#and trying to get back the feeling for a bit
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mornings like these.



pairing: clark kent x fem!reader
summary: you're trying to make scrambled eggs. clark doesn't really care. (he's trying to scramble your eggs instead)
wc: 3.8k
genre/tags: established relationship, boyfriend!clark, fluff, smut, morning sex, size kink, slight praise kink, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, implied protection (reader on bc), creampie, soft sex, p w.o p, no use of y/n, as domestically sweet and smutty as it gets <3
the apartment is quiet, save for the soft sizzle of butter in the pan atop the stove and the occasional clink of a spatula against the skillet. outside, the sun is beginning to rise, spilling orange light through the sheer curtains, casting long gold streaks across the kitchen tile.
you're standing at the stove, barefoot, wearing nothing but one of clark's old metropolis u shirts and humming quietly as you cook.
the eggs are nearly done, evident by their yellow fluffiness and you reach up to grab plates from the overhead cabinet above your head and then you hear a sound:
the faint creak of the hallway floorboards.
he's up.
you don't turn around yet. you just smile to yourself, turning the burner off and sliding the last bit of scrambled eggs onto the second plate.
then, after a moment, you decide to speak. "you're staring."
clark's voice is still rough with sleep when he answers, low and thick with that familiar farm boy drawl.
"i'm allowed to admire my lovely girlfriend."
then you feel his arms wrapping around you from behind, warm and firm as his hands find purchase splayed across your waist. he presses against your back, nose brushing your shoulder, and sighs like this is his favorite place to be. like you are.
"morning," you murmur softly, your smile audible now.
"mornin'," he says, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles against your sides. "you always look good in my shirts," he adds lowly.
you lean back into him a little, slightly teasing. "you're only saying that because you enjoy the view."
"i always like the view," he corrects you, mumbling the words against your skin and his lips graze the base of your neck.
the words sit warm and heavy between you – sweeter than sugar and softer than the warm light basking his kitchen. you turn your head slightly, just enough for your cheek to brush his jaw.
"you always say the nicest things when you want something," you tease softly.
clark huffs a soft laugh, his breath fanning your skin. "and what if i do?"
his hands haven't moved from your waist, but now they're a little firmer like he's reminding you of his strength. as if you don't know how easy he could fold you over the counter if he wanted.
you smirk and shift slightly in his arms, grinding back just enough to feel the unmistakable shape of his cock, half hard and pressing into you.
"clark," you say, mock scolding. "i'm making breakfast."
"uh-huh," he hums, nosing along the curve of your neck, voice lowering. "but you started it."
"i said you were staring and now, you're the one all grabby."
his hands trail under the cotton fabric of his shirt, skimming your stomach and then up your ribs.
"you're wearing my shirt and no bra," he murmurs. "you're cooking and humming, looking like the reason i don't get out of bed on sundays."
you laugh, but it catches in your throat when his right hand trails down to pinch the soft flesh of your ass. "and in just panties under here. it's like you wanna kill me." he noses back up your neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "we can eat later," he says, dragging his fingers slowly back to your waist.
you're breathless already, trying to stay upright. "the eggs–"
"–will be fine," he finishes for you, turning you around gently in his arms.
and then he kisses you, soft lips meeting your for a connection that's slow, deep and filthy with intent all at once. his hands trail down to grip the backs of your thighs, squeezing the flesh there with a low hum.
you clutch at his bare shoulders, your fingers pressing against the hard contours of his shoulder muscles, his skin warm because of course he's always warm.
he lifts you like its nothing (because it is), hands slipping under your thighs to anchor you against him.
"clark," you breathe as he starts walking, already heading toward the bedroom. "the food's gonna get cold," you warn him softly. it's a half-protest because there's no real bite in your tone, evident by the lack of your body's resistance by the way your legs wrap around his hips for extra steadiness.
"that's why 've got a microwave," he murmurs lowly, eyes lidded slightly downward and glazed over. yeah, there's no getting clark out of this mood until you've exhausted yourselves.
clark carries you down the hall like he's done it a hundred times – granted, he has – with a quiet urgency, like he woke up this morning starving for you and now that you're in his arms, there's no sign of him letting go anytime soon.
might as well relent.
you're kissing him all the way to the bedroom, hands buried in his dark curls, mouth dragging along his jaw, and you don't need super-hearing to hear his pulse thudding hard against you. he barely manages to kick the door shut behind him before he's laying you back on the bed, cool sheets crumbling beneath your body as he hovers over you with a look that steals the breath from your lungs.
even in the soft glow of morning in his quiet apartment, there's a look of intensity in the deep blues of his eyes. one that reminds you that he's memorized every inch of you, but the hunger in them tells you he wants to do it again. slower. deeper. needier.
his hands are everywhere, first braced on either side of your hips, then smoothing up your waist, fingers skimming under his shirt, the delicate softness making your breath hitch.
the light bleeding through the curtains in his bedroom casts against his hovering frame above you, giving him a glowing aura on the right side of his body.
he takes his time taking your shift off, like he's unwrapping a precious gift, revealing your skin to the air and his intense gaze at the same time.
clark groans, quiet and low, like the sight of you takes something out of him, which it does, no matter how many times he's seen you before.
he palms gently up your thighs, his hands large and warm as they settle back on your hips. he leans down to kiss the center of your chest, between the valley of your breasts, his lips reverent and humming against you. you gasp as he presses open-mouthed kisses along the slopes of your breasts, one hand snaking upward to pinch at a stiffened peak. he silences a whimper with a hushed whisper of 'sorry,' against your smooth skin, despite continuing his ministrations, rolling the nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
"clark," you pant softly. you arch slightly, breathing shallow and heart pounding in your chest. "enough teasing."
he half-hums, half-chuckles, lashes fluttering against your breast as he presses a kiss there. your words make him grin – lazy and lopsided and far too smug for someone of his usual candor.
"but, baby," he muses, trailing his lips down the smooth skin of your belly, "that's the best part."
you whimper softly, lower body squirming against the sheets, searching for any form of friction.
he chuckles again, nodding at your neediness. "okay, okay," he murmurs, soft and low. his finger hook into the hem of your panties, teasingly flicking them against your hip once before pulling them down your legs and tossing them aside with a practiced flick.
your legs part for him instinctually, humming when his palms squeeze around the plush flesh of your thighs and pulls them further apart. he leans down pressing a kiss to the inner side of your knee. he peppers kisses up the side of your leg, meeting your inner thigh.
"so pretty," he murmurs, his lips going higher, then higher, until you're gasping, your finger tangled in the sheets.
you don't have to say anything. your hips shift restlessly and he hums in approval.
"'haven't even done anything yet," he says, voice low and reverent, almost smug. he has the full qualification to be, with the way you writhe and pant against the bed after he's done little to nothing.
"clark," you breathe again, tone bordering desperate.
he doesn't need to be told twice. his mouth descends upon you – warm, slow and torturously thorough. his tongue lazily flicks against your clit, lapping at the hardening bundle of nerves with just the right pressure that makes your eyes flutter shut and your back arch further off the bed.
your hands fly to his hair, tugging reflexively at the dark locks, and clark groans at the way you tug him closer to your core. he easily manhandles you, hoisting your legs over his shoulders, inhaling the scent of you while his tongue never wavers.
even now, with his mouth between your thighs and your body unraveling all from his doing, there's a special kind of care in the way clark touches you. he doesn't simply take from you, rushing to meet both of your ends. no, he draws it out. he touches you like he's memorizing every inch of you all over again.
clark is thoughtful.
he effortlessly swept you off your feet with his kansas farm boy charm on his first day working at the planet. and not because of grand gestures.
quite the contraire.
it's little things that clark does that made you fall in love with him.
like how he always walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic. or how he carries an extra umbrella in his bag, just in case it rains and someone in the office forgot theirs. how he remembers your coffee order. how he'll fold your laundry if he stays over your place, not because you asked him to, but because he "had a little time while you were showering."
it's how he listens, really listens, like nothing in the world matters more than what you have to say.
it's the soft expression he holds when you meet his gaze, either at home or at the office.
it's the whispered words he reserves for only you to hear – sweet nothings, gentle praises, utmost compliments.
just like he's whispering right now against your core between languid laps that you can't even make out
"fuck," you gasp, legs trembling around his shoulders. your toes curl at the skillful precision of his tongue.
he pauses just long enough to murmur, "language," into your skin, then grins when he feels you glare down at him. (as if he doesn't swear like a sailor every time he's balls deep buried inside you.)
"i swear to god, clark–"
"blasphemy now?" he teases the inside of your leg again, gently kissing the juncture between your thigh and pelvis.
you shoot him a warning look but it's soon wiped off your face when his mouth returns to your core, this time swiping up your slit. his tongue gives a break to your puffy clit, circling the area under it, reaching your entrance, achingly fluttering.
he hums in satisfaction, dipping his tongue past the opening of your entrance, making your walls flutter.
you're already so close, and clark knows it. if he wasn't your boyfriend, it'd be embarrassing. he pulls away to meet your gaze with his heated one. the blues of his eyes are nearly nonexistent with the ways his pupils have dilated. "always so messy," he muses with a smug smile, bringing his fingers to swipe through the slick between your folds, spreading it around your twitching core.
clark is a giver.
so, despite having pulled away when you were oh, so close to an orgasm, it wasn't out of cruelty. it never is. it's always for something better.
and from the way he kneels up at the foot of bed, allowing you view to the large and hard outline visible behind his sweatpants, you have an idea what that is. the cotton clings to the outline of his cock, the fabric damp at the tip where precum has already soaked through.
his finger hooks into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down in a slow motion, making a show of it. tease, you think mentally and rolling your eyes with a smile. his heavy cock springs free, thick and flushed, the head slick and leaking with his arousal.
your mouth waters at the sight.
you've seen him like this several times, but it still knocks the breath out of you. you always remind him his cock is a good representation of his entire being. he's just so big, so achingly beautiful in a way that makes your center flutter at the sight.
clark meets your gaze, reads your expression and the way your hand twitches to reach for him and he shakes his head. "later," he rumbles, scooting closer to you on the bed, settling between your thighs. "need to be inside you," he adds.
you nod eagerly, panting as he lines himself, giving himself a few slow strokes and nudging the head of his cock at your entrance. "think i'll fit without prepping you with my fingers first?"
you're too needy to care, nodding anyway. "we'll make it fit," you murmur firmly.
clark laughs at your determination to take him without properly preparing your tight walls. the memory of your first time flashes in both your minds: how it took an hour and three toe-curling orgasms coaxed from his fingers before your pussy was able to take his cock.
safe to say, you believe you've conquered him since then.
you roll your hips purposefully against the engorged head of his cock, demeanor desperate. "clark," you whine softly.
"alright, alright," he hums with a nod, slowly pushing inside your welcoming walls with a soft hiss.
your walls stretch around him immediately, fluttering from the sudden pressure of his size. the head alone feels impossibly thick. already punching the air from his lungs despite how gentle he is.
"shit," you breathe, fingers fisting the sheets beside you as he slowly pushes in another inch.
clark groans above you, slack jawed as he watches the way your body tries to take him. "you're so tight, sweetheart," he says through gritted teeth. "still... every time... so tight f'me."
your thighs shake around his hips, your whole body arching to meet him, desperate for more, even as your pussy clenches instinctively at the intrusion. "don't stop," you pant, voice breathless. "i can take it, i can-"
"i know you can," he cuts you off, murmuring the words and brushing his lips across your cheek as a gentle reward. "you're my good girl, right?"
your core clenches around him at his question and you nod frantically, nearly delirious with need as he pushes in deeper. the stretch burns in perfect way: so much, but not too much, just enough to make your mind muddled with fuzz.
slowly and steadily, he gives you another inch, and then another, his large hands gripping your hips to hold you steady to keep you from squirming too much.
"halfway there," he murmurs, but it's more to himself than it is to you. he watches, eyes glazed over and jaw open, as your pretty little body struggles to accommodate just half of his length. "you're taking me so well, sweetheart."
you whimper at the praise, arms winding around his back, clinging to him like a lifeline as your hips roll helplessly to attempt and meet his.
"more," you breath, voice broken and needy. "please, clark..."
his gaze darkens, pupils still swallowing up the blue. he leans down, resting his weight on one forearms beside your head while the other slides under your thigh, hooking your leg up around his waist for a better angle. "i know, baby. i know," he murmurs reverently. brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that's soft but hungry, his cock twitching inside you from the sheer intimacy of it all.
and then he pushes further.
you croon, mouthing falling open in a silent gasp as inch by inch, as he splits you open and stretches you to your limit, and then past it. your walls pulse around him, fluttering like your body can't decide whether to suck him in deeper or clamp down to keep him out because he's too much; too thick; too clark.
clark grunts softly, his voice soft husky at your hair. "i missed this," he murmurs, hips stilling so he can savor the way you're trembling beneath him. the ends of his curls, damp with sweat brush against your earlobe, tickling you. "missed the way you feel around me... like you were made for it," he muses. it's obvious he's drunk with sex, never so bluntly vocal about something so obscene.
you nod, feeling his forehead press to yours. "think i was," you pant, lashes fluttering as your lips brush against each others.
you weren't sure if fate travels across solar systems, but damn are you glad that earth was the planet he crash landed on.
your words do something to him. you can feel the effect rippling through every muscle in his body. his cock twitches deep inside you and his restraint falters.
he sinks deeper into you.
your mouth drops open with a strangled moan and clark swallows the sound with a hungry kiss. his tongue licks into your mouth as his cock continues to stretch your pussy. he's three-quarters in, then four-fifths, then–
"fuck," clark groans, voice raspier than ever. "that's it... that's my girl, taking all of me."
he bottoms out with a heavy press of his hips, the base of his cock flush against your soaked swollen folds. the hair above the base of his cock brushes against your clit, creating a delicious friction. you feel full in a way that should defy logic, as if he's reaching places inside you that no one has (and let's be real, no one else ever will).
and the best part?
it's not just sex. it's never just sex. not with clark.
he lifts his head, meeting your gaze, his lower lip trapped between his teeth because he's holding back oh, so much. "can i...can i move yet?" he asks, tone strained.
you smile at his unwavering consideration and chuckle through your nose, nodding. "mhm, 'm okay," you murmur softly.
his hips roll, slow and deliberate, easing out just enough for to you feel the loss, making you whimper, before he sinks back in with a deep needy groan.
your hands clutch at his back instinctively, fingertips pressing into the firm planes of muscles, anchoring you.
clark moves like he worships you – because he does.
each stroke of his is slow, reverent and full of maddening patient he always has, like he's determined to make you feel every inch of him. it's as if he wants to carve himself into your velvet walls (as if he hasn't already) in the quiet morning light.
"y'feel so good," you slur softly, voice featherlight. "always feels s'good."
"yeah?" he rasps, burying his face in the crook of your neck, gently nibbling on the damp skin. "you feel like heaven, sweetheart."
and you believe him. not just because of how he says it, but because of how he says everything. clark speaks with nothing but truth, softness, and, only with you, with an undercurrent of awe, like he's genuinely shocked that he gets to love you this way.
his pace builds, inch by inch, thrust by thrust, until you're gasping his name like a mantra. your bodies rock together in a practiced rhythm, slicked with sweat and tangled in warm sheets and sunlight. his name continues to spill from your lips from sheer instinct and without thought.
clark murmurs soft encouragements against your skin, his lips pressed to your cheek, down your jaw, down the slope of your neck, across your shoulder.
"you're doing so well for me, baby... so good..."
you're so full, so dizzy, so completely undone.
"clark, 'm about to... gonna..." you whine, feeling the pressure tighten in your lower belly.
he chuckles warmly, slipping his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. "you gonna cum already, sweetheart?"
you nod, eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your brain nearly mush at this point.
clark reels at your expression, knowing he's the only one to subject you to this state of mind and body.
"cum then, baby," he says, voice tight with balanced control as he continues the relentless rhythm, rocking your body into the mattress. "wanna feel you cum around my cock."
your orgasm hits fast, no warning, save for the high pitched cry of his name spilling from your lips. you're thankful you're over at his apartment instead of your own because you really can't afford another noise complaint from your neighbors. you claw at his shoulders, leaving indents for sure (that'll heal in less than ten minutes), and your thighs squeeze around his hips as you cum hard around his cock.
clark groans as you tighten around him, barely managing before he rasps, "i'm about to– inside– can i?"
you nod eagerly, body flushing with heat. he never fails to ask despite every constant reassurance from you that you're on birth control and he's always welcome to cum inside. that's just another thing that makes clark, clark.
he manages a few more thrusts before he follows you over the edge. his hips still as he buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills into you with a strangled moan of your name.
the room goes quiet, with the exception of your mingled breathing and birds chirping outside his window.
he doesn't pull out right away – he never does. clark never rushes to move. he always just holds you, pressing kisses to your temple while carding his fingers through your hair. he pulls back enough, just to look at you, just to see your hair a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes soft and stupid in love. he presses a kiss to your forehead, a million words sealed into the intimate gesture.
you feel his cock soften inside you as he stays buried in the warmth of your body as if it's where he belongs. he likes to think so, at least.
you hum, lazy and content, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, pulling him flush atop you, unworried about how he practically crushes you.
"the eggs are definitely cold," you murmur against the sweat-slick skin of his neck.
he pulls back – too worried about his weight on top of you, bracing his arms beside your head – and sports a grin, lazy and crooked. "worth it."
you snort, tracing your finger along the hard expanse of his chest. "you always say that."
"and i always mean it."
again, you weren't sure if fate traveled across solar systems, but somehow, someway, it sent clark kent straight to you.

.... currently feral. hope you enjoyed <3
#superman#superman 2025#superman david corenswet#superman x reader#clark kent#clark kent x reader#clark kent x you#clark kent smut#superman smut#clark kent fluff#superman fluff#superman x y/n#superman x you#clark kent x y/n#dc x you#dc x reader#dc fluff#dc smut#clark x reader#david corenswet#kryptoclark after hours
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JEALOUS!WOLF READER PART 3 ... AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURS!!!!
(Previous part here, part one here)
"...what."
Its the only thing you can think to say, mind stuttering at the completely wild accusation soap just threw at you.
"What, shocked someone finally called you on it?" Gaz cuts in, stepping slightly in front of soap. You just stare at him, confused. One second youre getting kicked out and the next youre being confronted about something you aren't even aware of.
"Called me on what? What have I done? I genuinely dont know!" You, ironically, feel a bit like ur being cornered by a pack of wolves. Gaz just raises a brow, arms folding over his chest.
"Called on the fact that you hate hybrids."
What?
"What the actual fuck?" You cant even focus on the anxiety at the back of ur mind. Fucking appalled at gazs statement. You look desperately at ghost and price, but they hold no sympathy. "Hate hybrids? What the fuck would make you think that?"
"Dont play dumb. On the heli ride back from those traffickers. Soap was just getting some head pats, as he should, and you were glaring at him the whole time. Then you looked at me as if expecting me to share your disgust."
"...no way." Your voice is quiet, replaying all these days of suffering you've been through. "I wasnt fucking glaring at soap! I was jealous because he was getting head pats and I wasnt! Yknow, because im a wolf hybrid!"
Your little outburst shocks gaz. His eyes are wide, and you can see in real time as realization then regret dawns on him. "...wait. so- so all these times you've been staring at soap since then? Or shoulder checking him in the halls?"
"I was just a bit jealous and trying to playfight. You guys are always indulging his instincts, and I thought itd be a good way to get rid of whatever was making him avoid me." Now its you who crosses your arms.
"You seriously thought I was what- some kind of bigot? Because you assumed i had a problem with soap?" Gaz has the decency to look sheepish, and as u turn ur glare to ghost and price they glance away nervously. "You couldn't even fucking ask me if that was true?"
"I've been suffering for weeks! I thought my fucking pack was rejecting me! Do you know how horrible ive felt? Because of a misunderstanding that you couldn't be bothered to sort out even when I asked?!"
A growl, unbidden, crawls up your throat. You feel elated that this was all a misunderstanding, and at the same time furious. You cant decide whether to stew in ur anger to to be happy ur pack still wants you.
In the end anger wins, and u storm off back to ur room, ignoring when soap calls your name.
It doesnt help. Ur room is just as depressing as its been since the incident. Den torn up and circle paced onto the floor. You ignore it, crawl into the tatters of your bed and lay there. No desire to leave, no desire to sleep.
(Part four here)
#haha yall thought youd get fluff lol#dw they make up in the next part if i ever write it#cod#cod angst#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#johnny soap mactavish#captain john price#platonic 141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#141 reader#141 x reader#hybrid reader#hybrid 141#WHO WAS GONNA TELL ME I FORGKT TO ADD ITALICS. WHAT THE FUCK.
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You were cursed, clearly there was no other way to explain the constant slipping of your pants, skirts being flipped up, and underwear getting pulled on or tugged to the side whenever you are out in public.
Cursed.
Your friend had given you this shiny new bracelet for your birthday, and ever since, you have been fighting invisible demons of misfortune with your clothes, all kinds just keep slipping down or are messed with, even when you are alone at home, they end up out of place 100% of the time.
You had brought it up with a friend, and they brushed it off, laughing and telling you curses aren't real and to just buy a belt or something, offering to show you the bracelet isn't cursed by wearing it for a day.
They didn't have a single malfunction the whole day, but the moment you slip the bracelet back around your wrist, your pants fell, belt and all, still firmly closed, your friend giggled and joked that you must be cursed after all.
Going home and tossing the godforsaken bracelet into your junk drawer, you enjoy a little bit of comfort and relaxation as you lounge in your bed, blessedly dressed in your comfy clothes, as you drift off in your bed.
Only to wake to the cursed bracelet back on your wrist, a little note tied to it reading 'don't take me off again :((' in scribbled handwriting. Trying to remove the awful thing is met with no luck, tugging, unlatching, trying to cut it off, nothing is making the horrid bangle budge or move; the thing is on your wrist, and it's seemingly not coming off at all.
The incidents with your clothes in public slowly decreased to small tugs and shifts of the waistbands that could be seen as normal happenings, but at home in your little one-bedroom, it was a different situation. Anytime you didn't need to leave the house? Pants missing, skirts pushed to the back of drawers, nothing that was meant to cover your lower half was even available or findable.
You had begrudgingly begun to accept the curse you had been dealt.
But the moment you had grown comfortable with it, whatever entity was tied to the unremovable bracelet began to step it all up again, stealing underwear and tugging them down when you stood still or lay down, soon there were feelings of fingers gripping your thighs and digging into your ass that came with every shift of fabric.
Being teased and groped by an unseen entity wasn't on the cards for the year, but here you are, a cursed bracelet bound to your wrist and being actively bent over your small dining room table as a spectre has made it's ghostly home between your legs, fingers kneading and groping at your ass as the feeling of a mouth working along your sex has you making filth sounds into your empty apartment.
#ghost x reader#ghost x human#monster x reader#terato#writeblr#monster fucker#monster lover#monster smut#monster imagine#ghost drabble#monster romance#terat0philliac
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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒, 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐒, & 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 | saja boys (individually) x reader
🎫 sum. how the saja boys hold your hand, hug you, and kiss you. / tw. nothing! / a/n: the gradient text took me a bit 😭

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐔 who grasps your hand tightly whenever you’re walking side by side, as if you’ll be taken away as soon as he lets go because he doesn’t deserve someone like you.
𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐔 who hugs you like he’s trying to imprint you into his skin and mind, relishing in the couple moments of peace in your arms before he’s brought back to reality.
𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐔 who kisses you slow, putting every ounce of feeling into it like it’s the last time he’ll ever do so.
𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 who links arms with you and holds your hand, sneering at anyone who even glances at you both because he can sense the jealousy (or so he says).
𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 who hugs you so tightly, like he’s reminding you of his strength every opportunity he gets. who needs a chiropractor when you have this man to do the job?
𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 who kisses you like he’s trying to prove something to someone, only to switch to being mellow and relaxed a couple seconds later.
𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 who holds your hand like he has the possibility to crush it in his own, gently letting it be against his without firmly gripping. but whenever someone comes up to you initiating a conversation, you feel him squeeze just a bit tighter.
𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 who hugs you with his head buried into your neck or nuzzled into the top of your head.
𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 who kisses you shyly, letting you take the lead and the privilege of cupping his face and brushing away the hair from his face to reveal his eyes looking lovingly into yours.
𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 who holds your hand elegantly like you’re royalty, tracing little hearts into your skin with his finger.
𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 who hugs you with a hand around your waist and one behind your head, bringing you in with a gently placed smile and sometimes a small flirtatious comment.
𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 who kisses you like a scene out of a k-drama (which he definitely binged for references), never short with a delicate press turning into something a bit more fierce.
𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 who holds your hand in his pocket or holds it so loosely you think he doesn’t like it, come to find out that when you pull away he’ll tighten his grip immensely on you.
𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 who hugs you with his hands playing with your hair or whatever you’re wearing, hiding his face that’s growing embarrassingly hot into your neck, shoulder, and so on.
𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 who kisses you and has a mood swing from being careless to having so much passion evident that you can’t help but laugh a little whenever he glances away from your eyes afterward. he always ends up with a smile; though, and leaves a peck on the side of your lips when he leaves.

˗ˏˋ 𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐙𝐄𝐕 ˎˊ˗ do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.
#saja boys x reader#jinu x reader#baby saja x reader#mystery saja x reader#romance saja x reader#abby saja x reader#kpdh x reader#kpdh#saja boys#fluff#jinu saja x reader#baby x reader#baby saja kpdh#kpdh x you#jinu kpdh x reader#romance x reader#mystery x reader#abby x reader#kpop demon hunters imagine#saja boys x you#the saja boys#kpop demon hunters x reader#kpop demon hunters#jinu kpdh#k pop demon hunters
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Like Real People Do previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader - hospital au CW: Simon POV (mostly)
“Riley, hold up.”
There’s a fat horse fly on Molly’s flank, twitching as she trots along beside you on the well worn path. She turns in the saddle.
“What?”
“Swat that fly.” You point to where it sits, wings vibrating, no doubt waiting to bite. It’s not that you don’t trust Molly, you do. She’s always been a good mare, confident and comfortable and pretty unflappable, but you’re not sure how she’ll react to getting bitten, and you don’t want to find out while Riley’s on her back.
“What fly?”
“The fly, down there behind the saddle pad.” She leans back to wave her hand around and it buzzes off, and relief settles your stomach.
“Shoo fly!” You laugh.
“Good job you got it.” It’s beautiful today. Sunny, breezy, and full of Riley smiles. You’re plodding along the trail that winds along the pasture, up the hill and then dips into the woods for some shade, the one Tess carved out right after they bought the land. It’s easy to feel close to her out here, easy for Riley to get to know her mom this way, riding the same path Tess made and hoped to share with her one day. Watching Riley on Mabel’s daughter, hair shining in the sun, these are the weightless moments, the ones that will stick to your bones forever. The ones you never want to let go, the ones that are worth everything, all of it.
You’re just about to tell Riley how much she looks like her mom when that fly lands on Molly again, except this time it doesn’t just sit there.
It bites.
The chat window pops up at the same time as the alert.
John: Get down here.
Simon frowns, and thumbs over the blinking red dot in the corner of the tablet.
It’s a patient notification, an automatic alert for whenever one of his kids is checked in at the hospital.
His stomach flips when he sees who it is.
Riley.
All he sees is you.
Not the child on the gurney with her helmet knocked askew and her arm bent at an odd angle, not Alex Keller talking to her in low tones or the nurses taking her boots off, but you, off to the side, shell shocked, rattling with fear.
You, his strong, brave girl, still trying to stand when everything is crumbling.
He allows himself a second to take you in, look you over. You’re not hurt that he can see, just covered in dust, standing stiffly at John’s side as he rubs your shoulder.
He wants to reach for you, hold you, tell you it’s going to be okay. He’s going to fix it.
But his focus needs to shift, for now.
Alex cocks his head as the doors slide closed. “What can I do for you Simon?”
“Personal interest.” He steps in beside the pediatrician as he works, and smiles down at the trembling little girl. “Hey Riley.”
“H-hi.” She hiccups.
“Heard you took a bit of a fall today.” He glances at the monitor. “We have anything on board for pain control?” Alex carefully unbuckles her helmet and lifts it off.
“Yeah. One of yours?” He nods, and then crouches so he’s eye level with her.
“We have the same name, that’s cool right?”
“We do?” She’s squeaky from crying, and he squeezes her good hand.
“We do. I’m Doctor Riley, and you’re Riley. Must mean we’re meant to be friends.” Her lower lip trembles.
“Uh huh.” Poor thing.
“Hey, you’re okay. You’re doing great, and we’re going to get you all fixed up.” Big tears gather at the corners of her eyes and spill over, and Keller smiles to reassure her.
“Okay we’re going to bring a machine in here to take a picture of the inside of your arm now, alright?” Her lower lip quivers. “X-rays okay mom? Anything we should know?” Simon turns to you, and while your throat bobs, there’s no reply. “Is there-”
“X-rays are fine, right Daisy?” He cuts Keller off, and you blink in surprise, finally seeing him, noticing him in the room. He gives you an encouraging nod, one you follow.
“X-rays are fine.” Riley holds perfectly still like a champ, and once a fracture is confirmed Alex moves on.
“Daisy right?” You nod again, and he gives you his best ‘try not to freak the parent out’ smile. “We’re going to get her arm stabilized and then I want to take Riley for a CT, just in case. Everything looks good but we like to be extra thorough when it comes to head injuries in children. She’ll be evaluated by orthopedics right after to see where we are with the arm.”
“Okay.” There’s no emotion in your voice. It’s hollow, and his stomach twists.
“Someone will bring you the consent forms while we take her upstairs, and then you can wait for her in-”
“I have to go with her.” Alex opens his mouth to give you the standard spiel, but you cut him off. “No. I have to go with her.”
“Unfortunately you can’t. We’ll take a good care of her, I promise. I know it’s scary, but she’s in great hands.”
“I- she needs me.” Simon shifts, blocks your line of sight and lowers his voice.
“Daisy.” Nothing. It’s like he never spoke. “Daisy. Look at me.” No reaction, so he takes a chance, tucks two fingers under your chin and tilts your face to his to find your eyes. “Go tell Riley everything’s okay and you’ll see her as soon as she’s done.”
“You don’t understand.” You whisper hoarsely, and your pained expression is so desperate, so scared.
“I do, you know I do.” Riley is in a gown now, bed rails in place, and Keller is giving him an odd, impatient look. Simon holds up a finger. “This patient is your family and you’re off the clock. If the roles were reversed, you’d be saying the same thing as Keller.” Your face crumples, almost shatters, before you reign it back in. You’re so, so close to cracking, and he hates that this is what’s going to do it, this is what will shatter your control. “Now take a deep breath, go give Riley a kiss, and tell her you’ll see soon. We don’t want her to be even more stressed, right?” You bite down on your bottom lip to smother something, some outburst of emotion that’s trying to claw free, and nod.
“Right.”
“Seems like you’ve coddled her enough already.” There’s a ripple that starts from your mouth upwards, a feeling trying to fight its way out, but you shut it down immediately and stare silently at the elevator doors.
When they open and you bolt, John growls.
“Aresehole. She needs-”
“I know what she needs,” he snaps, turning on his friend. He can still smell you in the elevator, warm leather and honeysuckle. It’s been lingering in the halls, haunting him. Taunting him. “I’m trying to give it to her, and I can’t treat her differently than anyone else just starting in the unit. You know I weed them out.” John’s skepticism is clear.
“You’re making a mess of it.” He knows he’s been harsh and heavy handed, but you’re not just going to roll over for him. It’s hard for John to reconcile considering he’s been handling you with a soft touch for the last few years, but he doesn’t know what Simon knows. He doesn’t understand how it’s not just the weight of the responsibility on your back, it’s grief. For your sister, for Riley, for yourself. It’s overwhelming loss that doesn’t just go away, gaping wounds you’ll never truly heal. The stress, the money, these things compound it, they make it harder to process, to accept the loss and move forward. It jams everything up and turns it to rot.
Simon would know.
So he won’t stop pushing you, and every time you give him nothing, he’ll continue to give more right back. He won’t cow you, but he will set you right. He will fix it, and you’ll let him.
“You’re making it harder on her than it needs to be.”
“I know what I’m doing.” He doesn’t need advice or guidance with this. With you. The line between too much and too little can only be determined by him, and he doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion.
You will walk it.
Whether it be of your own choosing or by his hand, you will do it either way.
“She’s drowning, John. It’s worse than you know, and there’s no time to handle her with kid gloves.” The elevator comes to a stop, and John steps out with a parting glance.
“Just be careful, Simon.”
You haven’t moved in two minutes. Frozen in place with your back to him, shoulders tight under your ears, ribcage occasionally deflating with an exhale until you’re taking another breath and holding it hostage.
You didn’t even notice when John left the room, pulled the doors closed to ensure no one would come in.
He grits his teeth. It’s going to be difficult.
The room crackles with the promise of a fight, rolling thunder and lightning electrifying the very foundation you stand on, shaking it to its core.
But he knows you won’t let it crumble. Not so easily, anyway.
“It’s going to be okay.” You don’t answer, you don’t turn to face him. “She’s in good hands, she-”
“I know.” It’s not your normal edge, your insistence. It’s more raw, precarious, and he circles you, ignoring the way you refuse to look at him. For now.
“Her CT will come back clear, and her arm needs a screw or two at most. She’ll be in a cast for six weeks, maybe eight. It’s-”
“I know.” You’re a stone wall, staring straight ahead, but he sees the cracks and splinters them wider when he takes your hand, holding you firmly in place when you try to tug free.
“Peds has a great-”
“I know!” You rip out of his grasp, and for a second, a split second, you look at him in horror. Gut wrenching terror, like you’re desperately trying to climb onto a life raft and you keep slipping off, reaching out for something to pull yourself up with, something to save you, though it’s not there.
Like you’ve just figured out what he’s been planning all along.
You know what’s happening.
When the first tear falls, it comes with an anguished noise that rips from your throat so brutally he has to steady himself.
“It’s okay, Daisy.” The palm you’ve flung forward does nothing to stop him snaking an arm around your back as you frantically shake your head and trip backwards, trying and failing to escape. “Everything’s okay.” He goes for the kill, pulls you into his body, reels you in, unsurprised when you thrash on the line, cheeks wet and gasping for air.
“Let me go!” You push, but you’re no match for him, not even close. You fight anyway, just as he knew you would, just like you’ve been fighting him at every turn, just like you’ve been fighting every day since your sister died.
It’s what you know, it’s how you’ve survived. You’re scarred and bruised but battle tested, and you’re not going down without fight.
John was convinced you needed a soft hand, told him as much. “Can’t tame a wild horse without some sugar cubes Simon.” Whatever the bloody hell that meant.
Simon knew better.
You can’t tame a wild horse. You have to break them.
“Fuck- get off me!” You twist and try to push off, but he holds you through it, holds you as you hiss and scratch and beat on him, holds you as you cuss at him, scream at him. It’s your last line of defense, the final pieces of armor falling away. “Let go, let go.”
“No.” You try to throw yourself out of his arms so violently he has to dig his hooks in, press your face into his chest, cupping the back of your head. “Stop, Daisy. Stop.”
“I can’t, I-” You try, desperately, to hold onto your rage, your mask, the control on which your life is built around, but your softening muscles and panicked breaths tell him its all slipping through your fingers. Come on sweetheart, let me see you. “This- I-”
The last tether snaps, you collapse into him and your vitriol slips away.
In its place is pain.
So much pain. It comes pouring out of you like a flood, one that would wash you away if he wasn’t holding you, and your sobs are gut wrenching, so vicious he’s worried you’ll make yourself sick. “Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay.”
“I c-can’t, I tried-”
“I know, I know.” You’ve been so brave, he wants to say, kiss the salt from your cheeks, you’ve done so well. You won’t have to do it alone anymore.
“This is m-my fault, I- I did this.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I’m supposed- supposed to- to-” your words are sticky, soaked with tears and mucus and garbled, “keep her s-safe and I c-can’t, I didn’t-” He takes your face into his hands.
“You do keep her safe, Daisy. You do take care of her. This was an accident, accidents happen.” You struggle for air and he rubs your back. “Breathe, just breathe. Nice and deep, there- that’s it-” The fight is gone. Drained dry, you follow his instructions, carefully drawing air in through your nose and out through your mouth until the heaving of your diaphragm is somewhat slower.
“I’m supposed to take care of her.” He wipes your cheeks.
“You do-”
“I can’t. I’m supposed to and I can’t and I’m failing, I’m failing and- and the insurance, oh my god.” Your eyes widen, anxiety peaking all over again, muscles and lungs locking up. He smothers his confusion.
“Insurance?”
“I messed up, I messed up so bad. I changed plans to that new one because it would be better for Riley but I didn’t… I didn’t read the instructions clearly or I wasn’t paying attention and I thought she would just roll over with me but she didn’t and now she won’t have insurance and I don’t know what to do, I-”
“Okay, okay. Slow down.” What a gift. He’s never been more grateful for America’s dumpster fire health insurance system. “Let’s focus on what’s in front of us right now.” Us. It’s natural on his tongue, easy like it should have been there all along.
“I…” your shoulders slump, completely void of all resistance. “Okay.”
“She tell ye yet?” He shakes his head.
“I think she’s too nervous.”
“She thinks he doesn’t recognize her.” Price grumbles. “And he hasn’t told her otherwise.” Kyle rolls his eyes.
“You should just tell her. You know, rip the bandaid off an’ all that. It’s probably turning her into knots.” Kyle reaches for Johnny’s beer and tips it back, which earns him a scoff.
“Ach, get yer own.” He grins devilishly at his partner.
“What’s yours is mine.”
“I want her to do it on her own.” He’s not surprised you haven’t brought it up yet. Riley is special, but to you, she’s your world and your weight, and you need time. “It means more to her than Riley just being my patient.”
“She wasn’t just your patient though, she’s the hallmark of your success. She’s your legacy.” Laswell circles the rim of her drink and watches him thoughtfully. “You invented a procedure for her, her case is published. She means more to you, too.” He opens his mouth to respond but a dimple appears at the corner of his vision, and his eyes swing.
You’re smiling.
Johnny whistles low. “Christ ye’ve got it bad.”
“Fuck off.” His chest is tight. He’s never seen you truly smile outside of the polite frozen ones you’re usually giving at work. This one is real. It’s genuine and so beautiful, so bright. You’re a star born in the night sky, a brilliant spot exploding in an endless spiral of darkness, and he’s too greedy to look away. He drinks up every second of it, trying to memorize the curve of your lips and the shine in your eyes in case he never sees it again. He wants to bottle it up, put it away high on a shelf so it’s only for him.
“She’s lovely.” Laswell says kindly, softly, and he nods. His throat is dry.
“She is.”
“How is she?” Price peers through the room’s glass window and crosses his arms. Rocks on his heels.
“Fine. CT is clear, arm only needed one screw.” You’re both asleep, Riley peacefully in the bed, and you fitfully on the recliner at her side.
“And Daisy?”
“Exhausted.”
“You break ‘er?” He nods, but not in victory. It’s progress, that’s all, and it’s painful. It hurts him, as it hurts you, as it has been hurting him since the day he saw you, grey rocking from behind a fortress.
“Won’t last.” Simon rubs his hand over his face. “By sunrise, it will be like most of it never happened.” Most of it. He won’t be starting from scratch, but it will be a long time before he gets you that exposed again.
You toss, sending the thin blanket to the floor, twitching when your skin is exposed to the cool hospital air. John claps him on his back. “Good luck.” Simon grunts.
“Thanks. Gonna need it.”
Your lashes flutter as the blanket is tucked in around your shoulders, and you peer up at him, bleary and and barely conscious. “Riley?”
“Right over there.” He murmurs and points to where she sleeps, her freshly cast arm propped on a pillow. “She’s okay, still asleep.”
“Is it morning?” You slur, trying to open your eyes, but he stills you with a hand on your shoulder.
“No, it’s the middle of the night. You can rest.”
“Yeah,” you agree and tuck your hands under your chin, mumbling incoherent nonsense. “Okay.” Your brow furrows briefly before the little wrinkle smooths and you nod insistently. “I’ll be here when she wakes up.”
“You will, don’t worry.” He brushes his fingers across your cheek, soaking in the warmth of your skin. He’d stay, if he thought you could handle it but he knows tomorrow the status quo will be mostly back in place. It’s a long road, but at least he’s on it now. You twitch and shudder, but he settles you, stretches his hand wide between your shoulder blades and works in long strokes, eases you into a deeper sleep, satisfied only when your breathing evens out. He doesn’t need you to tell him your dreams do not give you peace, that the world is not quiet between your ears, he already knows. He’ll fix it. He’ll crack you open again and again, break your control, and fix it all.
He’ll give you the world. He just needs to teach you how to take it.
#peaches writes#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#lrpd fic
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the senses shift last mindset is quietly ruining your journey
this whole senses shift last business has become a bit of a poisoned chalice. and i'm not saying that it's completely off the mark, it's not, but people take it and run in the entirely wrong direction. and when you're on the wrong track, no amount of speed is going to get you where you're meant to be.
so, now what it ends up doing is sneaking delay in through the back door.
like, okay, let's say you've ticked the box, signed the form, said "i'm in my dr," and then instead of just cracking on with it, you sit tight, waiting for the walls to turn marble white gold and the air to smell like the fragrance of jannah. and when that doesn't happen in five minutes flat, you say.....ah, well. senses shift last. i suppose it's still on the way.
when you do that, what you're actually doing is making waiting your state. we're past the point where you're assuming you're already there, now you're just assuming that you'll get there eventually, which means you're not there yet. and if you're not there yet, where are you?
right. still over here.
people in this community treat delay as if it's some abstract obstacle imposed by the universe or whatever system you subscribe to, alas, it is not an admin error or a queue in customs. it is entirely a you thing. it is you assuming it'll happen later, that it's not here now. that it's coming, but not arrived. and because you assume that, your awareness sits in the version of reality where you're still waiting.
it is entirely self-fulfilling, and you're dressing for a flight you've already missed.
the trouble is that people are pinning everything on the moment it feels different. they want the moment and the proof and the gut punch of realisation that comes along with it. but if you're chasing a moment, you're not living in the state, now you're just chasing it. you're treating the assumption as if it's a bet you picked, and now you're pacing the bookie's window to see if your horse came in, that's not how it works.
what's happening under the hood is: you affirm i am in my dr, and in doing so, you're placing your awareness there. like actually and practically because now that's where you are. and every time you come back to it, i am in my dr, you're reorienting. literally adjusting the wheel while driving. i hope. HOPE! you know that you're not waiting for something to occur, now you're just staying in line with what already is.
now, if instead, you go: "i am in my dr, but nothing has changed, so maybe it’s not working yet" then congratulations, you've booted yourself out of the assumption and back into the waiting room.
you're checking the post box for a letter you already wrote, signed, sealed, and sent to yourself.
this is what senses shift last should mean, that the feedback from your senses is often lagging behind the state you've chosen, and not because it's trying to punish you or teach you something. it's just a matter of where attention goes, your five senses are creatures of habit, they need a bit of time to catch up with what you've already internally accepted.
if you're standing around waiting for confirmation, you're doing what every beginner in this space does. you're treating the assumption as a request, not as the shift itself. you're assuming "i've affirmed, now the world will show me something." which is not how it works, the shift doesn't happen after the world proves it. the shift IS the moment you assumed. the rest is none of your business.
you think you're being realistic by saying "well, obviously it's not here yet, but it will be," but actually what you're doing is anchoring yourself to that very state of absence.
cause now every time you look around and say, it's not here yet, but it will be, you are doubling down on the idea that it's not here yet, not that it might be.
you're essentially watering the weed and then wondering why your flower bed is bare.
delay is not about time, nor is it about the universe putting you in a holding pen. your brain is dragging its feet. it's about you saying, i'll believe it when i see it, and then not seeing it, and then not believing it. and round it goes.
that's what delay is. it's a treadmill.
because you're literally not waiting for your senses. they are waiting for YOU.
this isn't a call for blind faith or performative cheerfulness or about pretending something's real until you're blue in the face.
you're understanding that awareness is the engine room, what you pay attention to IS what you affirm, and what you affirm is where you go.
so stop treating your senses like a litmus test.
it doesn't matter if you feel it. it doesn't matter if you see it.
it does not at all matter if the walls are still the same colour or your hands look the same. what matters is: did you say it? did you assume it? then that's it, and you're done, and now hold your line.
if you want to actually live in your dr, and not just sit at the platform waiting for the train to arrive, you've got to stop asking your senses for permission. so stop waiting for the fireworks, stop treating doubt like a weather system you have to brace for, your assumption is the state, your awareness is the shift.
now before the whole thing gets tied up with a neat little bow, we've got to address the panic side of things. because if there's one thing that really gums up the works, it's people thinking that their assumption isn't good enough, or isn't working, or that they've somehow done it wrong.
and once that line of thinking creeps in, the whole thing starts unravelling like a jumper caught on a nail.
so let's get this down plain and clear: changing your assumption is not akin to some metaphysical divorce proceeding.
you're not locked into one idea like it's a mortgage. you're allowed to, and in fact expected to, reorient. if you realise you've gone off course or gotten spooked by the silence, all you've got to do is pick a new line and keep walking. no bells and whistles, you shift the assumption, not the stars.
when you panic over whether or not the assumption is solid, or whether you've ruined the shift by having a bit of a wobble, you're playing hide and seek with your own reality. and not in a fun way.
you're the one with your hands on the wheel, right? and if you're constantly waiting for someone else to tell you it's safe to proceed, you're going to end up stuck at the lights until kingdom come.
when you fall into this pattern, the checking, the worrying, the outsourcing, what you're really doing is giving your power away to an imaginary tribunal. you're acting as if there's a central authority somewhere, monitoring your thoughts and stamping them approved or denied. there isn't, it's just you, always has been.
and yes, of course senses shift last can be comforting. especially for people who've spent years waiting, waiting to be seen, waiting to be chosen, waiting to feel different, waiting for a break, it slots right into the familiar groove. it says: don't worry, the delay is part of the process. you're doing fine. you'll get there. just trust this.
and it's tempting to cling to that, because in a world that runs on deferred gratification, it fits like an old pair of shoes.
alas, that comfort can turn into complacency, and then into passivity, and then into this soft-focus patience that masks what's actually happening, which is: you're sitting in the same place, hoping something external will do the heavy lifting.
but yet. shifting isn't something done to you, it's something you are.
you don't need to sit and twiddle your thumbs while waiting for confirmation.
nor do you need to wrestle with the question of whether it's happening.
you say it, and then you hold your line.
and if you wobble? if you slip? if the old assumptions creep back in? no need to light a candle or start over.
just drop the old one as if it's a bad habit and keep going. carry on as if.
that's all.
special applause reserved to the loveliest to lovely @sheeezu, who was my think thank throughout this.
i do have to also point out that this is in no way shape or form directed at any sort of shifting creators, but just of a collective mindset that i have seen people twisting an originally very correct thing into!!!!!!
#reality shifting#shifting#loa tumblr#shifting blog#loassumption#manifesting#shifting community#shifting antis dni#shifting motivation#shiftingrealities#loa blog#loassblog#loablr#neville goddard#manifesation#law of attraction#law of assumption#master manifestor
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JEALOUS , MEGAN SKIENDIEL .



“IT’S MY RIGHT TO BE HELLISH, I STILL GET JEALOUS.”
in which megan hates the way people flirt with you, in front of her like it's nothing. leading to an incident that left hybe in shambles…
☆ PAIRING(S) : megan skiendiel x 7th!member reader
☆ WARNING(S) : profanity, possessive?? themes,
☆ TAGS : wlw, secret relationship, established relationship, takes place in gnarly era, fluff
💭: HI GUYS! this is a small drabble for now while i cook up… i feel bad not posting anything bye💔💔 super rushed lowk i Am fighting for my life i wanna sleep
megan would be lying if she said she didn’t get jealous easily. it irked her that people would look at y/n weird, like she wasn’t right there. of course to them she was single, but she liked to drop subtle hints to get them off of her girlfriend. megan would always spark conversation up with y/n whenever someone would flirt with her, and drag her away. and it usually worked just fine.
but this time around, something was different. the kats were promoting ‘gnarly’ in korea and you were currently doing an interview. unfortunately for megan, the host took a liking to her girlfriend. they kept asking question after question to y/n, eventually getting to a quite personal one.
“so y/n, are you seeing anyone?” the host asks, smiling like it was a normal thing to ask.
y/n visibly tensed, trying her best not to look at megan. she thought for a moment, before turning her gaze to the host.
“no comment.” y/n says simply, nervously laughing after.
the host sighs, “i’ll take that as a no for my sake.” they say holding their heart, with a sad expression.
y/n felt megan’s gaze on her, making her turn towards the girl. y/n winced a bit at the angry look on her face, obviously not amused with the interviewer's words.
“it’s okay, there’s only a little bit longer.” y/n whispers to her girlfriend.
y/n grabbed her hand as subtly as possible, rubbing circles on her thumb in an attempt to calm her. megan relaxed a little, leaning back into her seat. she closed her eyes in a moment to rejuvenate, before paying back attention to the interview when she got asked a question.
“megan, would you ever do ginger hair again? i love your look right now but it seems everyone was obsessed with your ginger hair.” the host asks.
“it really depends, to be entirely honest i like this hair a lot more. i feel like it really suits me y’know? but i wouldn’t be opposed to being ginger again. though if i had to choose, i’d go back to my natural hair, y/n—“ megan stopped herself, before continuing. “sorry, a lot of my friends like my natural black.” megan continues, the interviewer nodding.
lara tried so hard not to laugh, megan shoving the girl a bit. she should’ve just went with it, now it looked she was hiding something. megan holding her head in her hands, trying not to laugh due to lara.
y/n just shook her head at the two. the interview ended briefly after the hair question, thankfully. allowing y/n and megan to debrief.
“is everything okay? why’d you look at the interviewer like that?” y/n questions. megan’s face softened at y/n’s gentle tone.
“i don’t know,” megan shrugs.
“megan.” y/n deadpans, “it was definitely something.”
“it’s not important, don’t worry about it, if anything we can talk later.” megan reassures y/n, before leaving to fix her appearance for their next stop.
y/n watched her leave, pursing her lips in frustration. megan is so stubborn.
—
the next time megan felt this feeling (she knew it was jealousy.. she just hated admitting to it) was when katseye were back in los angeles. she and y/n were doing a live in megan's room, briefly before going to bed. the live was currently just filled with y/n talking, while megan read the comments.
"yeah, i remember once megan tried to tell me hawaii was spelt ‘haiwaii’… it’s worse because she’s from there?” y/n says, laughing a bit.
“okay stop,” megan groans, “i was only on three hours of sleep.”
“mmm whatever you say, meg.” y/n replies, trying to hold back her smile.
megan just rolled her eyes, taking the silence as a chance to read more of the comments. one caught her eye though, it was about y/n.
bootywater: yn marry me for 10 seconds!
unfortunately for megan, her girlfriend had noticed the comment too.
“y/n marry me for 10 seconds? okay!” y/n agrees, counting down the seconds.
megan gave y/n a quick glare, but ignored it. it was just for fun, she shouldn’t get mad. it couldn’t get any worse anyways, right? yeah no, she spoke too soon. a comment soon popped up on screen, alarming the both of them. it asked something weird about y/n, causing megan to glance over at her girlfriend.
“y/n..” megan mumbles, trying to be as quiet as possible, “mute the live.”
y/n muted the live right after megan’s words, then turning to face her. y/n didn’t miss the annoyed look on megan’s face making her heart drop.
megan sighed, "sorry, i just don't know. it bothers me whenever people flirt with you. it's like i just don't exist." she says, her hand cupping the side of her mouth to make sure no one knew what she was saying.
"i'm sorry meg, i shouldn't have responded to the comment. and i know, i wish we were public.." y/n mumbles, taking her girlfriend's hand in hers.
she made sure their hands were offscreen, and placed her other hand on top of megan's knuckles holding her tight.
"just always remember i'm yours." y/n responds quietly, and quickly.
"y/n." megan deadpans, her heart dropping at the sight of the comments on the live.
"what?" y/n asks, following megan's line of sight.
"shit."
y/n had missed the mute button, and now the comments were going crazy about the two girl's moment.
"shit, we have to go bye!" y/n says, ending the live as fast as possible.
the two girls just looked at each other, before busting out laughing.
"i can't believe you fucked up that bad." megan teases, making y/n groan.
"hey i mean... you kinda got your wish? now everyone knows im not single.”
"you're insane.."
#katseye#katseye x reader#megan skiendiel#megan katseye#megan skiendiel x reader#megan katseye x reader#katseye imagines
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nighttime vlogs - aaron hotchner
summary: finally on the jet ride back home, aaron watches the little nighttime vlog you and jack have filmed for him, allowing him to witness a special moment between the two of you despite being thousands of miles away wc: 1.6k+ cw: reader and jack being adorbs, aaron gets baby fever
The phone falls face down on the covers the second the video begins, darkness engulfing the screen of his phone, and Aaron’s ears are instantly filled with the beautiful sound of Jack’s loud giggles. Through the screen, he hears you mumble something under your breath, and Jack replies with “You made it fall”, as though you hadn’t realised the obvious.
You lift the phone up, steadying it back on some pillows, and even through the dim lighting of your bedroom, Aaron can clearly see that you and Jack are laying stomach down on a very unmade bed. He grins widely, pressing on his phone screen to pause the video you had sent him — hours ago now — to plug in his earphones. He doesn’t want to disturb any of his sleepy teammates on the jet ride home.
“Okay,” You begin with a smile, glancing over to Jack, who’s staring at you through the front camera on your phone. “Hi Aaron-”
“Hi daddy!”
Aaron feels his heart swell as you and Jack giggle between you. “We know it’s a little past Jack’s bedtime. But we just remembered that we promised you a little video message every night that you’re away. And tonight can’t be the night that promise is broken after we’ve done so well.”
It’s true. Ever since you were introduced into Aaron’s life, as his girlfriend, fiancée, one of Jack’s legal guardians, you had changed what it meant fore Aaron to be away on cases. No longer did Aaron have to try and catch you every second of the day for you to know he cares — a mutual understanding that schedules might crash, and that’s okay. But for the past year, every night he’s been away on a case, he has received a nighttime vlog from you and Jack, telling him about your day, about your feelings.
Aaron always watched these videos in the lonely bed of his motel room, a smile on his face. Sometimes these videos were a minute long, quick goodbyes from a tired child and his best friend, and sometimes — like tonight — they lasted closer to twenty minutes.
“Daddy, today me and y/n went to the park and we played football! And I won!”
“He scored so many goals against me.” You add, a hand reaching up to brush through Jack’s blond hair as he thinks of what to tell his dad next. “And then we sat on the grass for a little bit,” Jack is interrupted by his own elated giggles.
“And we saw a cloud that looked like a tyrannosaurus rex!”
“We did, yeah. And one that looked like a bunny too, right?”
“Yeah. All of the other ones were just blobs.”
Aaron can’t help but laugh quietly as Jack gestures widely with his hands. From the seat across him, Dave glances up from his book, eyebrows raised in amusement.
Jack suddenly sits up on the bed, and you shift to lay down on your side to watch as Jack points to the new set of pyjamas he’s wearing, talking animatedly about them. “But I only wore them after dinner.” He tells his dad through your phone.
“Tell him what you did today. In the kitchen.” You encourage, and Jack immediately grins wider, as though just remembering the events that occurred a couple of hours ago. “I helped y/n make dinner! Come, let’s show him, y/n!” Jack tells you, leaning over to grab your hand, and tugging you with him.
You bring the phone with you as Jack slides off the bed, leading you to the kitchen. You take the time to glance down at the phone, imagining Aaron looking back at you, and say “He chopped some coriander all by himself — with a plastic, kid-friendly knife, obviously. And he also squeezed a lemon.” Aaron didn’t know you owned plastic, kid-friendly knives.
Once in the kitchen, you place the phone on the counter, and Jack carries the bowl of salsa you had prepared together. He huffs when he can’t see the phone atop the counter, and places the bowl down, making grabby hands up at you. He ignores the stool he had previously used to help reach better, instead calling “Up please, Mom.”
Aaron’s eyes instantly go wide at Jack’s words, fingers stiffening around his phone, but it seems as though past you still hasn’t processed what Jack called you, picking him up and resting him on your hip. Only then, once Jack’s fully in the camera frame, does Aaron see your eyes go slightly wide as you hand Jack the bowl of salsa so he can display it proudly for his dad.
“Daddy, this is called pico de gallo, and it’s so yummy.” You instantly snap back into your role, nodding along to Jack’s words and he puts the bowl on the counter again. “And I wanted chicken nuggets all day, and mommy said she could make me some for dinner. And she made them from-she made them from the beginning of them.” Jack swings his legs happily, reaching over to the folded up bag of chips to open the bag and steal a chip.
Jack offers you one, and you take it. Aaron smiles fondly as you both go silent for a few seconds, munching on tortilla chips.
You glance down at Jack, asking “Anything else, buddy?” Jack goes silent, resting his head on your shoulder. He watches you fold up the bag again, blinking slowly. Grabbing the phone, you mumble to Aaron “If you come home tonight, there’s leftover salsa and chicken nuggets for you in the fridge.”
Aaron sighs as you place the phone down again, carrying the bowl of pico de gallo into the fridge. It shuts softly behind you, and you move your eyes down to Jack, who’s nearly asleep. “Bedtime, Jack?”
Jack nods sleepily, and you turn your focus to the phone again, saying “Goodnight, Aaron. I love you.” Jack turns his head to face the phone, cheek smushed against your shoulder as he repeats the words, encouraged by you. “’Night daddy. I love you.”
You snatch the phone from the counter, turning the light off in the kitchen as you make your way to Jack’s bedroom. Aaron doesn’t think you’re aware the camera is still recording as you press a kiss to Jack’s forehead, adding quietly “And I love you, Jack. I needed a strong, handsome man to help squeeze those lemons, and who better to help me than you?”
Jack giggles tiredly at your words. You toss your phone onto his bedsheets so you can use both hands to gently place him in his bed. You crouch beside him, fingers brushing his cheeks. “I’m so grateful for your help today, Jack. And for your help every day.”
“I like to help you.” He admits, cozying up underneath his blanket. “Kiss, mommy.” You lean down, pressing your lips to Jack’s forehead. He smiles, reaching up to press a kiss to your cheek. You bring your hands down to tuck him in properly, and tears are almost brought to your eyes when Jack speaks again, asking “Who’s gonna kiss daddy goodnight?”
Aaron swallows thickly through the screen, staring at the ceiling of his own home from the way the phone is facing upwards, only catching a bit of colourful bedsheets from the corner of the screen, but he listens to every word you and Jack are saying to each other. He only hears himself breathing now, and the scuffle of sheets moving around, awaiting your response. “When daddy comes home, we’ll give him all the kisses to make up for the ones he missed, okay?”
“Okay. I love you mommy.”
“I love you too, Jack.”
You stay there for a moment longer before picking up your phone and leaving the room. You leave Jack’s bedroom door wide open — yours too. You lift the phone up to your face, and Aaron sees you have tears gathered along your waterline. “Oh. I didn’t realise this was still on.” Aaron hears you laugh quietly, and you bring your voice down to a whisper, bringing your face closer to the phone screen as you say, “Aaron, he called me mom! Oh my god, I’m feeling so many things right now. Okay, wait, let me send-”
The video cuts off just then, and Aaron instantly drags his finger across the screen, setting the video back to the very beginning. He notices the time of the video sent on the screen that says '8:03 pm.' It it now 2:54am. He’s just about to press play again when he hears Derek’s teasing voice call out in the quiet jet. “Hey, what’s got you crying over there, boss man?”
Aaron takes out his earphones, shaking his head silently. Derek had passed behind Aaron just a few minutes ago to go to the bathroom, and the nosy man had taken a peek over Aaron’s shoulder to see what he was watching. Derek has good intentions, but of course, he’ll never pass the opportunity to tease. So he’s more surprised that anything when Aaron, unknowingly teary eyed, replies with “Jack called y/n ‘mom’.” Then, under his breath “God, I love my family.”
Aaron skips out on the pico de gallo and chicken nuggets when he gets home, beelining to Jack’s bedroom to press a kiss to his son’s forehead before finding you in his bed. He makes sure to be quiet when he strips out of his work clothes. Aaron doesn’t bother to throw on any pyjamas, sliding in next to you wearing only his boxers. He wraps his arms around you and tugs you close to his chest.
He decides just then that one day, Jack won’t be the only one calling you mom.
taglist: @dearlizzies, @tiaajosephin, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @aouoo, @fandomhoe101, @selenewowww, @sharkers00, @joonbread
#criminal minds fanfic#criminalminds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fics#criminal minds fandom#aaron x reader#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#bau team#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch smut#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fic#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch x y/n#hotch smut#yasministration fics
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SPILLED COFFEE ──CLARK KENT!
2025!clark kent x reader 1.3k fluff-ish rivals to lovers
!spoil-free for superman (2025)!
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Clark Kent wasn’t Superman.
Sure physically he was. Behind the glasses, terrible posture, and clumsiness he was the daring, charming, yet humble man of justice the public adored. But when the glasses and tousled hair came back on and he slipped into his desk in front of yours, any trace of that quick-witted, charming superhero persona faded away.
The worst part was, you clearly liked Superman more than you liked Clark Kent and for that, he had absolutely no clue why. It wasn’t like you talked to him long enough to tell him in detail why you smiled less around him compared to everyone else.
Even now, from across the room, he saw as you held a genuine conversation with Cat over the printer. She was doing most of the talking, her movements rather animated as she told you all about her weekend. But it was your reactions that held Clark’s attention. You held a rare smile—at least one that was rarely pointed at Clark—as you laughed at Cat’s story.
He recognized your laugh, it wasn’t like your “customer service laugh”, nor the laugh you gave Steve that implied his joke wasn’t really funny. It was open and genuine, the laugh he only got to see when he was Superman.
Clark's lips dipped down into a frown, his eyes flickering back to his computer where he was looking at the article that published in place of yours.
At the very least, he knew you were upset about that. After all it was your pitch that pushed the story, your groundwork giving it its spine. All he did was get a few more “interview” questions than you did. It was presented to Perry as something to aid you, make the article more complete. When Perry requested it be a collaborative piece, Clark certainly did imagine that meant him accidentally hijacking the whole work.
If you weren’t snippy around him before, you definitely were now.
With a final sigh, Clark closed the page and swiveled his chair to face Jimmy who looked to be getting done as much work as him.
“Jimmy,” Clark coughed. “I need advice on something.”
With a grin, the boy wheeled over to Clark’s desk, excited for any excuse to pull him away from his screen. “How can I be of assistance?”
Clark readjusted in his chair, fiddling with his thumbs absentmindedly. “I get this feeling that y/n doesn’t like me much an–,”
“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he coughed in an attempt—a terrible attempt— to cover a laugh, only making Clark’s face fall.
“It’s that bad?”
Jimmy paused, narrowing his eyes like he wasn’t sure if Clark was serious or setting him up for a joke.
Clark waited, eyebrows raised, but then watched as Jimmy’s skepticism slowly morphed into a smile, then a grin before bursting into a fit of laughter, this time trying—and failing—to stifle it.
“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be laughing but,” he took a moment to catch his breath. “I thought you were meant to be the smart one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” the man exclaimed, his voice going up the octave much to his distaste.
“It means,” Jimmy finally sighed, a trace of a laugh still left on his face, “if I had a choice to be trapped in a room between you two, or them and Steve, I’d choose Steve.”
Clark frowned, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not helping Jimmy. Is it because of the article last week? Cause I tried to apologize, they just kinda brushed me off.”
“I’d say it’s less of the article and more of all the articles.”
Clark blinked, confusion now taking his face once more. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not the first time you’ve overshadowed them for a Superman related project. They tend to keep count,” the boy paused, leaning towards Clark. “Are you telling me you really didn’t notice?”
Clark squeezed his shoulders in a shrug, recounting the few conversations you had with him Superman. “I did, I just assumed it was something bigger I’d done. Like maybe insult their ma.”
Jimmy tossed a quick glance over to you, still talking to Cat by the printer. “Look, if you’re trying to get in good graces with them, do something small. Surprise them with coffee, pass one of your ideas off as theirs. Doesn’t have to be a grand show, just show them that you’re not trying to be some sort of rival.”
Clark thought about it, letting the idea run through in his mind before he wrinkled his nose. “Rival is a heavy word.”
“But accurate.”
Clark took Jimmy’s advice to heart, waking up early and going straight to a nearby coffee shop, this time picking up two cups instead of his usual one.
Mornings in the Daily Planet were busy and crowded, half of the population wrapping up loose ends from the day before and the other half getting in new intel and story opportunities.
When he arrived to your shared area, you were nowhere to be seen, much to Clark’s disappointment.
“Uh Lois,” he called to the passing woman. “Is y/n in today?”
“They’re in Perry’s office running a rough draft on a recent update with the Boravian conflict.”
Clark pursed his lips together, his plan already not going to plan. He hesitated for just a moment, debating whether or not to hand it to you in person or to just leave it.
After a moment of thought, he placed it down gently before reaching a sticky note on your desk, scribbling something on it.
“Hey loser,” a sudden, loud voice exclaimed. “Didn’t see you come in this morning.”
“Hey Steve,” Clark sighed, still hunched over the note that was getting longer than it was initially going to be.
Clark felt as Steve went to pat him on the back, as aggressively as usual. However, between being hunched over the desk and the hot cup of coffee dangerously close to his moving hand, he bumped right into the cup and like a domino, the contents on your desk became soaked in the hot drink.
“Shoot,” Clark exclaimed, reaching for the papers on your desk with hope to save them. Holding one page up hopelessly, he could see the soggy paper and washed away the ink of your handwriting.
“What. Did you do?”
Clark stilled like a deer in headlights, turning around to see you with wide eyes, your left one visibly twitching.
“I thought I could be nice, surprise you but–,”
But his words went bypassed when your eyes settled on your voice recording device in the middle of the hot brown puddle.
“Dammit,” you exclaimed, springing forward to fish it out, but the damage was done. It dripped with coffee when you picked it up and the screen was long from turning on again.
“I had a whole hour of a Superman interview on here,” you said, your voice cracking to a whisper as you shut your eyes and pressed a hand to your forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” Clark breathed. “I was only trying to hel–,”
“It’s fine Kent just–,” you paused, taking a deep breath and pressing your lips into a thin line, a dozen unspoken thoughts evaporating behind your silence. “It’s fine.”
He could only step aside as you brushed past him, cradling the recorder in your hands.
“That went…” Jimmy trailed off as took a step next to Clark, observing the mess. “Well it went.”
Clark cringed, turning to the shorter boy. “How did I mess up that bad?”
Jimmy only shook his head, a semi-reassuring pat left on Clark’s shoulders. “Forgiveness is an uphill battle some days. Trust me, I know.”
Clark pushed a half-hearted smile on his face. “Try try again, right?”
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Mountin’ Mutts

Synopsis: Canine Hybrid!Caleb gets too rambunctious when in Rut. So Feline!Reader buys him a contraption to keep him under control!
Warning: Omegaverse, Hybrids, Knotting, Drooling, Muzzles, Smut, Sort of Mean!Caleb but MC is into it.
You’d grounded your mate from touching you. You still bore scarred marks from the last time Caleb was in rut.
He has been pining all night but he kept himself from dry humping your lower back. When he noticed you moving away, he whined into your neck.
His hand was resting on your waist and you can sense the tremble on it as he tried to control himself. He was doing his best to control the beast inside him because he really doesn’t want to hurt his mate. But the way he is panted into your neck, you could feel his body heat seep into your bones.
“Please,” he begged.
“No, Cal. You know why. C’mon, I said you can hold me but no more.” You huffed and tried squirming away. The summer night was already hot enough and the AC wasn’t doing much for his own overheated flesh.
He lets out a low, frustrated whimper at your refusal. His hands tightened around you, refusing to let you go even just for a moment.
His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, his voice a hoarse disappointment. “Just let me…” he started, but his words trailed off, leaving them hanging, unspoken, charged with unexpressed desire.
You can truly sense how much he yearns for physical intimacy with you, how it's almost a physical ache within him.
The next morning is even worse, you have to peel yourself from him to fix breakfast, your ears on constant rotation to catch the noise of when he woke up.
You stand in the midst of the kitchen, fixing a shit ton of protein for him. Your ears twitch at the sound of him pulling himself from the bed. He’s standing in the doorway nearly too big. All muscle, over 200 pounds of pure strength wrapped in untamed desires.
“G’mornin’…” you murmured over your shoulder.
Caleb says nothing, but you can feel the floor quake under each step.
He wraps his arms around you from behind; his body pressed against you, the heat of him against your back a heady reminder of his state.
He knows he shouldn't push, but the desire is too strong to resist. He whispers in your ear, his voice low, “Just let me...please, pretty kitty. I need you…”
You sigh, fully prepared to push him off. But his hips twitch against your lower back, straining length stretching the fabric and…wet? Why was it-?
Oh. My. God.
“Caleb Xia, did you just cum on my back?!”
Caleb is groaning, whining, and still humping your back as the cum seeps through his boxers. “I’ll be good-s’ good! Please please please-
“Off.” The command is sharp, your tail between you rigid. He whines like you just kicked him but peels himself away,
You banish him to his at-home gym, tell him to work out his frustrations while you finish breakfast and head to the store.
He sulks at first, not wanting to leave your side, but after a few more stern words and narrowed feline eyes, he begrudgingly makes his way to the gym.
He works out intensely, trying to burn off the frustrations he feels. As he trains, his body glistens with sweat, his muscles flexing, his rut making him stronger than usual, his testosterone overbearing at this point.
You on the other hand, visit the tiny corner shop you and Caleb have visited a few times. It caters to Hybrids like yourself, owned by a Hybrid couple FOR people just like you.
The Bear Hybrid, husband of the owner, with his imposing tall build and lopsided grin, greets you with a hearty laugh. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite cat! What brings you here today?" His eyes sparkle with warmth, and there's a subtle hint of admiration behind his words.
The corner shop is a familiar haven for Hybrids like you, and the bear's genuine welcome always puts you at ease.
You grumble and pull your shirt off your shoulder just a bit so you can show off the vicious bite marks Caleb left during his last Rut. “Caleb is…a lot more bitey during his Ruts. I’m just looking for something that can help him. Got anything that’ll stop him from treating me like a chew toy?”
The Bear Hybrid lets out a hearty laugh at the sight of Caleb's bite marks on you. "That boy of yours sure does have a strong bite! Well, I might just have something that can help. Hold on, let me check in the back."
He disappears into the back of the shop, rummaging through various potions and remedies. A moment later, he returns with a metal contraption, he lays it on the counter with a soft clink.
A muzzle.
“It’s designed to prevent unnecessary biting during…uh, certain activities,” the Bear Hybrid explains casually, as though he was discussing the weather or last night's game.
He pushes it towards you. “It’ll prevent him from hurting you during his rut, but still allow you both to be close. Just don’t tell him it was my idea.” he adds with a wink.
You nervously walk back to the apartment with the paper bag in hand. Caleb is absolutely going to hate this, but he might hate remaining untouched during his Rut even more.
You slowly push open the door to hear whines, groans and the smell of raw Alpha in the air.
As you step into the apartment, you’re immediately hit with the raw, untamed scent of his rut. It hangs heavy in the air, an undeniable presence. His groans echo in the stillness, a symphony of suppressed desire. The smell alone is enough to stir something within you, a primal urge you've been trying to push down.
You hear him before you see him. He's lying on the ground, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.
But in his hands, is your crumpled used underwear, his salvia and…other fluids clinging to it.
When he notices you, he looks up, his eyes dark. There's no denying the wild hunger in them, a direct result of his rut. He tosses the underwear aside, his voice hoarse. "You're back. Please, pretty girl..."
When you pull out the muzzle, Caleb looks betrayed in a way. His tail tucks between his legs but there is a firm look in your eyes. “It’s the only way Caleb. Please?”
Caleb’s lip pulls back in a snarl and for a second, you think he might deny it. But then he steps closer and dips his head. You quickly slide it over his mouth, the leather straps rattling as you secure it fully.
“Good boy, how does that feel?” You take a step back and he gives his head a few firm shakes.
“It’s fine…I guess.” He huffs, jerking his head around. His massive body is tense like a coiled trap. Your lips curl up and you hold his cheek between your hands, hushing his angered huffs.
“Shhh, you’re doing well. Now-“ You step forward so your fingers press against his raging boner tenting his shorts. You nearly have to catch him in your arms when his knees buckle. He tries to press his face into his favorite place, the crook of your neck, but the metal bars keep him from your flesh.
“Can’t fuckin’ taste you.” He whines through clenched teeth. You giggle, just a light noise to thread your fingers with him.
You guide him to the safety of the bedroom. His scent bounces off the walls now fully surrounding you. “Stay.” You order, pointing in-front of you to the corner of the room. Caleb feels like his entire body nearly vibrate as you began to strip off your clothing. Your furry tail sprung up as you slide down your panties and shorts.
“Kitty-“
“Hush, enjoy the show.”
You soon stand bare before him, allowing his eyes to trail over each scar from the bites his fangs have left. He whines, heart aching. Another time he would kiss every bite as apology. But right now-
He wanted to give you more.
You crawl into the plush bed, enveloped in both of your scents. Your knees hit the bed and you press your chest to the soft comforter. You reach back, fingers grasping your cheeks before pulling them apart, exposing your holes like you were offering yourself on a silver platter.
When you look over your shoulder, Caleb’s shorts and tank top were tossed aside like trash. He’s panting, tongue out and all, drool seeping through the metal bars.
“C’mere.”
The command is so sudden it startles Caleb. But luckily he’s quick on his feet.
He’s bounding towards you like his life depended on it. He drops to his knees first, as if he’s ready to worship the most precious deity.
Caleb presses the end of his muzzle up against your dripping folds. He growls when the metal prevents him from tasting your sweet nectar that dribbled mere inches away.
He lets out a frustrated growl, the muzzle digging into your sensitive flesh as he tries to push past it to reach your center. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he attempts to force his way in despite the barrier. "Nngh... Fuck this thing..."
You mewl and arch as the cool bars rub your most sensitive flesh. He knows theirs no use, but he’s too far gone now.
Drooling tongue gets so, so close to your aching folds but falls too short. That’s when you notice them.
The thick tears welled up in those pretty violet eyes. He’s so desperate. You’ve been edging him for the past two days, refusing to let him have you because of a few (in his opinion) stupid marks.
How else was he supposed to let the other males know you had a big, scary looking dog at home who stretched your pussy so good you saw stars?
He lets out a frustrated groan, his claws digging into the sheets as he fights the urge to rip the muzzle off. Instead, he starts rubbing his snout vigorously against your clit through the metal grille, trying to stimulate you indirectly. His tail thrashes angrily behind him. "Please…”
Your body acts accordingly, slick beginning to drip down your thighs in response. “G-good boy.”
The praise sends a shiver down his spine. He redoubles his efforts, the snout of the muzzle rubbing faster and harder against your clit. His own arousal is obvious, his cock throbbing and leaking against your thigh where it's trapped between your bodies. “M’ Good, s’ good for ya.”
He’s a mess, leaking down your leg, the end of the muzzle now covered in your slick and his saliva. You take a shuddering breath and reach back to grab his arm. “U-up! Mount!”
At your command, he immediately scrambles up to mount you. His large, muscular frame overshadows you as his wet cock slides across your sticky mound.
The muzzle makes his breathing heavy and loud, but he can't help the muffled whine that escapes him as he slowly pushes forward, his angry cockhead stretching you open inch by inch.
It never gets easier taking such a beefy part of the canine Hybrid. His chin rests on your shoulder as he bullies inch by inch inside, stretching out the gummy walls that try to suck him in forever.
His slick thighs try to find purchase against your body but it fails the first couple of times. He begins pleading with you to loosen up, begging you not to choke him out.
His pleas grow more desperate as he tries to thrust deeper but keeps slipping out because of your stubborn hold. His nails carefully scratch at your sides, trying to coax your muscles to relax. "Nngh! Please... Open more...I’ll be so good to ya…”
Slowly but surely your natural slick drips around his girth and he can finally bottom out. He swears he might cum, might blackout right then and there.
The cold of the metal makes tiny indentions on your shoulder as he begins a desperate pace. There isn’t really a rhyme or reason to his thrust, the initial few pumps have your head reeling.
“Feel so good kitty-mmn fuck, fuck you feel so gooood~!” He’s a man deprived now. He grabs your hips to lift you ever so gently off the bed before pounding your guts like they owe you money. Your claws tear at the sheets when you try to find something to keep you grounded.
Caleb’s head is thrown back, the muzzle doing its job. But it can’t stop the flinging drool that drips from his dirty mouth. Pieces of saliva collect on the space between your shoulder blades when he curls himself around your arch.
“Pussy feels so good! C-can’t believe you tried keepin’ her from me.” He’s snarls.
He can feel the base of his cock starting to swell. His jaw snaps inside of the muzzle that pressed right against your swollen heat gland. His instincts are bitter, wanting nothing more than to make you bleed for making him wait so long.
Your ears pivot at the sound of his snarl and he catches the sight in his peripheral. One clawed hand encircles your tail, giving a light pull that sends a hiss from your throat.
“Think you’re so much better than this big dumb dog? All high and mighty, not lettin’ me mark ya? Afraid I’ll scare away those prissy fuckin’ cat suitors I see watchin’ ya?”
“F-fuckin’ mutt! So big, n cock is so big! D-don’t even think about how much it hurts!” You hiss out, ears flattened despite your tail folded against your spine as your body takes him over and over, tears of pleasure and frustration spilling down your cheeks.
Caleb’s eyes roll back at the way your walls spasm around his throbbing cock. “Yeahhhh, yeah you love this mutt’s big cock. Want me to give you all the fucking pups huh? Say it.”
His hand grasps your jaw, angling your head back and- “Fuck! Fuck yeah, want your pups. Pleasepleaseple-“
Caleb’s jaws flex, his snarl overpowering your moans. You barely comprehend the sound of tearing leather before his teeth fasten around your shoulder. His knot pops in and he balances on his haunches as he pumps load after load.
“FUCK! Fuck Caleb, ow-“
He gives his head a warning whip, daring you to try to push him away. Your cries die down to whimpers as you come down from your own high, a frothy mix dribbling down your inner thighs.
Blood trickles down your shoulder and onto the once clean bedsheets. You know you should hiss, should scratch and claw at him. But when the remains of the broken muzzle falls beside you on the bed-
“Oh f-“
~
Caleb has you sprawled out on the bed like a used white. He hasn’t stopped apologizing while he’s cleaned the wounds he’s left and the cum leaking out of your well used entrance.
You don’t have the strength to fight him off when he decides his tongue is the best cleaning tool for your pussy.
“Mm sorry Kitty. I’ll take care of you.”
Caleb crawls next to you but not before grabbing the broken muzzle and tossing it across the room like an unloved toy. “But if you ever put a muzzle on me again, I’ll fuck you through the wall.”
Was that a threat? Or was he flirting?
Knowing Caleb? Probably both.
#lads#lads x reader#love and deepspace#lads smut#caleb love and deepspace#caleb lads#caleb hybrid#caleb pull#lads omegaverse#omegaverse#caleb xia#caleb fluff#caleb card#caleb birthday#caleb au#caleb fanfic#caleb x reader#caleb smut#lads caleb#caleb#love and deepspace caleb#caleb x mc#lnds caleb#caleb x you
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Did You Kiss a Chili Pepper or Something? # H.J




🌶️— In which you tried out a new lip plumper and totally forgot, and when Han came home and kissed you, he had a small surprise waiting for him.
word count: 665
pairing: bf!h.j x f.reader
warnings: a bit of language, Han is DRAMATIC (as always)
A/N: idk when i got this idea but i wrote it down likkeeeee 2 days ago and I was bored today and decided to finish it. also bnd will be coming I have ZERO motivation and cant stand looking at words rn. this is not proofread if there is anything you see then please lmk also I hope everyone is doing well.

Han hated being busy. More than that, he hated being away from you. That’s why he decided that when he got home from work, he would take you out on a nice date at the new restaurant that just opened.
About an hour before he got home, you started getting ready. You’d recently bought some new makeup and were excited to try it out. Standing in front of the mirror, you carefully applied everything, admiring your reflection. You looked beautiful. For the final touch, you reached for a new lip plumper—a tinted gloss that promised fuller lips. The sting was intense at first, but faded quickly.
That’s when you heard the familiar sound of the front door closing and keys clinking on the table.
“Baby?” Han’s voice echoed through the house.
“I’m upstairs!” you called back.
You heard his footsteps racing up the stairs, and moments later, he burst into the bathroom.
“Hi!” you greeted him with a bright smile.
“Hi, wow, you’re pretty.” He huffed, slightly out of breath.
“Thanks!” You did a little twirl to show off your outfit.
He grabbed your waist and kissed you. The kiss deepened until he suddenly pulled back and licked his lips, his face twisting in panic.
You saw it immediately: the exact moment he tasted the lip plumper.
He began frantically wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” you laughed.
“Did you make out with a chili pepper before kissing me or something?!” he shouted, rushing to rinse his mouth out at the sink.
You blinked in confusion, then looked at the little tube sitting on the counter. “It’s a lip plumper, babe.”
“You’re telling me you willingly put that on your mouth?! That’s spicy! Why is it spicy?!” he groaned, splashing more water on his face.
“Han, you’re fine,” you said, trying not to laugh as you rubbed his back.
“No. It burns,” he mumbled dramatically, burying his damp face in your neck.
You laughed, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “It’s supposed to tingle, not feel like you’re being attacked. I think you're being dramatic.”
“Well, my lips feel like they’ve been thrown into a volcano,” he mumbled into your neck, clinging to you as if he’d just survived a war.
You rolled your eyes and gently pulled away. “You’ll live, drama king.”
He gave you a playfully offended look. “Is this how you treat a man who nearly died in your bathroom?”
You grinned. “You kissed me first. That’s on you.”
Han groaned but finally stood up again, his lips slightly redder than before. “You put the fiery salsa on your lips first, though!” He looked in the mirror. "It looks like I have lipstick on!"
You leaned in with a mischievous smile. “Honestly? Kinda suits you.”
He blinked and then smirked. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”
You shrugged. “I know.”
“Now come on,” he said, grabbing your hand. “Let’s go on this date before you try to murder me with anything else labeled ‘tingly’.”
“Don’t tempt me,” you teased, grabbing your bag.
The two of you walked out the door, fingers intertwined, his lips still tingling, and your smile growing wider by the second.

TAGLIST : @lixies-favorite-cookie @velvetmoonlght @felixsonlyrealwife @thetoastghost222

#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x y/n#han jisung#han jisung x y/n#han jisung x you#han jisung x reader#han x you#han x y/n#han x reader#jisung x y/n#jisung x you#jisung x reader#skz fanfic#skz x you#skz imagines#skz fluff#skz angst#stray kids scenarios#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines#han jisung imagines#skz han#skz#han skz#han stray kids#skz stay#straykids
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Idk if you already done this but wolf!reader watching price give belly rubs to wolf!soap and getting jealous… :D
To be fair, you cant really complain about your current situation.
Even as ur seething in jealousy that soap is getting head pats and ear scritches on the ride back to base. No one even knows youre a wolf hybrid. Like many hybrids, your presentation isnt strong at all. You very much look human, no wolf ears or tail, no claws or extra sharp teeth.
You never corrected the team when they assumed you were human, the assumption never bothered you until now. Because you still have instincts of a wolf, and the 141 has slowly become ur pack, but they never act like it because they dont know thats what u need.
Ofc you've never been good at hiding ur expression, so gaz knocks his ankle against urs with a raised brow, a bit judgmental. the fuck is wrong with you?
You just shrug, glance at soap who tail is wagging like hell, then back to gaz. On one hand you want to tell them, but on the other you've always had negative reactions. Humans either accuse u of playing too far into ur "mild" wolf side, or hybrids say ur too human to really understand hybrid instincts.
So you just purse your lips and glance away, ignore it. This has...some sort of side affect. Bc once you land gaz doesnt say anything to you, in fact, he shoulder checks you on your way out for no discernible reason.
Late that same week, whatever got under gazs skin seems to have affected everyone else. They dont talk to you outside of missions. Ghost actively scoffs when u ask if you've done something wrong, and soap is going out of his way to avoid you.
It makes you feel like shit. Instincts screaming abt ur pack rejecting u, abt not being good enough for them. It takes a toll. Ur den is a mess after being torn up in frustration each night, u dont eat well when ur forced to sit alone, you feel jumpy and vulnerable without ur pack.
And the entire time, ur desperately trying to figure out what you did. Why they suddenly turned a cold shoulder. But there's nothing. No reason for the sudden animosity you can find.
Unbeknownst to you, all those days ago in the heli gaz had mistaken ur jealousy towards soap as discomfort. Hed assumed that you, a human, were taking issue with soap acting like a hybrid. Ofc he told his team. They all started avoiding you, it was only natural to cut out humans who hated hybrids, can u blame him?
(Part two here, part three here)
#reader glaring daggers at soap: wheres my head pats?? when is it my turn???#gaz assuming the worst: holy shit reader hates hyrbids#cod#cod angst#kyle gaz garrick#johnny soap mactavish#141 reader#141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#hybrid reader#hybrid 141#johnny soap mactavish x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader
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Nights Like This
NSFW
You and Sevika go out for date night drinks and dinner, but will Sev make it through the night with a vibrator inside her?
CW: afab!reader, pet names, mentions of reader on period, face riding, public sex, porn with very little plot, Sevika drinks but isn’t drunk
Word count: 2.4k
The dark of night peaked over the horizon outside of the large window you peered through. The golden amber and pink swirls of the sun setting added to the romantic aura of the jazz restaurant you sat in with your love next to you. It was date night for you and Sevika, and you suggested a new jazz club with raving reviews and a great wine menu.
The night was going perfectly so far, you sat in a dark booth near the back next to the window, had ample privacy, and a great view of the stage where a jazz band sat playing old hits and romantic ballads.
You hummed softly as you looked at the expansive menu, casually looking at the wine selection and caressing your girl’s trembling thigh. Sevika sat beside you with her head in her hands, thighs shaking under the table as she wiggled around uncomfortably. You bit back a smile as you opened your phone, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face while looking at the settings of the app controlling the vibrator inside Sevika. Your mind wandered back to a few hours ago…
⋆°•☁︎⋆
“Love, are you almost ready?” You called out, fixing your earrings and smoothing your dress out in the full length mirror in front of you. You wore a simple black satin midi dress, the softness of the fabric draping over your curves as you paired it with kitten heels and a striking red bag for a pop of color.
Sevika walked over from the other side of the room and admired your figure, her large flesh hand running over the soft fabric of your dress in adoration. You couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach at the sight of her in the mirror, she was truly a marvel to look at. She wore plain slacks and a matching black button up with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to show off her muscular arms and freshly polished prosthetic. Her short hair covered her eyes as she brushed her knuckles against the smooth satin of your dress and pressed a gentle love filled kiss on your shoulder.
“Ready when you are doll, but,” She paused and picked up a small box off your shared dresser “Wanted to try this tonight..”
She held up a vibrator box in the mirror, the image on the front showing the shape of the phallic object. The oblong head was shaped like an egg, and it trailed off into a long tail with a smaller vibe at the tip of it. Sevika bought it during your last anniversary as a gag gift and you never had an opportunity to put it to use.
You glanced at the box and continued with fixing your outfit, trying to ignore the throbbing heat that began between your thighs. “I came on my period this evening hun, I’d make a mess all over the restaurant..” your words trail off as you spin around in Sevika’s strong arms, running your hands along her broad shoulders with an innocent smile “But we could always test it out…some other way”
⋆°•☁︎⋆
Sevika panting softly brought you back to the present, her body tensing and releasing every few seconds while the vibrator hummed low and slow inside her spongy core. The agonizing vibrations burned and wrecked her in ways she hadn’t felt before, and the vibrator was only at a low setting. She had never been the object of this level of torture, and the intense pressure that gathered below her navel was something she couldn’t get used to. The constant low buzzing and lewd thoughts clouded Sevika’s mind to the point where she could barely speak.
Big strong Sevika was utterly speechless and at the mercy of you with a stupid app and a little vibrator that made her feel so soft and pliable, she was kinda getting off on it. The lack of control, the feeling of being so exposed in the crowded restaurant, everything about the evening pushed her so far out of her comfort zone that she couldn’t help but throb with need for release. You turned from your phone to check on your poor baby, your hand gently reaching out to caress her hair. You wiped away the sweat that started to bead along her hair line as you saw her body freeze under the feeling of your touch.
“How you doin’ Vika? Hm?” You cooed, her head peering up from her shaking hands to glance at you. Her pupils dilated as her lower lip trembled.
“I-Im…uh..good….” She mumbled, trying to clear her throat from the strangled noise that threatened to slip out. You bit back a smirk at seeing her all flustered, it wasn’t easy to get Sevika so riled up, but you could tell the effect of the vibrator was wearing into the older woman.
A perky waitress soon walked up to your table with water and silverware, she then introduced herself before pulling out a little pad of paper and a pen to take your order.
“We’ll start with a bottle of merlot for the table, and do you want anything else my love?” You asked Sevika with a sweet grin, her eyes flickering to you before shaking her head silently. The waitress nodded and left with a turn of her heel, leaving you giggling in your seat. Sevika’s silence and obvious struggle made you feel so powerful, having your girlfriend’s pleasure in the palm of your hand and seeing her so wrecked was intoxicating. It gave you a rush that you knew you’d have to chase until one (or both) of you were satisfied. Your hand moved to rub slow circles in Sevika’s back as your thumb pressed a button on your phone, increasing the vibrations from low to medium.
Sevika sat upright and groaned low and rough, her head leaning back against the booth chair as her eyes squeezed shut. The tail of the vibrator had a smaller clit stimulator at the tip, which rubbed painfully against Sevika’s sensitive nub. She was practically leaking through her boy-shorts as the vibrations ruined her from the inside. You could barely hear the hum of the vibrator, but the look on Sevika’s face told you it was enough to wreck her. Her flesh hand balled up into a tight fist while her mech hand gripped the table for dear life, trying to stabilize herself in the most discrete way possible. The vibrator was lodged so deep inside her pussy, the tip of the egg rocked against her aching g-spot deliciously, the intensity making her back arch away from the palm of your hand.
“Baby if it’s too much please let me know,” You whisper as you lean in closer to her ear, lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin as your nose nuzzled against her neck “It would be a shame if you made a mess all over the seat~” You chuckle darkly, your teasing words egging you both on in a game neither of you had a chance of winning. Sevika whined softly and tried to scoot away from your crude words, but her sudden movement made the tail end of the vibrations nudge her clit harder.
Sevika’s whole body jolted forward, her trembling hands finding their way back to hide her blushing face. She was so utterly embarrassed, the vibrations were fully controlling her mind and body to the point where she couldn’t even think straight. Her mind was fogged over with such pleasure, she had to resist using your hands to get her off right there under the table.
The waitress soon after brought over the bottle of wine in an ice bucket and two glasses, setting them in front of you both before asking about food and appetizers. You could tell Sevika would barely last through the bottle of wine, let alone a full dinner and possibly dessert.
“I think we’ll just stick with the wine for tonight,” You spoke clearly with a polite smile, Sevika’s silence remaining as she yanked the wine bottle from the bucket and poured a full glass for herself. The waitress nodded and furrowed her brow at Sevika’s actions before walking off.
You watched as your flustered girlfriend downed the first glass of wine, wiping her mouth clean before going in for another glass. You grabbed her hand and tried not to laugh at how desperately she gripped the glass with her mech hand.
“Vika slow down! The wine might make it worse.” You spoke with a cheeky grin as Sevika shook her head.
“Need s-somethin’ to distract me..” She grumbled and poured another glass, leaving you with less than half of the bottle left. You shook your head and laughed softly as you poured your own glass, knowing the night would end much differently now.
Sevika was at her wits end by the last sip of her third glass of wine. She was sweating profusely as her hips unceremoniously grinded against the seat below her, waves of intense pleasure coursing through her worn body. As you suspected, the expensive wine with notes of cherry and chocolate, only added to Sevika’s aching desire. The rich red wine coursed through her bloodstream and greatly added to the intense heat radiating off her (and inside her). And with the added pressure of you turning the vibrations on high, your girlfriend was past the point of caring about anybody else in that restaurant. She was soaking wet and ready to finish.
Before you could even register her movements, she pushed you out of the corner booth and onto your feet, pulling you by the hand towards the back of the building.
“Sev wait!-” You exclaimed as she pushed her way through people to get to the single use bathroom. She kept a look out for workers as she pulled you inside, locking the door quickly behind you as her large frame pinned you against it. Sevika panted heavily, her sparkly grey eyes pleading with you wordlessly as her thighs shook from intense pain and pleasure.
“H-Help me doll..it’s too much i’m f’nna lose it….” She groans, mech hand placed against the door for stability as her flesh one wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you in for a filthy kiss. It was all tongue and warm breath as you french kissed her, your hands moving to loosen the belt secured along Sevika’s waist. You pulled down the belt and slacks before Sevika used her grip around your neck to pull you away from the indecent kiss and push you down onto your knees.
She pulled down her underwear to expose the obscene wetness dripping from them, it soaked through the thin fabric and coated her muscular thighs, your mouth drooling as you watched a droplet of slick drip from the neon pink vibrator going mad inside of her. She slowly pulled the vibrator out of her wrecked pussy and moaned as it exited, moving her mech hand from the door to grip your lower jaw and force your mouth open.
“Open wide..” She growled, the drenched toy still buzzing as she pressed it against your tongue, letting you taste the mess she created. You moaned at the salty taste of the toy as your tongue swirled around it, Sevika’s pheromones driving you wild as your spit mixed with her wetness that dripped from your mouth. The pornographic moan that escaped your mouth only made you hungry for more as you looked up at her through fluttering lashes. She pulled the toy from your mouth and moved her mechanical hand to grab a forceful fist of your hair, pulling your head back as she angled her hips over your mouth.
“You caused this mess, clean it up” Sevika smirked as she pushed your face directly into her warm mound. Your nose rested in the thick dark hair on her mons as you buried your tongue deep between her folds, lapping up her sweet secretion like you’d never eat again. The aromatic musk of her skin and sweat filled your nose while your hands found their way up to her ass, you gripped the plump skin desperately as Sevika moaned and whimpered on top of your face. The previous stimulations had her so gone that her needy thrusts against your warm mouth were uneven and haste, her approaching orgasm evident.
“F-Fuuck that mouth…” Sevika groaned seductively, the lewd sounds escaping her mouth making your thighs rub together to sooth your own throbbing “Got me s-so riled up, need you so bad baby..” The older woman babbled hopelessly over you, chasing the growing orgasm that threatened to rip through her very soul.
Her hips humped into your mouth fervently, strangled moans leaving her drooling lips as you hollowed your cheeks to suck on her clit. Your finger nails dig deep into her skin as your eyes open to watch the show on top of you. Sevika was coated in a thin layer of sweat, the sheen on her brown skin elevating her beauty as strands of hair stuck to her slick forehead. Her soft grey eyes were clamped shut as her hips moved in lazy circles against your wet tongue. The pleasure was so intense, she couldn’t bear to look at how perfect you looked on your knees in a dirty bathroom just to get her off.
The thought alone made the climbing orgasm in her stomach boil over and wreck through her body, her grip on your hair tightening as she let out a depraved moan while rutting into your sore mouth to ride out her high. Your jaw burned at just how hard she fucked your mouth, but you wouldn’t have it any over way.
You slowly pull away as thin strands of spit and slick connect you to Sevika’s pulsating core. You groan greedily and press an open mouth kiss directly on her sensitive nub, wishing you could surgically attach yourself between her muscular legs. She winced and flinched away, chuckling low and evil as she grabbed her pants and underwear from the floor.
“Enough of that, let’s get home so I can return the favor sweetness.” Sevika smirked as she helped you off the floor, this allowing you to dust your knees off while she put her slacks back on.
“I’m on my period remember?”
“Did I ask?” Sevika spoke with a dark look in her eye as she unlocked and opened the bathroom door, tapping your ass as you walked through it and towards the exit of the restaurant.
You couldn’t help the blush on your cheeks as you headed home with Sevika, the slight wobble in her step matching your bruised knees in perfect synchronicity.
Hi sweetiesssss! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
writers block has been fucking me raw with no lube so,,,i'm sorry for disappearing! it will probably happen again 😅
You know the drill, ily ily ily and thank you for reading!!! drink some water and remember to eat <3
Love,
Squuoosh ❤︎₊ ⊹
Taglist: @lonerslug , @sapphicstrawcore
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ℒevitate ✧ ℳ.𝒮

summary જ⁀➴ your twitch streamer girlfriend keeps you up late in the night because of her streaming a horror game, to which you come in
warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, streamer!megan, f!reader, established relationship
i wrote this in ten minutes. please take it
"AAAAAAAH!"
"WHY WONT HE STOP CHASING ME!"
"FOUR BULLETS LEFT??? I'M SO COOKED!"
"GO AWAY!"
you'd been hearing yelling since megan started her stream. despite being in a completely different room, you could hear everything loud and clear. you could assume she was playing another horror game judging by the amount of screaming, but it was starting to tick you off little by little.
"FUCK!"
thats it.
megan stares at her computer screen with wide eyes, her fingers frantically moving on her controller trying to run away from the mr. x in resident evil 2. tens of thousands of people watching her play live at midnight, screaming like a child whilst playing the game.
she didn't even hear you from the other room. she didn't hear anything until her door opened.
"megan skiendiel."
megan's hands freeze, quickly pausing the game and slowly turning her head towards you. you're standing barely a foot into the room, where the camera can see half of you, and you look pissed. you're looking at her with a blank expression, with tired eyes and your hair a bit of a mess, and she feels a wave of guilt wash over her realizing she probably woke you up.
"hey, babe–
"what did i say about streaming late at night?" you interject. "to not do it if you were going to scream the whole time."
"i'm sorry, baby." megan says softly. "i didn't realize."
meanwhile her views have skyrocketed in numbers, the chat going crazy over this interaction between you two. some fans have already started screen recording to clip for edits later that megan will probably repost.
"just be quieter please, i have work tomorrow. or come to bed," you tell her. "i'll be waiting."
and you leave the room with a soft click as the door closes. megan looks back at her camera, then at the chat, then at her game, then finally at the camera.
"okay chat, i think we're done for the night," she says, saving and turning off the game. "i'll see you guys later, bye!"
you're climbing into bed and pulling the blanket over you when the door creaks open, revealing megan's frame. she doesn't say anything, just gets in beside you silently and shuffles behind you. one of her arms drapes over your waist, pulling you closer to her so you were touching.
"i love you." she presses a soft kiss on your shoulder. "i didn't mean to wake you up."
"it's okay." you pat her hand and then intertwine your fingers with hers. "you're just doing your thing."
"still. you work. i shouldn't do it at night anymore," megan murmurs. "i won't." she decides.
"i love you," you say quietly.
"i love you too. i'll see you in the morning." she kisses your neck gently.
#katseye thoughts 💭#katseye x reader#katseye imagines#megan skiendiel thoughts 💭#megan skiendiel x reader
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remus x hyper reader pleaseee where she’s golden retriever energy and he’s more black cat
thanks for requesting!
Remus lupin x reader who gives him a flower ✩ 772 words
cw: fluff, grumpy x sunshine
Sirius likes to think of himself as a pretty sharp guy. He can tell when Remus just wants some quiet company, he’s learned the pattern behind James' chaotic mood swings, and – after a lot of trial and error – he’s even figured out what Regulus' barely noticeable shifts in expression mean. So yeah, Sirius considers himself fairly perceptive.
That is, until you show up out of nowhere, your head suddenly popping into the narrow space between him and Remus with your arm twisted behind your back, making him nearly jump out of his skin.
“Christ,” he mutters, a hand flying to his chest. “should get you a bell or something.”
“Hello, Sirius,” you grin at him, beaming like you haven’t just startled him half to death. “I’ll start stomping around more if that’ll help.”
You’re impossible to stay annoyed with – not that Sirius tries particularly hard. There’s something disarming about the way you grin, unapologetic and radiant. It’s endearing, honestly, how you make the effort to chat with him at all. He knows you’re not really here for him. Not when your eyes keep flicking sideways toward Remus like you’re trying not to look too eager.
Sirius suppresses a sigh, already feeling secondhand embarrassment bloom in his chest on your behalf. Moony’s in one of his usual silent moods today, the kind that comes with a permanent scowl and a drawn brow. You haven’t been seeing him long enough to recognise that yet, to know that sometimes he doesn’t want affection or words or even eye contact.
Sirius is halfway through crafting an excuse to get him far away from whatever is about to happen, when you finally turn your full attention to Remus.
"Hi, honey," you say, soft as anything. Your fingers move before Remus can flinch or lean away, gently brushing a stray bit of hair off his forehead and away from his eyes.
Sirius watches with morbid fascination. He’s seen Remus Lupin do a number of things over the years. He’s watched him break up fights, endure full moon recoveries, and drink James’ horrible attempts at fancy coffees without so much as a grimace. But now? With your fingers ghosting across his hair and your smile all warm and unbothered?
Remus is blushing.
And not just a faint, dignified flush either – no, this is a full-bloom, down-to-his-neck pink, the kind that looks particularly unfair on someone who normally prides himself on his unshakable composure. Remus clears his throat, eyes darting to Sirius for one mortified second before you continue like you haven’t just completely dismantled him.
“Oh!” you say, suddenly remembering yourself. “I brought you something.”
Remus blinks. "You… what?"
You smile wider and reveal the hand you’d hidden behind your back, a small, slightly crushed wildflower. Yellow, with ragged petals and a bent stem, clearly plucked mid-walk or from somewhere inconvenient. Sirius squints. It looks like the kind of flower a child would press between book pages and then forget about for a decade.
“I saw it and it made me think of you,” you say, tone offhanded, like the connection between Remus and a half-wilted flower is the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s pretty.”
Remus stares at you like you've grown a second head.
Then, without saying a word, he takes it. He’s careful, absurdly so, and before you can flit away again – because you’re already turning back toward the door, likely off to check on whatever it is sunshine people check on – Remus reaches out.
His arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side.
It’s awkward at first, mostly because you weren’t expecting it, but then you melt against him like you were built for it. Your head tips to rest against his collarbone, just for a second, before you hum contentedly and pat his chest.
Sirius can’t believe his eyes.
“Be back in a bit,” you say, already halfway out the door again. “Look after it, please!”
The door closes.
There’s a moment of silence.
Remus exhales, the faintest sound of breath escaping as he starts fiddling with the flower. He doesn’t look at Sirius, he can't stand the thought of it. The pink is still climbing up his ears.
Sirius, for his part, stares at him like he's trying to solve a riddle.
“…You’re cuddling now?”
Remus grunts, still very pink. “Shut up.”
Sirius exhales dramatically and leans back against the couch. “Mate...”
Remus only half-hides the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tucks the flower into the page of his book, precisely, carefully.
Sirius watches this development unfold and mutters, not without fondness, “You poor bastard.”
#flo'sfics#marauders au#marauders fics#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus x reader#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin
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Double trouble
link to double trouble pt 2 (contains smut minors DNI 18+)
Considering the Justice League is supposed to be composed of the most powerful and capable individuals on the planet, it's concerning how slowly they realise that two of their main members have been switched. Well, Bruce finds it concerning. Clark finds it hysterical.
They switched costumes in the locker room, just because of the sheer complexity of the costume mechanics. Kryptonian clothing technology is dexterous and flexible, but has no handy zippers, springs and clever hooks like on the Batsuit. Bruce practically has to wring it like a washcloth just to yank it over his thighs. Bruce scowls at his reflection one last time. The brightness of the suit's colours, which usually brings out the natural inner sunlight glow of Clark's skin, highlight his dark under-eye shadows and lack of melanin. God, he looks rough. He looks like he was chewed up by Bane and Killer Croc and then spat into the sewer.
This is exactly why he doesn't wear bright colours. He's a warm winter, damnit, not a bright spring. These tints make him look like Mister Freeze.
He scowls harder. He honestly feels kind of bad, like he's... tainting Clark's costume, a symbol of hope and safety, with his darkness and sourness. It looks wrong, it feels wrong, this suit is Clark in every way, from the colours to the cut. The suit feels too thin, leaving him uncomfortably vulnerable, making him feel practically naked. He doesn't mind how the suit looks on Clark, but he feels like his naked body has been put on display in a glass case in a museum.
Clark knocks on his locker door before entering, and Bruce spares one last glare at the mirror before turning around. Clark gasps immediately, and Bruce feels like he's going wedding dress shopping and modelling a gown. Clark's hands go to his cheeks and his eyes shine, cartoon-like.
"Oh, my, Rao. You look AMAZING. Now I get why so many people say we look similar."
"You're two whole inches taller than me. The difference is staggering."
Clark frowns. "That's like... five centimeters. And also, this suit has heels, so we're basically the same height." Bruce chokes. "They are not heels. They were a tactical decision made to optimise my advantages in the field." Clark doesn't seem to be listening, and looks like he's about to cry from happiness.
"Is there any way I could get you to twirl for me-"
"No."
"Also, I have a question... Why is the crotch material... stretch-preventing."
"...none of your business."
"Stop stomping."
"I'm not!"
"You are. March, not stomp. You're striding, not invading Poland."
"Yeah, but I'm not used to wearing weighted shoes to make me taller!"
"Oh hey guys, what's up?"
Shit. it was Flash, carrying a doughnut in one hand and a coffee in the other. Bruce resisted the urge to smirk. He just couldn't help it with the cop stereotypes. sometimes the jokes just write themselves
Oh wait, he was supposed to be Clark now, he could smile all he wanted now. which, still wasn't a lot, but he didn't have to hold it in anymore.
"we're good. having breakfast, Barry?" Bruce put on his brightest smile, remembering to tilt his head slightly to the right the way Clark usually does.
"Uh, I'm good.... hey, is Bruce okay? he's somehow... even quieter than usual."
clark minutely bit his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh. oh, this is the best fun he's had in a long time. Barry was still looking so confused, glancing from Clark to bruce-- no, from batman to superman-- wait.
"yeah, he's cool, you know how he is." Bruce tries not to squint suspiciously at Barry. he knows that gossip is addictive for these... young people, so who knows what people say about him behind his back.
"yeah, classic bats. anyway, I'm heading to the briefing with Hal and Ollie, you guys coming?"
"sure!" Barry looks a little taken back at how wide his smile is, but moves on. once he's gone, Bruce elbows Clark in the ribs.
"you didn't even say hi? now he's going to tell the rest of them and they'll go out on strike against me." Clark snorts, which is disconcerting to see from someone wearing the Batsuit.
"also, I don't frown that much. loosen up on the lip lock; you make me look like an SS officer."
"I seriously cannot believe the new game is already out. I wanna play it so bad but it's like, 600 dollars, and I don't know who can afford that and groceries right now." Barry slurped on his coffee, watching Hal bounce a green construct ball off the wall.
"what happened to a cop's paycheck, dude? I thought you guys were like, swimming in moolah."
"for the last time, I am not a cop. I am a forensic scientist; and we don't earn a lot."
"why don't you make drugs like they do in breaking bad? I mean, you have all the knowledge and the tools, bro, it's a wasted opportunity."
"hmm, that's a great question, Hal. why don't I open a meth lab, as a husband, a scientist helping the police solve crimes, and a member of the Justice League?"
"hey bats, I think you should be concerned about Hal, he's been asking too many questions regarding meth labs in my opinion." Hal chucked the construct ball at Ollie's head.
clark swallowed, doing his best bruce impression. "Hn."
bruce tried to hide his snort, but obviously Clark could hear him. ugh, it was so hard to not laugh and smile all the time. how on earth did Bruce do it?
"So, if we could all settle down, the meeting is about to begin." Diana clears her throat and looks pointedly at Clark. well, she probably meant to direct that look at Bruce, but with the whole body-centred go prank, Clark had no idea what he was supposed to do.
clark says nothing, fully committed to his role as playing Bruce, but Diana's eyes narrow, barely noticeably. they sit in their swapped seats, and Bruce adjusts his legs to sit the way Clark does, slightly spreading thighs. Clark sits as straight as he can and doesn't make a sound.
the meeting goes relatively smoothly. there's talk of new heroes surfacing in respective cities, and Bruce makes a mental note to do more research. being Clark, or superman, is honestly exhausting. he has to focus on not frowning all the time. Clark on the other hand is trying to contain his excitement. New heroes? that's awesome! getting to meet new people and knowing that you share the same goals to help people is one of Clark's favourite things. besides, even though there is a tiny risk in having new heroes, Clark tries not to think the worst in people, no matter what he's been through and what horrible people he's encountered.
at the end of the meeting, Clark stands up and tries not to groan. it's just a Midwest thing, but he's pretty sure that Bruce doesn't do that. he and Bruce walk past Diana, and Clark simply nods at her, his heart twisting at not saying hi to her properly. Diana raises an eyebrow at them, and Bruce starts to sweat, but just grins clark-like.
diana leans in closer to them, her voice low, mouth close to Bruce ear.
"you boys are terrible at this. no one else has noticed except for me."
clark tries not to gape, but Bruce allows himself to smile at that.
they reveal the body swap dramatically later and Barry is so embarrassed about what he said to Bruce.
smutty sequel will be uploaded afterwards
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HOLY SHIT THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY GUYS
i graduated and I'm hella tired so I'm a little late in uploading
anyways I hope I guys like this
also shoutout to the original artist @noodles-and-tea I love ur art man it's so yummy

They’re only pretending to be bad at it, they’re scarily good at imitating each other
#Batman#superman#Clark Kent#Bruce Wayne#superbat#also guys I know I'm rlly late I'm so sorry#just very tired#pls don't hunt me down with torches and pitchforks
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