starryxsuns

[starryxsuns]

a/n: i had so much fun writing this one, BEEN SITTING ON IT FOR A WHILE

Questions, Baby

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

where clark asks the most earnest but filthy questions while he has you in bed

smut | fingering | oral f!receiving | clark is soooo perfect

Clark kisses you like you’re something precious, but the weight of his body over yours is anything but gentle. He cages you in, chest pressed tight to yours, thighs spread between yours. His lips are warm, reverent, but his hips grind down just enough to make your head spin.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice husky, sincere.

“I like you,” you manage, tugging at his shirt.

He smiles, soft, shy, devastating. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.”

By the time your clothes are gone, his eyes are blown wide, devouring every inch of you. His hands hover over your bare skin like he can’t decide where to touch first.

“Can I… taste you?” he asks, almost sheepish.

“God, yes.”

And then his mouth is on you, hot and wet and relentless. He eats you out like he’s starving, tongue working in long, messy strokes until your hips lift off the bed. Every sound you make has him groaning into your skin, and still he keeps pulling back to ask.

“Do you like it softer here? Or harder, like this?” His tongue flicks, then drags, then sucks until you can’t even find words.

“Clark, oh my god.”

“You like that?” His smile is smeared against you, shameless. “You’re dripping all over my mouth, baby.”

When you’re shaking too hard to keep still, he finally pulls back, chest heaving, lips shining. His hand replaces his mouth, two thick fingers sliding into you with maddening ease.

“How’s that?” he asks, watching your face with rapt attention.

“Perfect,” you gasp, clenching around him.

“Like them better straight in, like this?” He pumps, slow and deliberate. “or when I curl them up, like this?”

The cry that tears from your throat makes his jaw clench.

“Yeah? That spot right there?” He curls them again, thumb brushing your clit. “Like that, baby? That feels good, doesn’t it?”

You’re babbling nonsense, tugging him down for a kiss. He swallows your moans, never letting up with his fingers until you’re coming apart, shaking in his arms.

He holds you through it, whispering praise against your lips. “That’s it. So perfect. Such a good girl for me.”

You barely recover before he’s fumbling with his jeans, eyes searching yours like he can’t quite believe what he’s asking.

“Do you want me inside you?” His voice is rough, almost wrecked. “I need you to say it.”

“Yes, Clark. Please.”

The word please undoes him. He pushes in slow, careful, like he’s terrified of hurting you, even though he’s splitting you open in the most delicious way. His forehead presses to yours as he bottoms out, his breath shuddering.

“God, do I feel okay? Am I too much?”

“You’re perfect,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

He groans, hips rocking shallowly. “You’re so tight, fuck, like you were made for me.” Then, impossibly earnest: “Do you like it when I go deeper, or when I stay right here?” His thrust changes with each word. First angled, brushing that spot that makes your vision go white, then slower, dragging against every inch of you.

When you choke out a broken moan at the deeper angle, his whole body shudders. “There. That’s the spot, isn’t it? Yeah, I can feel you clenching down on me, sweetheart. So good for me.”

He fucks you like he’s studying every reaction, adjusting until you’re shaking beneath him. Every time you cry out, his pace falters like he’s too undone by the sound.

“You like that, baby? Want me to go harder? Faster?” His thrusts snap sharper, his hand sliding between you to rub your clit. “Tell me how you want it. I’ll give you anything.”

The orgasm slams into you, tearing through you so hard you scream his name. He holds you close, fucking you through it with broken groans, whispering in your ear, “That’s it, come for me. You’re so beautiful when you fall apart.”

He doesn’t last much longer, spilling inside you with a hoarse, “God, I love you,” before collapsing against your chest.

For a long moment, it’s just the sound of your breathing tangled together, your skin damp, his weight heavy and grounding. He stays inside you, trembling, like he can’t quite let go yet.

When he finally lifts his head, his hair is damp with sweat, his mouth swollen, his eyes dark and still searching yours. “You okay?” His voice is rough, wrecked.

You nod, pulling him back down to kiss you. “More than okay.”

That seems to be all he needs, because he exhales hard, presses his forehead to yours, and stays there, catching his breath while his thumb traces lazy circles against your hip.

[starryxsuns]

spencer reid masterlist

Anchor Point (hurt/comfort) where spencer is kidnapped and you’re the first to find him

[starryxsuns]

Hi ella would you do a hurt/confort with spencer reid, when he gets kidnaped in s2 and reader is the first one to find him and he cant leave her for ages cuz he is traumatised

a/n: hi!!! i really hope you like it. i wasn’t sure which direction to take, but I think I did it justice!!! i would totally be down to write a continuation to this if you’re interested!!!

Anchor Point

pairing: spencer reid x reader

where spencer is kidnapped and you’re the first to find him

hurt / comfort | kidnapping | trauma

You don’t hear him at first.

The warehouse is too big, too dark, and too full of silence that makes your skin prickle. Your flashlight beam cuts through the shadows, bouncing over discarded syringes, ropes, and other instruments of cruelty you wish you could unsee. It feels wrong to breathe in here.

But then..

A sound. Faint. Fragile.

“…help.”

Your chest tightens. You know that voice.

“Spencer?” you whisper, your voice breaking with urgency as you swing the light toward the corner of the room.

He’s there.

Hunched, wrists raw and bound, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His lips are chapped, his face pale and bruised in places you can’t look at for too long without feeling your throat close up. His eyes, those sharp, clever eyes, look dim, sunken with exhaustion and something that makes your stomach twist: fear.

The second he sees you, though, something shifts. His shoulders jerk, like he’s unsure if you’re real.

“It’s me, Spence. I’ve got you.” You’re already running, dropping to your knees beside him, fumbling with your knife to saw at the ropes.

When his hands fall free, he doesn’t move. He just stares at you, like you’re the only thing holding him in this world.

You pull his trembling body against yours before you can stop yourself. His chest stutters against your shoulder as he gasps, arms wrapping around you with a strength you didn’t know he had left.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper again, one hand rubbing his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

He shakes. Violently. Every muscle taut with adrenaline and terror. You hold on tighter, rocking him, grounding him in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

⸻

The others get there minutes later. Morgan’s voice calls out, sharp with relief, but Spencer doesn’t move. He doesn’t even look up. His fists clutch the back of your jacket like he’ll drown without you.

Hotch crouches, assessing quickly, but when you try to shift so they can check his injuries, Spencer lets out this broken sound, something between a whimper and a plea. It slices through you like glass.

“It’s okay,” Hotch says quietly, eyes flicking to you with understanding. “Stay with him. We’ll get you both out.”

So you do.

⸻

It doesn’t stop once you’re back.

Spencer doesn’t want you out of sight. Not in the hospital, where you sit on the edge of his bed until the nurse gently suggests you need rest too. Not back at Quantico, when the team tries to give him space to breathe and he finds you in the hallway like a child afraid of the dark.

The first night, he shows up at your hotel room. He doesn’t even say anything. Just stands there, eyes wide, hands trembling.

You pull him in without question.

That’s how it starts.

⸻

You learn the patterns.

Spencer has nightmares that jolt him awake with a gasp, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. You’re always there, your hand in his hair, your voice soft in the dark. “You’re here, Spence. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

Sometimes he clings to you so tightly you can barely breathe. Sometimes he curls in on himself, silent tears soaking your shirt as he shakes his head over and over, like he can’t get the images out.

So you sit with him, whispering facts you know he’ll latch onto: “We’re in Virginia. It’s two in the morning. The door is locked. You’re safe with me.”

His breathing steadies eventually, and every time, without fail, he falls back asleep pressed against you.

⸻

Daylight doesn’t erase it.

You notice how he flinches at sudden noises. How his hands shake when he tries to pour coffee. How he hovers close to you, not saying why, just… needing.

You let him.

If he has to walk too far down the hallway, you go with him. If he pauses outside his own apartment, unable to turn the key, you invite him into yours. If he lingers in your office after a case briefing, shifting his weight awkwardly like he doesn’t know how to ask, you just smile and pat the chair beside you.

He always sits down.

⸻

One night, weeks later, you find him standing by your window, staring out at the city lights.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t look at you. “I don’t think it’ll ever stop replaying.” His voice is quiet, cracked. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back there. I can’t.. I can’t get it off me.”

Your heart breaks. Slowly, you cross the room, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s not on you anymore, Spence. You’re here. With me.”

He finally turns. His eyes are glassy, his face tight with something between exhaustion and shame. “Why… why are you still here? I’m… I’m pathetic. I should be able to handle this. Everyone else goes through-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, firmer than you’ve ever been. “Don’t do that to yourself. What you went through was… was torture, Spencer. No one just walks away from that. And you’re not pathetic. You’re surviving. That’s not weakness.”

His throat works, like he’s trying to swallow something impossible. “I don’t think I’d survive without you.”

The words land heavy between you.

You press your forehead against his, brushing his hair back. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere, then.”

For the first time, his lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but close.

He breathes you in like you’re the first safe thing he’s known in weeks. His arms slide around your waist, holding on.

You hold him back.

And you know, however long it takes, however many nights, however many times he wakes shaking, you’ll be right there.

Because sometimes, surviving means having someone to anchor you. And for Spencer, that anchor is you.

[starryxsuns]

poly!marauders masterlist

Quiet Keeper (fluff) where they seem to have misplaced their kitten

[starryxsuns]

Quiet Keeper

pairing: poly!marauders x animagus!reader

where they seem to have misplaced their kitten

fluff | animagus!reader | platonic!regulus

Everyone knew you were dating Sirius, James, and Remus. The Gryffindor golden trio had claimed you as theirs, and most days you were tangled up in their chaos.

But what they sometimes forgot was that before all that, before the late nights in the common room and the shared kisses and laughter, you’d had Regulus.

Best friends since first year. Study partners. The person you’d sneak into the library with, who’d sit in comfortable silence while you both read. The one who never needed you to fill the air with noise, who understood the kind of stillness you sometimes craved.

So when you slipped into kitten form and disappeared that evening, the boys assumed you were underfoot somewhere in Gryffindor tower. It wasn’t until an hour passed with no sign of you that panic started to set in.

“Not in the common room,” James muttered, checking under the armchairs.

“Not in the library either,” Remus added.

Sirius was nearly beside himself, rattling a box of treats. “She always comes when I shake these! Where the bloody hell is she?”

Which is how they ended up in the dungeons, Sirius muttering curses under his breath. And then.. there you were.

Nestled against Regulus’ shoulder in a quiet alcove, purring like you’d found the safest place in the world. Regulus had a book open in one hand, the other resting lightly over your back, fingers moving in absent, soothing strokes.

Sirius made a strangled sound. “You’ve got to be joking-”

But Regulus looked up at them calmly, his voice low and even. “Relax. She’s fine. The poor girl’s just looking for some quiet.”

That silenced them.

You shifted in your sleep, tucking yourself closer beneath his chin. Regulus tilted his head ever so slightly, his hair brushing your fur, and kept stroking you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

James blinked, then gave a quiet huff of laughter. Remus’ expression softened too, all tension draining from his shoulders. “Thank you. For looking after her.”

Regulus gave the smallest shrug, his hand still moving gently. “Someone has to,” he murmured, though it didn’t sound like an insult, more like an old truth between best friends.

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but then you purred. Low, steady, so content it made his chest ache. And he couldn’t bring himself to break that peace.

“I’ll bring her back to you once she’s awake. For now, let her rest.” Regulus said simply.

And for once, Sirius didn’t fight him

[starryxsuns]

Never Enough

pairing: rafe x f!reader x jj

where one boy just isn’t enough for her

smut | dom!JJ | dom!rafe | sub!reader

JJ’s hips are a blur against yours, his weight pinning you down into the mattress, his grin sharp as his damp hair falls into his eyes. He’s panting, laughing almost, at the way your nails scrape down his back while you moan out loud enough to rattle the walls.

But your eyes keep darting sideways. Past his shoulder. Past the sweat dripping down his temple. Straight to Rafe.

Rafe’s sitting in the armchair against the wall, broad shoulders stretched out, one elbow hooked lazily over the armrest. He hasn’t touched you once tonight. Just watching, dark gaze fixed on where JJ’s cock is stretching you open. There’s a curl of smoke between his fingers from the cigarette he hasn’t remembered to ash. His jaw is tight.

It makes your chest ache.

“Rafe,” you whimper, voice cracked and small.

JJ groans at the sound, thrusts harder. “Nah, don’t look at him, baby. I’m the one fucking you. I’m the one inside this sweet little pussy. Eyes on me.”

But tears are threatening at your lashes. You try to do what JJ says, but your body betrays you, tilting toward Rafe, fingers twitching like you’re reaching for him even though he’s too far away.

“Please,” you breathe, lips trembling, “please, Rafe, I need-”

JJ barks out a laugh, sharp and breathless. “Greedy girl. You’ve already got me balls-deep in you, and you still want him? You’re gonna kill me one day, swear to God.” He bites at your jaw, teeth scraping. “Isn’t this enough for you?”

You sob, shaking your head. “No, it’s never enough, I need both,”

That’s what breaks Rafe.

The cigarette hits the glass tray with a hiss, and then he’s on his feet, crossing the room in three strides. His palm lands heavy on your cheek, not to hurt, but to make you look at him, to make sure your wide, wet eyes are locked on his.

“You’ll always need me,” Rafe growls, voice low, vibrating through your bones. “You can’t come without me touching you. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Your hips jerk helplessly under JJ, clenching around him so tight he curses, but you’re nodding frantically at Rafe. “Yes, yes, need you,”

“Fuck,” JJ groans, rocking harder, but there’s a flicker of frustration in it, like he’s realizing he’s never going to compete with Rafe in your head.

Rafe doesn’t give him the chance. He slides one big hand between your bodies, thumb pressing against your swollen clit in perfect, brutal circles that make your spine snap off the mattress. His other hand curls around your throat, not choking, just holding, steadying, reminding you he’s there.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, eyes blazing into yours. “Cry for me, pretty girl. Let him fuck you, let him fill you, but you know whose touch really makes you fall apart.”

JJ groans, pace messy now, slamming into you as he feels your walls pulse around him. “Shit, she’s squeezing me so tight. Fuck, Rafe, she’s gonna-”

“Of course she is,” Rafe cuts in, almost smug, watching the tears streak down your cheeks as you writhe between them. “She’s greedy. She needs both of us to come. Doesn’t she, baby?”

Your voice is broken, just a series of high-pitched sobs as your release rips through you. Your back bowing, thighs shaking, cunt gripping JJ so hard he shouts and spills into you.

But even when JJ slumps forward, spent and sweaty, you’re still trembling, clawing at Rafe’s wrist where it holds your throat. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Rafe smirks down at you, sliding his fingers deeper against your clit, slow and cruel. “See? Greedy little thing. One cock isn’t enough for you.” He leans down, finally kissing you, messy and deep, swallowing your cries. “Good thing you’ve got two boyfriends, huh?”

[starryxsuns]

Bambi

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

where reader’s legs won’t stop shaking

smut | soft dom!clark | lazy sweet morning sex

It starts lazy, like it always does with him. The morning light is soft through the curtains of his tiny Metropolis apartment, his sheets tangled around your waist. Clark’s still half-asleep, warm and heavy beside you, when he stirs and buries his face against your neck.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice rough, body already hard against your thigh.

You giggle softly, cupping the back of his neck. “Morning, Smallville.”

His lips twitch into a sleepy smile before he kisses you slow and unhurried. The kind of kiss that makes your chest ache, because it feels like he has nowhere else to be but here. But it deepens quickly, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, tugging you closer until he’s pressed against you.

Before long, he’s moving over you, bracing himself on his elbows, his hair falling into his face. You can feel him, hot and heavy, as he pushes inside with a groan.

It’s slow, so slow. Clark fucks like he loves. Steady, careful, almost reverent. His forehead rests against yours as he rocks into you, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your lips between each thrust. He whispers things he probably doesn’t even realize he’s saying- “so pretty,” “so perfect,” “mine.”

It’s overwhelming, the stretch of him combined with the tenderness. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist. And he doesn’t stop until you’re crying out softly beneath him, shivering through your release while he keeps moving, whispering encouragements against your lips.

When he finally spills inside you, it’s with a groan muffled into your neck, his whole body tensing before collapsing over you. His weight is comforting, grounding.

But when he pulls out a few minutes later and sits back, you can’t hide the way your thighs twitch, your muscles jerking with aftershocks. You try to close your legs, embarrassed, but they won’t cooperate, trembling uncontrollably.

“Hey,” Clark says softly, eyes wide, concerned. He smooths a big hand down your thigh, frowning. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you breathe, face hot as you cover it with your hands. “J-just… can’t stop shaking.”

For a second, he looks uncertain. Then his lips curl into the slowest, smug little grin you’ve ever seen on him, his dimples deepening. “God,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I really did that to you.”

“Clark,” you whine, mortified.

But he’s already leaning down, kissing the corner of your mouth. His hand squeezes your trembling thigh again, as if to prove it’s real. He chuckles, low and rough, before whispering:

“Easy there, Bambi. Didn’t mean to fuck you dumb.”

Your eyes fly open, scandalized. “Clark!”

He laughs outright now, shoulders shaking, his hair a mess as he looks down at you with that maddeningly sweet grin. “What? You’re all shaky and wide-eyed. Like a baby deer finding her legs.”

You smack his chest weakly, whining, but he just catches your wrist and pins it to the mattress above your head, his other hand sliding higher on your thigh. He kisses your temple, murmuring, “My little Bambi.”

The nickname makes your cheeks burn, but your thighs twitch again at the sound, giving you away completely. Clark notices instantly, his smirk turning wicked.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he teases, nipping at your jaw. “You want me to fuck you till your legs give out, call you my sweet Bambi?”

You hide your face in his shoulder, but your nails dig into his skin, betraying you. Clark just laughs again, low and pleased, kissing your hair.

[starryxsuns]

Positive Reinforcement

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader

where remus finds out his girl has a praise kink

smut | soft dom!remus | praise kink | oral f!receiving

It starts the way most nights do: late, quiet, the two of you tangled in homework and soft lamp light, the bed creaking every time Remus shifts his weight.

You’re on the floor by the bed, surrounded by flashcards. He’s stretched out above you, flipping through his notebook with his reading glasses slipping down his nose, murmuring incantations to himself.

And then, without any warning, he says it.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You freeze. Your pencil drops. And something low in your stomach aches.

You don’t mean to make a sound. You really don’t. But the tiniest breath escapes you, a hitched, high-pitched whimper you try to swallow back.

It’s not loud, but Remus hears it.

He glances down at you, confused. “You okay?”

You nod too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I just.. I’m fine.”

But your legs are twitching where they’re folded under you, and your face is hot, and your eyes won’t meet his.

He sits up straighter, peering at you. “Wait. Was it something I said?”

You want to disappear.

But he’s Remus. Sweet Remus, who tucks his hair behind his ears and bites his lip when he’s nervous. You can’t lie to him.

“You said I was doing good,” you whisper.

He blinks. “You are doing good.”

“No, I mean…” You pause. Squirm. Press your thighs together again, like that’s going to help. “It, um. It did something to me.”

There’s a long silence.

And then. “Oh”

Remus’s voice goes low.

And then. “Ohhh.”

You can’t even look at him. You just bury your face in your hands.

“That’s what does it for you?” he asks, breath catching. “People telling you you’re doing good?”

“Please forget I said anything,” you mumble.

But he’s already crawling to the edge of the bed, glasses hanging low on his nose, eyes wide and glassy.

“You’re telling me all I have to do is praise you and you fall apart?”

You say nothing. Which says everything.

And then he groans, like he’s the one who’s overwhelmed.

“God,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Your body trembles.

Remus slides down off the bed, kneels in front of you. His hands hover just over your thighs like he’s scared to spook you.

“Can I touch you?” he whispers. “Can I say it again?”

You nod, and his hands finally land on you, warm and reverent.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, voice low and shaky. “You’re so fucking pretty. So sweet for me. My perfect girl.”

You whimper, thighs shaking.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “God, look at you. Can’t even sit still, can you?”

“Remus,” your voice cracks.

“Shhh,” he soothes, pressing you gently back until you’re on your elbows. He tugs your shorts down so slow you think you’ll cry, and his breath catches when he sees the wet patch on your panties.

“All that,” he whispers, “just from me telling you how good you are?”

He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then lower, and lower.

“So pretty, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You moan, head falling back.

He kisses over your panties, nose brushing your soaked center.

“You’re my best girl,” he whispers against the fabric. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

And then, finally, he drags them down and moans when he sees you.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes. “You’re.. fuck, baby, can I taste you?”

You nod frantically, and he dives in.

There’s nothing cocky about it. No teasing. Just Remus’s mouth, greedy and desperate and reverent, like he’s praying between your thighs.

He murmurs praise into your skin like a mantra. So good, so soft, you’re perfect, you’re mine. And every word makes you clench harder around nothing.

You’re already so close it’s humiliating.

“Remus, please.”

He pulls back just long enough to look up at you, eyes dark behind his glasses.

“Come for me,” he says softly. “Let me hear how good it feels, dove.”

And you shatter.

You cry out his name, legs clamping around his head as your whole body pulses with it, and he groans against you like he’s the one coming.

But he doesn’t stop.

Even when you start to twitch. Even when your hips lift in protest. Even when your fingers claw the sheets.

“You can take it,” he murmurs. “You’re so good for me. One more, yeah?”

You sob, already too much, and still nod.

He keeps his mouth on you, gentle and coaxing, and whispers:

“That’s it. My perfect girl.”

And that’s all it takes.

[starryxsuns]

peter parker masterlist

Fogged Up (18+) where peter and his lab partner get carried away while working on their project

[starryxsuns]

hey queeennn i love ur writing so so so much. idk if uve already written smth like this, but i wanna request something abt peter parker where he’s ur partner for a group project or smth, and then yall go to his room but then it turns into ykykykk 👅👅. like heavy sub peter and then at some point reader like takes off his glasses (also maybe choking him, grabbing his hair oops who said that), cuz they’re fogging up so much and he’s like so overstimmed but wants his glasses back so he can see reader if ykwim. ANYWAYS if not, it’s totally fine. have a nice day baddieeee

a/n: EEEE thank you so much for my first request!! i literally wrote it right away and had so much fun with this one… subby peter is soo hot. i hope i did it justice and you like it <3

Fogged Up

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

peter and his lab partner get carried away while working on their project

smut | dom!reader | sub!peter | choking | praise kink

Peter’s hunched over his notebook, scribbling furiously like the fate of the free world depends on the neatness of his equations. His glasses keep sliding down his nose, and every thirty seconds he shoves them back up with the heel of his hand.

You shut your laptop with a quiet click. “You’re acting like this project is life or death, Parker.”

Without looking up, he mutters, “Well, it’s thirty percent of our grade, so…”

“So,” you interrupt, leaning over the back of his chair, “you think I’m gonna fail if you don’t personally reinvent the laws of physics tonight?”

That makes him falter. He glances up, cheeks faintly pink behind his glasses. “N-no! I mean, you’re brilliant, you’d never fail, I just-”

You arch a brow. “So why are you strangling your pen like it just insulted your aunt?”

His lips twitch like he wants to laugh, but he ducks his head instead. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up. Not with you.”

Your chest squeezes at that. You circle around the chair, resting your hip against the desk. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, you know that?”

His face goes crimson. “I-I’m not nervous.”

“You’re stuttering, Peter”

“I, no, I-I’m not”

“Peter.” You laugh softly, sliding into his lap like it’s nothing. His whole body stiffens, pen dropping from his hand and clattering to the floor.

“Wh-what’re you,”

“Taking a break,” you murmur, looping your arms around his neck. “You’ve been wound up so tight all night.” His hands hover awkwardly at your sides, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch.

“Relax,” you whisper, brushing a curl off his forehead. “Do you seriously think I only picked you as a partner for your lab notes?”

He swallows hard. “Didn’t you?”

You grin. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

His breath hitches. His eyes flicker to your mouth, glasses fogging faintly. You shift deliberately on his lap, feeling the hard outline beneath his jeans. His sharp inhale makes your lips curl.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods too quickly. “Y-yeah. I’m good. I’m-”

You cut him off with a kiss. He makes a startled noise against your mouth, then melts instantly, lips parting in a desperate little gasp. His hands twitch on your waist like he’s dying to grab on but terrified of messing up.

“Touch me,” you murmur against his lips.

It’s like giving him oxygen. His hands grip your hips hard, pulling you flush against his cock. You grind slowly, savoring the way his breath stutters.

“Feels so good,” he stammers, already half-gone.

“Yeah?” You tug his curls, making him whine. “You like this?”

His nod is frantic. “Yes, please don’t stop, please,”

You laugh softly, kissing him again, biting his bottom lip until he moans. His glasses fog completely, slipping crooked on his face, useless. You pull them off, tossing them on the bed.

“Wait,” he gasps, eyes wide. “Please. I, I wanna see you.”

“You don’t need them.” You grind down on his cock through his jeans, making him buck up helplessly.

“I do,” he whines, already trembling. “Please, I can’t, everything’s blurry, I need to see you, please.”

“Then earn them back,” you murmur, undoing his belt.

That breaks him. He nods frantically, babbling, “I’ll be good, I swear, anything you want, just, please.”

You free him, hot and flushed and leaking, stroke him once before sinking down onto him in one smooth motion. His head slams back against the chair, mouth falling open in a strangled moan.

“Oh fuck, oh my god.”

You ride him hard, bouncing in his lap, and he’s wrecked instantly, whimpering, glasses abandoned, hair sticking to his forehead. You grab a fistful of curls, yank his head back, and wrap your hand around his throat.

The noise he makes is obscene, choked off halfway into a whine.

“Harder,” he begs, voice breaking. “Please, choke me harder,”

You squeeze tighter, watching his eyes roll back, his cock twitch inside you. Every thrust has him gasping, moaning so loud you’re sure the whole building can hear.

“Good boy,” you growl, riding him faster, yanking his curls until his mouth falls open. “So fucking pretty when you can’t breathe.”

He sobs, hips jerking uncontrollably. “D-don’t stop, please, need you, need it-”

You keep him right there, choking him, using him, until he breaks, cumming hard with a muffled cry, body shaking. But you don’t stop. You grind down mercilessly, overstimulating him until he’s whining through tears.

“Please,” he begs hoarsely, voice cracked, “please, can I see you? I’ll be so good-”

You grab his glasses from the bed and slide them onto his flushed face. They fog instantly, but his blown pupils lock on you anyway.

“Thank you,” he gasps, watching you ride him. “Oh god, thank you.”

You squeeze his throat again, tug his curls, and use him until you’re cumming around him, both of you shaking. He clings to you weakly, glasses crooked and smeared, chest heaving.

When it’s finally over, Peter slumps back in the chair, glasses crooked, curls damp and sticking to his forehead. His chest heaves, lips swollen and kiss-bruised, the flushed skin at his throat showing the outline of your hand. He looks destroyed.

You slide off his lap carefully, but his arms come around you instantly, pulling you back down onto him like he’s terrified you’ll leave.

“Stay,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, face burrowing into your shoulder.

You soften immediately, pressing a kiss into his sweaty curls. “I’m not going anywhere, Pete.”

For a long moment, you just hold him, stroking his hair until his ragged breathing evens out. His glasses are completely smudged and askew, so you slip them off, clean them with the hem of your shirt, and set them back on his face. He blinks up at you, dazed, cheeks burning as he realizes how wrecked he must look.

“You were such a good boy for me,” you murmur, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone.

His face floods with color. “D-don’t say that.”

You grin, leaning in close. “Why not? It’s true.”

“I…” He squeezes his eyes shut, groaning into his hands like he wants to disappear. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” You tug his hands down gently so he has to meet your gaze. “Peter, you begged me to choke you harder. You were whining for it.”

He whimpers, hiding his face back in your neck, voice muffled. “You’re evil.”

You laugh, stroking his hair. “Mm, maybe. But you loved it.”

His body stiffens, then relaxes again, a quiet sound escaping him that’s half a groan, half a sigh. “…yeah,” he admits softly. “I did.”

You kiss the top of his head, smiling as you whisper, “That’s my good boy.”

He groans again, muffled against your skin, but his arms tighten around your waist like he never wants to let go.

yayyyy first peter parker request <3

[starryxsuns]

Little Bunny

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader

rafe loves watching reader ride him

smut | soft dom!rafe | sub!reader | riding | praise kink

He’s beneath you, lips parted, hands gripping your hips like he’ll float away if he lets go.

And you?

You’re wrecked.

Because Rafe praises you with his whole soul.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice rough and shaking as you roll your hips again. “Just like that. You ride me so well. So fucking good.”

Your legs are already trembling, thighs burning from the effort. Every time you sink back down, he makes that sound: half whimper, half worship.

You can’t stop. Can’t even slow down. Not when he’s looking at you like that: eyes wide, cheeks flushed, jaw slack.

“Doing so good for me,” he gasps. “Look at you, baby. Taking me so deep.”

You clench around him and his head drops back before he looks up at you again. Eyes glassy. Voice wrecked.

And he whispers it.

“Fuck. Look at my little bunny.”

You freeze.

“W-what?” you stammer, dazed.

His thumb drags over your hip, and he smiles. Cocky but adoring, so turned on he’s blushing.

“‘Cause the way you bounce, baby,” he says, breathless. “The way you move, fuck, you look like the sweetest little bunny. Just, just trying so hard to be good.”

You moan, broken and high.

“Oh, you like that?” he teases gently. “You like being my little bunny?”

You nod, too far gone for words now.

“Of course you do,” he murmurs, leaning up just enough to kiss your chest. “So soft. So pretty. My sweet little thing.”

He thrusts up into you, slow and deep, and you whimper, collapsing forward against his chest. His arms wrap around you tight, like he needs to hold you there, like he can’t let you go.

“You ride me like you were made for it,” he whispers against your ear. “Like you just wanna be good for me.”

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, voice so soft it breaks your heart. “Always. Just keep going, little bunny. Just let me make you feel good.”

And when you fall apart again, it’s with his arms around you, his praises in your ear, and his cock still buried deep inside as he whispers, “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

[starryxsuns]

Super Hearing

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

where clark can tell when the reader is worked up by using his super hearing

suggestive | smutty | munch clark lol

You’re lying in bed, book balanced on your chest, legs twisting in the sheets like they’re suddenly the enemy.

It’s not your fault. Clark left for the living room over an hour ago, shirtless in just those stupid soft gray sweats, his glasses sliding down his nose, all flushed and post-shower, and he didn’t even kiss you before walking off.

You’re squirming. Restless. The ache between your thighs building, pulse racing just under your skin.

You think you’re being discreet about it. Quiet little breaths. The occasional press of your thighs. Maybe your hand drifts a little too low, but you don’t do anything yet, not really. Just imagining his mouth. That warm, reverent tongue. The way he watches you when he’s between your legs.

And then…

“Baby?” His voice drifts in from the hallway, soft but amused. “You okay?”

Your whole body freezes. “Yeah! Why?”

He laughs. Low. Dangerous.

“You forget what I can hear?”

Your face burns hot. “Oh my God.”

There’s a pause. Then soft footsteps. Then-

He’s leaning in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed, glasses glinting. That stupid sexy smirk on his face.

“You’ve been shifting around in bed for twenty minutes. Your heartbeat’s been going crazy.”

You scramble to sit up, flustered. “Clark, I didn’t-”

He crosses the room in two steps. Crawls up the bed slowly, until he’s hovering over you.

“Were you thinking about me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice teasing, warm, hungry.

You stare up at him, breathless. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I’m not playing at all,” he says, and then he’s pulling the sheets down, kissing your stomach, sliding your underwear off with excruciating care.

He kisses the inside of your thigh once, and then twice, and then pauses. Looks up at you with a grin that’s way too pleased.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat change right before you cum?” he says, like it’s a fun fact.

You let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a perv.”

He laughs into your skin. “Maybe. But I’m your perv.”

And then his mouth is on you. Immediately, perfectly, no teasing anymore. He’s so sure of what you need now. He knows the way your breathing changes when he flicks his tongue just right, the whimper you make when his fingers curl inside you.

He’s not just listening, he’s learning you. Every sound. Every breath. Every heartbeat.

And right as you’re about to cum, he groans like he feels it happening in his chest.

“There you go, baby,” he breathes, as you cum around his fingers. “Know you so well,”

[starryxsuns]

Wolfstar and baby Harry are on vacation trying to find a museum

[starryxsuns]

Stay Right There

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

reader and clark are making out and things get a little heated

smut | inexperienced!clark | thigh riding

It starts the way it always does with Clark: sweet, unhurried, a little clumsy. He kisses like he thinks too much about it, pausing between every few brushes of lips like he’s worried he’s doing it wrong. His huge hands hover at your waist, barely touching, like he’s afraid of holding you too tight.

You murmur his name, pulling him closer, straddling his lap properly this time. He lets out a low, surprised sound against your mouth when your knees sink into the couch cushions on either side of him, like he hadn’t dared imagine you’d want him this close.

The kisses deepen, mouths opening, teeth clashing once before he laughs nervously into your lips. But then your hips shift, pressing down just right, your clit catching against the solid muscle of his thigh, and your laugh cuts into a soft, broken whimper.

Clark goes stock-still.

His hands freeze mid-hover, his lips stop moving, even his breath seems to catch in his throat. “Wait,” he blurts, pulling back just enough to see your face. His blue eyes are wide, worried. “Did I, did I hurt you? Was that, was I too..?”

“Clark,” you gasp, already chasing the friction again with a slow roll of your hips. “No, no. It feels good. So good.”

The panic in his face shifts into something else, something like disbelief. His mouth falls open, pink lips parted, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “It… does?” His voice cracks on it, like he can’t quite fathom that’s true.

You nod quickly, pressing your forehead to his as your hips rock again. The pressure makes your thighs tremble, heat sparking low in your belly. “God, yes.”

Clark just stares, stunned, like his brain’s short-circuited. Then he whispers, shaky: “You’re, oh my god, you’re using me for that?”

You whimper, unable to stop the way your hips keep moving. The denim of his jeans is rough against you, just enough friction to make you dizzy.

He makes a choked noise in his throat, his hands finally daring to touch, settling heavy and unsure on your waist. “Does that, does that really feel good?”

You grab his wrists and guide his hands down, planting his big palms firmly on your hips. “Here. Help me move.” Your voice comes out breathless, desperate.

Clark groans like you’ve asked the impossible, but he obeys instantly, letting his fingers splay wide over you. His grip is clumsy at first, like he��s scared he’ll break you, but when you grind down harder and moan, his breath stutters. “Like that? Am I, am I doing it right?”

“Perfect,” you gasp, burying your face in his neck. “Just hold me there. Please, Clark, don’t let me stop.”

Something in him cracks open then. He ducks his head, lips finding your throat in sloppy, reverent kisses, his breath hot and shaky against your skin. “God, you’re so beautiful like this,” he babbles, every word raw and unpolished. “I can feel you, Jesus, grinding on me like that, fuck, you’re shaking,”

You whine, your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rocking frantically now as he guides you. Every move drags your clit over the firm line of his thigh, and it’s overwhelming. You’re already spiraling.

Clark kisses higher, nipping at your jaw, whispering brokenly against your skin. “You’re, oh god, you’re getting off on me, aren’t you? Just, just using me like this, ”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, trembling against him. “Clark, I’m so close. Don’t stop,”

He moans into your neck, like the sound of it almost undoes him. His grip tightens, holding you steady as his thigh flexes under you, just slightly, just enough. “That’s it, baby. Stay right there, ride me. God, let me feel you, don’t stop till you cum, please let me make you cum, please-”

It tips you over the edge so fast you can barely breathe. Your hips stutter, grinding hard against him as your orgasm rips through you, moaning his name against his mouth.

Clark sounds ruined, his own breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you tight, kissing your temple desperately. His hands are trembling on your hips.

When you finally collapse against his chest, spent and shaking, he stammers out, almost pleading: “Did I.. was that me? Did I make you feel that good?”

You laugh breathlessly into his collarbone, pressing a kiss there. “Clark, you made me cum so hard I saw stars.”

His ears flame red, his whole chest swelling like he doesn’t even know what to do with the pride in him. He kisses the top of your head, still dazed, still whispering: “Stay here, do it again. Please. I wanna feel you again.”

[starryxsuns]

Can’t Stay Quiet

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

inexperienced!clark doesn’t realize how loud he actually gets during sex

smut | inexperienced!clark | riding | kind of subby clark | kind of dom reader

Clark had you in his lap on the narrow twin bed, your knees straddling his hips, his broad chest flushed pink where you’d raked your nails across it. His curls were damp with sweat, his glasses thrown somewhere on the floor, and his huge hands were clutching your waist like he thought you might slip away.

You rocked down on him, and he let out a sound so loud, so guttural, it startled even him. A low, broken moan that echoed in the quiet room, ripped out of him like he’d been holding it in for years.

“Cl-Clark!” you hissed, half laughing, half gasping as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re so loud, someone’s gonna hear,”

But he didn’t even try to stop. His hips thrust up into you again, and another noise tore out of him, desperate and unrestrained. “Oh my god, fuck, you feel so,”

You clamped a hand over his mouth instinctively, muffling him. His moan buzzed hot and needy against your palm, and his wide blue eyes snapped up to yours. Glassy, ruined, begging.

He was shaking his head like he couldn’t help it, his moans spilling out into your hand, his brows furrowed in desperation. The sound was filthy, wet and muffled, each thrust making him groan into your skin like he was being tortured.

“Baby,” you whined, trying to keep quiet even as your walls clenched around him, “you’ve gotta keep it down,”

But Clark just grabbed your wrist and held your hand tighter over his mouth, eyes rolling back as his hips bucked up uncontrollably. He wanted you to silence him, wanted to moan and cry into your palm while he lost himself inside you.

He was babbling nonsense against your skin, words broken by the slap of your bodies, “so good… can’t stop, you’re perfect, so tight,” and you could feel every vibration of his voice against your hand.

“Clark,” you gasped, trembling as you rode him faster, “you sound so fucking pretty like this. Moan for me, baby, I’ll keep you quiet. Just let go.”

His muffled cry when he came was like nothing you’d ever heard: loud even under your hand, desperate and sweet, his whole body locking up as he spilled deep inside you. He held you against him, trembling, still groaning brokenly into your palm until the waves passed.

When you finally eased your hand away, his cheeks were scarlet, lips swollen, breath ragged.

“Sorry,” he panted, voice hoarse, “I didn’t mean to,”

You cut him off with a kiss, slow and deep, still rocking your hips against his softened cock. “Don’t be sorry. I love hearing you lose control for me.”

And the way his cock twitched inside you at that? You knew you’d be spending the rest of the night seeing just how loud you could make him get.

[starryxsuns]

Clumsy Mouth

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

clark fumbles through dirty talk but it’s so hot

smut | inexperienced!clark | kind of subby clark | he’s obsessed | he’s so whiny

Clark was already flushed pink from his chest up to his ears, sweat clinging to the curls that had fallen loose over his forehead. His glasses were abandoned on the nightstand, fogged earlier when you’d kissed him too hard, and his mouth was still a little swollen from where you’d bitten at his bottom lip.

He was inside you, thick and stretching, moving in this uneven rhythm that betrayed how badly he wanted to do everything right but how little experience he had. His grip on your waist was almost too careful, like he was afraid to crush you if he held any tighter.

And then he opened his mouth.

“God…you’re so… tight,” Clark groaned, the word tumbling out rough, unpolished. His brow furrowed in concentration as he drove into you a little deeper. “And warm. I.. oh, fuck-”

You whined, clenching around him, and his whole body shuddered. The sound only encouraged him, made him stumble through more words, panting against your mouth.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you. You feel, oh, you feel so perfect. I’ve never,” he broke off with a strangled sound as your nails dragged down his back.

“Clark,” you gasped, and he whined like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear you say his name like that.

He ducked his head, mortified at how much he was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Every clench of your body around him knocked the air from his lungs and shook words loose from him like prayers.

“You’re, fuck, you’re mine,” he blurted, hips stuttering. “You’re so beautiful, so sweet, I don’t deserve you,”

Your head fell back against the pillows, heat flooding through you at the way he said it. Raw, unfiltered, like he was confessing. He wasn’t even trying to be dirty. It was just spilling out of him, truth after truth.

And when he finally dared to look at you, his blue eyes blown wide and desperate, it pushed you over the edge of restraint. You tightened around him, a cry breaking from your throat.

That nearly undid him.

“Tell me you like it,” he begged, thrusts growing deeper, harder, frantic. “Please.. I need to know. I need to know I’m making you feel good,”

You surged up and kissed him, wet and messy, tasting the groan that ripped from his chest. He kissed you back like he couldn’t get close enough, like he’d crawl inside your lungs if you’d let him.

When you pulled back, your lips brushing his, you whispered, “You’re so good, Clark. You’re perfect.”

He made a noise so low it vibrated in your bones, like the praise itself undid him. His big hands finally stopped being cautious. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them open wider, folding you beneath him as he pounded into you with a strength he hadn’t dared use before.

“You’re perfect. You’re mine. You’re everything,” he rambled, almost delirious. “I could stay inside you forever, never leave, I don’t care if I die here, I’d be happy,”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your own body arching up helplessly to meet his thrusts, each one rougher than the last. His hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth falling open as he lost rhythm, lost control, every inch of him begging to give you more.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m close, I can’t,” he groaned, forehead pressing to yours. “I don’t want to stop, I don’t ever want to stop-”

And then he broke, slamming deep inside you as he spilled, a ragged cry tearing from his throat. He clung to you, trembling, still babbling against your neck.

“You’re so good. You’re perfect. I love you, I love you, I love you,”

His cock twitched inside you, hot and heavy, even as his body shook with the aftershocks. He buried his face in your skin, embarrassed, panting like he’d just run miles.

When he finally managed to look at you, his lips were red and swollen, eyes wide with uncertainty. “Did I… did I say too much? I couldn’t stop,”

You laughed softly, stroking his hair back from his forehead, still pulsing around him. “No, Clark. You said exactly what I wanted.”

The relief that bloomed in his chest was visible in his eyes, but so was something darker, hungrier. Because even as his blush deepened, you could still feel him hardening inside you again.

And when you whispered, “Why don’t you show me what else you’ve been holding back?” Clark growled, low and shaky, and flipped you onto your stomach like something inside him had finally snapped.

[starryxsuns]

do you ever just go

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