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luvbabydoll · 2 months ago

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more to love — simon “ghost” riley

simon “ghost” riley x chubby!fem!reader

the gym had never been your favorite place.

it was hot, crowded, and full of people who made it look easy—like lifting weights and running on treadmills was second nature. meanwhile, you were here, struggling with a machine that looked like it was built for torture rather than exercise.

you adjusted the seat, tried to grab the handles, then frowned when they felt too far away.

frustration bubbled up in your chest. maybe you were just doing it wrong. maybe you shouldn’t even be here.

“need a hand, love?”

the deep, accented voice startled you. you turned—and immediately regretted it.

because holy shit.

the man standing behind you was massive. tall, broad-shouldered, built like he could snap the machine in half with one hand. he was dressed in all black, a hoodie pulled up over his head, a skull mask covering the lower half of his face. and yet, even with all that, his presence alone made heat crawl up your neck.

“i—uh—” words? gone. brain? empty.

his eyes flicked down to the machine, then back to you.

“you’re set too far back.” his voice was gruff, like he wasn’t used to talking much. “lemme show you.”

before you could protest, he reached past you, adjusting the seat effortlessly. his arm barely grazed yours, but it was enough to make you hyper-aware of how close he was.

“try now.”

you swallowed hard, nodding, trying to ignore how warm your face felt as you reached for the handles again. this time, it fit better.

“better?”

you nodded again. “y-yeah, thanks.”

he huffed, stepping back, arms crossing over his chest. “good. no point in doin’ it if you’re just gonna hurt yourself.”

at first, that was all it was. he’d spot you now and then, offering the occasional correction, always watching with that unreadable gaze. sometimes, if you did something right, he’d murmur a quiet "good girl," and it sent a shiver down your spine every time.

but then, he started noticing things.

the way your shirt rode up when you stretched, the peek of soft skin at your waist. the way your thighs pressed together when you sat down to catch your breath. the way you avoided looking in the mirror, adjusting your clothes like you were trying to hide yourself.

and it pissed him off.

because, fuck, how did you not see what he saw?

one day, you were tugging at your shirt again, mumbling something under your breath as you glared at your reflection.

ghost heard it.

“quit that.”

you froze, looking up at him, wide-eyed.

he stepped closer, his voice dropping low. dangerous. “ain’t gonna stand here and watch you tear yourself apart. not when you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever laid eyes on.”

your breath hitched. “i—”

but he didn’t let you finish. he grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the locker room—empty, because it was late—and backed you against the wall.

“y’know what i see when i look at you?” his gloved hand trailed down, fingers brushing over your belly, gripping at the soft flesh with something close to reverence. “i see somethin’ perfect.”

then his mask was up just enough for you to see his mouth, and before you could process it, he was biting.

your belly. your thighs. your love handles. he had his hands on you, all over you, pressing you against the wall as he nipped, kissed, worshiped every inch of soft skin he could reach. he growled between bites, “so fuckin’ soft,” and, ‘could spend all night right here.”

and when you tried to protest, tried to tell him you weren’t—

he growled. actually growled, sinking his teeth into your thigh before pulling back, lips curling into something almost smug.

“don’t wanna hear another word about it,” he muttered. then, hoisted you up—like it was nothing—and carried you over to the bench.

“now. y’gonna let me sit you on my lap, or you gonna make me take you home first?”

#luvbabydoll ‧₊˚ ⋅#simon riley drabble #simon ghost smut #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x chubby reader #chubby!reader #plus size!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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deepspace-scenarios · 10 days ago

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[scenario/drabble] You = me?

LIs react to you/MC showing up to a date dressed exactly like them.

(Genre: Fluff; tw: mild suggestiveness)

SYLUS

You stroll in with a suit jacket worn exactly the way he does- draped like a cape, the crow brooch glinting under the dim ambient light of the restaurant. Sylus raises a brow as he takes in your appearance.

"Kitten," he purrs, standing to pull out a chair for you. "Are you mocking me… or tempting me?" His fingers brush the brooch. "Because if it’s the latter, this game ends with that outfit on my floor."

It sends an electrifying heat coiling deep within you, but you refuse to let your composure slip just yet.

You mimic his posture, chin lifted. "I just wanted to see if I could pull off power better than you."

He laughs, low and indulgent. "Oh, you do."

___

XAVIER

Xavier freezes mid-sip when he sees you in his signature hoodie-and-tee combo, the tea hovering in front of his face as he looks, or rather, stares. His cup clinks when he sets it down.

"You're… me."

You wink, copying his serene smile and slipping into the seat opposite him. "Do I look like a fallen star now?"

He reaches out, fingertips grazing the fabric. "No. You look like everything… everything I love,"

Then- rare mischief flashes. “You'd look even better with me. At my place, in my be-”

“Xavier!” You yelp, stopping him from finishing what he had to say.

He beams at you. “I meant, napping in a hoodie is very comfortable. So we should try it together,”

___

ZAYNE

Zayne’s chopsticks pause over his plate when you slide into the booth, dressed in his go-to all-black attire.

His stare lingers on you.

"…You even got the correct height for the rolled sleeves."

You adjust imaginary glasses. "Based on observational data, this was the optimal outfit for unconventional seduction."

A beat. Then- he leans in, his voice a whisper. "Your confidence interval is 100%."

Your heart flutters in your chest at the way a hint of a smirk grazes his lips.

"Let's eat now, otherwise the soup dumplings will get cold." He says lightly to remind you to sit, picking one up with practiced ease and placing it into your bowl.

His gaze for the rest of the evening is weighted with a certain intensity, one that promises more to come, once you return home with him.

___

RAFAYEL

“Hey Rafayel,” you greet, your hand brushing his shoulder lightly as you walk in from behind him. “Sorry I'm late,”

There's a short beat of silence.

Rafayel's butter knife clatters onto the plate. "Is that-? Are you? ME?!"

You do a spin, the white fabric flowing around you. "Who else?"

He springs up, hands fluttering over your hair and outfit. "Oh, Miss Bodyguard you look absolutely stunning- wait, do a pose! Pose like I do!"

You flick your hair and angle your shoulder to pose. His jaw drops.

"I’m OBSESSED! This is art!" He declares.

Then, suddenly, he takes your hands into his. His tone turns serious as he asks you softly. "But you have to tell me. Am I also art to you, Miss Bodyguard?”

You grin at him. “Of course, you're the true embodiment of art itself,”

He preens, bringing your hand up and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Then another, and another, until you almost have to physically sit him back down on his chair and remind him to stop the PDA and eat.

---

CALEB

Caleb chokes on his water when he sees your handmade sweater. He turns away quickly, coughing and spluttering into his elbow before he spews water all over the fancy steak frites on the table.

You make it to the corner table, a small little alcove that has an L-shaped sofa bench against the wall. With him being closer now, you can see that pink tinges the tips of his ears as he clears his throat. "You- you made this? For our date? For me?"

You mimic his shy grin, sliding your bag off your shoulder as you slide into the plush bench, knees touching his. You stretch out your arm so that he can admire your handiwork. "Just a bit of stitching with ready-made items. Had to match my favorite person."

His hands hover, like he’s afraid to wrinkle it. "I… I love it.. And the sweater paws- pipsqueak, that should be illegal,”

“Too cute to handle?” You tease.

He pinches your cheek, then squishes you in a tight hug. “Never, pipsqueak.”

His heartbeat says otherwise.

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angrythingstarlight · 1 year ago

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Can see this being roommate!Bucky

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRcGCfkW/

Tell me why I saw a comment that said: I've watched my husband down a whole team just cause they downed me first. He definitely got the gak gak that night. 😂😂

-gif/idea anon

Roommate Bucky is always ready to defend you. And you—you're about to learn firsthand why gamers are notorious for being good with their fingers.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

WC: 2K

CW: Size kink, Beefy Bucky being absolutely massive, praise, degradation, choking, hand kink, fingering, overstimulation, hint of voyeurism, video game violence.

AN: Written on my phone, unbetad. This isn't based on any game in particular. It's just an excuse to write a little bit o' smut.

“No. No. Nonononono.”

YOU’RE DEAD flashes across the screen mocking you as your avatar’s bullet-riddled body fades into the abyss. You slump in the oversized gaming chair, tossing your controller on the desk. Jeers ring in your headset and you rip it off, throwing it next to the controller. She was so pretty. It took you ages to find one you liked and could pair with the cute outfit you picked.

The guys on your team didn’t even give you a chance. Who takes out one of their own? These jackasses apparently.

"You okay?" Heavy footsteps resound behind you. Glancing up, you see your roommate strolling into the living room. Your heart races at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. No one should look this good.

Deep blue eyes framed by long lashes. Beard neatly trimmed, enhancing his jaw. He's wearing a pair of loose grey sweats that cling to his muscular thighs, long brunet locks, damp from the shower, curl around his nape. No shirt of course.

Your eyes follow a bead of water that rolls down his massive chest and goes into the valley of his ridged abs. It hits the band of his navy blue boxers peeking out from his pants and your mouth goes dry imagining what's hidden under those layers of cotton.

While you’re busy ogling him, he notices the mess you left on his desk and the start over screen on his gaming computer. “What happened, bunny?”

The reminder of that stupid game has your frustation and anger returning in droves and it overtakes your burgeoning lust. You explain how the guys, his gaming buddies, decided to fuck with you by taking you out in a flurry of friendly fire when they realized Bucky wasn’t in the room. The longer you speak, detailing all the nasty things they said to you, the more his features harden, a muscle ticking away in his clenched jaw.

“Huh,” he mutters under his breath. Bucky ambles over to the chair and lifts you out of it like you weigh nothing to him, considering what he benches for fun, you know you don’t. He sits down and arranges you over his thick thighs, your back resting against his warm, bare chest. He leans forward, picking up the controller and headset.

It's not the first time, you've sat on his lap during one of his gaming marathons, Bucky says you help him play better.

“What are you doing?” You ask, canting your head back, his body wash, fresh cedar and vanilla, wafts over you and it takes everything in you not to drop your face into his chest and just inhale him.

The corner of his lip lifts into a smirk. “You’ll see.”

Adjusting the headset, he takes the controller in both hands, his corded biceps that are bigger than your head brush against the sides of your breasts.

If he feels the shiver that wracks down your body, he doesn’t comment on it. He never does.

The controller looks so small in his large hands, your gaze follows the veins lining the back of them as his fingers nimbly manipulate the buttons. A rush of heat spreads through you when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

You try to clench your thighs to quell the ache beating between them, but your legs are dangling over his and you can’t.

“I—I’m not.” The lie is obvious even to your ears. He hums noncommittally, but you feel his arms press closer to your body, pushing your tits together.

You shift on his lap, freezing in place when you feel his chest rise and fall against your back, his deep, knowing laugh rolls across your skin. He teaaes, “don’t tell me you're needy already, bunny?”

Sometimes you can't tell if he's teasing or not. You asked once and he just grinned like tie answer should be obvious.

“Sure you’re not,” Bucky casually retorts after a man appears on the screen. His guy is more menacing than your avatar, tall and flanked in dark green camouflage, face concealed by a skull mask. Weapons rotate next to him, eventually stopping on a machine gun. Static crackles through his headset and he’s dropped onto a rooftop. “I’m back fuckers.”

Various greetings trickle through, only to be cut short when it becomes apparent that Bucky is going on a rampage. He storms across the building. Player after player goes down. Some you don’t even see until they fall to their death.

“Aw c’mon.”

“Fuck you.”

“Seriously, what the fuck Barnes–”

He’s ruthless. Headshots. Stabbing. More headshots. Your already damp panties are drenched when you point out the one that shot you first, and Bucky’s guy stomps the fuck out of Walker6969 before snapping his neck. A slightly undignified giggle slips past your lips when you hear his obnoxious complaint about Bucky not playing fair. Oh. Fucking. Well. More curses filter through his headset as he absolutely decimates the field.

Bucky tilts his face towards you with a blithe smirk, taking out another player without missing a beat. “I warned you shitstains that you better be nice to my girl.”

It’s not long before there’s no one left. Bucky tosses the control down, and wraps his arm around your belly, and leans back, taking you with him. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” you reply sincerely, both impressed at his skill and pleased that he was so willing to defend you. “Thank you.”

“You really want to thank me, Bunny?” he whispers in your ear, nipping the lobe with a soft bite.

Your breath hitches. His hands curve under your knees, placing your legs over the armrests. “I asked you a question,” Bucky states, his tone domineering and dark.

You struggle to find any answer, but you can’t think with your roommate’s warm hand sliding down your shorts and cupping pussy and all you can do is whimper.

“You’re soaked,” he teases, tracing a finger down the middle of your clothed cunt. His touch is light, so light, but it sends a zap through your clit. “Could feel this hot little pussy throbbing on me. Practically begging for my cock,” Heat fans up the back of your neck and spreads to your face. He could feel that? Before you can drown in embarrassment, he’s kissing his way across your shoulder. ”Need me to get rid of this ache, don’t you?”

You want your roommates hands on you more than anything in this world. You’ve thought about this so many times, you can’t believe it’s happening. His touch feels better than you dreamed. His other hand travels a leisurely, gradual path up your shirt, moving your bra out of the way so he can roll your sensitive nipple between his rough fingers.

Another slow sweep over your pussy, just skimming your pulsating, swollen clit. It’s not enough. “Please,” you whine out, grinding down over his growing bulge. He’s getting bigger and bigger under you.

“Please what? Hmm, bunny, please what?” He cruelly taunts, pinching your nipple until your back arches off his chest. “Use your words.”

You cry out, the spark of pain fades into a heady, warm pleasure. “Touch me.”

You feel his lips curve into a smile, his teeth scrape over your throat. His thumb presses down your clit and goes still. “I am touching you.”

This is unbearable.

You’ve never been so wet in your life and he hasn’t done anything. You need him so badly it hurts.

Your pussy clenches down on nothing, you feel so empty.

“Bucky, I need you, need your fingers inside me, please fuck me,” you babble, willing to say anything to get more of him.

He doesn’t make you wait long. Without warning, he pushes your panties aside and a thick, calloused finger slides inside you.

“Tight little thing, aren’t you?” he remarks, adding another. Bucky used to everything being small compared to him. You are no exception. He doesn’t give you time to get used to the stretch before he starts scissoring you open, working your hot, wet cunt until he can give you one more finger. Bucky crooks his fingers, and he finds that elusive spot, the one you swore didn’t exist until now. He finds it again. And again. And again. White-hot sensations make you curl in yourself, your thighs trembling. The rough pads of his thick fingers languidly working that sensitive spot as he moves to your other nipple, plucking it into a hard peak.

“That’s your spot huh?” He asks with a cocky rasp. He knows. You told him by the way your moans went all breathy and softy and you started grinding on his cock like a greedy slut being to be filled. Judging by the way he can barely fit three fingers inside you, he knows his cock is going to split you in two. He can’t wait.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, clawing deep marks in the leather under your hands.

The wet schlick schlick schlick of your pussy with every knuckle-deep thrust of his fingers is pornographic.

Right around the second or third time, you clench down around him; he decides he’s going to film you, put your pretty pussy front and center on his flatscreen across from his bed, and make you watch as he fucks you the same way you’re fucking yourself on his fingers, your hips rolling back and forth, grinding your ass over his throbbing cock. Gonna make you watch as you struggle to keep every inch inside you, make you watch him fuck you stupid.

“Look at you making a mess all over me. Should make you clean it when you’re done. Gonna have you keep my cock warm while I finish the game.” The debauched image of you sitting on his cock while he plays flashes through your mind and a desperate moan builds in your throat, spilling out of your parted lips. “Yeah, you’re going to let me use this sweet cunt any time I want, gonna turn you into my personal fuckdoll.”

His thumb swipes over your clit, once, twice. Sensations burn through your veins, your body feels so hot and tight, like you’re on the edge of imploding. His hand leaves your nipple and grabs your throat, the sudden pressure makes your head feel light. “Oh god." Right there, fuck he just has to keep doing that, you’re so close, he just has to stay right there.

It’s like he can read your mind because he does, going harder and harder, giving you everything you need. “C’mon bunny, let me have it, give it to me.”

“Fuck yesyesyes, don’t stop please don’t–” you sob, the start of your orgasm sparks inside you.

“Not gonna tell you again, cum for me right the fuck now,” he rasps in your ear, squeezing tightly as he slams into your cunt, his thumb circling your clit faster and faster. His fingers catch your spot again, the pressure so good and so right that it sends you over the edge. Your orgasm barreling over you, wringing pleasure from every nerve in your body, and you gush around him.

“There it is, that’s my girl,” he praises, his words lost over the steady roar in your ears. He fucks you through it, drawing it out, only stopping after your vision blurs and you let out a pathetic noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob, but you feel too good to care how you sound.

You’re a mess—limbs trembling and weak, still so lightheaded, you can't lift your head, letting it loll lazily over his broad shoulder. He gently takes his fingers out of your pulsating cunt and holds it up, the evidence of your release dripping down to his wrist. He brings his long index finger to his mouth, sucking it dry with a grin. “Damn, you taste good.”

"I–fuck Bucky that was amazing." You grab the armrests and push yourself up.

“Where ya goin’? I didn’t say I was done with you,” Bucky says, his hand loose around your throat as he brings you back down. "I was jus' getting you warmed up."

Oh.

He grinds against your ass, his heavy cock digging into you. He's so big. Despite the fact that you're still on an orgasmic high, you want more. You want Bucky.

“You still gonna thank me Bunny?"

And I—

Roommate!Bucky has returned!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #roommate!bucky barnes #beefy!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic

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monstersholygrail · 2 months ago

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Home Workouts

Half-orc bf x fem!reader— groping, delicious sloppy sex, riding that dick, and some niiice after care

You honestly didn’t know what life would be like living with your half-Orc, half-Giant, boyfriend. The two of you have been together for so long but never shared your space for more than a week long vacation or a weekend sleepover at each other’s houses.

Of course, every part of his house was a little too big for you given his tall stature. But ever since the very first time you’ve slept over at his place he’s had an abundance of step stools and other little tools to help you move around the place with ease.

It’s been an adjustment but he’s done everything he can to make it an easy one for you.

There are many things you love about living your boyfriend but your favorite one is by easily by far watching him workout in his home gym. He has it all set up in the garage so it’s not exactly in the way of anything in the house. But accessible enough that even you can hear him in there if you’re downstairs.

At the first sign of his loud grunting your face brightens into an excited smile. You practically throw yourself off the couch and scramble your way through the house. Racing toward the doorway to the garage which always just so happens to be left open. Almost as if a certain someone wants you to hear him, wants you to watch him.

When you reach the doorway he’s right where you expect him to be, at the bench press machine looking way too good to handle. Your knees go weak at the sight of him and you have to lean against the door just to keep upright.

His large muscles ripple under the weight he’s pressing and saliva pools in your mouth, freaking drooling for your sexy hunk of a boyfriend. He grunts softly each time he lifts the weight and it does something to your insides. Making you hot and tingly all over, arousal gushing out of your pussy and soaking your panties.

You watch him work through his sets, your body growing hotter with each new machine he uses. You know he knows you’re there. And you know that he’s making all his work outs look even sexier because he’s trying to get you all hot and bothered. You hate how much it’s working. You’re practically itching to jump his bones.

It’s useless to try and fight it. The more he works out the more his light green skin glistens with sweat. You imagine yourself falling to your knees to lap it up, to kiss down his dark happy trail, and inhale deeply at that scent that’s specifically his and his alone. Fuck, you wanna devour him and he knows it.

He’s purposefully taunting you, egging you on, wanting to make a mess of you before he even gets his hands on your burning needy skin. You may be growing hazy with lust but you don’t miss the sly glances he keeps throwing your way or that stupidly smug smirk he’s been sporting since he was curling those weights. It shouldn’t make you hornier than you already are but it is.

Just as you think your pussy is throbbing so bad you’re about to cum untouched, he finally turns toward you with a raised brow and a classic ‘come hither’ look.

“Come over here and help me with these hip thrusts, pretty,” he says and you know it’s not a question. It’s a demand. Letting you know he’s been wanting you just as badly as you want him.

Walking closer to him in the gym you can see just how true that is. The thick outline of his cock pushing against the fabric of his sweats and just begging to be released. Even seeing it twitch once you finally reach him.

“I said c’mere,” he growls, claws gripping at your plush waist and dragging you against his sweaty stomach with a light smack.

The tension between the two of you is boiling as he swoops down and captures your lips in a ravenous kiss. You both groan as your lips meet in a sloppy needy dance, stumbling back until he’s lying down on the mat covered floor with you straddling his waist.

You press against him as hard as you can, hips already rocking, needing to grind against any part of him you can. He moans into the kiss, tongue dipping into your mouth just to get another taste of you. Claws run over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation as they dip lower and lower. Slowly pushing off all your clothes as they go.

“Look at you, humping me like a bitch in heat,” your bf rasps against your lips, pushing off your panties with a single claw and leaving your delicious curves open to him.

You gasp as your dripping folds are exposed to the cool air. He pushes you back down on top of him, his hands guiding you, rolling his abs all over your clit and causing your head to spin. He’s just so much bigger than you that he can easily jerk you around like his own personal fuck doll. Your toes curl at how damn good it feels and your jaw drops in a silent moan.

“Don’t act like you didn’t do this on purpose,” you accuse.

He chuckles, watching you get wrecked before he’s had a chance to really touch you. You don’t even realize when his hands drift off of you, too caught up in the pleasure rolling through your clit. He makes quick work of skillfully pulling his sweats down just enough to release his cock. It springs out of its confines, hitting your back with a fat smack.

“I can’t help it that you’re such a fuckin’ slut for me…” he purrs and you prove him right as you start grinding your ass along his length.

But it seems like it’s just enough to snap him into action. A feral glint passes over his eyes and his hands are on you in the next second. He pushes his massive pulsing tip through your folds, letting your slick coat his entire monster cock till he’s dripping with you.

He can’t seem to look away from it. Mesmerized by the image of your arousal soaking him. He doesn’t even care he just seems to want more and more of you. Low groans leaving him every time you flutter around his twitching head and make a bigger mess.

“God, you’re so wet f’me. So needy for my cock, you should be ashamed,” he scolds playfully, his smirk widening at your gasp.

You know you should actually scold him and you totally plan on it to. Mouth gaping at him like you’re really trying. But he just doesn’t give you the chance. On the next roll of his hips he catches his tip against your entrance, silencing you instantly.

After one more gloating chuckle your bf pushes you down and you go sinking onto his cock, letting out a pretty mewl as he stretches you to your limits. His cock splitting you open till you can’t even think. You’re a puddle by the time he bottoms out, your core squeezing him so tight like you never want him to leave.

“Baby— nngh— yes. Your pussy is being so good, sucking my cock in like she’s missed it. Show me how much, ride me hard,” he demands again and you’re in no state of mind to refuse.

The two of you work in total sync, starting at a frantic pace as you ride his cock like it’s been days since you’ve last got a taste instead of the hours it’s been. Meanwhile your boyfriend stays true to his workout, his hips thrusting out and plunging into your depths.

Your bf is entranced by the sight of you, completely lost in your pleasure. Head rolling back, your fucking perfect tits jiggling with the force of each thrust. His eyes trail down to where your bodies meet and his cock instantly jolts at the obscene way your fat cunt stretches around his giant cock. It’s a miracle you’re able to take him.

As your sweet pussy throbs and flutters around his girth he groans, his claws tightening around the soft rolls of your hips. His hips then move on their own, picking up pace and ramming his hard pulsing dick as deep inside your core as he can go, swirling you around his length and rearranging your guts.

Your loud shrieks of pleasure fuel him to fuck up into even harder, barely giving you a moment to adjust to each new sensation. You try and lift up to take a moment to breathe but he growls and slams you back down on his shaft, making you scream.

“Ah ah ah, don’t run from my cock. You’ve been droolin’ for it so be the good slut I know you are and take it.”

His hips are a blur as they pound into your messy cunt. Obscene noises fill the room with every snap of his hips, the loud squelch of your bodies meeting only sends you closer to your peak. It only takes one brush of his finger over your clit and your orgasm crashes into you.

Your bf groans at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock and suddenly he’s shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum straight into your needy womb. Grinding his length as deep inside you he works you through it till you both sag on the mats in total exhaustion.

His hands caress your back, smirking as aftershocks wrack through your spent form. He grabs handfuls of you, loving how you fill out his big hands and he drags you closer to him.

“What a workout, huh?” He asks with a big sigh, feeling very pleased with himself for getting you so fucked out.

The room stills and your bf fails to stifle his laughter, which only grows as you soon join him. Your happy and sated laughter rings between you both and at this moment you swear there’s nothing better than living with your bf.

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meenaxskz · 2 months ago

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when it's getting freaky but you clock out (hyung line) | skz reactions

genre : funny | light smut (so spicy ?) pairing : bf!skz x reader summary: you were feeling needy. Touchy. Flirty. And he was sooo ready. And then YOU FELL ASLEEP mid motion like some kind of sleep deprived gremlin. ✧ hyung line | maknae line

bang chan

The lights are low. His shirt is off. Yours is halfway there. You're straddling his lap and looking fine... in theory. Chan kisses down your neck, voice low and raspy. “You sure you’re up for this, baby?” You hum against his ear. “Mmhmm. I’ve been waiting all day.” He grins, sliding his hands up your thighs. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you whisper, eyes fluttering. He leans in. “You look kinda tired-” “I’M FINE.” “Okay, okay,” he laughs. “No one said otherwise.” Two minutes later, you’re trying to tug his shirt over his head. Keyword: trying. Your hand just sort of… rests there. Stuck. Your eyes are barely open. “Baby?” he says gently. “…I want you so bad right now,” you slur. “You’re literally falling asleep on my nipple.” You blink slowly, still clutching the hem of his shirt. “I just… need like… a micro nap.” “A what now ?” “Like a… sexy nap.” He stares. “There’s no such thing.” “There could be.” You slump forward. He catches you with one hand and glares at your limp body like it betrayed him personally. “Babe. Hello?” Silence. “…Are you snoring?” He shifts slightly. Your grip on his shirt doesn’t move. Still holding on. Mid-thirst. Mid-sleep “Wow.” He gently lays you down and pulls the blanket over your half-naked body. Mumbles to himself, annoyed but fond. “I lit the nice candles for this. I took a multivitamin in anticipation.” You snore softly in response. “…You’re lucky I love you.” He kisses your forehead and lies beside you, dramatically adjusting the blanket. Because even when you rob him of ass, you’re still his baby.

lee know

You slide onto his lap with a smirk, arms around his neck. He raises an eyebrow. “Took you long enough.” “I was hyping you up in my head,” you mumble, trailing kisses along his jaw. “Oh yeah?” His voice drops, hands already gripping your waist. “And what’d your brain come up with, huh?” You kiss behind his ear. “Lots of things.” He groans. “Tell me ?” “Lemme show you,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of his shirt. It’s going great. In theory. Because once your hand slips under his shirt, it just… stops moving. Dead still. “Uh… kitten?” “Mm?” “You’re holding my ribs like a sleepy raccoon.” “I’m not… tired…” you mumble, head now resting on his shoulder. He looks down at your hand, frozen on his torso. “…You are literally drooling.” He leans back, blinking. “You’re joking.” You blink up at him. “No… no I’m good. Let’s do this.” “Do what, exactly? A nap??” “I’m ready,” you slur, still gripping his shirt. “You look like you got seduced by gravity.” Two minutes later, you are fully asleep. Still straddling him. Still holding his shirt. He stares at the ceiling, dead inside “I shaved for this.” In the dark, he mutters to himself “This is why I have trust issues.” He adjusts your body gently, lying you down while maintaining the last ounce of dignity. “This betrayal will not be forgotten.” You murmur something in your sleep. “…Mince the garlic…” He blinks. “Are you dreaming about cooking?” You snore, adorable and useless. He turns off the light. “Next time I’m charging a cancellation fee.”

Changbin

He closes the bedroom door behind him, licking his lips like a man with a mission. You’re already sitting on the bed, lips glossy, eyes half-lidded, smirking like the problem you are. “You’ve been testing me all day,” he mutters, pulling his shirt off. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say, dragging a finger across his chest. “I was just admiring the pump.” “Baby,” he groans, crawling over you. “You literally whispered ‘bet those arms would hold me down real nice�� while I was doing bench press.” “You did three extra reps after that,” you smirk. “Yeah, and now I want my reward.” It starts strong. He’s over you, one hand on your thigh, the other on your waist, kissing you like you’re air. You’re gripping his sweatpants, breath hitching. Then... Silence. No heavy breathing. No teasing hands. Just… stillness. “…Babe?” You don’t respond. He leans back and looks down. Your hand is still on his waistband. Your face is in his neck. And you’re breathing slow. Peaceful. Blissed out. “…No. No no no.” He gently pokes your arm. “Baby?” Nothing. “You better be joking.” He taps your cheek. “You were just moaning in my ear three seconds ago.” A soft snore answers him. He stares at the ceiling like the universe personally hates him. “I lotioned. I hydrated.” You shift slightly, still asleep, hand twitching like you’re dreaming about undoing his pants. He gasps. “Are you still holding on in your sleep?” You nuzzle into his neck and whisper, “Mm… strong thighs…” He actually chokes. “YOU DON’T DESERVE ME.” He lays you down carefully, pulling the blanket over your body like a man in mourning. “I could’ve been in heaven right now.” You mumble something again. “...love you…” He glares at you. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

hyunjin

Your lips are on his neck. His shirt is on the floor. Your hand? Boldly venturing south. Hyunjin lets out a shuddered breath. “Shit, baby, you’re driving me crazy” You smile against his skin. “I got you.” He moans, eyes fluttering shut, hips lifting to meet your touch. You palm him once...just once. And then? Nothing “…Babe?” Silence. He glances down. Your hand is still gently cupping him -lovingly!-but unmoving. Your eyes? Closed. Breathing? Suspiciously soft. “…You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He stares at you. “Hello? You can’t just park and sleep. That’s illegal.” No response. He gently nudges your shoulder. “You knocked out mid-stroke. MID-STROKE, Y/N.” You snore softly. Hyunjin dramatically slams his head back onto the pillow. Five minutes later, he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, tragically pantsless, cradling your favorite stuffed bunny like it holds answers. “You saw that, right? You saw what she did to me.” The bunny stares, judging him in silence. “Look at me,” he mutters to it. “Do I look like a man who deserves this?” The bunny, of course, says nothing. He nods solemnly “Exactly.” He throws the blanket over you with unnecessary flair. “Don’t even try waking me up tomorrow with morning cuddles. I’m sleeping in spitefully.”

⤷ main m.list

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

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osohchoso · 5 months ago

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Gym Rat!

Personal Trainer!Choso x F!reader

Content: no use of y/n, working out, dry humping, praise, unprotected sex (p in v), multiple positions, creampie

Personal Trainer!Choso whose hand brushes against yours when you reach for the last container of chocolate protein powder in the grocery store. He notices your shy smile as you quickly retract your hand, assuring him he can have it.

Personal Trainer!Choso who insists you buy it, practically shoving the protein powder into your own cart as you object. As much as he prefers the chocolate flavor over the vanilla option, he would gladly sacrifice his preference if it made someone as beautiful as you smile again.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t stop himself from gushing about his passions when you compliment his shirt, the tight black fabric sporting the red arrow logo of his in-home gym. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as you give him your undivided attention, wide eyes glittering with interest.

Personal Trainer!Choso who offers to train you when you explain your New Year’s resolution is to build more muscle. He asks for your phone number so he can send you his website, wanting to prove to you he is legit and credentialed, not some creep trying to lure you into his basement.

Personal Trainer!Choso who wants to sweeten the deal, assuring you the first session was free. He just wanted an excuse to get to know you better. He practically chokes when you accept without hesitation, planning to be at his house tomorrow evening.

Personal Trainer!Choso whose mouth goes dry at the sight of you standing in his house, your curves concealed in a tight matching work-out set, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Personal Trainer!Choso who preaches the importance of stretching before beginning the workout. He models a few exercises aimed at your quads and hamstrings, examining your form with an appreciative gaze.

Personal Trainer!Choso who stands closely behind to spot you during your squat routine, whispering words of motivation as you adjust the barbell on your shoulders, it’s heavier than you’re used to. "You can handle it," his gruff voice assures you.

Personal Trainer!Choso who scolds you immediately when your ass brushes against the front of his shorts, sending a shiver racing through him, he educates you on dangers of your improper technique. He doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on you as he adjusts your form. One strong hand grasping your inner thigh to widen your stance, the other firmly pressed to your back to prevent you from bending your spine.

Personal Trainer!Choso who doesn’t realize how dirty it sounds when he said, “you can take it deeper than that,” while challenging you to squat lower.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t force himself to look away when you take a sip of water, your shaky hands spilling it down the front of you. The fabric of your shirt clinging to your breasts and soaking through to the skin underneath.

Personal Trainer!Choso who couldn’t believe his ears when you asked if he would be uncomfortable if you continued the workout without your shirt, his eyes widening in surprise as he finds out the sports bra underneath also matched your outfit perfectly.

Personal Trainer!Choso who watches the way your glutes twitch and shake with each rep of your hip thrusts, your out of breath gasps music to his ears.

Personal Trainer!Choso who is feeling cocky, claiming he could hip thrust your weight easily, a smirk crossing your face as you take him up on that challenge. His shoulder blades pressed to the sideways bench and feet planted firmly on the floor as he invites you to sit on his lap, arms crossed behind his head in an arrogant display.

Personal Trainer!Choso who, to no one's surprise, effortlessly dips you up and down as if you weighed nothing on top of him. "Told ya so," he boasts but doesn't stop.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can feel your heat radiating onto his hard bulge with each thrust up. The spandex of your leggings does little to shield the shape of your cunt from him. He guarantees you can feel him too, judging by the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip and your nails grip his shirt.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t stop the involuntary groan that comes rolling off his tongue, trying to play it off as a typical grunt you would hear from other weightlifters.

Personal Trainer!Choso who starts to get a little too confident, thrusting faster and faster as he watches your face twist in enjoyment. Your own hips grinding against him as you seek more friction. Both becoming so lost in the sensation that he almost drops you. His hands flying to grip your ass, fingertips digging into the pliable flesh as he holds you against him.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t believe his ears when you are the one to suggest an idea for a "better workout".

Personal Trainer!Choso whose mind can't comprehend how he got into this situation. His shorts and boxers discarded and back still pressed against the bench as you lower yourself back onto his lap, his swollen tip easily slipping inside your entrance.

Personal Trainer!Choso who resumes his repetitions, his nails biting into the skin at your hips as he holds you down on him, frantically burying himself deep inside your heat. He wishes he could rip that sports bra off your breasts, wanting to watch how they bounce on each messy thrust instead of being held hostage by the tight material.

Personal Trainer!Choso whose legs are about to give out, unable to hold his position any longer. He grasps your waist and presses your back to the foam tiles covering the gym floor. Gripping your legs and pushing your knees up to your chest. Pulling himself out just to drive back in even harder, tip bullying your cervix on every mean shove.

Personal Trainer!Choso whose calloused thumb was rubbing rough circles on your clit while he continued to slam into you, your loud moans filling the air alongside the sound of skin slapping skin. He can feel the way you were clenching around him, practically sucking him in. You were just as close as he was.

Personal Trainer!Choso who fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to let up pace as he whispered praises. “Such a good girl for me, you take me so well,” all while he nears his own climax. He can’t bring himself to pull away from your wet heat, painting the inside of you with hot ropes of cum.

Personal Trainer!Choso who collapses onto the foam tile next to you, chest heaving and drenched in sweat after the intense workout routine you both shared, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he says, “good thing we stretched first”.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can't stop the smile forming on his lips when you ask when your next ‘training session’ will be.

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gf2bellamy · 3 months ago

Note

hiii, you can ignore this request if you don’t want todo it!! It’s sort of fluffy/hurt comfort. Spencer and reader have been pining over each other for ages until reader finally asks Spencer on a really cute date to a museum or something. Reader shows up a little early to make sure they are there on time, and waits for Spencer to arrive. Spencer is super super late because something happened on the underground/metro, and reader thinks Spencer has just stood her up so she flees to Penelope. I’m not sure how it would end, and sorry it’s so long!! :)

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader feeling upset bc she thinks spencer stood her up a/n: hii !! i love this idea and i hope you like this :) also this gif might be my all time favorite spencer gif

You were early. Maybe a little too early.

But sitting at home, pacing back and forth, obsessively checking the time—it was only making things worse. You’d spent the better part of an hour staring into the mirror, pulling and adjusting your clothes, second-guessing every little detail. At some point, you just had to force yourself out the door before you talked yourself out of it completely.

And now, here you were. Standing outside the museum, shifting from foot to foot, your breath fogging slightly in the crisp afternoon air.

It was a history museum. The moment you’d heard about the new exhibit, your thoughts had gone straight to Spencer.

It had taken you a month to work up the courage to ask him to come with you. A full month of rehearsing in your head, psyching yourself up, only to completely fall apart when the moment actually came.

You had been a stuttering mess, stumbling over your words, barely able to get the invitation out. But Spencer—Spencer had been just as awkward. There had been a long, heart-stopping pause where your pulse pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Then he nodded. Enthusiastically.

His curls bounced with the movement, and for a second, you thought he might actually be more excited than you were. The two of you had grinned at each other, wide and dorky and entirely too pleased with yourselves.

The memory made you smile as you stood there, phone in hand. You glanced at the screen. 1:55 PM. Five more minutes.

Deep breaths, you reminded yourself.

Your fingers tapped lightly against your thigh as nervous energy buzzed through you. You weren’t sure if it was the anticipation of the date itself or just the fact that it was Spencer.

Maybe both.

Time passed. More than five minutes. More than ten. Too much time.

You had started out standing near the entrance, glancing around every few seconds, expecting to see a familiar figure rushing toward you with an apologetic look on his face. But as the minutes ticked by, your stomach slowly twisted into knots.

Now, you were sitting on a nearby bench, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check. You stared down at your phone, heart sinking as the screen lit up. It was much, much later than 2 PM.

Spencer wasn’t coming.

And you knew him well enough to know that Spencer was the most punctual person on the planet. If he hadn’t shown up by now, there was only one explanation.

Spencer Reid stood you up.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled up your contacts, pressing the call button.

Penelope answered on the second ring.

“Hey, sugarplum! What’s up? Are you geeking out over fossils and artifacts yet?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Hi, Pen… are you busy?”

Immediately, her tone shifted. The warmth in her voice was still there, but now it was layered with concern. “No, not at all. What’s wrong? You okay? I thought you and Boy Genius were off on your little nerd date.”

You let out a small, shaky breath, staring down at your shoes as you nudged a small rock. “No… uhm… no.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then a softer, more careful voice. “Do you wanna come over?”

You nodded before realizing she couldn’t see you. “Yeah. Yeah, can I?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I made cupcakes this morning. I’ll have some waiting for you.”

You murmured a quiet “thanks” before hanging up, already pushing yourself off the bench. Penelope’s apartment wasn’t too far from the museum—thank God. You just needed to get away from here.

The walk to her place was a blur, and before you knew it, you were curled up on her couch, a plate of cupcakes in front of you. You picked at the frosting absentmindedly before finally whispering the words that had been weighing on your chest.

“He stood me up.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

You took another bite of the cupcake, trying to drown your sorrows in the taste of chocolate.

Penelope was still staring at you, her brows furrowed in confusion. “But… he was so excited.”

Your chewing slowed. You glanced up at her. “Hmm?”

She shifted closer, her expression troubled. “Spencer. He had been talking about this all week.”

That caught your attention. You sat up a little straighter, swallowing the bite of cupcake.

Penelope nodded, as if replaying the memories in her head. “He actually bought a new tie for it,” she added, her voice full of certainty. “A completely new tie. I helped him pick it out.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. “What?”

“He wanted it to match you.” She gave you a knowing look. “I mean, he didn’t say that, but I know these things. The man was so particular about the color, the pattern, everything. He kept fidgeting the whole time we were shopping. It was adorable, really.”

Your mind reeled.

Spencer had been planning for this. He had been excited.

So why hadn’t he shown up?

You were suddenly wide-eyed, staring at her as she continued rattling off all the things he had done in preparation for the date—how he had debated over restaurant options in case you wanted to get food after, how he had even worried about what books he might mention so he wouldn’t ramble too much.

He had wanted this.

“Oh.”

It was all you could manage to say. Your brain was still trying to process everything Penelope had just told you.

He had been excited. He had planned for this. He had even bought a new tie.

You couldn’t help the warmth that crept up your neck, a soft blush blooming across your cheeks. “So… he wanted to go out with me?” you asked, your voice laced with disbelief.

Penelope tilted her head at you, giving you a look that practically screamed, Seriously? You still have to ask?

Silence settled between you.

Then, finally, you spoke again—quieter this time, your confusion only growing. “So… why didn’t he come?”

Penelope hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her chin. “Maybe he got the day wrong?”

You gave her a flat look. “Garcia, it’s literally our only day off from work. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mix it up.”

She groaned, slumping back into the couch. “Right. Good point.”

The two of you sat there, completely stumped.

Penelope let out a dramatic sigh. “I also have some cookies if that helps?”

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “That helps.”

She shot up from the couch. “Good, because emotional support baked goods are my specialty.”

You managed a small smile, but even as she disappeared into the kitchen, your thoughts remained elsewhere.

But then you were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door.

Before you could react, Penelope’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Can you get that? I’m trying to heat up the cookies.”

“Sure,” you called back, pushing yourself up from the couch and making your way to the door.

The last thing you expected when you opened it was him.

Spencer.

Your mouth fell open slightly.

He stood there, slightly breathless, his shoulders slumped like he’d just run a marathon. His curls were messier than usual, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead. But what caught your attention most was his outfit—something you’d never seen him wear before. A soft button-up, a tie you knew had to be the new one Penelope mentioned, and a blazer that was slightly wrinkled, as if he had been gripping the fabric with nervous hands.

Neither of you said a word. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as you just stood there, locked in place, staring at each other.

Then, from behind you, Penelope’s voice broke the moment. “The cookies are ready!”

You heard her footsteps approaching before she finally reached the door, holding a plate of freshly warmed cookies in her hands. “Who’s at the—”

Her sentence cut off the moment she saw him.

Spencer.

She froze.

Now she was staring too.

More silence.

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the edge of the door. “Spencer,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance he was in. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something—needed to say something—but the words just wouldn’t come.

“How dare you stand her up like this?”

Garcia’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. She held the plate of cookies in one hand while the other jabbed a perfectly manicured finger in Spencer’s face.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his cheeks darkening with guilt. “I didn’t mean to, I swear,” he stammered, shifting nervously. His gaze flickered from Garcia to you, his expression almost pleading.

“I took the metro,” he rushed out, “and then it broke down. Completely. They couldn’t get it fixed for an hour and 10 minutes, and my phone didn’t have service underground, and I—” He stopped abruptly, his ramble faltering as he let out a breath.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’m so sorry.”

Garcia pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes as if debating whether to keep scolding him or let him off the hook. After a moment, she exhaled dramatically and slowly backed away toward the apartment.

“Alright, alright. I see what’s happening here,” she muttered under her breath, before giving you a not-so-subtle wink and slipping inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Now, it was just you and Spencer.

You weren’t sure what to say.

You had been so sure he had stood you up. The hurt, the disappointment—it had all settled deep in your chest. But now, standing here in front of him, hearing the way his voice shook with sincerity, seeing the genuine guilt in his hazel eyes, you felt your frustration unravel, piece by piece.

“Oh.”

It was all you managed to say—again.

Spencer winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know that’s not really an excuse. I should have—I don’t know, found another way to get to you, or—” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just… I’m really sorry.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “So you didn’t ghost me on purpose?”

His eyes widened a bit, and he rushed to correct himself. “No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His voice dropped slightly, filled with sincerity. “I was actually looking forward to today. I did my research on the museum, and I heard there’s a painting on the second floor that—”

Spencer abruptly stopped himself, his face turning a dark shade of red. He tugged at the strap of his satchel nervously, clearly embarrassed by his over-explanation.

You couldn’t help it—you smiled even wider.

“How did you know I’d be here?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Spencer seemed momentarily caught off guard by the question. “Oh.” He blinked, looking slightly flustered. “Well, you’re very good friends with Garcia,” he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

From inside the apartment, you could hear Garcia mumbling with an exaggerated tone, “Good? We are best friends, Dr. Reid.”

You grinned, knowing she was eavesdropping. Spencer’s cheeks reddened further, and he seemed to realize that his conversation was no longer entirely private.

Spencer continued, recovering quickly. “Every time you’ve had a bad day at work, you tend to go to Garcia.” He gave a small shrug, like it was an obvious conclusion. “Like that one time when Hotch made you rewrite your report—remember that? You went to Garcia then.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Or when Strauss got mad at you,” Spencer continued, his voice now soft with the memory. “You also went to Garcia.” He fiddled with his satchel again, clearly fidgeting with nerves.

You let out a small chuckle. “I see how it is. I’m predictable.”

Spencer gave a sheepish smile, his hands finally falling to his sides. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I just—well, you seem to always go to her for advice when you're upset.”

You could hear Garcia mutter a small “As she should,” behind you.

Your heart warmed at his words, and you pushed yourself off the doorframe. “I guess you’re right. I do tend to run to Garcia when things go sideways.”

He nodded, looking slightly relieved that the tension seemed to break between you. “So, I just assumed you’d be here… and when I got here, I wanted to explain… before you thought I had just… forgotten.”

You stepped forward, offering him a smile. “Well, i'm glad i can stop worrying that you've stood me up.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed. “I really am sorry,” he repeated, his eyes soft and earnest.

You looked him in the eye, the teasing edge of your voice gone, replaced by something warmer. “It’s okay, Spencer.”

A small, relieved smile spread across his face as he let out a quiet sigh, trying to smooth down his disheveled curls. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, attempting to look a bit more put-together in front of you.

Then, as if on cue, Penelope’s voice cut through the silence, loud and clear from the other room. “Dr. Reid, ask her if she wants to go to the museum now!”

You could almost hear her taking a bite of something, likely one of the cookies she’d been baking earlier.

Both you and Spencer immediately blushed, the heat rising to your faces at her suggestion.

“R-right—yeah, uhm…” Spencer stammered, his voice faltering for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Would… would you like to go to the museum?” His voice was shy, and the way he stumbled over the words made your heart flutter a little.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. “Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to bubble up. “I’d love to.”

You turned to Garcia, who was still sitting on the couch, her eyes wide with a smile so big it practically took up her whole face. “I’ll, uh, see you at work, Pen,” you called over your shoulder, still feeling a bit giddy.

Garcia shot you two thumbs up, still grinning like she was the proudest friend in the world. “Have fun, lovebirds!” she yelled after you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm as you turned back to Spencer, whose face was still a little flushed. “Shall we?” you asked, motioning toward the door.

Spencer nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah… let’s go.”

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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ultravjiolencee · 5 months ago

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Accidently wearing each other’s ties

pairing! fred weasley x different house reader

context! In the bustling morning chaos of the Gryffindor common room, you and Fred accidentally grab the wrong ties while rushing to get ready for the day. Your mistake doesn’t go unnoticed, and soon rumors swirl among their classmates. mention of slytherin reader just so.

The Gryffindor common room was already buzzing with the usual morning energy. Students were shuffling out of the portrait hole, tying their scarves and grumbling about early lessons.

You were sitting on the armrest of the couch near the fire, adjusting your robes and tugging at your tie. You looked slightly disheveled but didn’t think much of it—after all, mornings at Hogwarts rarely allowed for much polish.

Fred Weasley appeared a moment later, running a hand through his unruly hair, clearly having woken up only minutes earlier. He grinned at her in that mischievous way of his, still a little groggy but undeniably Fred.

“Morning, love” he greeted, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your head before sitting down next to you.

“Morning” you replied with a small smile, stifling a yawn. You reached up to straighten your tie again, feeling like it wasn’t quite sitting right but too distracted to notice why.

Fred yanked his own tie into place, not even glancing down as he fiddled with the knot. “Ready for Snape’s lesson? I hear he’s extra cheery today.”

You rolled your eyes . “If by ‘cheery’ you mean he’ll take house points from Gryffindor just for existing, then yes. I’m absolutely thrilled.”

Fred chuckled, his focus still half on you as you gathered your things and joined the growing crowd heading down to breakfast.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter as students settled into their respective tables. Fred sat at Gryffindor table, sharing a plate of toast with Lee and trading sarcastic comments about the cloudy weather.

It wasn’t until George slid onto the bench across from them, a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth, that things started to unravel.

“Morning” George greeted, giving the two of them a long, pointed look.

“Morning” Fred replied, completely oblivious as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.

George tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Fred, mate…” He leaned forward, smirking. “Why are you wearing a Slytherin tie?”

Fred froze mid-sip, lowering his goblet slowly. “What are you on about?”

George pointed, and sure enough, the green-and-silver tie hung neatly against Fred’s chest.

Fred blinked, then looked over at you. “Wait—what the—” His words trailed off as he noticed your tie, which was unmistakably Gryffindor red and gold.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced down at yourself, then back at Fred. “Oh, no…”

“Did you two… swap ties?” George asked, his smirk growing impossibly wider. His voice carried just enough to catch the attention of a few nearby students, who immediately turned their heads.

“We must’ve grabbed the wrong ones this morning,” You muttered, your cheeks quickly turning pink.

“Sure, sure,” George said, his tone teasing as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the moment. “That’s definitely what happened. Right, Fred? No other explanation?”

Fred groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, George, don’t start.”

But it was too late. Word spread quickly along the Gryffindor table, and soon enough, a chorus of hushed giggles and not-so-subtle whispers filled the air.

“Did you see their ties?”

“Switched them, huh? Wonder why…”

“Guess we know what they were up to last night.”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear. “This is a disaster” you mumbled.

Fred, however, was less mortified and more amused. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “At least they’re creative. I mean, you’ve got to admire their dedication to imagining our nonexistent scandalous night.”

You gave him a sharp look, though your lips twitched despite yourself. “Fred, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” he corrected, grinning at you. “But only because they’re completely wrong. If they only knew the truth…” He trailed off with a wink, his tone clearly teasing.

Before you could retort, Ginny appeared behind you, arms crossed and her eyebrows raised. “What on earth did you two do?”

“Nothing!”You said quickly, though your flushed cheeks didn’t help your case.

Fred, ever the troublemaker, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smirked up at his sister. “Nothing we’d admit to in public, anyway.”

Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t push further, though her expression suggested she was filing this moment away for future teasing.

As the day went on, the whispers didn’t exactly die down. Even in Potions, you caught a few knowing smirks from both Gryffindor and Slytherin classmates.

“Ignore them,” Fred said during a brief lull in class. He slipped you a note across the desk, grinning when you opened it.

It read: If we’re already being blamed for it, maybe we should make their rumors true?

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat, and scribbled back: You’re impossible.

Fred read your response and winked at you. “But you like me for it.”

And, despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but smile.

#harry potter #hp #hp fandom #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasly x reader #hp fanfic

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kngrose · 6 months ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝜗𝜚

WARNINGS: 18+, sexual content, mommy kink, biting, squirting, slapping, spit play, degradation, dacryphilia, ignoring safe words, implied age gap, sevika is mean

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩: i got carried away… ;] not proof read! ^^

SFW

Initially, she wanted nothing to do with you.

Like at all.

Once she realized that her feelings for you were anything more than platonic, she wanted to throw you off the piltover bridge.

She was so incredibly frustrated with herself because, how did she let this happen?!

You’ll definitely notice she starts smoking a hell of lot more frequently and spends most—if not all—of her free time in the brothel— anywhere you’re not around.

But of course, she can only run from her feelings for so long, and she eventually caves; letting you in.

Because of her upbringing, she has quite a hard time adjusting to having a girlfriend.

If its not anger, she has a hard time expressing herself. And if she’s not angry and it’s something trivial? More often than not she’ll end up accidentally hurting your feelings with her harsh tone.

One time, when the two of you had started dating, she’d asked you, "Have you ever done this before?” and it shocked you because you didn’t know if she was implying something or—

When you’d sputtered back a flushed, “Done, what?” she rolled her eyes and retorted, "Had a girlfriend, dumbass." Her tone stern but not necessarily angry. Later, she would have to console you after you admitted she’d hurt your feelings.

She swears she doesn’t mean to— that’s just how she talks!

Not to mention her heavy handedness??? Like omg.

She’s so heavy handed.

You’ll end up with tiny bruises scattered everywhere because of how hard she’ll grab your hand or your arm.

When she places a hand on your lower back to guide you it’ll feel more like a shove.

She has this cute little habit of kicking your legs under the table—for fun or to get your attention— and she swears it’s a soft little nudge.

But when you show her the red and purple blotches afterwards, she’ll relent.

It’ll take her a while, but she learns.

She learns to be more gentle and handle you with care.

She’ll also learns how to recieve love and affection!

It was quite foreign for her, like it would be for most people in the undercity. At first it made her uncomfortable— the constant little touches, the chaste kisses to the cheek, the hugs.

You’ll notice that she’s super standoffish when you do these things. Just staring at you with this unreadable expression.

It’s not that she didn’t like it, she just wasn’t used to it, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Don’t be misconstrued though, because once she solidifies the idea that this is normal behavior, she’ll be all over you.

I headcannon that her biggest display of affection is physical touch. She just loves to touch you in any way possible.

If you’re sitting on a couch or a bench, personal space is not an option. She’s presses herself right up against you, thighs touching and all.

If you’re going for a walk, she’s holding your hand or your wrist. Sometimes she’ll even wrap her hand around the back of your neck.

If you’re sitting at a table she’s got a hand on your thigh, or wrapped around your ankle when you cross your legs.

Loves to just play with your fingers or lay her head in your lap. Please play with her hair!! She’ll grab your hands and place them on her head if you don’t, grumbling at you for not already doing your “job”.

I also think she would just love quality time, because she’s clingy! The two of you don’t even have to talk, as long as you’re there she’ll be content with just sitting in silence and enjoying your company. And if she’s not busy, you always have hers.

She wants to do everything with you, laundry, shopping, studying, napping— all of it. She would sit in the bathroom while you poop, if you’d let her.

She hates leaving you alone, and despises when you leave her side. “It’s too dangerous out here, Darlin’…” is what she says everytime, “Who’s gonna protect you?”

She’s got a long list of petnames for you. More often than not you’ll hear:

“Darlin’..” “Baby..” “Pretty girl…”

Flying from her mouth with whatever little things she says. Sometimes when she’s feeling playful, she’ll name you after whatever you have on at the moment.

For instance if you’re wearing glasses, she’ll call you glasses. If you’ve got on a button up, she’ll call you button.

She won’t ever admit it but she’ll appreciate it greatly if you have your own pet names for her aswell. They’ll make her look away in the efforts that you don’t see the giddy smirk that she swallows.

She can’t have you knowing you make her all soft.

Speaking of which.

She’s the definition of “grumpy”. Like everything she does, she has to grumble about it. Want her to grab the remote? Fine, she’ll do it, but she’s going to grumble the whole time. Grab your jacket? Ok, cool, but you’re gonna hear this grumbling monologue, something about how you, “Couldve grabbed it yourself..”

She’s definitely the type to say “No.” when you ask her to do something, and then do it anyway.

She loves to pretend that she’s stone cold but she’s actually a huge softie when it comes to her little gf! (wife)

She loves to just look at you. Would definitely make others say, “Wow, look how she’s looks at her—”

Multiple times day you’ll catch her just idly staring at you, and it makes you self conscious— starting to touch at your hair and clothes. When you question her about it she’ll just say, “What? I can’t look at my pretty girl?” and kiss the corner of your lips.

She listens to you so intently, like she’s hanging onto every word, and blinks slowly at you like a cat. If you’re venting and just want her to listen? You got it. Come take a seat on her lap and she’ll hear everything you have to say; rubbing circles on your back with one hand, and holding yours with the other, just looking up at you with the occasional, “Mhm..”

And if you wanna talk about something silly? Go right ahead! She’ll listen all the same, offering her two cents every now and then or a soft chuckle. She’ll never turn down an opportunity to hear your voice.

She loves when you ask to arm wrestle

Likes to watch you try to pull her arm down with two of yours, smiling softly at your efforts before kissing your forehead and saying, “Better luck next time, princess.”

Don’t even try with an actual wrestling match— she tosses you around so easily, it makes you embarrassed. It slips your mind sometimes, her brute strength, because you’ve gotten so used to her being soft with and around you.

But when she pounces, pinning you in all of five second— without an ounce of a struggle— let’s just say it’s always a humbling experience. “My baby’s gotta get stronger,” She’ll always say, beforing tossing you over her shoulder with a chuckle.

She loves to give you random little kisses. Some on your cheeks, a few where your neck meets your shoulder. Behind your ears, on the palm of your hands. Every last one of your knuckles. Of course your precious lips.

She loves your lips. Loves when you get all done up and pretty so she can watch you put lip gloss on; before she messes it up by kissing you so she can watch you do it again. “Oh, don’t fuss at me,” She’ll smirk from behind you, watching you redo your lipstick in the mirror. “Just wanna kiss my pretty girl…” She’s kisses your cheek. You’re better off doing your makeup when she’s not around… if she’s ever not around.

And when you tell her you love her for the first time, she smiles softly, "I love you too." Sevika says gently, "I just don't quite understand what you see in me." The crimeboss chuckles, "A big, rough, hardened criminal.. doesn't exactly seem like a popular relationship choice, darlin'." She teases, looking down at you with a crooked grin.

Her grin softens into a look of admiration as you explain that the love you have for her is beyond those things, because you knows she’s more than that. "You see into me like no one else." She admits quietly, "You see past the walls, and the mask, and even the facade." She continues, "You see all the pieces I work so hard to keep covered up." Sevika adds on, chuckling softly as she looks down at you. "You're the only one who does that, y'know?" She admits, "You're the only one I allow to see me for who I really am."

NSFW

Come, come. Let’s discuss.

There’s so many things that really get Sevika going, and with you as her pretty little girlfriend, it doesn’t take much. She won’t admit it, but in those moments where she’s just staring at you, she picturing the most ungodly scenes. It gets worse once you realize how often it is you catch her staring.

She can’t help it. She’s always riddled with flash backs of you getting slutted out. While she’s working at the brothel, playing poker, having meetings with Silco— it doesn’t matter. It’ll just randomly cross her mind and she’ll realize: she can’t wait to come home.

Sevika loves it when you call her Mommy. It makes her feel powerful. It strokes her ego. It gives her a warm fluttering feeling in her chest everytime you let it slip from your lips. Often times, she’ll like to make you repeat yourself, just so she can hear you say it over and over and over again.

She loves to bite and she loves to be bitten. It’s something so primal about it that warms up her core and makes her soak. She’ll let out deep rumbles when you bite into her arm or shoulder, never applying too much pressure. She’s told you before that you don’t have to hold back, but you always do. She doesn’t.

You see, Sevika likes to fluctuate. Not between top and bottom, but hard and soft.

Sometimes she wants to be so gentle with you. Kissing you passionately, hugging you tight, caressing you all over, giving you slow deep thrusts so she can show you how much she really loves you.

Other times she wants to be rough. She wants to toss you around, and pull your hair. Leave marks and choke you until you can’t breathe. Impose on you with her harrowing size and strength.

It’s even better when she finds the middle ground.

She’ll always ease you into everything, just to make sure you’re on the same page.

When she’s feeling particularly soft, she’s loves to service you. She’ll lay you on your back and kiss you everywhere, she likes to see how worked up it’s gets you. Pressing soft wet kisses down your neck and chest, undressing you as she does so.

And she’ll smirk as you’re left in your underwear, leaning down to press a soft kisses against your stomach. She’ll move lower, kissing your hips and your thighs before kissing your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. "I'm gonna take these off, that okay, Baby?" She’ll ask, already knowing your answer, her fingers toying with the waistband.

And she will laugh, seeing how you eagerly nod your head, a breathless, “Yes, Mommy.” falling from your pretty lips. She’ll hum to herself lowly. God, She loves it when you call her that. And she’ll free you of your panties because, how could she resist such a sweet plea?

And once she sees how wet your pussy is, she’ll whistle, “Phew, what’s got my baby so worked up?” And run her fingers over your slit, gathering up the mess on her fingers to taste. Sevika will eat your pussy for hours. And please don’t test this theory— because you’ll regret it.

It doesn’t matter if you buck your hips away, she’ll just wrap her arms around your hips effectively locking them down, and continue to have her way. “Let Mommy eat, pretty..” She’ll chastise, and you’ll have no choice but to oblige.

And when she’s done eating your pussy, she’ll position you to sit in front of her and lean on her bare chest so she can fuck you with her fingers until you squirt all over them. She loves the access she has here. She gets to kiss all over your neck and shoulders and rub at your nipples, all the while pressing her palm against your clit while her fingers press against that spongey spot inside you.

And don’t even think about telling her you can’t take anymore, because it’ll fall on deaf ears. She’ll swallow up your pleas in a sweet kiss, telling you, “Nonsense, Baby. Mommy knows you can handle s’more..” Trust me, when she’s feeling soft, she’ll never take you beyond your means. She knows her princess.

She’ll kiss you so passionately you both never want to stop, rutting her pussy against yours precisely. You just know she’s had some practice. She likes to look deep into your eyes, holding you there by your cheeks the whole time. Pressing her forehead against yours while she whispers to you.

“My pretty baby… you feel s’good..” She’ll murmur against yours while she lips, before sucking on them sweetly. She’s so sweet when she’s soft.

But when she’s hard: She’s nasty.

Filthy and vulgar, and driven by nothing but the urge to ruin. In these times, it’s hard to get through to her. Nothing you say will get through her head unless it’s, “Yes, Mommy” or a direct response to what she’s just ordered you to do.

Keyword ordered.

She’ll have you stripped in record timing, gripping both of your wrists harshly, pinning them above your head, “These stay here, Understand?” She’ll say, her tone authoritive with no room for argument. And you’ll nod your head like a good girl for her.

When she spreads your legs, that’s where they better stay, otherwise she’ll slap your pussy, hard, and that’ll just be your first warning. She’ll grill you down with a hard stare, and you’ll know not to make that mistake again.

She’ll bring two fingers to your lips, and tap against them. "Open up for Mommy, baby." She’ll order, tone stern. And when you do, she’ll fuck your throat with those fingers, feeling you gag and watching the spit slide down your throat. And she’ll lick it all up just to spit it back in your mouth. “Good girl…” She’ll purr.

When she’s like this, she has a dark look in her eyes. It’s a primal look, and if you glance away too quickly you’ll miss it. She’s likes to fuck you hard during these times, hardly any qualms for your limits.

She’ll always have her handy strap prepared and waiting. Thick and long and heavy. She likes it that way. She likes to feel like the man.

She’ll grin, somewhat cruelly, and her eyes will meet yours in a flirtatious wink. "You like the view, pretty girl?" Sevika asks softly, her hand gently stroking the toy in her hand, like it’s a real dick, getting it all wet with lube. And how could you not? Her cut physic on full display, muscled and scared… so manly.

Sevika will take you through so many positions, you won’t have the energy to roll over in your sleep at night. She’ll take you in missionary first, “Mommy’s gonna break you in now, Baby.” She’ll growl, and she’ll keep her promise, bottoming out in one single thrust. Hard. She loves that look of pain that washes over you. She’ll wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze as she ruts into you.

She’ll fuck you like she hates you, but you know it’s all love when she’s slapping your face, and filling your mouth with her fingers.

And when she thinks that’s not enough? She’ll grip the back of your legs and push them up to your chest, effectively folding you up before drilling into you. She’s got you in a mating press.

And she’ll chuckle away at the tears that form in your eyes, your moans flying out in a mantra. She’ll grin down at you, her lips pulling back into a cocky smirk. "Yeah, good girl.." There’s a lewd slapping that fills the room. "How does that feel, sweet girl?" She’ll ask, sticking her fingers down your throat again, "Is Mommy hitting all the right spots, baby?"

And this’ll go on until she’s made you cum a few times. She likes to watch the expression on your face when you come undone, tears falling from your eyes.

But don’t think your done, no, she’s just getting started.

She’ll pull out and physically toss you over, shoving your head down with brute force and pulling your ass up. She’ll push her dick back in, slowly so you feel it. “S’good right?” She’ll ask, “Mommy filling you up?” and she’s back to drilling you like she never stopped.

She’ll lean over you, wrapping a muscular arm around your throat and putting you in a headlock. She’ll snicker evily in your ear as you cry out at the new angle, “Ohhh, Mommy’s fucking you good, huh? Right there?” She’ll tease, beating that spot in relentlessly.

If you get too loud she’ll have no choice but to squeeze that arm around your throat, snickering at the way you tap at her arm, “So pretty…” She’ll say in your ear, driving her hips into yours, “Tell Mommy how much you love her..”she’ll say, knowing you can’t respond. The drool will run down your chin and she’ll just lick it up, muttering, “Such a messy girl, huh?”

When shes feels her primal needs are satisfied, she’ll return back to that soft, loving “Sevi” that you know. Cleaning you up and giving you kissies. Rubbing all of your sore spots and telling you how much of a good girl you were.

And as you both cuddle in your shared bed, she’ll watch as you fall asleep on her chest, a small smile forming on her lips as she lets herself doze off as well.

please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list to be notified every time i post, xx

#sevika #arcane #arcane headcanon #league of legends #arcane league of legends #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika smut #lesbian #wlw #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #ao3

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milliesfishes · 5 months ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎshower with clark౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x clark kent

The hiss of the spray raining from the shower head loosened your taut muscles, and you released a sigh. Tilting your head back, you hummed softly, lifting your hands to smooth hair back from your face. You'd run a brush through before you stepped in, conscious of the tangles that would appear once you were done washing.

This was your safe place, where all the stress of the day melted into nothingness, swirling down the drain with anything else you'd collected during the day. You were long overdue for an everything shower, having skipped it for the past few days. There was nothing worse than a rushed shower. You wanted to take your time, to really relax. After the week you'd had, you felt you deserved it.

When the door clicked open, you perked up, pulling back the curtain and poking your head out. Water dripped from your hair onto the tile, but you hardly cared, a tired smile drawing your lips up.

Clark was rubbing his eye with one hand, stepping forward to cup your damp cheek with the other. "Baby." His voice was no more than a mumble, and your eyes wandered over him. Curls stuck to his forehead, wearing nothing except a pair of boxers.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you leaned against the side of the shower, tilting your head into his touch. "Wanna come in?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah." You slid the shower curtain aside, watching him kick off his boxers before he got in. The water flattened his hair, and you reached up to push it out of his eyes.

Clark opened his arms, and you fell into them, pressing your cheek to his warm chest. One big hand smoothed over your hair, and he kissed the top of your head. "You left."

"I'm sorry, baby," you said softly, burrowing into him. "I didn't think you'd wake up."

His chin settled atop your head. "You can wake me up for showers. I like this. I love this," he corrected himself after a moment.

You tilted your head up, his arms around your back holding you upright. "I love it too."

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, eyes on the wall behind you. "You have a lot of pink soap."

"Mhm," you hummed, resting your cheek on his chest again. He'd never commented on it before, but it made you smile.

Clark's thumb rubbed up and down your lower back. "Is that why you always smell like a donut?"

A happy giggle bubbled up from your chest. "Donut?"

There was a pause, and he adjusted his arms comfortably around you. "You know...sweet."

"Yeah," you responded lazily, looking up at him. His eyes were sleepy, and you lifted your hands to cup his face. "Wanna try some?" The black and grey bottles of his own soap were lined up neatly next to yours, but you offered anyways. "Just one?"

Pausing for a moment, Clark used his fingers to scratch your back, and you nearly melted. "Which one?"

Reaching out from the confines of his arms, you plucked one up. "This one. Bodywash."

He leaned his cheek against your head, inhaling softly. "Okay." You squealed, causing him to jolt just slightly, but he shook it off and took the bottle from you. When you looked back up at him, he was smiling.

Showering with Clark wasn't an uncommon occurrence. You easily maneuvered around each other, swapping places on the shower bench and under the head. You borrowed the body wash back to shave, and he scrubbed at his curls, closing his eyes to rinse out his soap. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, from the firm contours of his body, and how it looked when water was dribbling down his chest.

You knew him in every form- as the invincible hero and the quiet writer. Underneath it all was something soft, a man who melted under your touch and held you like a teddy bear at the end of every day. And here he was, rubbing your sugar cookie body wash all over him and grinning at you when he saw you watching. Clark's skin was thick, untouchable, but in times like these you could see his heart. It was bigger and brighter than anything you'd ever come across before.

You stood up for one more rinse, feeling clean and fluffy like you always did after a good wash. Clark capped the bottle he was holding, taking the razor from you and setting it on the pale pink shower caddy. He reached for you. "C'mere, honey."

Gladly, you settled back into him, feeling almost cocooned. He pressed a few kisses to your head, swaying back and forth so subtly it almost felt like a dream. Images of clouds and pastel rainbows and white fur blankets filled your mind like fog. This was always how it felt around him. Safe. Anywhere else you'd be on high alert, but when you were tucked away into him, your mind lapsed. It was like your body knew you were protected.

Getting out, Clark wrapped one of your fluffy towels around you before drying himself off. You covered your torso, reaching for your vanilla lotion, but he got to it first. "Let me?" When you nodded, he lifted you onto the counter, big hands on your waist, and knelt before you. While he worked on the first leg, you made quick work of brushing your hair, setting it to the side so you could look at him again. Leaning back on your hands, you watched him with sleepy eyes. The feeling of his hands on your smooth legs was a bonus to the calm you already felt.

He had you in his arms once he was done, and the trip to your room was a blur until he set you down into your bed, gentle and loving as always. The towel was removed, and he worked a shirt over your head, panties up your legs. With his hand under your head, Clark guided you to lay down, only leaving you for a second and reappearing on your other side to gather you into his arms. He smelled like your body wash.

The moon was glowing through the slit in the curtains, and you turned in his arms to push your head into his chest, hiding from the light. The overwhelming feeling of being taken care of flooded you, and you felt more relaxed than in months.

An 'I love you' was whispered into your hair before you drifted off. You squeezed his hand over your tummy. When you weren't half asleep in the morning, you'd make sure to say it back.

#clark kent #clark kent david corenswet #clark kent x reader #superman #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfiction #superman 2025 #superman x you #superman x reader #superman david corenswet #clark kent fluff #clark kent fic #milliesfishes clark

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eiightysixbaby · 8 months ago

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i want awkward fumbling inexperienced eddie.

he kisses you for the first time, nervous at the old wooden table in the woods behind the school. his lips press to yours and it’s… bad. there are no fireworks, you guys don’t have any real rhythm together yet.

he’s not doing anything inherently wrong, really. there’s no overwhelming amount of tongue or saliva or anything. but he’s overthinking too much, and he’s not quite sure how to move his mouth once it’s pressed against yours.

you clock his bright red face, nervously tugging on a strand of his hair after you’ve both pulled away. “that was awful, wasn’t it?”

you give him a warm smile, choosing to hush him up not with words but with the way your hand cups his cheek, fingers brushing his hair back, your mouth finding his again.

“don’t overthink it,” you murmur against his lips. “just let your mouth move with mine.”

you can tell the moment he starts to just let it happen naturally, his mouth slotting against yours less like a square peg in a round hole and more like a missing puzzle piece that was made to fit there.

it’s getting somewhere, really starting to be good when he pulls away abruptly. his face is even redder than before, his eyes won’t meet yours. he shifts awkwardly on the wooden bench seat, adjusting the denim of his jeans.

and it doesn’t take long for you to realize that he’s hard, his body betraying him after a couple simple kisses. he looks like he wants to scurry into the woods and never reappear, but you think it’s charming.

“do you want to touch me, eddie?” you purr softly, letting your fingers trail featherlight up his thigh.

“oh god—” he curses quietly. “yes, please.”

“do you want me to show you how?”

his big brown eyes cast downward, embarrassed. he knows the gist of it, but he’s not sure he’d actually be able to touch you the right way.

“there’s nothing to be ashamed of, eddie. really.”

he’s nodding, slowly looking up at you through those unruly bangs of his. you part your thighs, feet spread apart on the bench beside him, encouraging him to come sit between them.

his nervous hands touch you so softly, as if you’re made of porcelain. your gentle voice guides him step by step, until he’s making you cum for the first time.

flustered as he might be, he’s eager to learn, and even more eager to please.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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fear-is-truth · 8 months ago

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† 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑫

— charlie mayhew x f!reader. | mdni

tags: mentions of religion・allusions to sex・fem!reader・english is not author’s first language・not proofread

⟡ a/n: i wrote this while i was half asleep so…

you weren’t religious. not really. not in the way others were—those who bowed their heads and whispered their prayers like they meant it, like they believed they could be saved. you came to church every sunday, but it wasn’t to find redemption.

he must have known.

from the first time you stepped through those old, heavy doors, you’d felt his eyes on you. father charlie mayhew was a man with quiet power, a young man with eyes that saw too much, and you—well, you were the girl who was already damned.

“i’m going to hell,” you’d say, as you sat in the confessional, separated from him by a thin grate. “even if i confessed every sin i’ve ever committed, tomorrow would be the same. worse, maybe.”

it never failed to shake him, the conviction in your voice. you could feel it, even when you couldn’t see him—his quiet intake of breath, the pause before he spoke, the way his hands gripped the rosary a little tighter.

“you mustn’t say such things,” he’d murmur in response, his voice layered with something that went deeper than priestly concern. “god’s mercy—”

“doesn’t apply to me,” you’d cut him off, not harshly, but with the ease of someone who’s accepted their fate. you didn’t want mercy. you didn’t want saving.

and that, perhaps, was what drew him to you. slowly, quietly, you became his obsession. the girl who didn’t believe. the girl who begged for damnation, the girl who was convinced she was beyond salvation.

•••

more than often, you found yourself thinking of him when you lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling. body warm and restless under the sheets. fingers brushed your cunt as you moaned out his name like a prayer, and you imagined his hands instead—steady, calloused, but gentle. he’d never touch you. not like that.

but god, you wanted him to.

that thought alone should have filled you with shame, should have made you tremble at the audacity of it. a priest. a man sworn to celibacy, to god. but you weren’t the type to be shamed. you weren’t afraid of hell, after all.

•••

“what if i’m already lost?” you asked him. “what if nothing i do can change where i’m going?”

“no one is beyond saving.”

“but what if they don’t want to be saved?”

there was another long silence. you could hear his breathing, slightly uneven now, and for the first time, you felt like you’d pushed him too far. like you’d finally broken something sacred.

“why are you here?”

“because i wanted to see you.”

another pause. you imagined him on the other side, eyes closed, hands shaking just slightly.

“you’re playing with fire.”

you leaned closer to the divider, breath ghosting over the wooden grate.

“maybe i want to burn.”

the words slipped out before you could stop them, and in the silence that followed, you wondered if he would tell you to leave. if he would end it all right there.

but he didn’t.

“then may god forgive us both.”

it wasn’t a confession. it wasn’t a promise. it was something in between, something that wrapped around your heart and pulled tight, binding you to him.

•••

clothes half-buttoned, your hair a mess from his hands, you sat at the edge of the bench, fixing your skirt. he stood across from you, hastily adjusting his collar, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with the white tab at his throat.

“we’re going to hell,” you said softly, pulling your conservative skirt over your hips, the absurdity of the statement falling between you. there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but it didn’t stop him from stepping closer, fingers grazing your jawline before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your skin. slow and sweet, like molasses.

“we already are.”

•••

“you know this can’t continue,” he said one evening as you lay sprawled across the pews, fingers tracing patterns into the wood as he stood above you, his face tight with something between anger and lust. you didn’t look at him, only smiled lazily, hand trailing down the edge of the bench.

“that wasn’t what you were saying ten minutes ago, charlie.”

you watched as he sighed, turning his back to you as he tried to gather himself, but when you stood and stepped up behind him, pressing your lips to the base of his neck, you felt him tremble.

“stop,” his voice lacked conviction.

“do you want me to?” you asked, fingers tugging at the collar he had hastily buttoned only minutes before.

no reply. his resolve slipped away as you kissed along his jaw, hands sliding up the front of his shirt. when he finally turned to face you, his eyes were darker, filled with something you had only seen glimpses of before.

“god help us,” he muttered under his breath as his lips crashed into yours, hands tugging at you with a desperation that had nothing to do with salvation.

•••

the next time, after you had tangled yourselves in the sheets again, you stood in front of the mirror, tying up your hair. the quiet hum of the rotating fan was the only sound that filled the room, broken only by his heavy breathing.

“how long can we keep pretending?” you glanced at him in the reflection, adjusting the collar of your blouse, smoothing down the wrinkles. he stood by the bed, buttoning up his shirt, eyes lingering on you in a way that was both regretful and wistful. you felt his fingers brushed the back of your neck.

“we’ll stop when you do,” but you both knew that wasn’t true.

you turned, meeting his gaze head-on. his lips were parted, collar still askew, and without thinking, you reached up to fix it. as you did, your fingers lingered, brushing against the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken.

“we’re going to hell,”

he said nothing this time, only kissed you back.

masterlist

#jackie writes ⟢#dividers by pommecita #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x y/n #charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew x reader #grotesquerie

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