#i just want to tuck into bed so sweetly.

[fooltomery]

i have to clean up my altar =_=

[murdrdocs]

mmmm thinkin abt mike struggling to be quiet when you’re fucking. SMUT 17+

you were watching abby that night, and as soon as mike got back from work he was on you. peppering kisses along your neck when you were around the corner just out of abby's line of sight, rubbing little circles in your thighs at the dinner table, sweetly asking you to stay longer even whenever the lights were off and abby was tucked in bed.

you knew his plea would result in the two of you in his bedroom, you slowly sinking yourself down onto him. you'd encouraged it, telling mike you'd give him wanted on one condition.

"anything," he'd said, eyes big and earnest.

"you gotta promise to be quiet." your pinkie hovered between you both, waiting for mike to interlink his. he did with a smile, as if it were something easy.

but mike couldn’t stop moaning. his sounds were cute, little gasps and whines. they were arousing. but they were entirely too loud for the low level of privacy you had within the four thin walls.

“mike, please. you gotta be quiet.” you plea through your own barely concealed moan.

he sighs, face scrunching. “i know. i’m sorry, baby. i’m trying.”

but apparently not hard enough as you’re forced to lodge your panties between his teeth, a muffler for his moans. he lets you do so, opening his mouth and even going so far as to make a show of sticking his tongue out for the blue cotton fabric. yet, his sounds still leak through, and you voice an idea as you’re bouncing on his cock, nails lightly scratching down his chest.

“still so loud, mikey. we might have to get a muzzle for nights like these. what’d you think?”

mike's groan practically echoes. he seems oblivious to his own noises, instead thinking with his dick that starts to piston up into you, mike's nails digging into your ass to provide him with leverage.

your hand slaps over his mouth, colliding with soft cotton and warm skin, and mike finally wrenches his eyes open. there's vibration against your hand, short and resembling the pattern of syllables, and you slowly peel your hand away, taking the panties with you, to hear him speak.

just a simple word, curt and quiet and whimpered.

"please."

[koling2345]

Grumpy

fem!reader X Simon Riley

Summary: You're always grumpy in the morning, and Simon always 'fix' it.

Tw:Smut, unprotected sex.

A/n: First time posting here, just because this man doesn't leave my mind😭 This masked man😣 Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

By then Simon knew that you were far from being a morning person, on the contrary, you hated waking up early with all your soul.

But over time he learned to get used to you, waking you up with a session of kisses and hugs, pampering you until you improved your mood a little.

But nothing worked better than having his cock deep inside you, sliding in and out of your pussy, moving in a tantalizing way.

‘Fucking spoiled brat’.” Simon growls in your ear, his tattooed arm wrapped around you, balancing you as he fucks you from behind.

He wasn't angry with you, far from it, after all, how could he be angry when you moaned so sweetly for him? Your head buried in the pillow as you whimpered, calling his name again and again.

It was obvious that you couldn't form any coherent sentences given that he was pounding into you like crazy, but he knew you were loving it, since you were squeezing him almost painfully hard.

“You just need a cock to start the day, don't you?” He teased as he gave you a particularly sharp thrust, eliciting a loud whimper from you.

You were already a mess, you'd cum once while he was massaging your clit, now you were approaching the second time while he was fucking you hard.

He was all honeyed with your fluids, his cock base had a ring of liquids formed on it, all your sweet juices staining it.As if that wasn't enough, you also couldn't deny that the weight of him on top of you turned you on in a frightening way, just feeling his huge, muscular body covering yours, you felt your cunt clench around his dick.

By this point Simon had stopped trying to understand whatever strange language was coming out of your mouth, because you weren't making any sense.

The only coherent thing coming out of you were moans and whimpers, nothing else.Your mind only became an even bigger mess when Simon started kissing and nibbling your neck, one arm supporting you, while his free hand went down to your breasts and held on tight, squeezing and softening the flesh.

“Fucking nice tits.” He murmurs in a deep voice, making you dizzy with the sensation of his balls slapping against you.

“Si- si- I'm gonna-” you stuttered, rolling your eyes and tucking your head back into the pillow once more.

He grinned in response, knowing that you needed a little push to get there, just a little. So he did.

Simon came out of you in one swift movement, making you moan at the ache the emptiness brought you.

Which didn't last long.

The next thing you felt was his cock entering you all at once, barely giving you time to get used to his huge size and thickness. And fuck if he didn't love feeling the way your cunt stretched to accommodate him, how your walls tightened around him like a vice.

When he did it, it was over for you, you just came, just like that.

You squeezed him and gushed out your orgasm, making a mess of him once again.Simon didn't take long after that, he always waited for you to come first, and then he'd get frantic.It was no longer about getting you there, but about him reaching the peak of his pleasure.

Then he would slam into you in a sloppy, abrupt way, driving his hips into you with force.You could have sworn you were going to faint from how good it felt.

But the best feeling was yet to come.

“ Stay still. You'll take it, yeah? I don't want a drop out.” He hissed in your ear, holding your hips and preventing you from moving.

With one last hard thrust, he spurts his seed into you, grunting as he does so. Something that never failed to turn you on was the noises he made in bed, especially when he came like that.

His hot cum flooded into you and filled you up, and he didn't take his cock out of you until he was sure he had cum all the way inside you.

When you'd both recovered from the high, he lay down next to you and pulled you into a hug, pulling the covers over you both.

“Mood better?” He asked, running his hands through your hair.

“Mhm.” You mumble, hiding your face from him.

“Use words.” He retorts, lifting your chin, just to see the satisfied expression on your face.

“Yeah, a little.” You whisper.

He was satisfied, not that it bothered him, because he wouldn't have minded giving you a second round if necessary. Simon wasn't one to reject sex with you, so waking up every morning like this was nice.

And he'd be lying if he didn't say he was already daydreaming about the next morning.

He could certainly have you in a mating press the next morning.

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knew deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[gatorbites-imagines]

Logan begging for it.... so sweetly we cant refuse..... when he knows reader needs his sleep..... taking it in his even when it stays soft...... cockwarming reader while we sleeps.....

Yes im writing whis as I fall asleep

Logan Howlett x male reader

headcanons

I was gonna write a longer thing, but a migraine decided to kick my ass all of a sudden, so here I am simply rambling about this.

Imagine having a normal but exhausting day job. You’re no hero, no vigilante, no nothing, you’re just a guy. And you somehow ended up charming the pants off of The Wolverine of all people. How? You have no idea

Dating Logan is a real treat, even with his roughness and sometimes standoffish personality. When you guys really get close, he starts to get more vulnerable.

Along with vulnerable emotionally, he also starts to get a much stronger libido, seeing as he has a partner now. Him having a healing factor doesn’t help you in this case, since it means he has very little recovery time.

Seeing Logan, one would think hed be the dominant one, something you assumed in the beginning too. That was until you guys got intimate the first time and he shoved you onto your back to ride you instead.

There were no complaints from you obviously, because who’d mind having someone like that riding you? Logan in his broad, hairy and so very heavy way, lifting himself up and down on you like it was barely a workout.

You have to remind him to be careful though, multiple times, seeing as his bones make him extra heavy, and your poor hips are that of the average person.

Having a partner with a libido like that though, also means Logan is always raring to go, almost waiting for you by the door when you get home from your shift, like an old gruff dog waiting for affection.

The first week or two of you coming home dead on your feet and passing out on the couch the moment you sat down passed… as well as they could for Logan. He wouldn’t force you to do anything you hadn’t agreed with, but God, is he starting to get antsy.

After way too long, in Logans opinion at least, he finally can’t take it anymore. Being the Loverboy he secretly is, he at least brings you to your shared bed before clambering on top of you again.

You’re just too exhausted to do much other than pet at his thighs, eyes already drooping, but his almost timid but so desperate begging keeps you awake longer than other days. When you sleepily agree, Logan kisses you so hungrily you almost lose your breath.

You stay somewhat awake in the beginning as he works your clothes off, being kind enough not to rip it even if logan really really wanted too. He knows its your work clothes, and you’ve scolded him enough times about ripping up your clothes at this point.

It was hard to even really stay awake as Logan worked you hard, just enough for him to slide down on you, his groans sounding like he was a starving man having his first bite of food in weeks. Had you not been struggling to keep your eyes open, you might have teased him.

When Logan leans forward and just rests his weight on you, that was the last straw. Who could stay awake with such a warm heavy weight pressing down on them, like your own personal weighted wolverine blanket.

Logan didn’t even really feel the need to ride you or get himself off, he just wanted to be close to you like this, to feel you inside him and press up against you. So having slowly doze off under him wasn’t a bother, especially as you mumble for him to just keep going.

Most of the night is majorly used by Logan to just tuck his face into your neck and huff your scent, or rub his own against you. You will wake up with beard burns, sorry but those at the rules. Theres probably some chew marks and hickeys mixed in there too, Logans possessive.

You do wake up with very sore hips the next morning. In the comics he’s 300 lbs, but that’s with his comic height, so if were going off of movie Logan he weighs even more. And no matter how much you work out, that’s gotta make you sore.

You don’t really mind though, especially as Logan makes sure you massage your hips in ways you didn’t even know were possible. This also just gives Logan an excuse to lick and gnaw at you more, and to rub more of his scent into you, and yours into him.

Yes, you limp that day, and probably the day after. Luckily you’re able to work from home. This of course also means you have Logan on your dick the entire time, even if its just your mutant lover crawling under the blanket to get his mouth on you.

[angelic--kitty]

dilf arlecchino stretching out a virgin reader on her fat cock

dom!dilf arlecchino x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (minors/ageless blogs dni), wlw content, transfem!arlecchino, virgin!reader, age-gap (arle is in her late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), size kink, fingering, penetration, handjob

a/n: tagging my favorite silly @myfriendscallmebun who i hope enjoys this ♡ this is so long

she first hired you merely as a form of entertainment for her children. someone eager to please who wouldn't require such a large salary. someone who, at least, would never ask someone like her for more than she offered.

it's a surprising decision, on her end, to select a college girl to watch over her precious children. though, you presented yourself so nicely at the interview, and your references and resume did you well.

besides, it might be nice for the children to be around someone closer to their age for a change. they often spent time with arlecchino herself and occasionally her coworkers.

and, you had grown on her.

it's been nearly two months since you started working for her, and a few weeks since you began passing flirtatious remarks to one another.

the thing that finally melted her heart was an evening she worked late. she was already irritated her children would be asleep when she got home, but she felt guilty making you stay hours late at her home.

much to her surprise (and inner delight), when she came home, she found the children tucked into their beds, and you standing so sweetly at the door.

you had slipped her jacket off, hanging it up and tugging her into the kitchen. sure enough, you had saved her a plate of the spaghetti you made, along with a glass of her favorite red wine.

that was the day when she finally asked you to accompany her on a proper date.

and, now, here you are, standing in front of your mirror, fussing with your dress and jewelry. the dress she had bought for you special for tonight. it was black, falling just below your knees- rather classy for someone so young.

20 minutes. in 20 minutes she was picking you up.

nervous as you were, you couldn't believe you were going on a date with her. especially to somewhere so expensive and exclusive.

it was some sort of upscale bar with expensive alcohol and food. somewhere arlecchino claimed to frequent often when she needed alone time.

you almost broke out into laughter when she admitted she hired childe, her younger coworker, for the evening to watch her children.

"oh, i'm not concerned for my childrens' safety. if anything, he should be afraid for his own." was her reply, a small smirk on her lips that you nearly missed.

she lead you into the restaurant with confidence, turning heads, eliciting whispers as she kept her hand on the small of your back while the waiter brought you to your table.

"what do you think so far?" she asked, her wine glass already being filled, no need to speak her order.

"it's...definitely different than what i'm used to. but it's really nice. i like having an excuse to dress up a little." you smile at her and she raises her glass to her lips.

"i want to spoil you for the evening. for not only treating my children so well, but because you are an exceptional woman. i only hope my gestures come off as genuine as i intend." she sips her wine, setting it down to begin rambling to you about the menu.

but you're not quite listening, distracted by her hands, her lips, her eyes. how could someone be so perfect?

she's quite a bit older than you, probably much more experienced. does she truly feel the same way you do? and-

"sweetheart?" she breaks you from your thoughts and you stiffen up.

"i'm sorry- i'm listening!" you squeak, but she sees right through you.

although, she finds it rather cute. she's noticed before, obviously. your wandering eyes, the way you bite your lip when she picks up something heavy like it's nothing, or how your thighs press together when she takes a stern tone.

she simply wants to know the depths of your affection for her. after all, she has similar thoughts of you.

"which dish would you like then?" she asks pointedly, allowing you to hold the menu with shaky hands.

"ah...um..." the words blur together, not registering. "what do you recommend?"

she tilts her head, taking the menu back. "allow me to order for you then."

you like when she takes control. she knows what she wants, and she will have it. you wish it a quality you embodied more, though she fascinates you. it is almost natural to her.

dinner goes rather smoothly, and you get to taste test a few different wines, but not nearly enough to get you even remotely tipsy.

"i much prefer coherent company." her lips quirk up as she says this, and you laugh behind your hand.

she's funny, you admit. her dry humor is one of your favorite things about her.

it's a shame when dinner comes to an end, but you two mutually draw it out as long as you can. you share a dessert, and plenty of good conversation about yourselves. you learn things about her you never would've thought, and likewise for her.

the ride back to your place is just as pleasant, though you feel nervous inside. you want to make a move. you want to ask her to come inside. to stay...

but you couldn't possibly. that would be absurd... right?

regardless, she walks you in, ensuring you get into your place safely. she's a gentleman in how she holds your bags and all the doors at every stop.

the little bit of wine in your system has you feeling bold, stopping her in her tracks before she could put her shoes back on. "wait! why... don't you stay for a little? i could make us some tea. herbal! so you won't...uh... be awake all night."

she merely tilts her head, nodding either way. she listens to your rambling about the tea and the coffee mugs you have, her eyes wandering your walls when she sees familiar art.

"did the children draw these?" she interrupts, taking one off the wall.

it's a rather rudimentary stick-figure drawing, but she can tell who each one represents. this is one of lynette's drawings. she's drawn herself with pretty blue bows, along with her brothers, and, of course, their father.

and you.

there you are, standing on the other side as if you were the mother to complete their family portrait.

"oh- those? yeah, the kids drew them for me... i thought they were really cute, so i kept them." you smile and her heart flutters.

she skims her fingers over the papers, pausing when she sees one from freminet. he's drawn a flower field of green scribbles and rainbow dots, the children playing on a swingset while you and arlecchino watch.

with the words 'mom' and 'dad' written above your heads.

she can hear you nervously talking to fill the silence, and she turns to you. "they really do seem to enjoy having you around." she murmurs. "as do i."

you look up at her, feeling her lean in, gently holding your waist. "am i being too forward?" she asks, breath fanning over the side of your face as you shiver.

"not at all-" you breathe out, trembling as she lifts your chin gently. she can see your anticipation.

"you're not phased by our gap in experience?" she asks. "it's inevitable. i cannot change it, but i do not want you to feel forced."

"i actually like it. i really like it." you blurt, catching her off guard.

"oh?" her voice is low, sultry as she cups your jaw. "is this alright with you, then?"

"please-" and that's all she needs to connect your lips, kissing you so softly at first. her tongue gently prods for entrance, and she can instantly tell you truly are inexperienced.

she pulls away, gently swiping a thumb over your cheek. "is this your first time?"

"you could tell?" you groan, and she nearly melts.

"it is not shameful to wait. i only want you to be sure this is what you want." she explains, stroking your cheek as your eyes flutter shut.

"i want you. please? i want you to take it." you leave it open for interpretation, but she knows exactly what you're referring to.

"if you're certain, then i'd be honored, sweetheart." she says so gently you'd think she was someone else.

you bring her to your room, cringing at the mess. "i know it isn't what you're used to but mmph-!" you whimper when she kisses you, pulling you onto her lap on the bed.

she trails kisses down your neck, watching you tilt your head back instinctively. you pant, overwhelmed so quickly she almost feels guilty.

keyword: almost.

instead, it makes her twitch within the confines of her expensive suit slacks.

her hand tangles into the back of your hair, tugging you firmly so she can nip at your jaw. she takes it slow, easing you into things until you're practically begging her to go further.

your dress slides off slowly, a treat waiting when she sees the pretty matching lingerie set beneath. it's white and lacy, delicate, something she could easily tear right off, and it drives her mad.

"aren't you full of surprises? naughty ones at that." she tuts, squeezing your jaw as you gasp.

she unclips the bra, her gently squeezing your breasts as you moan for her.

she teases your nipples until they go pert, wrapping her tongue around them as you arch up into her.

you're being vulnerable with her; she knows this much. she holds you steady, ensuring you feel safe on her lap before pulling away with a soft 'pop.'

she unbuttons her shirt, tugging it off to match you. she watches your eyes go wide, eager yet embarrassed as she tosses her bra aside with the shirt.

"you're so...pretty." you gasp quietly, eyes wide.

"you can touch me, sweetheart." she pulls your hand to her chest, allowing you to explore. your fingers clumsily rub her nipples and she grunts, guiding them into place.

"does it feel good?" you ask her so hesitantly, and she kisses the top of your head.

"you're doing well." she watches your gaze slide down, eyeing the growing bulge in her pants. she dryly grunts, lifting your chin up. "something catch your eye?"

"i... i'm sorry- i didn't mean to stare-" your words are mumbled, your face hot as your mouth goes dry.

"you're curious. that's alright." she brushes a thumb over your lips, coaxing you to open up.

she slides her thumb over your tongue, gently easing it a little further until you gag, keeping you just like that. your eyes are so wide and pretty, glazed over with untapped lust.

she hums thoughtfully before withdrawing, using the thumb to brush over the front of your panties. you gasp, thighs snapping shut as she pushes them back apart.

she lightly smacks your thigh. "keep them open." she rubs gentle circles on your clothed clit, your body clearly unsure how to react. she can see it doesn't take much to bring you to the edge, and she lightens her touch, able to control her own desires with ease.

her hand comes back to your lips, sliding your wetness over your tongue while her free hand slides your panties to the side.

something you've missed before, but she's filed her nails down on this hand. just for you, though only she knew that.

she gently slides her fingers through your folds, hearing you whimper and squirm on her lap. she tucks your head under her chin while she eases a finger into you, feeling you squeeze so tight around just one digit.

she gives you time to adjust, feeling you clutch her wrist. you're such an angel, aren't you? holding so tightly to her, so cute, all while you fidget right above her confined cock, inevitably making her grow harder.

her second finger slides in slowly, with an intent to stretch you out enough to take her cock more comfortably. she curls them inside of you, hearing you whine loudly into her neck.

"ah- that feels-!" you squeal when she brushes against your g-spot. her finger pads rub into it, and you tremble, thighs clamping down on her hand.

"relax." she reminds you, pumping her fingers in and out, slick sounds filling the air. she stretches you out every so often, spreading her fingers slightly and hearing you whimper so sweetly.

your hand clumsily rests on her bulge and her fingers still as she inhales sharply.

"i... want to- try and make you feel good too..." you whisper, looking up at her.

and who is she to deny such a sweet girl?

she pops open the button, unzipping her pants and freeing her cock, allowing you to see her.

your eyes go comically wide, shocked by the size. "that's... i-"

she can feel your walls fluttering around her fingers and she nearly moans. "it's alright. don't be nervous." she practically reads your mind, soothing your concerns as her free hand unwraps itself from your body, collecting some of the messy slick from your thighs, sliding it over herself.

"you haven't done this before, i presume?" she's met with a shake of your head. she proceeds to guide your hand in wrapping around her cock. she hisses through her teeth. "archons-" she groans lowly, her fingers resuming their gentle in and out motions while she guides you to stroke her cock.

"tighter." she tells you, feeling your hand grip more firmly, her pre-cum oozing over your hand, spreading across her cock. "good girl-" she praises and you clench around her fingers once more.

she says nothing, but she knows exactly how her words affect you. such a sweet little thing you are, curled up on her lap, fingers stuffed inside of you while your hand wraps around her cock.

her hand covers yours still, dwarfing your hand and guiding you into her preferred rhythm. "that's it. you're doing well-" she tips her head back, hips grinding into your hand as she lets go.

she allows you to move your hand on your own, finger-fucking you faster. she knows you're losing focus, too overwhelmed by your own need to cum, though she doesn't mind too much. you're just so sweet with how your moans pick up in volume, your eyes closing as your hips chase her hand.

"go on." she tells you, her voice stern as you release around her digits like such a good girl for her.

she slides her fingers out, admiring the webbed slick coating them, cleaning them in her own mouth as you shyly hide in her chest.

she pulls you away, laying you on the bed. "wait! you didn't get to..."

she shakes her head, pushing her hair back. "hush." she simply says, spreading your thighs, pushing them up to your chest. it exposes you perfectly, allowing you to feel shy, yet unable to cover yourself as she studies your twitchy cunt.

arlecchino uses one hand to guide herself through your slick, sensitive folds, gathering the remnants of your orgasm. she is gentle when she slides into you for the first time, a thumb on your stiff, swollen clit to ease the stretch.

she watches your eyebrows furrow, nose crinkling as she stretches you out. "so big-" you whine, chest arching up against her own.

your moans are melodies to her, feeling you flutter around her was like heaven. she lifts you up to sit on her lap while she leans back, guiding you to slowly take more of her in.

"too much!" you whine, looking down.

"you haven't taken all of me yet." she hushes you, easing you down to swallow her all in your pussy until you're mewling incoherently.

"full-" your head falls back and she grabs your hips, her nails leaving sharp little indents as she guides you to shallowly fuck yourself on her cock.

"such a pretty little thing." she coos, slowly growing more harsh, grinding up into you.

and, oh, you sing for her the rougher she gets. you urge her to grow bolder, now using your body as a toy while you desperately try to match her tempo.

you're inexperienced, but oh, so eager to please, aren't you? what a good girl.

she grabs your ass, fucking you on her cock while you keep a vice grip, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "oh- archons!" you squeal.

arlecchino picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, settling you beneath her instead, fucking into you with boundless energy.

she knows the right spots to fuck, where and how to grind herself into a woman, she knows exactly when to speed up and slow down. yet it seems you don't even know your own body fully.

and the thought of helping you explore with her is enough to have her twitching inside of you.

your incessant mewling and moaning of her name is driving her mad for you. her hand wraps around your throat, earning her breathless gasps as she urges you to cum for her.

"be a good little pet and cum." she orders, slick sounds penetrating the air, the smell of sex coating you both. "cum for me."

she rubs your clit harshly, watching you shake as you do cum, tightening up around her cock, sending her eyes rolling back into her head.

the moment you loosen up, she pulls out, cumming onto your tummy, creating a filthy mess as she moans deeply for you.

"fuck..." she sighs, squeezing her cock to ease the rest of her cum onto your skin.

you pant, looking up at her. your eyes are blown wide, but you look exhausted as you lay limply beneath her.

and, well, you'll soon learn her cock may need time to recover, but her mouth and fingers certainly don't...

[vienssunshine]

It's Too Much

pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation word count: 1.5k author's note: this idea took third place in the poll, but i was extra inspired from a tiktok my friend sent me description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long that, when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much

Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.

There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different. 

The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day. 

You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot. 

Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.

You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.

“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”

You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.” 

“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.

Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.

He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped. 

“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body. 

“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.

“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?” 

He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer. 

“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”

“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?” 

His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.

“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.

He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.

Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does. 

You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him. 

“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them. 

Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation. 

“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent. 

“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say. 

Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.

Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last. 

“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“ 

“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”

You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.

“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“

He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.

You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.

When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.

He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”

“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.” 

He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it. 

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.” 

[cosmopretty]

Sleepyhead

Paige Bueckers x Fem

Synopsis: Moments where you and Paige just felt so comfortable between one another, asleep.

First Moment:

After a long day of working all you wanted to do was sleep, preferably in Paige’s arms. You walk into her dorm sighing, falling right on top of the blonde girl laying down. Her hand falls to your head massaging your scalp “Bad day mama?” she asks you, moving her other hand to your hip rubbing back and forth.

You mumble something into her neck that she couldn’t understand, her hand on your head comes down to your cheek lifting it up “I’m just tired P” you say laying down in her chest your leg bending, laying on her stomach. She nods and starts rubbing up and down your back lulling you to sleep.

Not much later KK comes in the dorm on live, Paige smirks at the live while KK points the camera at you asleep. Paige covers your face with her big hand “Shh KK she’s sleeping” your girlfriend says her eyes widening at her friend, not wanting to wake you.

KK nods “So we’re dueling in Fortnite since the fans wanna know who’s better. Come on get up” she says placing the phone beside her so the live can see you three and the TV.

Paige holds your head to her chest with one hand the other under your legs. She pulls the two of you up and sits down infront of the TV. She positioned you so your straddling her waist, your head on her shoulder tucked in her neck so the live can’t see you asleep. She grabs the remote from KK “You got the upper hand it’s unfair I’m tryna let my girl sleep” Paige says to KK and the live.

“Not my problem this why I stay single now hop on” KK says for once quietly not wanting to wake you either. The two girls play Fortnite together quietly until KK yells throwing the remote on the bed “WHAT? Thats not FAIR THE FU-“ she says before she gets interrupt “Bro shut up” Paige groans.

You move in her arms groaning a bit “What happened?” you ask groggily shifting around in her lap lifting your head from her neck. Paige’s fingers come to move some hair from your face “Nothing baby KK was just leaving” she says her fingers sliding down your face.

KK scoffs smacking her lips “Simp. You see guys Paige is a simp” she tells the live before getting up and leaving the dorm to go find another girl to go live with.

Yawning you rub your eyes smiling at Paige a bit “Was she live?” you ask her looking up at her through your lashes. Paige nods “Yeah don’t worry they didn’t see your face I know you wouldn’t want you drooling on me all over the internet” she jokes sticking her tongue out at you.

“Oh shut up I don’t drool that’s all you” You say laughing a bit running your fingers through her pretty blonde hair. Your hands cup her cheeks squishing them together before letting them go. Her hand holds the back of your head before pulling you closer to her, she pecks your lips multiple times before kissing you sweetly.

Second moment:

Dating a division one basketball player, meant dating a person who worked out their body way too much. Paige worked her ass off durning practice, in the gym anything really always leaving her tired. Which means you take care of her of her a lot, you didn’t mind but even when you were taking care of her she was still always in control.

That’s what lead you here walking to Paige’s dorm at ten am, right after you woke up. You open the door smiling at Nika and KK before going to Paige’s dorm walking in. You see laying on her stomach her head shoved her pillow “You okay Paigey?” you ask her half joking.

She grumbles something before pushing herself up on her elbows “I’m sore from practice can you give me a massage ma?” she asks you pouting her bottom lip out. Walking over to her you sit on top of her straddling her back. Your hands work there way to her shoulders, massaging the muscles there.

“You’re so tense Paige’s relax” You demand the girl massing down her arms. She moans into the pillow eyes fluttering shut. Your hands move softly on her soft skin moving down her back.

You sit on top of the girl for around an hour before your hands starts to ache “Paige I think I’m done” you say aloud not getting an answer. Looking down at her you brush her blonde hair from her face to see she fell asleep. Smiling you move to get up and she groans “No stay there it feels good” she whines not opening her eyes.

You lay down next to her throwing your leg over her back so you’re still laying on top of her. She sighs in content when your hands come to her back pressing against her skin lightly, massaging her again as she falls back asleep.

Third Moment

Waking up in the morning with a six foot tall girlfriend built of muscle was not something easy to do. If she didn’t want to get up, you couldn’t she knew the power she had over you and used it. Morning were not easy on Paige she did not want to wake up early, or leave bed, or be alone which meant she forced you to say with her.

You yawn shutting off your alarm clock on your phone and groan rubbing your face. Paige sighs and pulls you closer to her from behind, you lay flush against her “Mmm come on we gotta get up” you whispers your eyes begging to close.

Paige puts her head in your neck shaking her head no “Ten more minutes” she demands not nothing to hear your answer before slugging her leg on top of your waist, spooning you.

“No Paige you have practice come on” You turn around in her arms giving her the chance to trap you. Her arm wraps around your shoulder and her leg stays wrapped around you “Your stuck here now we get up when I want to” she says into your neck.

Letting out a sigh your hug her back playing with her pretty blonde hair with your fingers “Come on Paige Geno’s gonna yell at you again” you remind her.

Paige shrugs “I don’t care, wanna sleep with you ma” she grumbles kissing your neck softly. Giving up you go limp in her arms hugging her back, the two of you slowly fall back asleep together.

Send some requests because I need inspiration

[grimesthinker]

Stepdad!rick having a bunch of friends over for a poker night or something and you come downstairs to get some water and popcorn, wearing the tiniest, tightest pyjamas he’s ever seen. And ur unaware of the several wandering eyes cause you’re way too busy with your nose in a book, standing by the microwave. And Rick has to excuse himself for a moment to tell you to get back upstairs before he loses it and fucks you in front of his friends…

the stepdad!rick spam is EVERYTHING. i audibly squealed. i am in love with you.

you come down the stairs into the kitchen, a cherry lollipop stuck in your mouth and a book in hand. you take the candy from your mouth and smile sweetly to the group of men sitting around the kitchen table, stacks of cards and half empty beer bottles littering the scene.

"hi, daddy!" you greet rick with a kiss to his cheek. you think nothing of it. you're just being polite, after all. you skip to the cabinet and stand on your toes to reach the box of popcorn tucked inside. rick works his jaw as both your thin tank top and tiny pajama shorts ride up, exposing much of your skin. he tenses, gripping the beer bottle in his hand a bit too hard.

he loudly clears his throat when his friends' eyes linger on you for too long. your pretty bare skin, the way you suck on the lollipop as you put the bag of popcorn in the microwave. the men quickly go back to their card game, not wanting to displease rick anymore. you don't notice it. you bend over the counter and put your nose back into the book, reading while you wait for the popcorn to finish popping.

as rick watches you bend over the counter like that, lips sucking on the lollipop and eyes moving along the pages, he can't take it anymore. he gruffly excuses himself from the card game and treads to you, back to his friends so he can block their view as he admonishes you.

"what the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, voice in a scolding whisper. you place the book on the counter and look up at him, head cocking to the side in confusion.

your voice is sweet. innocent. what a little actress, he thinks. "i don't know what you-"

"upstairs, now."

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your bottom lip becomes wobbly. "but i-"

"now."

you know he means it. you do as he says, pouting and stomping up the stairs to your room. he excuses himself again and follows you, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

minutes later, your pajama shorts and panties are thrown to the ground, thighs pushed to your chest. you weep as his cock thrusts into your slick cunt, deeper and deeper. "m'sorry! was jus' being nice!" you cry, eyes teary and swollen lips pouty.

what a sight it was. you, the picture perfect embodiment of innocence, taking your step father's cock on your pretty pink bed while his friends wait downstairs. you whine and cling to him, moaning when his cock brushes against your g spot.

"open." he ignores your apologies and holds your jaw with his big hand, spitting on your tongue when you stick it out like the good girl you are.

he gives a slight nod so you can swallow, eyelashes fluttering up at him. your eyes are glossy, hands grabbing for him. he knows what you want. he always knows. he dips his head down to connect your lips. you mewl as he messily kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. "fuckin' brat."

[hungharrington]

So I um I found an amazing video and now I’m plagued by thoughts of sitting on Steve’s bed, him between your legs with his back to your chest, and giving him the sweetest loveliest softest handjob ever, scratching his tummy hairs and peppering kisses all over his neck

nonnie did i or did i not tell u i was coming back for this ask? and i came back with a hunger -- sort of sub!steve, 1.5k, everything the ask describes, as always MDNI this entire blog is 18+! enjoy <3

Steve doesn’t think anyone has ever asked to take care of him before.

He’s had plenty of partners in bed, sure. He’s rife with enough experience that honestly he thinks it would take a really strange request to throw him off his game. But you had— when you asked, “Can I just take care of you tonight?” 

He hadn’t even been entirely sure what you had meant, pulling back from the steamy make-out with you on his lap— the usual late night rendezvous. 

But still, he gave a slow and earnest nod, a soft ‘sure, honey’ and let you rearrange the two of you til you were leaning back on the headboard and he was leaning back against you. Your thighs on either side of him, your arms looped around his middle. Like a little spoon. Steve secretly adores it. 

“Y’know I can’t exactly do much in this position,” Steve chuckles, pretending to have his reservations, even if he’s already eager to see what you mean by taking care of him. Your arms are around his waist, warm, your fingers tucking up his shirt to begin to work it upwards.

“Mm,” you hum, hoisting it higher and Steve moves forward, letting it get tugged off and over his head. Cool air flushes down his chest. “Dunno if you’re grasping the idea of letting me take care of you if you’re worrying bout that.” 

The shirt flutters to the ground, forgotten, as your hands explore to freshly exposed skin. Steve sighs sweetly as you trace softly across his tummy, nails dragging lightly as your near his thighs. His cock is already perking up. It’s been interested since earlier, you in his lap and your tongue in his mouth, and it doesn’t take many more lingering touches for it to reach proper attention. 

“No one ever taken care of you before, baby?” You ask, lips scraping his ear. Your breath is warm and your voice is low— but the kiss you give beneath his ear is hot and wet. You suckle at the skin, not even a nip of teeth. Desire pools low in Steve’s gut, a simmering heat. 

One of your hands moves over his boxers and gives his bulge a gentle rub, making Steve rumble out a soft moan. Your other hand rubs soothing down his thigh. 

Steve shakes his head to answer no to your question. His eyes fight to stay open, torn between wanting to watching your wandering hands or turning to kiss you but your persistent kisses on his neck give him little choice. He shifts his hips. 

“Not- not like this,” Steve admits, breath a little short already. His tummy tenses when your hand drags back up over it, just a soft scratch of nails. His cock aches harder. He wishes you would touch it, wishes you would reach your hand in, all hot, soft and wet and tug it in that perfectly teasing way he knows you can. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, hips shifting upward again. You smile at his impatience. 

“Can we take these off?” You ask, pinching the ruffled elastic of his boxers. Steve nods fervently, hips shifting up to let you slide them down so he can kick them off. His chest feels warm, flushed beneath the hair and another groan tumbles out when you finally curl your fingers around his cock. “Fuck,” he pants as you pump tantalizing slow. “Fuck, feels so good, honey,” 

A hunger for the feeling grows in his stomach, gnawing for more bliss. Steve lets his head tips back, resting against your shoulder and you take advantage of it in an instant; kisses upon kisses up his neck. It’s messy, lips wet with spit as you scrape your teeth down, right as your rub over the slit of his cock— Steve twitches, a jagged whine pushing past his lips. He pants a little heavier. 

Pausing for a moment, you pull your hand back to your mouth and let yourself drool over it— sticky saliva covering your fingers. This time, when you grip his cock, Steve gasps loudly. Slick, hot, sounds reverberate in the room as you jerk him, hand twisting perfectly. Still slow, still gentle. 

Your mouth find his earlobe, teeth nibbling a little mean, your hand not stopping— and Steve moans a little louder, like he can’t help it. His cock gives a little dribble of precum, tummy all tensed up again. 

“See? S’nice to be taken care of,” You murmur softly. You thumb his slit again, delighting in the spurt his cock gives, then dive down to cup his balls. Your other hand strokes along his thigh lovingly, nails drawing lines as you rake them back up to his v-line. 

Steve shivers, shuddering sweet whines escaping him. He’s so unbearably hard for you- especially as you rub his balls so perfectly, your hand dragging back up his cock and then back down, a mind-melting cycle. It’s so much, it’s not even close to enough, it’s, it’s— 

“Oh god,” Steve whimpers loudly. His eyes have finally crushed closed, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly beside you. His gut is burning with heat, pleasure filling every limb. It feels good. He wants to writhe against you, wants to fuck your fist, wants you to keep teasing him just like you’re doing. 

“Oh god, oh fuck- f-fuck,” His words are getting more pathetic by the minute, barely fully formed, drenched in a whimpering tone. “Please, don’t… don’t tease, no- ah,” 

It’s not even teasing, you just aren’t rubbing him hot and fast like usual. Your movements are slow, doused in adoration — your core feels sticky, burning hot from watching Steve get all worked up in your arms. 

“M’not teasing you,” you say, fondling his balls and rubbing your palm against them in a circular motion, building his lust. Steve’s tense body and punched out breathes contradict your words. He’s so whiny. It’s a pity no one’s ever taken care of him before — though your stomach pinches hotly to know only you get to see him this way. 

“Just taking care of you,” you sigh, grip tightening as you pull it back up his cock, giving the smallest jerk. Steve warbles out a throaty whimper, egged on by your roaming touch along his thighs. He feels molten hot, tummy already all clenched up, his cock just leaking all over your hand. Pleasure buzzes wildly in his body, back starting to arch up. 

“Hone- aw, fuckfuckfuck, yes, just there, please, honey,” he pleads, voice starting to sound wrecked and feeble. God, he sounds pathetic; he only sounds like this when he's been fucking you for a good while. But a few minutes of the right touch? Reduces to a whiny mess in your hands. 

“So pretty,” you whisper and Steve can’t tell if you mean him or his dribbling cock, all pink and twitching in your hand. He can’t even feel the fabric gripped between his own fingers— can’t feel anything except your palm right around the head of his cock, teasing it lightly. It’s torture, it’s perfect, it’s not enough, it’s— 

“Please!” The word bursts out of Steve, desperate, swallowed immediately by a moan. He fights to get his next words out as your hand returns to his heavy balls, caressing them soft and slow again. It’s not fucking enough. His pleas fall out all whimpery, “Take— take care of me, please, wanna cum, I wanna- I wanna—“ 

It’s the magic words. You grip his cock properly, your whole hand curling around him for the first time that night and you set a fast pace- lewd, squelching sounds echo in the bedroom. Steve keens forward, a soft cry coming from him as his pleasure turns into a blaze in his stomach. “Oh my god, oh god- yes, fuck—“ 

Your free hand moves to his tummy, scratching down to thatch of hair at the base of his cock and Steve can’t help it, he cums, hard. He turns his head, hides it in your neck and releases a whimpery sort of wail. His chest heaves as his pretty cock spurts out his hot pearly cum — coating your hand enough to ride him through it, your hand never stopping. 

“That’s it, so good,” You coo at him. Your sweet words carry him through it, your pace slowing as his body starts to twitch back against yours. His cock gives a few final dribbles of cum and you rub your thumb over his slit, spreading it. Steve whimpers loudly. “Mm, there we go.” 

It feels like it takes forever for him to settle back down. Steve feels wrung out, feels spent, feels like he had his brain melted out his ears — like he could just nap against you now and be happy forever. Your soft kiss against his cheek has him opening his eyes, pulling back enough to look at your face. 

“Good?” You ask, though he knows you can tell just how fucking good it was. “Good to be taken care of?” 

Steve nods with a loving hum, a hefty exhale rushing out his lungs and he lets his face huddle back into your neck, eyes slipping shut. He’ll move in a minute- maybe when he can feel his thighs again. 

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞

summary: tainted, virgin!reader is growing tired of grinding against her boyfriends. she’s never touched herself before—no toys, no fingers, no fondling—the friction from a pillow used to be enough. but, maybe having something inside of her isn’t as terrifying as she believed. charles’ pretty pianist fingers don’t look too scary, and they way he raves about how talented max’s daunting thicker fingers are; well, she could be convinced to see what all the fuss is about. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. fingering. hand and finger kink. guided masturbation. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. dialogue heavy. max is a brat tamer. word count: 2.7k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: pressure • ari lennox

preface: *laughs maniacally*

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max stated, “when you get your nails done today, don’t get a new set. keep them natural; you can get polish but keep them short and rounded with no sharp edges.”

you stared at max with a lukewarm expression. it’s seven in-the-fucking morning, and he’s woken you up from your extremely comfortable position tucked into charles’ chest to tell you that you’re getting your nails done and exactly how he wants them done. he must have lost his mind overnight.

“d’you think,” you croaked out, voice unused from sleep, “that getting my nails done will distract me from realizing that my thighs have healed from the friction burn?”

the dutchman opened his mouth to speak but you held up a hand to shush him, and continued scratchily, “‘cause it hasn’t worked. ‘n i don’t even have an appointment to get my nails done? ‘s not happening today.”

“i made one,” he responded with a self-satisfied smile, “it’s in an hour.”

“WHAT THE HELL, MAX?!” you exclaimed, fighting through the layers of blankets tangled around you to make your way out of bed to rush through getting yourself ready. charles, still asleep, snuffled unhappily at the commotion and rolled over facing away from the two of you.

max chuckled mutely as he watches you stumble off the bed towards to en-suite bath, “use my black card–i’m sure it’ll cover the late fee.”

slamming the bathroom door shut, your yell carries through the door, “I WAS GOING TO USE IT ANYWAYS!”

thanks to years of lounging in bed to the last possible second before you needed to get ready, you were exactly on time to your appointment. it’s a boujee “self-care salon” that you don’t usually go to but it’s pretty much impossible to mess up a soak-off and basic manicure. actually, max is paying so there’s really no harm in treating yourself. you go from a basic manicure to the most luxurious mani-pedi package they offer, there’s even a hand, arm, foot, and calf massage included. you leave a healthy tip too; it’s not like you can run up max verstappen’s black card, he won’t even notice.

by the time you get home, you’ve completely forgotten about being mad at max for terrorizing you with morning. but, you’re quickly reminded of why when he jumps you as soon as you walk in the front door, tugging you in by your hands as he examines your nails.

“sheesh,” you gasp, “can i close the door first?” 

charles, more awake but still disgruntled (he considers any-time before noon “too early to be awake), apparates from around the corner and walks to shut the door behind you. he wordlessy shimmies your keys and bag out of your hands, and presses a kiss to your cheek, “bonjour, mon coeur.”

“good morning, charlie,” you murmur sweetly, ignoring max’s general incompetence, “may i…” you shift awkwardly on your feet, “can i have a real kiss, please?”

the brunet’s discontented gaze turned to liquid gold warming your body with the amount of love that poured through just one glance. he leans in to kiss you but yelps, flinching away from you at a pinch on his arm from max.

the older man grunts, “bedroom first. then you can make out with each other to your hearts content.”

your legs have turned to mush from deep kisses, so you’re thankful to be seated on top of charles’ lap on your vanity chair. the monegasque has one hand fisted in the curls at the nape of your neck, moving your head to just the angle he likes as he continues to explore past the seam of your lips. he doesn’t allow you to pull away for more than half a second to catch your breath, all of your hums, moans, and whimpers of delight are caught in his mouth. the lust fogs your brain as he nips and tugs at your bottom lip, the soft skin surrounding your lips raw already from his stubble. the weight of his large hand resting on the small of your back combined with the overwhelming sensations has you shifting your hips rocking back and forth on charles’ thigh, yet you haven’t consciously noticed you actions yet. you haven’t noticed how max has been calling your name to get your attention for a while now.

“liefje, come here,” max’s voice has a commanding edge to it, that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention, “you’ve been patient like i’ve mentioned. so, i think it’s time you experience more than one of our thighs, hm?”

you squirm of charles’ lap, prying his hands off your waist when he tries to tighten his grasp, and eagerly make your way over to the foot of the bed where max is sitting–has he been watching the whole time? the monegasque huffs loudly to inform the two of you of how displeased he is at you discarding him quickly at the promise of something more. the younger man stands up and doesn’t manage to take more than one step in your direction before max halts him.

“and where do you think you’re going?” max asks condescendingly, he pulls you down to sit in between his legs, his chest to your back, so you can face charles, “only good boys get to participate. and if i can remember…two days ago, you decided to be a brat.”

the brat in question reddens, “yes! i was…being mean–but, you said that i don’t get to come, not that i don’t get to touch her?”

max shrugs dismissively, and he starts to undress you–pulling off your shirt to leave you in your bra, while he motions for you to tug off your jeans.

“mon chat–this is unfair,” charles whines, “let me touch her!”

“you want to touch her?” max asks, charles nods eagerly in response, “say you were a brat and apologize, and then maybe i’ll let you touch her.”

the brunet gapes at his boyfriend, stumbling over his words for a few seconds, before he turns to look at you, expecting you to help him out. you curl up, dropping your gaze to your lap and pulling max’s hand around you to play with it while he sorts out charles. the monegasque, too stubborn to do anything but disagree with max, clenches his jaw and fists, before he steps and back and sits in your vanity chair again. he crosses his arms across his chest, and turns his head up at max to emphasize his attitude.

“mmm,” the blonde’s chest rumbles behind you, he dips his head to press a kiss to your temple, “he’ll learn how to act once he realizes he won’t be able to finger your pussy, pretty girl.”

you and charles both jolt with matching gasps of surprise at the reveal of today’s sexual exploration. a meek whimper escapes you and max coos sweetly, “do you want to this, liefje?”

you nod shakily, ignoring the flush of heat to your cheeks and the way you press your thighs together a little tighter. 

“words, baby.”

“y-yes, maxy.”

“remember the rules: any time you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we can stop or take a break.”

“y-yeah,” you say airly, “ok.”

“good girl.”

max tilts your head to the side and lavishes kisses along your neck. your breath catches at the unexpected attention, you can only rest limply against max as he sucks marks into your skin. he nips teasingly at your pulse point and you tighten your grasp on his hand to prevent yourself from moaning embarrassingly loud. you let your head fall backwards to give max complete access to the length of your throat, and in the motion you make eye contact with charles. his green eyes are piercing–you can see the envy, yet you can’t tell if he wishes he was max in this moment, or if he wishes he was you.

the dutchman moves lower and focuses on bruising up your collarbone, tugging and biting at the thin skin and you’ve quickly lost your ability to regulate your volume. every exhale transforms into a moan and max’s free hand gets more exploratory as a result. his lips are wet and flushed red when he pulls himself away from the expanse of your newly bruised neck, playing absently with the strap of your bra and whispers next to your ear, “may i take this off, liefje?”

“yeah, yes, yes–take it off,” you rush out, turning shy at the sound of max’s amusement, “you can take it off, please?”

the use of manners quiets the man’s laughter easily; something about the way you use ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ unhesitantly in bed causes his brain to misfire. he rids you of the bra, tossing it at charles, who catches it and stares at max in disdain.

the older man smirks, and brings both of his hands to your chest to ghost the pads of his thumbs against your nipples. the barely there touch had your back arching, pushing your breasts more firmly into his grasp to seek more of the sensation. his chest rumbles behinds you and he steadfastly applies more pressure as he toys with the buds–your moans are more like sharp whines now, and whenever he throws in an occasional pinch you shriek, as your vision already blurs from this level of pleasure. you’ll cum before he gets his hand inside your panties.

you clumsy pull at his right hand, trying to tug it away from your breast to direct him further south, but max tuts disapprovingly and you cease your motions as soon as the sound registers.

“actually, liefje–you won’t need my hand for this part, only my voice.”

you tilt your head towards him to stare in confusion, and max brings his hand up to caress your cheek, “i’m going to teach you how to finger yourself, if that’s okay?”

you gulp, the pressure in your tummy only building, “more than okay.”

max nods, and presses a kiss on your jawline.

“be good for me and touch yourself over your panties, pretty girl.”

you squirm anxiously, but do as he ordered. you drag your hand down past your navel and in between your thighs, trying to keep them as closed as possible without having yourself spread out obscenely. max, obviously, doesn’t allow that to slide, and spreads your legs for you, draping them along the outside of his, his knees pressing outwards to prevent you from slamming your thighs shut. you whimper shamefully, but continue to drag two fingers along the seam of your cunt over your thin panties, the fabric beginning to darken as you start to leak.

“nice and slow until you start to get wet for me, yeah?”

“‘m already wet, maxy,” you murmur, biting your lip to suppress a whimper.

(“merde,” charles groans from across the room, throwing his head backwards.)

max brings his hand down to tug your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cooler air of the room, and moans at how your glistenting already, “shit–always so wet for me. keep dragging your fingers up and down, liefje.”

max’s hand continues to rest on your navel after he tucked your panties away, and you quickly bore of the slide of your fingers, huffing silently and nudging your nose against his jaw for the next direction, “once your fingers are nice and wet, you’re going to take just one–and gently press inside, yeah? you should be nice and relaxed, okay–if your pretty hole doesn’t open up easily just keep rubbing at yourself and then try again.”

you nod jerkily, and your first attempt at breaching your inner walls fails. you chickened out–after your felt yourself opening up, the pressure was odd. however, with max’s reassurance, you took another pass over your cunt and then tried again. and this time, your finger easily slid within in you–a shocked gasp pushed from your chest at the intrusion. 

“you’re okay,” max murmurs, rubbing at your side and navel calmly, “take your time, get used to the feeling, and when your ready you can start moving that finger, liefje.”

it’s odd–the feeling of something inside you. a little uncomfortable, but not painful like you thought it would be. the strange feeling passes quickly, especially when you draw your finger out and press deeper–it feels good? you think, it feels good at least. max watches the array of emotion pass over your face, and once he sees the previous apprehension dissipate, he instructs you to slide in another finger. the addition for another finger is easier for you this time, even though the pressure is multiplied–as if once you learned that this wouldn’t be painful you were a lot more receptive to the intrusion. 

and when your second finger pops in, the stretch feels good. you sigh breathily, and without further instruction, you begin to slowly thrust your fingers. max leans back and allows you to awkwardly fumble through your own motions, allowing you to figure out what brings you pleasure and what doesn’t. you mimic what you’ve heard girls talk about before, curling your fingers, scissoring them wide, pressing them upwards–and it feels fucking euphoric. your moans begin to ring through the room, and your hips buck dowards to meet your palm, pushing in your fingers deep.

“hm–you see why you needed your nails cut now, pretty girl,” max teases. his words go unheard by you, you’re more focused on trying to find the one spot everybody raves about–you want your vision to flash white, your toes to curl, your eyes to roll, your back to arch, your chest to heave–but you can’t find it. you whine in displeasure, kicking your foot out angrily, and begin to more vigorously thrust your fingers to no avail. 

“let me give you a hand, pretty.”

max gently removes your hand, a sob falling from your lips at the newfound emptiness, but quickly soothes you with the press of two of his fingers inside of you. you and max moan in unison–max at the feeling of  just how tight and dripping wet you are and you at the size of his fingers. max patiently waits for you to adjust, before he begins to absolutely ravage your pussy. his fingers are unforgiving; his rhythm is consistent, the pads of his fingers press firmly along your walls, and he finds your sweet spot after his second attempt of searching.

you shriek, legs trying and failing to slam shut at the overload of pleasure—max coos, ‘good girl’s’ and ‘so pretty’s’ falling from his lips freely. it’s a testament to how talented he is with is fingers that as soon as his thumb falls to press at the bud of your clit–you cum.

it surprises you, max, and charles (from across the room). it’s so overwhelming you cry–forget a toe-curling orgasm, you’e pretty sure you’ve just forgotten your name. your hips are frantically thrusting forward freely, and maxx continues to rub his hand over yout clit until you start bucking away from him in discomfort. you’ve soaked the bed, again. the dutchman tenderly pulls his fingers from the pulsing warmth of your cunt, and calls charles to the bed.

the younger man rushes forward, kneeling on the bed next to max. wordlessly, the blonde shoves his fingers covered in your essence into his mouth, smirking wide at how charles’ eyes widen, exposing his blown out pupils, before they drop to a half-lidded gaze as he thoroughly slurps max’s fingers clean.

when charles pulls away from max’s hand, panting heavily like he was the one who was just brought to a mind-blowing orgasm, max drops that same saliva-covered hand to grope at the bulge in charles’ pants.

the monegasque moans highly, hips thrusting forward to press deeper in to max’s hand–but he pulls it away cruelly.

“you better go take a cold shower charles, since you still can’t come for a while,” max orders nonchalantly, “you might want to put some music on while you’re in there. i would hate for you to get hard again when you hear me make her squirt.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarrii @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock@biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris @xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari

© httpsserene 2023

[leonsgfpost]

note: hello, this is my first post and english is not my first language, please understand me haha. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, I'm a little nervous. I would appreciate your support, btw thanks 🎀💗

tags: smut, daydreaming and fantasizing, leon is a pervert, leon RE2 x f!reader.

Leon has never been a high libido guy. He's had one girlfriend in his whole life and a few causal encounters with girls after he got off work. And he enjoyed it, but it was no more than that. A passing moment of pleasure. His sex drive was something he could handle.

Until you came into his life.

The first time Leon saw you, he swore you were an angel. Pretty hair, pretty smile and bright eyes that made his knees weak. But it was no more than that, just an innocent thought. And quickly that little crush on you gradually grew.

At first, he would daydream that he could walk up to you to talk without stumbling over his words like an idiot, and you would smile at him so sweetly that he would forget his name. Maybe I would imagine you on a date. What kind of clothes would you wear? Would you be more shy or funny? What movie would you choose to watch when you two got to the cinema? He would kiss you softly and leave you at your front door. He would be a gentleman for you. But quickly, he began to yearn for more than just a casual greeting or small, empty, casual conversations in the police station break room. When he was alone in the privacy of his room, his imagination would quickly start to run wild and he'd end up with his hands inside his sleep pants jerking his dick hard like he was a fucking teenager again. And that was what Leon had become because of you, a dumb hormonal teenager begging for attention. He mind filled with thoughts he hadn't had in a while. The wet dreams were not long in coming. He had to run to masturbate in the bathroom after a little interaction that returned tight his blue pants tucked snugly. He blushed furiously when their gazes met. God, he was a loser when it came to you.

And here he was again, rubbing his cock hard in the loneliness of his room. Your name falling from his lips with little pleas.

"Please... Please, I just want-" He couldn't finish speaking, choking on his pathetic moans. He hand was rapidly going up and down on him, fantasizing that it was your hand in reality. Little beads of sweat pooling under his blond hair. The constant image of you, lying on his bed and spreading your pretty legs for him tormented him. He just wanted to sink his face into you, run his eager tongue through your folds and drown in the nectar of your pussy. How would you like it? Would you be noisy if he put two fingers inside you? Would you pull his hair hard or just cry while he eats you? He's dying to know. Die to know what kind of expressions you'd put on when he sinks into your heat hard, too stunned to finally have you. Die to know what kind of expressions would cross that pretty face of yours. At the way your nails would dig into his skin leaving marks. He swears he can see you clearly underneath him, his eyes fixed on how his cock slips in and out and his hands firmly hold your thighs. Leon doesn't consider he to have a good physique, but come on. He could hold you still against the mattress as he immobilizes you with his weight, forcing you to take every inch of him.

"You like that, babe? Huh-?" he asks the air, too lost in his cloud and how his hand squeezed his cock, fantasizing that they were your walls.

"Tell me it feels good, moan my name.... P-Please-!" He murmured, his hips ramming his own hand with need. The spiral of his orgasm forming quickly in his belly, because since you appear in his mind, he can't hold back and ends up cumming too fast. Your face prettily flushed, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and making the hottest expressions towards making Leon's mind spin senselessly.

"Leon, Leon-" He swears he can hear your voice ringing in his head, causing him to roll back on the pillows. Your body jerking from his onslaught, your tits bouncing from the jerky movements and his thumb making quick little circles on your clit was from his favorite fantasies to use right now. Your sweet moans asking him to cum inside was what made his hips jerk, your fingers digging into his skin keeping him from pulling away. And he knows, he knows he could fill you so good you'd go silly for a bit of his dick. Though he was the loser who would beg to get his hands on you.

His breathing becomes heavier, his face puckers with pleasure and his back arches slightly, pushing his hips higher to meet his hand.

He imagines your bright eyes opening to look at him, your eyelashes slightly wet with tears and opening your lips to moan his name. And with that image, his orgasm ran over him like a train. His cock jerking hard as strands of cum splattered across his abdomen and thighs, making a mess. His eyes squeezed shut tight, letting out a long, low, wild moan. His mind took a while to clear, imagining a cute, drunken smile on your lips as he filled you. He was fucked. As he slowly came down from that high, his eyes focused again and his cock softened, jerking his hand through the fat strands of his fluids dropping his fingers.

"Damn." He muttered staring at the ceiling intently, his pupils dilated and his chest heaving with every heavy breath he took.

He was definitely going to ask you out tomorrow. He had to do it before he went crazy.

I'm so in love with him I'm losing my mind. Please let me know if u liked this!

update: omg, this got more support than I thought!! You can now find the second part on my profile! 🎀

bye, bye (💌)

[bamfkeeper]

Parents.

Kurt Wagner x F!reader

RQ: 'CAN WE PLS GET MORE DAD!KURT HC'S??? PLS I BEG' - @thel0v3hashira143

Warnings: Baby themes, mentions of breastfeeding and other recovery things from birth and pregnancy.

A/N: Pleaseee I love Kurt as a dad <3 Dad!Kurt has to have a goatee I don't make the rules 😩

Kurt loves being a dad. He's always wanted to be a father and he was so excited when you got pregnant and gave birth. He was so attentive to you, and during labor and the birthing process, he was there helping as much as possible.

When it was the first night home from the hospital, he made sure you got your baby inside safely and you got to bed right away. He didn't want you moving around too much. He had already prepped the bedroom, the bassinet was beside the bed for you to easily reach for your baby at night for feedings.

He had water, cream, medicine, everything you needed. He popped up at night when he felt you move, checking on you nearly every hour.

If you wanted to only breastfeed, he'd absolutely be okay with that, and he'd make sure you were alright doing so. He would help you pump and offer bottles if you needed, but he'd mostly try to respect your wants.

I don't think Kurt would care what gender the baby is. He'd love it no matter what. I always had a feeling that if he had a boy he'd name it Gabriel.

Names in general can be played with. You can imagine him going the religious route, or the German route, or if you have a name you like from your own culture, then you could choose that. Kurt is just happy you're having a baby, the name isn't something he's going to argue about with you.

Kurt is absolutely super protective over the baby and you, especially fresh from the hospital. He advocates your wishes to all your friends and family. No visitors, no pictures, no holding the newborn, etc. whatever rules you have.

You love watching him hold your baby, how he cradles them in his arms and hums so sweetly. He gently rubs his nose into the baby's tiny one, he's so gentle with them.

He kisses your baby's feet, listening to the sweet giggles because his beard tickles their toes. He loves to give them raspberries too.

He likes to sing German lullabies or songs to your baby. His singing voice is actually really good.

You thought Kurt was protective before, but once your baby moves around more often, he becomes even more so. Anyone says anything about your baby's appearance or yours after your pregnancy, he loses it. You didn't think that would get you going but...damn.

Your baby would be bilingual. They'd learn English and German growing up.

Walking is fun. With the tiny tail your baby has, balance is much easier, so your baby is walking long before normal babies walk.

As your baby grows, their little voice develops an accent in both languages, and you both adore it. Kurt is so proud of your little one, going on and on about how smart they are and how they get it from you.

Kurt loves dressing your baby too, he definitely puts them in little overalls or lederhosen.

Kurt plays with your little one all the time, especially at parks, he loves pushing them in the swing and sliding down the slide with them in his lap. He absolutely makes up extravagant make believe scenarios about sailing the seas on a big pirate ship, aka the couch.

Speaking of...pirate costumes for Halloween is a MUST.

Also let's not forget the spoiling your child will endure. Kurt gets them whatever they want. Stuffed animals, toys, clothes, sweets, within reason of course. But he can't resist.

Kurt loves to cook German dishes for you and your child, it makes him happy to do and it connects you and your child closer to his roots.

Bedtime stories are big for Kurt too. The showman he is, he tells the stories in different voices, he completely acts out the parts to make your child giggle and laugh. He tucks your little one in and gives them a kiss, a soft lullaby, then it's off to dreamland.

You adore seeing this side of Kurt, he's grown into a wonderful parent, even if he did have some worries before. He is absolutely perfect. A perfect father and a perfect husband.

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover images: Immortal X-Men #7 (2022), Pinterest for others

[luveline]

hi lovely!! you mentioned bombshell!reader holding spencer's hand the whole time after the whole tobias incident and i wanted to request a more in-depth continuation of that, if it's alright? maybe with reader helping spence with his addiction afterwards too bc i just hate how the team didn't support him properly during that time 😭

There's something cold touching his hand. Actually, there's lots of things happening to his hand. 

Spencer fights to open heavy lashes, closes them again when the white hospital wall bathed in early morning sun burns his retinas. Alert, he realises that the hand in his is sweetly soft, with gentle fingertips holding his marriage finger up higher than the rest. You're playing with his hands while he sleeps.

Spencer opens his eyes again. There's no machine taking his observations, no beeping or whistling or medical ringing to be heard, just the soft huff and puff of your breathing and the sound of your heel tapping the floor. 

There had been more noise last time he woke, but the same amount of you. 

“Spencer?” 

He looks up from your hands holding his to your face. It's not fair, he thinks, how pretty you are, how pretty you continue to be, with your hair, your smile, your ever-smirking lips. You're doing it now, the sight of your painted smile squeezing his heart into a frenzied beating. If they were still taking his observations, he'd die from embarrassment. 

“Hey,” you say, still smiling, hands more insistent on his. 

“Hey. What are you doing here?” 

“What does it look like I'm doing, handsome?” you ask. 

“Did you go home?” 

“Of course I did.” You don't sound truthful. “Want a drink?” 

You pull a bottle of water from your handbag and pass it to him. He has to take his hand from yours to open it, and he wishes he'd said no. Spencer would happily go thirsty to prolong your touch and the security it brings with it. He's antsy as he swallows, a foreign-body feeling pervasive as he caps the drink, puts the bottle aside, and rubs the crust from his eyes. Lank hair falls into his face. 

“You okay?” you ask gently. 

“When can I leave?” 

“Tonight… They want to make sure you're, you know… properly weaned.” Your voice comes out quieter than he's ever heard it before. 

It's as forward as anyone's bothered being about the drugs. The drug, singular. 

Dilaudid is eight times stronger than morphine. Spencer was injected multiple times. His body won't be totally addicted, but he craves the numbness of it already. Whatever he's on isn't cutting through the pain in his legs and feet, nor the memories of being tied up, and all alone. 

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” he says. 

You grab for a blanket off of the edge of the bed to cover his lap as he hangs his head, sure he's going to throw up, but he doesn't so much as heave. The nausea remains anyhow, and worsens as you sit beside his legs. Your hand once again takes his, fingers slotting together as though they were made for this one purpose, your voice a clean, cleaving thing, “Hey, it's alright. It's fine, Spence, you're okay. This is expected.” He curls in on himself. You tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear, tugging his hand closer to you in tandem. “You're gonna feel awful for a few days, but I'm right here.” 

“Why are you here?” he asks, confused. 

“Spence.” 

He looks up from under his lashes. 

Your semi-permanent smile seems to have gotten lost somewhere. “Spencer,” you say, attempting to say something without really saying it, eyes glued to his, “where else would I be?” 

He rubs the place between his brows with the heel of his palm. You keep his hand and wrap him in a careful hug. Either you don't notice how desperately he needs a hot shower or you don't care, gracing his cheek with a friendly (and unmissably loving) kiss. It's hard not to cry after that. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you say. You weren't even on the case, but you'd showed up just as soon as you knew he'd been taken, and you haven't left his side since they found him in the cemetery. You don't have a thing in the world to be sorry for. “I'm so sorry. It'll be okay now.” Your voice ripples with surety. 

“Thanks for staying,” he says. 

“You did all the hard work by yourself.” You squeeze his fingers. “I can do the rest, babe.” 

[msmk11]

Hiii!! I love your work so much and was wondering if you could do a poly marauders (and lily) x hufflepuff coded fem reader comfort fic 💛 maybe they are just having a bad day, being insecure and everyone tries there best to comfort her? thankyou (even if you decide not to)

Omg hi lovely! Thank you so much for the request. This is actually my first ever and I’m so excited and happy to write it for you! I hope it lives up to your standards - MK <3

Just Hold Me For Awhile

——————————————————————————

Poly!Marauders + Lily x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Cw: low self-esteem, hurt/comfort, sad/anxious reader

A/n: Baby’s first request! Ngl I rewrote this like three times, but now it finally feels genuine and I’m very happy with it. I hope you all enjoy :)

There is no evidence to confirm your fears besides the incessant voice inside your head.

You’re not good enough.

You’re not smart enough.

You’re not funny enough.

You’re not pretty enough.

Eventually, they’re all going to leave you.

You are going to end up alone.

Deep down, you know none of these things are true. But reason is no match for your anxiety and the extraordinariness of each of your partners.

James- best Gryffindor chaser the team has had

in years.

Lily- number one in your class.

Remus- Casanova of Gryffindor tower.

Sirius- absolutely fearless in the face of adversity.

You- the ordinary Hufflepuff who just got lucky.

It consistently amazes you that you ended up in a relationship with these four bold, well-known, and well-liked Gryffindors. They all love you so much and you feel grateful that you get to love and be loved by them everyday.

But no matter how much love and care they give you, it cannot entirely soothe the deep-rooted feeling of inadequacy lurking within. You can’t help but sometimes feel out of place in your own relationship- not because your partners exclude you, but rather because your obvious ordinariness situates you outside their circular of extraordinariness.

It’s a feeling that’s lingered since the four first showed interest in you, but recently it’s been possessing you tenfold.

All these thoughts are racing around in your head as you sit at the foot of Sirius’ bed in the boys’ dormitory. Peter is off on a date, leaving you five with some much needed alone time. The moment is serene, with Sirius painting your nails a soft green, Lily braiding Sirius’ hair out of his face, Remus dangling over the edge talking to you three, and James on top of him, massaging his back.

The four are talking about some recent Hogwarts drama, so you’ve sort of zoned out of the conversation, only adding in commentary here or there.

“I mean, I’m so glad Pandora hexed him,” Lily says, “he totally deserved it.”

“I just never would’ve pinned her as the type of person to hex someone, with the way she’s so soft spoken and all,” Sirius replies.

“She does hang out with your brother and Junior though,” Remus reminds him.

“And Evan is her brother,” James adds with a laugh, “it’s in her blood. I just wish I could’ve seen Mulciber’s face.”

“It probably looked as dumb and stupid as always, if not more so,” Sirius jokes.

Everyone busts out laughing and you faintly chuckle through your anxiety-induced brain fog.

Someone taps the side of your cheek.

“Doll, you there?”

You jolt out of your trance and look at Sirius, “hmm? Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted anything else done to your nails.”

You briefly glance down at your perfectly manicured nails, “oh, uh, yeah. Perfect as always, my star.”

Remus reaches down and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “are you okay, dove? I feel like you’ve been awfully quiet today.”

You smile a little and wave him off, “oh yeah, fine. Just tired, Moons.”

“Wanna come take a nap, angel?” James asks sweetly, opening his arms.

Though you’re not actually that tired, it’s mainly just an excuse, you can’t pass up the offer from your cuddliest of boyfriends. You peck Sirius’ cheek as a thank you for doing your nails and then crawl onto James’ lap. You situate your head on his chest and curl up as he wraps his arms around you. His musky cologne eases the knots in your stomach a little and you try to focus on the steady beat of his heart.

“Better?” he mumbles into your hair.

You quietly hum in confirmation.

You keep your eyes closed all cuddled up with James as you listen to your partners quietly chat. Within minutes of your getting settled you sense movement on the bed. Remus shifts upwards to lay next to you and James- you can tell from the sudden increase in body heat- and you feel Sirius and Lily lay down at your feet.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of rough lips- Remus’ lips- against your forehead. Though he thinks you’re asleep, you hear him whisper, “get some rest, my sweet girl.”

Someone’s head falls on your knee and then you hear Lily’s voice, “she’s so pretty when she sleeps, isn’t she? All soft and peaceful.”

You recognize Sirius’ habitual stroking of your leg with his thumb as he adds, “I didn’t think she could get any softer or sweeter, but here we are.”

“Our angel,” James coos.

Though you suppose most would feel pretty lucky to hear these things about themselves, they only make you feel worse.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself for having four wonderful, caring, and loving partners, and you can’t even appreciate them because of your own self-loathing. You despise this nasty habit of self-sabotage, but you’re not sure how to break it.

As you lay there and listen to them say such nice things about you, you feel a lump grow in your throat and hot tears spring to your eyes. The tightness in your chest is near painful, and you need some relief.

You try to shift just the slightest- as if you’re just moving around in your sleep- to bury your head in James’ chest, out of everyone’s eyesight.

But once you let one tear drop, a whole rainstorm comes. You try and keep your sobs and sniffling quiet, but your hot, wet tears give you away to James.

“Angel?” James asks worriedly. He pulls you away from his chest to look at your face and sees the snotty, tear-stained mess you’ve become.

“Dove,” Remus pleads worriedly, “what’s wrong? What’s happened.”

Your sobs are too strong for you to respond and you can only shrug your shoulders. Your eyes are blinded by tears and you can’t see their faces, but you know they’re filled with concern and worry. To make them worry like this only causes you to cry harder.

You’re not really aware of what’s happening around you. All you know is one minute your in James’ arms, and the next in Sirius’. Sirius strokes your hair away from your face and holds you in his lap like a baby. He rocks you back and forth quietly, not saying anything at all.

It’s nice, not having to say anything and just crying. Even if you had the ability to speak through your tears, you don’t know that you could. There’s no easy way to describe your feelings of inadequacy, and no amount of ‘talking it out’ could ever just solve the problem either. So you just cry. Cry because you’re angry that you feel this way. Cry because you’re sad. Cry because you’re tired. Tired of not feeling like you’re ever enough. And you cry just because you can. Because you know that your partners will be there for you for as long as you need to cry.

And when the sobs finally quiet to a hiccup here or there, you appreciate that they give you silence to breathe and just process everything.

Lily stands and wanders off, coming back with a glass of water that she presses into your hands. You sip it gently before James takes it from you and sets it on the nightstand. Remus goes and grabs a hot washcloth, wiping your face oh so gently with a soft look in his brown eyes. Sirius hands you back to James- your most tactile partner- and settles again at your feet.

Then, with the most quiet and tender voice, Sirius asks you only one thing, “What do you need from us?”

“Just hold me for awhile.”

And so, like many days before, and hopefully every day after, you five pile into bed, reveling in each other’s warmth and security.

As you lay surrounded by your lovers, you know that even though those same lousy feelings continue to reside inside of you, you will figure it out. And when you’re ready to talk, or rant, or cry some more, your partners will be there.

[moonstruckme]

hi love, i've been doing kind of unwell lately and was wondering if you could write some remus x depressed reader or just comfort in a domestic way in general. been feeling like i suck at doing 'normal' every-day things and only a hug from rem could fix me lol

Hi sweetheart, I'm sorry to hear it :( I hope you're giving yourself a bit of grace and getting support if you can <3

cw: reader is experiencing a depressive period

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 695 words

You realize it must be afternoon when you hear the front door open. The last few days, time seems to drag on without you. Your hours are long and irrelevant, one bleeding into the next without your notice. But you know Remus wasn’t supposed to get back from his work trip until this afternoon. 

Your home is still a mess. You’d thought you’d clean it before he could see, but apparently your shame wasn’t enough to overpower your lethargy. It feels powerful now. 

You close your eyes as Remus comes into the bedroom, but you know what he sees. Despite your best efforts, the curtains aren’t thick enough to block out all light, so there isn’t much to obscure the wrappers littering the floor, the crumbs on the bed, the towel where you’d spilled some water and then been too lazy to finish cleaning it up. You know he’s already witnessed a similar disaster in the kitchen and living room, and yet you feel worse for being found at the center of it in here. 

Remus is silent as he sets down his bag, walks in between trash and other debris, and crawls up onto the bed with you. 

“Hi, lovely,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek with a hand on your shoulder. “I missed you.” 

You start crying. Fat, hot tears that carve down your cheeks with unnatural quietude. You feel anything but lovely right now. 

“Sweetheart.” Remus’ eyebrows come together knowingly. His thumb moves over your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, a choked whisper. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad.” 

He hushes you softly, his voice a balm. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, it really is. I promise I don’t mind. Just relax, babydove, everything’s alright. I love you. We’re okay.” 

He lies there with you while your tears slow and stop. It takes a couple of tries, your breaths halting when you try to hold them in, but Remus’ presence is steady and tolerant. His thumb strokes your shoulder until the muscles underneath it relax. 

“We’re okay,” he says again, a reminder. He kisses you, tucking a hand underneath your cheek. “Why didn’t you call and tell me you weren’t feeling well? We could have talked about it, or I could have come home.” 

You lick your bottom lip. The taste of him mixes with the taste of salt. “I didn’t want to bother you—”

“Oi.” It’s not harsh, but the reprimand in his tone isn’t lost entirely to gentleness. Remus holds your face in his hand, looking you in the eyes. “You could never. Understand?” He allows you a brief pause, and his expression softens. “I would always rather know when you’re not feeling well, sweetheart. Even if we’d decided I shouldn’t come home, I could have at least tried to look after you in other ways.” 

You uptilt one side of your mouth half-heartedly. “It wouldn’t have felt fair to have you looking after me from afar when I can’t even look after our place from here.” 

Remus tsks. He kisses you again, an overly generous reward for your poor attempt at humor. “Stop worrying about that,” he chides sweetly, dotting another kiss on your cheek. “I know you convince yourself that I’ll be upset, but I really don’t care. We can tidy up together later, if you’re feeling up to it. I’m not fussed either way.” 

You close your eyes, relinquishing yourself to Remus’ ministrations. He spends a slow minute sweeping his thumb over your cheek, kissing an enigmatic pattern on your face, coasting his hand down from your shoulder to rub your back. Your face presses his hand into your pillow. 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” he asks softly. 

You hum in response. You would do anything for him; you would try your best. 

“Come sit with me in the kitchen while I make us something to eat?” His lips brush over yours as if to sweeten the deal. “Just to keep me company. I missed you a lot, you know.” 

You kiss him back, tender and light. Your heart hurts; it’s a pleasant ache. “I missed you, too.”