maybe something about sid accidentally finishing inside younger reader and then freaking out??
nsfw content below, some breeding stuff
The first time it happens, it’s an accident, an indulgence that slips past Sidney’s ironclad control because the moment feels too good, too raw to break. You’re beneath him, your knees hooked over his forearms as he folds you in half, thrusts hitting deep enough to drag whimpers out of your throat. The room smells like sweat and sex and the faint vanilla lotion you slathered on after your shower. Your nails score his shoulder blades, urging him deeper, and something cracks in him—decades of discipline fraying under the way you look up at him, pupils blown, mouth slack, pleading quietly, “Please don’t stop, daddy, please—”
He doesn’t. He chases it blindly, hips snapping with a force that rattles the headboard against the wall. You clamp down around him, tight as a fist, and he feels his resolve go molten. He’s supposed to pull out. He always pulls out. Condoms, pills, barriers, precautions stacked like sandbags against disaster, knows your cycles, keeps track more carefully than you do because he has to—because he’s the adult, the one with everything to lose. He whispers it every time, “Tell me when you’re close, baby… I’ve got to—” and you nod, promise, because you’re sweet and eager and want to be good for him.
But tonight you’re gone, pleasure-drunk, giggling breathlessly as you cup his face in your little hands and breathe, “Feels so good, Sidney, I love you,” and he breaks. He slams home, holds there, buries his face in your neck, and empties himself inside you with a guttural groan that vibrates through your whole body. It’s hot, flooding, spreading through you like molten honey, and you choke on a gasp, thighs trembling. He stays deep, grinding as if he can get further, his muscles locking, spine arched, every vein in his neck standing out. He hasn’t come inside anyone raw since before you were legal. The feeling is dizzying—silken walls milking him, no latex dulling the wet heat. He feels your pulse against him, feels your cunt flutter as you follow him over the edge, clinging and gasping his name.
Now his breath shudders. His pulse roars. He feels the reality of it in the way his cock throbs inside your tight channel, in the warm flood still pulsing out of him. He’s still inside you, softening slowly, and he knows he should pull out, knows he should reach for a towel, for anything, but he’s transfixed.
“Oh my god,” he mutters, voice ragged, forehead dropping to yours. “Baby, what did I just— fuck— what did we just do?”
You stare up at him, pupils blown wide, lips parted in that blissed-out smile he’s obsessed with. You’re flushed, skin glowing, hair wild across the pillow. You blink, hazy, a dreamy giggle bubbling up. “You came,” you say, stating the obvious like it’s the funniest thing in the world, your voice a breathy lilt. “Inside me. It was so warm.”
Your words punch the air from his lungs. He braces his hands on either side of your head, trying to steady himself. “Yeah. I did. I—” The panic shivers through him cold and sharp, cutting through the fading pleasure. You’re young and so damn fertile he’s seen you get flushed and needy just from ovulation. He shouldn’t have let himself slip. He’s the careful one.
He pulls out slowly, groaning as your walls cling to him, and both of you hiss at the wet stretch. The moment the tip leaves you, his cum spills out in a milky rush, pooling between your thighs, and that’s when he loses his composure. He can’t look away. The sight of his release dripping from your pink slit captivates him in a way that’s part terror, part savage hunger.
“Jesus,” he breathes, eyes locked on the slow roll of white sliding down to your ass. “Look at that.”
You lift your head, peering down your body, then flop back onto the pillow with a little squeal, covering your face with your hands. “It feels so weird,” you giggle, voice tinged with fascination. “Like… like it’s still throbbing?”
“That’s me,” he says hoarsely, fingers trembling as he spreads your folds to watch more of his cum seep out in thick, pearly strands. “That’s all me. God, baby.” He runs his thumb gently over your slick entrance, smearing his release across your swollen lips. You gasp, hips twitching, and he feels another pulse of lust kick despite the dread coiling in his gut.
He reaches for a towel, hesitates. He can’t bring himself to wipe it away yet. Instead he cups your pussy with his palm, pressing lightly to feel the warmth, the way you flutter against his hand. “We need to get Plan B,” he says, voice steady even though his mind is racing. “Right now. I don’t care that it’s midnight.”
You peek at him through your fingers, eyes glassy and soft. “Do we have to?”
“Yes.” The word is a command, firm, but tinged with something else—fear, protectiveness, self-reproach. “You know how easily— baby, your hormones are everywhere. I shouldn’t have—” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his beard. “I got caught up. You make me crazy.”
You lower your hands, tracing the line of his jaw with gentle fingertips. “I liked it,” you whisper, the honesty in your voice gutting him. “Liked feeling you inside me like that. All warm. Felt like you were everywhere.”
His nostrils flare. The temptation to push back in, to plug you up with his cock and keep his cum inside you, surges hard enough to make him sway. Instead he breathes through it, reminding himself who he has to be for you. “Don’t tempt me,” he mutters, but his thumb is already rubbing slow circles around your clit, spreading his spend over your skin like he can’t help himself.
You moan, soft and floaty, your hips rolling. “Sidney…”
“Yeah, baby?” He can’t stop staring at your drenched slit, at the obscene glisten. He dips a finger inside, shallow, scooping up a mixture of you and him, and you whimper, lashes fluttering. He pulls his finger out and watches another line of cum follow, dripping onto the sheets, and he almost loses his mind. “You feel that?”
Your giggle turns into a sigh. “You’re obsessed.”
“With keeping you safe,” he says automatically, snapping back to his senses, though it comes out rougher than intended. He drags the sticky finger up to your mouth, strokes your lower lip. “Open.”
You obey, still dazed, and he slides his finger between your lips. You suck lazily, tasting the mix of both of you, and his cock twitches, half-hard again already.
He shakes himself, forces focus. “Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m gonna clean you up, then we’re hitting the pharmacy.”
You pout, the motion adorable and infuriating. “Can’t we stay like this for a minute? It feels… kinda nice.”
“Of course it does,” he growls, grabbing his phone from the nightstand to check the time. “That’s how nature tricks you. Your body’s like, ‘oh wow, this feels good, let’s make a baby.’ Yeah, no. Not tonight.”
You collapse into giggles, delirious. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Damn right I am.” He tosses the phone aside, leans down to kiss you, slow and deep, the taste of you and him still on your tongue. “I just creampied the most perfect girl on planet Earth. I’ve earned the right to be dramatic.”
You hum into the kiss. “You called it a creampie.” You sound delighted. “You’re so filthy.”
“I’m being clinical,” he lies, and slides off the bed, reluctantly stepping away from the enticing sight of your thighs slick with his cum. He grabs a clean towel, tosses it over his shoulder, then pauses to admire you one more time—sprawled on the sheets, hair fanned out, belly flushed, the open, trusting smile still lingering at the corners of your mouth.
He sits beside you again, raising your hips gently to slide a pillow under your lower back to stop gravity from doing too much damage while he wipes you. He knows it’s counterproductive, but part of him can’t stand the idea of his cum dripping onto the sheets instead of staying with you.
“Hold this,” he says, pressing the towel between your thighs, firm enough to catch the mess but gentle enough that you sigh instead of flinch.
You obey, pressing the towel tight, biting your lip, still dreamy. He strokes your hair back from your face, eyes soft despite the nerves jittering through him. “We’re gonna get dressed,” he says quietly. “We’ll get Plan B. Then I’ll tuck you back in, Okay?”
You nod, that same sparkling trust lighting your features. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
He kisses your forehead, then stands, gathering discarded clothes. He catches sight of the ruined condom still in the wrapper on the nightstand and swears under his breath. Lesson learned. Never again, he vows. No matter how sweet you moan, no matter how tight you clamp around him, no matter how badly his instincts scream to fill you up and watch it spill out. He’ll protect you, even from himself.
Still, as you sit up, towel slipping, another ribbon of cum sliding down your inner thigh, he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, battling the dark, possessive part of him that thrills at the sight. You look down, giggle, and swipe it with your fingers, bringing them to your mouth without thinking. He groans, half horrified, half aroused.
“We’re leaving,” he says, grabbing his keys. “Right now.”
You hop off the bed, still lost in the moment, still giggling, wrapping his oversized sweatshirt around your bare body. “I love you,” you sing, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
He swallows the panic, the hunger, the awe. “I love you too,” he whispers, guiding you toward the door, still half in shock at what he’s done even as he knows he’d do it again if you begged the right way.
