hugo cant stop staring at ur chest content | nsfw, afab!reader, bsf!hugo, jerking off, kinda cringy
hugo swears he’s a gentleman. well, simply, he’s never elicited any grandiose perversion. and also, he gave up swearing it because god. your tits drove him mad.
whenever he sees you in those tight, spaghetti-strap tank tops that pull taut around your chest. it was honestly funny how fast his dick would come to life in his pants. you’ll talk to him, so innocently, meanwhile he’s cataloging the colour of your bra based off the visible straps.
“—and then she said to me that he stood her up,” you finished saying whatever you were saying. it wasn’t like hugo was paying attention.
he was only thinking about the fact that he needed to jerk off. cause god, his dick was so hard it was hurting him.
so of course, when he got home, he’d do exactly that. his hand wrapping around his impatiently throbbing dick, head lolled back as soft whimpers escaped his mouth. he wished it was your hand. or the space between your tits. or your mouth.
his tip twitched, his core flexed abruptly, and he slightly hunched over as he came all over himself. because of you. and it shouldn’t be. god, the things he imagined whenever he jerked off to you — you’d undoubtedly hate him . . . probably. he briefly looked down at the mess he made on himself. his bottom lip jutted out slightly.
he should be cumming all over your tits instead.
the most stiffening thing is when he is over at your house. and you’re not even wearing a bra. he internally blushes. internally malfunctions. whether loose-fitting or tight-fitting, hugo knows whenever you’re not wearing a bra.
you guys would be on your couch, and hugo would be hugging a pillow on his lap that hid his pulsing erection. you’d be gesturing animatedly as you told some story, oblivious to hugo’s babbling heart (and tip). and with all the movements you were making, hugo’s pupils followed the slight jiggle of your chest. his lips made a tiny ‘o’ shape and his eyes went entirely vacant at the sight.
his thoughts blanked to a simple, repetitive boing, boing . . .
god. he needed to get himself together. think logically like he always does and not think with his dick. seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? you’re his friend.
a//n i dont have tits but hugo seems like a tits guy and thats hot
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