, to your hand where his fingers slip beneath yours. Before you know it, your fingers are laced with his. There was something so innocent about it, something so beautiful and soft. His hand on your thigh, tracing circles into your flesh felt just as innocent in the beginning. But his fingers were trailing .along your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there with something far darker that anything platonic.
It was hard not to melt into his touch, a touch so hot that it left your skin burning where he met it. Your chest burned with desire. Your gaze, a little more brazen now, showed as much. You swallowed thickly as you caught Hobie’s gaze and suddenly you were doing just the same as him, staring at that lip piercing that glinted under the dim lighting of his bedroom.
It was the same thought that crossed your minds.
“Can I kiss ya?”
“For your drawing, right?”
Hobie nodded slowly, leaning in with a subtle tilt of his head. His lips hovered slightly over yours, not exactly kissing you but not, not kissing you either. “Yeah…for the drawin’.” He whispered against your lips, taking them with his. He kissed you like he’s been waiting for this moment since he’s known you. Kissed you like he needed this, kiss you in a way that said “if you stop, I’ll die.”
He can't help the way his hands wander, touching you in places he'd never even dreamt of touching in the first place as his hands grow more greedy. His hands trail everywhere, feeling your skin grow warm under his touch as he commits every brush of skin against skin.
You could feel a heat pool between your legs, your pussy ached and your dick throbbed to attention with each inch gained by Hobie’s fingers closer to your wanton core. You spread your legs for him, silent permission for him to touch where he pleased and where you craved.
Hobie did not touch you there, not yet. His hand held your waist and his lips began to trace a trail down the side of your neck, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses on your exposed flesh leading down to your chest. He peppered kisses along the crescents of your scars, worshiping exactly where they cut into you and made you a little more of who you are.
His lips pressed kisses down your naval. His hand gripped yours tighter. “Lay back, luv.” His free hand pushed you back gently, coaching you to lie in the mess of pillows stained with his scent. Hobie held your smaller hand, pressing it into the mattress, his free hand still roaming and touching and studying your warm body.
How could he possibly go back to pencil and paper after this? His drawings could never satisfy him now that he’s gotten a taste of the real thing. His art was meaningless now, served no purpose now that your flesh was beneath his tongue, in his hands, gripping, touching, loving.
He’s come on your face a thousand times over in his mind, on his page. But he could not bear the idea of sullying your sacred body with such degeneracy. Hobie would only touch, only please. He would come last.
He settled himself between your legs, his hand parting them a little further until your pretty, wet lips parted with a nice, creamy sound. You turned your head away, embarrassed but Hobie found it quite lovely. You are hard and wet for him, your sweet, little cock firm behind the hood.
Hobie kissed your pelvis just above your t-dick, ending his journey to where you desired him the most. He glanced up at you and found your eyes cast away with what could only read as humiliation.
“C’mon, dove, look a’ me.” He kissed the tip of your dick and smiled as you shuddered with something of a pathetic moan. You willed yourself to look at him with timid eyes. Hobie kissed your tip again, his fingers pulling back your hood to give him more space to work. His tongue licked firm strokes between your soaked lips all the way up to your pretty cock which he licks then takes into his mouth.
He sucked on the engorged bundle of nerves, swollen and sensitive on his tongue. Hobie worships the way you cry a little, your back arching from the sheets, his tongue stroking lick after lick against the tip, each one sending jolts of pleasure throughout your heated body.
You placed one of your hands on the back of his head, not applying pressure but to give him a few encouraging scratches to his scalp. “Just like that, keep going.” Your body shows all its cards and you couldn't care in the slightest. Breathless moans and soft whimpers keep him going, keeps him sucking your pretty dick with his tongue occasionally lapping at your sweet little hole.
Hobie used his fingers to stroke between your pussy lips where you ached the most. It was easy to ease a finger in with how utterly soaked you were and with a few slow pumps, the second finger was not too far behind.
He took his time with you, unraveling you like a gift splayed out before him. He could rush, he could take what he needed but he wanted this to be slow, intimate. He needed to tell you just how much he worshiped his body of yours, how much he valued every piece of flesh you offered up to him. He needed to study you, inside and out.
Your hushed moans were beautiful and the whines the broke out between them were just the same. “My lil’ muse.” He hummed against your cock, kissing it and the flesh around it in an act of praise. His fingers worked in and out of you, curled in search of that gummy little ridge that would send you into orbit and make this all the better for you.
He knew he found it when you let out a nice, little, high-pitched moan and your whole body lept. Hobie chuckled softly, much to your dismay and rubbed you at your sweet spot right where you needed him.
“Why– fuck~ why are you always…so mean. L-laughing at me ‘n all.” You pant out, hips bucking against his soaked fingers, all your pretty, little parts rubbing against his knuckles.
“On the contrary, I think ‘m bein’ rather nice, don' you?” He kissed your belly, slowly making his way back up your body to find your lips again. “I only wanna be sweet wit’cha, luv.” His lips pecked yours once, twice, before he kissed you fully again. His fingers thrust into you, his thumb playing with your dick to keep you nice and stimulated. “You don't think ‘m bein’ sweet?”
You shook your head and he pressed his fingers into your sweet spot to make you gasp. “I-I think you’re the meanest person I know, Hobes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in, your lips still stealing kisses from one another. “I think you’re mean peck ‘cause peck it’s your fingers inside me and not peck you.”
“I can change tha’. I can be so nice t’ya.”
You’re lucky he’s in his pajamas and not his entire getup. It’s easy to get him to pull himself out of his pants enough to reveal his length to you. He’s thick and long, nothing to make a passing statement at. He slips his fingers from your eager cunt and uses them to drag along the tip of his cock, spreading it down his length with a few sloppy strokes against his palm.
Hobie pulled you closer. You settled back against his pillows, whining a little when Hobie pulled his hand away from yours to brace himself against you. You toss your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Your gaze is a bit more confident looking into his and Hobie kisses you softly.
You're dripping, trembling as he drags the tip of his thick cock between your soaked lips. He teased you, pressing the tip into your sopping entrance before pulling away. It coats him, your wetness, making it easier for him to slowly inch his way inside. He stretches you slowly and your nails sink into his back. You bury your face into his neck, muffling your moans.
His hands caress your body, holding you tight as if he craved that same warmth from you as well. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock buried deep within you. He lets you adjust while he familiarizes himself with your tight cavern. Your walls hug him, imprinting every vein, every groove of him. Soft and welcoming like you've been waiting to invite him in since forever.
You two stare at each other, the warmth of one’s breath breezing over the other's supple skin. "Move." You encourage, nudging your nose against his. His hands tightened on your waist as he pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside before surging them forward. He liked being soft with you, liked touching you like you were one of his drawings, like you would smudge if he pressed too hard.
You didn't mind slow or careful. It made you feel all that more special, like you were worth taking up that time where he could be doing other things. He kept his strokes paced, gentle. The soft slapping of skin mingles with your moans that fill the room.
"Hobie~" You claw at his back, leaving your mark on him in bright red lines that cover his skin. His cock filled you to the brim, pressing every point of pleasure along the way to his tip kissing your cervix. Hobie’s size was nothing to laugh at. He touched places never before discovered, his hips rutting into yours in firm, paced strokes.
He pressed his against the side of your head. Your shampoo was nice, lavender and vanilla he supposed. Hobie made a mental note to write that down in his sketchbook with all his other notes about you.
Hobie smelled like subtle cologne and natural musk. It's comforting, not overwhelming or violently invading your nose. You kiss his neck, along his sharp jaw, and over his prominent Adams Apple. Your teeth nip softly over his supple flesh, easily able to leave hickeys on his skin, smooth as paper.
Your moans are like music to his ears. High-pitched and uneven. With each thrust, he's rewarded with such a beautiful sound. You chew on your bottom lip in attempt to contain them but he doesn't like it. "Uh-uh, I wanna hear you. Don't deny me such a beautiful sound." He reaches up and pulls your lip from your teeth with his own. A spark.
Hobie took your hand with his much larger one and laced your fingers with his like before. He pinned your hand to the bed, rubbing off graphite onto your skin, his mark on you, his love on you. “Am I nice enough now?”
You nod, “so nice~”. You sighed out, pulling him in and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “So good.” You murmured against his skin, sucking on that piece of flesh to calm yourself. His strokes were deep, solid, unquestionable in his dedication to his craft.
He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, then your lips, a innocent little kiss that belies the way he’s fucking you right now, his pelvis rubbing your dick with every roll of his hips.
His hand touches the side of your face, skimming it, holding it, worshiping it as if he were drawing. Your eyes fluttered softly, your lips parted to let out a shaky breath and your eyes admire him the way he admires you, like an artist looking at its masterpiece.
Hobie’s hand trails down the length of your body and reaches between your bodies to touch your dick. He strokes it between his fingers, smirking at the way you cry into the bend of his neck and take the time to bite. You sink your teeth into smooth muscle, tongue lavishing over smoother skin. You’ll undoubtedly lean your mark and he wouldn't have it any other way.
You were so sweet too, so sweet to tell him before you came in short, fast pants. You begged in soft “please”s for him to keep going. “Jus’ like that.” Your legs hooked over his slender hips to keep him in close.
Your mind went hazy with the rush of your climax, your body tensed and rolled with the waves of it. That pretty pussy of your clamped down around Hobie’s full cock, stroking him in beautiful subtly pulses that coaxed him towards his own orgasm.
“Ya wan’ me to cum wit’cha, pretty boy?”
You nod and whine, nails sinking into the back of his neck. Your legs tuck in and pull his hips closer and oh those silky walls of your milked him so nice and thoroughly he couldn't help but to cum.
Hobie didn't mean to cum inside, didn't mean to sully your body with his spunk. He didn't want to ruin you, ruin the temple of your body but God, he couldn't help it and you weren't letting him move.
And oh, he didn't mean to get so sappy, didn't mean to lift your intertwined hands and kiss the back of yours as he came deep inside, hot cum rushing to fill you to the brim. He sighed with pleasure and contentment and looked you in the eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, luv. My lil’ muse.”
He rolled over with you still holding on to him, slipping from his little sanctuary between your legs with a wet pop. He readjusted himself, made himself decent before kissing you on the head.
God, what would this mean for your friendship? Would this become a regular thing? Did this make you something more. You were too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the quiet serenity of the moment.
“You got what you need for your drawing?” You ask innocently, as if he did all of this for some damn drawing. Hobie scoffed against your scalp and pulled away to look at you. “Yeah, but ‘m no’ in the mood to draw anymore. Jus’ lemme hold’ja, yeah, dove?”
Hobie's arms are warm, suffocating in a way that leaves you gasping for more. His piercings are cold. Freezing. The ring on his lip leaving a cold trail as he places kisses upon the nape of your neck. You mumbled uncoherently, burying your face into the soft fabric of your pillow. Sighing at the comfort of his body on top of your own, of his cold skin against yours.
His vest falls beside the bed, followed by his shirt and you moan happily when you feel his bare chest against your back. A low mumble echoes back.
"Why y'awake, pretty bird?"
You grumble into the pillow. His hand drags along your skin, resting on your nape and playing with the baby hairs there.
"Hm?" Hobie presses.
"Missed y'..."
He laughs, biting at your earlobe. You hear his pants with it's thousand useless belts fall to the floor and then Hobie slips in beside you. His lips are soft on your face now, distracting you from the feeling of his ringed hand cupping at your sex. You groan, rubbing yourself against it. A hand on his jaw has him moaning, the sound swallowed by your hungry mouth on his. You bite and suck at his lower lip. Making happy sounds at how the soft flesh is pliable beneath your teeth.
Hobie's other hand dips beneath the covers and pulls his drooling cock out from his boxers, pulling you close by the hip so he can rut at your sex. You return the movement with satisfaction, groping at his stomach with gusto. He whimpers against your lips. Dick hard against you.
❝ warnings ❞ just the tip, mention of a dick piercing, p in v sex
You said “just the tip” not thinking that it would do any harm. It was just the tip, all of 1.5 inches of 8 inches of solid cock. Hobie was pleading with you, his hand roaming and groping as you two lie on the couch, high out of your minds. He got horny when he was high and you…you got bold.
‘Just the tip’ was a test to see if Hobie could manage some self-control. Suddenly you were more exposed then you’ve ever been, lying on the couch with your tits out and cunt exposed to him while Hobie stroked himself to the sight. “Jus’ the tip.” He almost seemed to be reminding himself as he adjusted himself so his cock rested on top of your pussy.
He rocked his hips, dragging his length between your wet lips. Every thrust forward sent his cock dragging across your puffy little clit until you were rocking your hips in the opposite direction. Up and down, down and up, until you were both desperately humping each other between panting breaths.
Hobie slapped his fat cock against the flat of your pussy while your hips bucked against him. You were so fucking wet, the splatter of your wet pussy leaving his fingers and dick soaked. You were more than prepared to take just the tip, maybe even more if you wanted but you made it clear so he wouldn't go any further.
As he eased his pulsing cock into your aching cunt and groaned at your soft, wet walls of gummy flesh holding him as you rocked your hips and reminded him, “Just the tip.”
“Jus’ the tip.” He repeated something of a distant murmur, his eyes watching the way just the tip parted your soaked lips and begged always for just a little more. The piercing on the tip did wonders for his sensitivity, each push of his head in and out of your greedy walls making him shudder with pleasure and love and obsession.
You liked just the tip, liked watching Hobie struggle in the battle of keeping his promise and taking what he wants, what he needs. His thumb messily stroked at your clit while his free hand stroked the rest of his cock to the same rhythm. His nimble fingers worked at your pleasure incessantly and only found satisfaction in the way you moaned his name. “Hobie!”
It was almost embarrassing how nice it felt just barely going there. How nice the sound of your pussy letting him go with a little, creamy ‘pop’ sounded every tip he pulled out and how it welcomed him back when he pushed into you.
Just the tip meant him cumming more on your pussy than inside. He was sloppy about it, groaning on top of you like something of a feral animal while his seed covered your pussy. He was still pushing his head into you as he came, got the satisfaction of both worlds, watching his cum drip from place to place as he made a mess of you.
Warnings: hair pulling obviously, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home kids), smoking, thigh riding, lots of hickeys/biting, scratching, lots of sweet praise but it's also kinda condescending, this is just porn with very minimal plot, let me know if I missed anything!
While reading, I recommend you listen to the altar is my hips - a Spotify playlist by me!
~
"Y'think I should get a leather jacket?"
Your shoulders shook under the weight of Rodrick's arm as you chuckled. "Why, you get an idea for a costume?"
"Absolutely. Even got the name for it." You could see the familiar smirk he wore even as your eyes remained on the screen. Smoke billowed in your peripheral, the smell of his near-finished cigarette long since clung to your clothes.
"It'd be a cute couples costume too," he continued, "you could be Tina Gray."
You turned to look at him. "Oh could I now?"
"Yup." He grinned as he put his cigarette out. "You've got the bedroom personality for it too."
You swung a pillow at his face, but Rodrick easily caught it and tossed it behind him. You huffed in false annoyance, falling back into your spot curled up under his arm.
His hand fell absentmindedly to your hair, gently twirling strands around his finger. The sensation makes your eyelids heavy, getting sleepy as he continued to soothe you.
Until you felt a sharp tug. Your eyes flew open, and you audibly gasped. Your entire body froze, and you curse yourself when Rodrick turns his head. A soft "oh?" leaves his lips, which are curled up into a curious smile. It had only been playful tug, but that was before he knew you'd react like that.
"That's not how you do it," you breathe, ghost of a grin teasing your lips.
"Yeah?" His voice was a condescending lilt. "How d'you do it?"
Instead of speaking, you take hold of his wrist, pushing it towards the back of your head. His fingers thread into your roots and he takes a fistful, tugging slowly. Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in a deep sigh.
Before your eyes close, you catch a glimpse of your boyfriend's reaction. His eyes are wide and full of amusement, and he's smirking incredulously. His brows raise, and you can see the gears turning in his brain.
"That's interesting," Rodrick mumbled, almost more to himself. "I wonder..."
He climbs up over you, legs caging in on either side of your hips. His foot kicks the TV remote onto the floor but Elm Street is long forgotten. His hold on your hair returns, the tingling in your scalp pulling a weak noise from your throat.
"Now, what would happen..." Rodrick's thought trails off as his fingers ghost over your throat, touch only featherlight until the pads of his fingers find your pulse points and press. Your breathing is shaky and your vision begins to blur, but your hands still fly to his shoulders. You might have even been a little embarrassed at how your hooded eyes began to cross if not for the fact that it just felt so good.
"Aw, y'like that?" Rodrick lilts, his face pulling closer to yours. Heat creeps up your neck.
"Y-yeah," you attempt to nod, but you aren't given much room for movement.
"I like that too, baby." He murmurs against your mouth before he kisses you slowly, tasting of nicotine and gum. They were gentle, teasing kisses, but quickly gave way to a more desperate rhythm as his tongue glided over your lower lip. He hummed a deep note when you let him in, when you whimpered as he started sucking on your tongue.
You let out a disappointed noise when Rodrick lets go of you, rolling back to sit but it's forgotten when he pats his thigh. You quickly oblige, skin heated and brain frazzled.
As soon as you're sat on his leg, the friction to your clit has you gasping into his mouth. Almost involuntarily, your hips began to roll against him, so slowly but enough to make your head swim and heat boil in your gut.
"Oh, sweetness," Rodrick murmurs in between kisses, "so needy already? I've barely done anything."
He knows he doesn't need to do much. Just a few words- or a tug of the hair- and you'd be turned into a pile of mush. He knows you too well, and he loves having that effect over you.
Even though he's teasing you, you can't be bothered to care, muttering an mhm and rutting your hips faster. Your hands fall from his shoulders to his chest, then trail to his thigh to ground yourself.
"Atta girl, keep goin'." Rodrick murmurs in your ear, licking a stripe down the shell of it, planting soft kisses wherever his lips wandered. "'M right here baby, that's it, yeah, good girl."
Rodrick's encouragement was sweet honey to your ear, and a sickening contrast to the hand that hand re-found purchase at your scalp, tilting your head back so that he could teethe at your neck, soft plucks of skin turning into bruising. Deft hands made work of your top, leaving your chest bare.
Your rutting became increasingly frustrated; your thighs burned and you weren't getting any closer to your high.
"Rod... need..." your words were mumbled and breathless, and your brain was too cloudy to be fully coherent anyway.
"Hm? Couldn't hear you, bunny, say that one more time?"
"Need more," you cried, hands pushing into Rodrick's hair when his tongue laved over your nipple.
"More what, baby?" He lilted, cupping and pinching your other tit lovingly. He groaned when your fingers clutched his hair tighter.
"Need you, Rod please..." you sighed, tugging at his wrist.
Rodrick chuckled. "Baby, I don't think I can do that. Might hurt you if I don't get you nice and prepped, yeah? How about we start with fingers?"
"Anything, please," you babbled, nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder.
"Alright, alright, I got ya. Let's get these off, hm?" He tugged at the belt loop of your pants. They were off in record time, along with your underwear, leaving your entire body bared to him. You felt naked, more than just literally.
Once you were situated on his lap again you tried pulling on the hem of his shirt. "Off," you mumbled. Happily he complied, and you took the opportunity to lean forward and plant loving kisses to his neck, his collarbone.
You didn't realize when you'd risen up off your behind that it gave Rodrick the space to slip a hand between your legs, pulling a squeak out of you, muffled against his jaw.
"Aw, so messy baby. A little hair pulling did all this?"
You knew that it was a few other things, but you were so far gone you gave him a whiny 'yeah' anyway. Rodrick's fingers massaged your entrance, gathering slick and smothering it around your clit, making obscene noises- probably on purpose.
"So fuckin' wet, sweet, y'hear that?" Rodrick presses kisses to your pulse point, up to your jaw, then kisses you deep. Swallowing your moans into his mouth as the kiss turns messy.
"Please, Rod..." you're breathless and your pleas are barely coherent, but Rodrick knows exactly what you're asking for. You keel when you feel a finger glide into you, curling up towards your stomach.
"Yeah, good fuckin' girl." Rodrick's grin widens at your reaction when a second finger joins the first. "Always so eager, hm? That's my girl."
"Yeah, 'm your girl," you pant, hips canting to meet his hand.
"That's right," he coos, thumb tracing wide circles over your clit. "So proud of you, my girl."
"Rod," you whine, "need you."
"Hm?" He hums between nips to your collarbone. "You have me."
You shake your head vigorously. "Need you inside."
This gets Rodrick's attention. His fingers slow, while his free hand moves from your hair to his pants. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his half-hard cock out from his boxers. You watch as he takes his fingers, soaked from your cunt, and wrap them around himself, stroking slowly. His head falls back against the couch, lips hanging open and you feel the sudden urge to bite them.
Before you get the chance, however, Rodrick is pulling you forward, lining himself up to take you. Slowly, so slowly, he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, smearing your slick around. You jerk when his head catches on your clit, sending electricity shooting up your spine.
"Rod..." you whine against his neck, "please."
"Please what?" You want to slap him for the knowing glint in his eye, but that was for another day.
"Please fuck me."
And who was he to deny you? Guiding your hip, Rodrick eased you down on him, guiding you but letting you set your own pace. The stretch set your loins on fire, but it was heaven.
Your head kicked back, and you let your voice have a mind of its own as you sunk down on him. Long and pornographic, and Rodrick matched it. You felt him throb inside of you.
"Fuck, sound so pretty." Rodrick started rolling his hips into you, and you cried out at the sensation. "Yeah, that's it. Moan like a fuckin' whore for me, c'mon."
And who were you to deny him? You had the house to yourself, and the name alone sent your brain into overdrive. He filled you up so nicely, and the drag of his cock inside of you made your skin tingle with delight.
"Rod, yeah, oh- just like that, ohmygod-" your voice was caught in your throat when Rodrick, with the usual knowing twinkle in his eye, takes a fistful of hair and tugs you forward into a sloppy kiss.
All of the sensations- that Rodrick was giving you- were sending you closer and closer to tumbling headfirst off of that ledge. The sting in your scalp, his tongue sliding against yours, the sounds of wet slaps and your combined moans. The smell of cigarettes and the heat of his skin under your fingers. The head of his cock piledriving into your cervix again and again and again.
"Rod I- oh god, I'm gonna- oh, so close- Rod please," you pant into his mouth, fingers raking down his chest and leaving faint red lines in their wake.
"I gotcha," he grunts, hand snaking between your bodies to press circles over your clit. You can hear it in his voice that he's holding back. You don't want him to. "That's it, baby, come for me. Make a mess on my cock, c'mon."
That extra pleasure is all it takes to have you diving headfirst into a mind-numbing orgasm. Your eyes screw shut, and all you can feel is Rodrick. Shaky hands rest on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as hot pleasure courses through you.
You're acutely aware of the hot spurts hitting your cervix, and the fluids seeping out of you, but your body is still tingling all over. Your voice has long since become scratchy, but that doesn't stop you from whimpering and crying as he coaxes you through it.
"Good girl, did so good for me, yeah?" His grip on your hair is no longer a grip, but gentle, soothing strokes, almost as if to apologize.
You hummed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder as you breathe. The smell of sex had permeated the air around you, and you were suddenly very aware of how sweaty you'd become.
"Think we need a shower, baby, c'mon." Rodrick nudged your head.
You wanted to, you felt sticky, but your body was on fire, this time with a less-than-pleasurable ache. Begrudgingly, you lifted yourself off of his now soft dick, hobbling down to reach for your clothes and then to the nearest bathroom.
The shower was peaceful, and the water was soothing on your muscles. You both worked in a comfortable silence.
"Well, I was right." Rodrick finally said.
"About what, the hair pulling?"
"Nope."
You turned around to face him, head tilted in confusion. His mouth was curled upwards and his eyes were lifted in a smile.
"You do have the bedroom personality of Tina Gray."
synopsis. you broke up with hobie for reasons out of your control and it seems as if he's intent on making you regret it.
・．❕ warning. you are a mess, oral (f receiving), smut is short cuz it's not the focus, body shots cuz why not, a LOT of angst
You can't believe you're here…with him.
Your eyes shift across the room, always somehow landing upon his tall, lanky figure sitting on a pillow with a joint between his fingers and a perpetual chuckle in his throat. Nothing ever funny enough to elicit a full laugh, always a breezy chuckle.
You sip on your drink, barely listening to your friend telling you about how her partner was being an asshole as always and how she thinks she should break up with him (she never does). Your gaze doesn't linger on Hobie or you'd give yourself away.
You agreed to be friends, you agreed to keep his secret being Spider-Man. You made up lies for him on a dime just to protect him to which he'd always thank you with a wink and one of those smiles he knows you used to swoon over. "Thanks, luv." He'd whisper in your ear, tossing his arm over your shoulders to pull you in close. Then he'd disappear all together.
Why did you two have to have the same friend group? Why did every outing have to mean being forced to be in close proximity to him? It was your decision haunting you, whispering in your ear that you should have never broken up with him because it seemed he was now intent on making every interaction hell for you.
Did you know that every time you look away, he looks at you, stealing glances far more discreet than yours? His gaze caresses your face, your lips, the curve of your body. He takes a drag of his joint and smiles to himself because he sees that you're still wearing that necklace he gifted you. Your fingers fiddled with it subconsciously, twisting at the small tube that contained a single, preserved rose petal within it.
It was another one of your shared friend's ideas to do body shots. Everyone was in enthusiastic agreement besides you and Hobie. He didn't say anything about it, went along with it anyway because that's just who he was. You on the other hand sat where you were while everyone else got into a circle on the floor. You didn't want to play, didn't want to see Hobie with his lips and tongue all over someone else's body or see one of your friends do the same to him.
"I'll sit this one ou', mates." Hobie saw your reluctance to play and instantly knew why. "Y/N don' wanna play so I'll stay ou' to make i' even." He's a good liar like that, convincing with his nonchalant manner of going about things. That's why he was able to keep being Spider-Man a secret for so long. You would have never found out if not for him straight up telling you a few months into your relationship. It's also how you two were able to keep your relationship a secret from your friends for as long as it lasted. Now it was a matter of keeping your breakup a secret as well.
He stood up and came over to the couch where you sat. You wished he wouldn't as he sat down beside you and tossed an arm across the back of the couch behind your head. He leaned into you, smelling of weed, natural musk, and cologne that made you want to lean into him and press your face into the side of his neck.
Instead you shuffle away from him slightly so your bodies weren’t pressed so snuggly together. “You don’t have to sit out for me.” You murmur under your breath just loud enough for only him to hear. “You don’t own me anything.”
“I know, dove.” He took another drag before reaching over your body to tap off the excess ashes into the ashtray beside you. “Jus’ don’ gotta partna play wit’ now do I?” His fingers played with your hair like he always used to do. It’s like nothing changed for him. Why didn’t he hate you for breaking up with him? Why didn’t he despise you for trying to make him choose between you and being Spider-Man?
“I’ll play if you do.” He whispers in your ear with one of those wicked smiles across his pretty, dark lips. You turn to look at him, looking into those eyes you still adored that dare you to commit. He’s in it if you are. And oh, how you’re still so weak to him. Even after months of being separated.
“Fine.” You looked to your friends, already pouring a shot on one of them. “We’re joining.” You got up and slid down on the floor with Hobie in pursuit, sitting across from you.
It was getting rowdy quickly, everyone cheering and coaxing each other on as you played. Lips on bodies, tongues and laughter, smacking when someone got too frisky, more laughter. You were all drunk and or high. It was all fun and games for you.
Until it was your turn. That’s when you sobered up. You had already agreed to be the human shot glass and there was no turning back now. Hobie was already putting out his joint in a nearby ashtray while your friend coaxed you into taking off your shirt. You did, wringing it in your hands as you laid back and a shot of tequila was poured out on the flat of your naval. It's cold, makes you shiver softly. But nothing will make you shiver more than Hobie climbing up between your legs, his hands on your waist as he looks at you. 'You okay?' His gaze asks and you nod just subtly enough to give him the okay to continue.
You have no idea why you put yourself in a situation like this, with Hobie's lips latching to your naval, slurping up the tequila from your frame, his hot tongue lavishing over your heated skin. Were you desperate for pain? Were you craving that lingering feeling of regret over breaking up your relationship?
His eyes looked up into yours, hands stroking sides, pulling you a little closer. His teeth graze your flesh, tongue lapping up the last lingering sting of tequila off your skin. You could have moaned if not for all the people around you, pulled him up and forced your lips against his. He would have never refused it, would have welcomed it like the old lover you are.
You were overwhelmed by it all, all the eyes on you, laughing and cheering the two of you on. Hobie's hands, his teeth, his lips, his tongue. Every movement sending tremors through you that you know he can feel. His hot gaze looks through you like glass and you can't stand the way he reads you so thoroughly because you're an open book for him.
You sit up abruptly, pushing Hobie back as you stand and swiftly march away with your shirt in your hands. You couldn't bear it. It was too much. Your friends probably thought you had lost it, murmuring amongst themselves asking what your deal was.
You shut yourself off in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your belly was still wet with his saliva, a firm frown etched itself across your lips. You looked disappointed in yourself, for causing such a scene, for letting anything like that happen in the first place, for even agreeing to remain friends with Hobie knowing that feelings were still running high and would for a very long time.
There was a knock on the door and you quickly began to put your shirt back on. "Hold on!"
"Ya need help there?"
God, why did they have to send him to check up on you? Why him?
"No, fuck off, Hobie." You could hear the door click closed behind him as you pulled your shirt over your head and slid your arms through the sleeves. "That shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have played that game with you. Why are you even here?" You turn back and see him all leaned up against the door with that nonchalant demeanor that instantly makes anyone and everyone feel non-judged and seen, seen as much as they want to be. He doesn't pry or pick, it's whatever you want and it irritates the hell out of you because it makes it so hard not to want to kiss him.
"T' check on ya." He shrugged as if it were obvious. "You kinda freaked out there. Jus' wan'ed t' make sure you were okay… Here as a frien' or whateva."
"I'm fine, you can leave now."
"Are you?"
Your eyes shoot daggers at him and he takes it with a smile, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so pretty, with his crop top that shows off his firm naval and happy trail, those lips, those hips, those pretty eyes.
Sometimes you wonder why you broke up with him in the first place. He's never done you wrong, never cheated, never lied beyond hiding he was Spider-Man, never made you feel unloved. Then you remember the anxiety you’d get every time he went out, the debilitating sort, the fear that he might not come back from saving the day. There was the pain of having to clean up his wounds after a fight, clean bloody noses, haphazardly stitch up the deeper gashes with your sewing needle, kissing bruises. Watching him ache for days after the more grueling fights. It was too much for you to handle. You couldn’t do it anymore.
“Why don’t you hate me?” Your voice was soft, hushed as your gaze softened with something bordering on sorrow. “I mean– I ruined something that was perfectly good. Why don’t you hate me for leaving you?” He should want nothing to do with you and yet, he was still here, still in your ear, in your gaze, in your heart.
Hobie shrugged again. His smile faded slowly, fingers picking and peeling at the chipped, black nail polish glossy on his fingertips. “You had ya reasons, luv. Valid reasons. I could neva be mad at you f’ tha’. Plus… I could neva hate’cha. No matter what’cha do, dove.” He stood up straight, came in close, and gently reached out to caress the side of your cheek with his fingertips.
You leaned into his touch. The warmth of his hands contrasting the cool of his rings made you sigh. You looked up at him and he looked down at you and all you could think was how much you missed him.
You got up on your toes and pulled Hobie down to ease your lips onto his. He did not resist you just as you anticipated, he leaned into you, pressed you against the sink counter until your ass was on the surface of it and he was standing between your knees. His lips sought after yours, tongue begging for entrance into you mouth which you grant him without so much as a second thought.
Your hand finds his and your fingers laced together as he sunk his tongue into your mouth and strokes it against yours. He made you moan softly against his lips, your fingers wringing at his, your other hand on his waist as pulling him all the closer.
"Hobie." You whisper, pulling away just enough that your lips hover over his. He smells so good, so much like him that it makes you delirious. Hobie's still stealing pecks from you, humming softly like something of a purr against your lips. "We shouldn't–"
"'m still in love wit' you."
There's a beat of silence after he lets it slip. It's no surprise, he makes it so very clear that he's not over you. And he knows so vividly that you're not over him either. He can feel it. "I know ya couldn't handle i'. 'M no' askin' ya to come back to me. But please, don' tell me you're over me tha' quickly." He chuckled softly, almost sorrowfully as he kissed you again. His hands were under your shirt, heavy and warm against your skin as he strokes circles with his thumbs into your flesh. "Don't tell me tha'."
He pulls you to the edge of the counter, presses you against him. You moan softly with your back arching towards him. A familiar warmth began to grow between your thighs where he pressed himself. Hobie slid his tongue back into your mouth agape and loved you the way he always did, with tongue and teeth and soft, soft lips.
When you parted – panting – a soft whine escaping you, Hobie got down on his knees and lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the soft flesh of your belly. His lips placed tender, wet kisses against your heated skin. His fingertips traced the waist of your pants, his way of tenderly asking permission to continue.
You nodded, swaying, dizzy and drunk on love. You watch him swiftly undo the button and work down the zipper of your fly. You help him lazily, lifting yourself up to help him as he pulled down your pants and underwear in one motion and let them fall to the floor in front of him.
He was swift, tongue against your aching cunt before you even knew what was happening. You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could moan too loudly as his mouth explored what was always his to keep. His hands massaged your inner thighs, keeping them open and not clamping down on his head as you always seemed to do.
He was always so good with his tongue, stroking your clit with the tip of it before finding his way lower to your soaked entrance. He moaned into your cunt, whispering soft praises against your swollen bud. "Fuck– I missed you, baby. Miss this cunt too."
You missed this, you missed him, everything about him. Was it worth it? Was he worth all the uncertainty he caused? He told you himself that he wasn’t asking for you back. He’d never try to pressure you back into a relationship if that’s not what you wanted because he’s just a good person like that. And now you’re wondering even more why you ever wanted to break up in the first place.
He tongue fucked you nice and slow, his nose nudging your clit while his eyes fluttered at the taste of you. He missed your taste on his tongue, the way you struggled to stifle your moans so your friends around the corner wouldn't hear.
Your heavy-lidded eyes fluttered with pleasure. "Hobie please." You whispered out a soft whine, desperately attempting to rut your hips against his face. His large hands pressed your hips down, kept you still and placid for him. He looked up at you behind dark, low lids and hummed against your wanting cunt with something akin to pleasure.
Your hands grasped his shirt as you began to pull him up and away from your wanton pussy. He stood back between your legs, the pads of his fingers finding your clit to stroke while his lips returned to yours. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, your arousal, how much you missed him.
He rubbed your clit messily, fingers wet with your slick dripping on the counter. "My pretty girl, my pretty, pretty girl." Hobie cooed against your lips as you moaned against his. Your body rolled and shivered with each pinch and flick of his skilled fingers and Hobie adored every moment of it.
"Still so sensitive." He played your clit like he'd play with the strings of his guitar, with swift skill and intimate knowledge of all your parts. He knew just how to move to make you lose your mind.
Your arms were around his neck, pulling him in, holding him close, adoring his scent and the small scars on his otherwise smooth skin. Hobie pressed his body against yours with his hand between you, fingers teasing at your entrance but never going all the way. He knew the anticipation alone was enough, combined with the pad of his thumb against your tender rosebud.
Your breath quickened with the beginnings of your orgasm. It's been months since you've felt his touch. It was no surprise that you'd cum quick. Hobie chuckled softly at you, at how cute you were when you were about to cum. The way you'd whine so needily for him to make it quick or take his time. He could feel the ache of your pussy and knew you were so close, just on the cusp of relief.
"I love you, Hobie. I love you so, so much." Your cried against his mouth. "'m sorry I left you. I'm so sorry." You were on the cusp of tears, kissing him feverishly as he coaxed your through your orgasm, fingers circling your entrance and his thumb weighing on your pulsing clit. You babbled on and on about how much you missed him and how you wished you never left, how it was a mistake between breathless pants.
"Luv, luv, calm down. I love ya too." He helped you down from the counter and grabbed up your clothes as you attempted to keep yourself stable on your own two feet. He helped you get dressed, make yourself decent again all while chuckling at your humiliation, the way you couldn't even bear to look at him.
You were thinking hard – thinking loudly. He could see the gears turning behind your eyes with something of uncertainty. "Hobie–"
"Before ya make a rash decision, jus'… think 'bout it." Hobie held you by the waist and kissed you once again because he simply couldn't help himself. "Ion want you doin' somethin you'll regret, like gettin' back together wit' me."
You wanted to tell him that you'd never regret something like that. You never regretted him in the first place despite what he may think. It just that…things were complicated for so many fucked up reasons. You looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes begging him to simply see and understand you. "I love you." That's all you could think to say.
Hobie cracked something of a playful smile. "I know." And it meant so much more than just surface level. He saw just what you needed him to see and accepted it for what it was. He knew you, maybe more than you knew yourself and you were grateful for it.
Returning back out to the living room meant having to deal with questions from your friends. "What were you two in there so long for?" It seemed they hadn't heard anything from where they sat and your secret, with a little side-stepping, could remain just that – a secret.
Hobie, being the better liar, was quick to shrug carelessly and plop down on the couch. He glanced at you, grabbing your drink from where you left it and taking a sip.
If you’re a spider person and Hobie hasn’t seen you for a long time, he runs at you like he’s going to hug you, only to duck down, grab you by your legs and flip you over his shoulder, shouting to Gwen and the others that there’s a villain on the loose.
Probably throws shit at you to get your attention—straw and gum wrappers, small rocks, maybe even food. He’s not a complete hooligan but he loves fucking with you. Adding to that, he totally throws pebbles at your window to get your attention when he comes over.
An absolute menace at catching things in his mouth. If you ever open up a bag of gummies, small chips, or literally anything bite sized, he instantly hollers at you to toss one up in the air saying he can absolutely catch it in his mouth no matter what—its the truth.
Loves being around people who are outspoken and speak their truth because It’s so refreshing for him. Likes to sit back and smile as you chew someones ear off (probably Miguel). He absolutely gets your attention the moment a pushy girl flirts with him just to watch the show.
Does your hair for you. I just know Hobie knows what he’s doing. Puts punk-style accessories in it.
Grabs your sleeve or hands when you’re both laughing your asses off because if he falls down he’s taking you with him.
I think he’s as touchy as he is because he’s so fucking touch starved. He’s kind of nervous to initiate intimacy with you when you first date because he doesn’t want to fuck it up or seem weird,
“I can’t remember the last time I felt like this…” He had whispered after your first time together, gently rubbing his hands up and down your back as you laid with him.
Makes you pinky promise you’ll be safe whenever you two have to be away from each other. He absolutely swears by and he holds eye contact with you the entire time, scanning you over like there’s some way he can protect you just by his gaze. If you’re a reckless fighter, Hobie understands how dangerous your missions could be. He himself is a messy, crazy, fighter. He trusts you, but he can’t stomach the thought of you getting hurt, that’s why he values something as simple as a pinky promise,
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Tried to not worry you with his emotional struggles at the start of your relationship but that didn’t last long—you were adamant that he could lean on you the same way you lean on him,
“I can hear you crying, Hobie.” You’d said in the dark night as Hobie gently cried beside you, turning to face you with a broken and defeated look on his face.
“M’sorry...didn’t mean to wake you…” He instantly softened, letting you hold him in your sweet embrace. He closed his teary eyes and nuzzled his face into your neck as you whispered to him,
“Don’t be sorry, Hobes…I’m always here for you no matter what you’re going through…”
CULT !! how we feeling about birthday sex with hobie ?? 😵💫😵💫
how we usually feel about hobie sex— YESYESYESGESYES 😩
gooood i can already imagine him pressing you into the mattress as he whispers the sweetest shit in your ear “my good girl… lookin’ so beautiful on her birthday.. gonna make you feel so good” and in the meantime he’s just rutting into you like he’s a damn animal.
and he definitely goes multiple rounds. he has to make sure every inch of your body is kissed, every bit of skin touched or fondled with and that you don’t forget just how much he loves you. the aftercare though?! so fucking good. he takes a bath with you, washes you, dries you, gets some snacks for you and then cuddles you the whole night, rambling on about how much you mean to him.
“hobie.. you’re being sappy again”
“i know. can’t help it. need to love on m’girl” as he presses needy kisses on you neck and shoulders.
Hobie who's getting in the moment with reader, but then reader tells Hobie she's on her period? How would he feel? Would he still continue orrr? I NEED TO KNOW.
helloo anon! sorry.i took my time 🫡 - hope you like it! <33
Hobie brown x reader
slight smut. Fluff. Headcanons
a/n: Not proofread..
masterlist
As soon as Hobie sneaks into your room, he takes his mask off and doesn't hesitate to pull you from the waist and give you a passionate kiss.
His tongue slides into your mouth and his hands rub the skin of your hip as Hobie devours your mouth like a starving man.
"missed ya, luv" he whispers between wet kisses and finally Hobie looks at you with those pretty eyes.
And he keeps kissing you passionately against your wall and then his hand slips under your skirt, but you catch his hand before he slides his fingers between your wet folds.
"What's wrong luv?" he looks at you worried because you never say no when he wants to finger you.
Then your face feels hot and you look at him seriously before saying: "Hobie, I'm on my period...we can't."
Hobie is silent thinking about your words for a few seconds before chuckling.
Is that why you gave him a blowjob in the morning instead of making love with him?
Hobie's heart melts because you always think of him and his pleasure. Oh, he feels like he could devour you right now, he doesn't care if he gets your blood on him.
"Okay luv.. I won't do it if you don't want to" he murmurs giving you a kiss on the cheek making you melt at how good he is.
However, Hobie murmurs against your ear in a seductive voice "although I wouldn't mind fucking you right now... heard it helps with cramps" he winks provocatively at you.
And then, in a matter of seconds, you're riding him like your life depends on it.
Your hands are prying against his legs and you moan every time her fat tip kisses your cervix.
While Hobie is a growling mess, his hands massage your breasts and pinch your nipples.
And you ride him until your knees are shaking and he kisses you with such love no matter how messy you and Hobie get together.
That's exactly how Hobie reacts about your period.
brooo imagine hobie long dicking you in prone bone position after a long day. but after a while of stroking into you from behind, the fat of your ass squishing against his crotch, the coziness of your body heat overwhelms him. he just gets so lazy and lays his full weight on top of you. He just starts lazily rutting and humping into you while groaning and babbling about how tight, wet, and warm your velvety walls are for him, barely even pulling out before pushing back in.
(and of course his arms are around your body and of course he’s groping a warm, soft titty. just completely pussydrunk.)
i need this man to hit it from behind so hard i cry oh my goodness gracious
i fucking hate you guys, i cant stop thinking about this man😩😩😩 also why is it literally so true that the minute this man gets pussy drunk he’s a blabbering mess. like he doesn’t shut up for shit.
good god, i love pussy drunk hobie. i absolutely adore him. need more of him <3
