thelitlantern

[thelitlantern]

New Puppy? ( Fluff )

Summary: Krypto is back with Kara and you miss him so you obviously need another dog.

A/N❤️ I’m officially obsessed with everything David Corenswet 😭

Warnings: FLUFF

David Corenswets! Clark Kent x reader

—————————————————————————

It has been exactly seventeen days, six hours, and forty-two minutes since Krypto went back with Kara to the Fortress.

Not that you were counting.

Okay, you were absolutely counting.

You sigh dramatically from your curled-up spot on the couch, tugging the blanket around you tighter while Clark clatters around in the kitchen. He has been back from his off-world mission for a few days now, bruised, exhausted, and too busy giving press statements and saving civilians to properly notice that the apartment feels different. It is quieter. Too clean. Too Krypto-less.

Clark pokes his head around the corner, a warm smile tugging at his lips. His hair is still damp from the shower, curling messily against his forehead.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You let out a whine and flop onto your back with dramatic flair. “I miss him.”

He wipes his hands on a dishtowel and walks over, settling beside you. His large hand strokes your thigh gently.

“I miss him too,” he says softly. “But Kara needed him. That solar flare incident left her without powers for a while.”

“I know,” you pout, “but our apartment feels so lonely without his giant paws tripping me every time I go to the fridge.”

Clark chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple. “You mean the same fridge he tried to open with his nose every time you had leftovers?”

You nod with a fake sniffle. “I miss that nose. He was my emotional support alien dog.”

“Babe,” he laughs, clearly trying not to, “you used him as a footrest more than a support animal.”

“He liked it.”

Clark turns toward you more fully, his voice warm and quiet. “We’ll get him back soon. You’ll see.”

You look up at him and then lower your gaze again. “But what if we got a dog? Just while he’s gone? A temporary emotional support animal. For my grief.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Temporary?”

“Okay, probably not temporary,” you admit, tugging on the hem of his T-shirt. “But Clark, I miss having a little creature in the house that isn’t you, me, or the creepy Roomba that keeps following me.”

Clark sighs, but it is that affectionate kind of sigh that means he is going to give in.

“You want a dog?”

“I want a dog. It won’t be Krypto, but it will help. Especially when you’re off saving the world.”

He goes quiet for a moment, then presses a kiss to your hair. “I hate that you feel lonely when I’m gone.”

“You make it bearable,” you say softly. “But a dog would help.”

Without saying anything else, Clark pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

“What are you doing?” you ask, suspicious.

“Looking at rescues in the area.”

Your heart skips. “Wait. Really?”

He holds up the phone with a smirk. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I already see three that could probably fly with us to the Fortress once Krypto comes back. One even has the same floppy ears.”

You squeal and throw your arms around him, tackling him back onto the couch.

“You are the best boyfriend slash Superman ever.”

He grins as you settle on top of him. “So what are we naming him?”

You blink. “Him? What if it’s a girl?”

Clark shrugs with a lazy smile. “Fine. Them. But let’s be honest. You’re going to name them after some obscure Star Wars character I can never remember.”

You smirk. “You mean like I should have named Krypto Chewbacca?”

Clark groans and covers your face with a pillow. “Absolutely not.”

Your laughter fills the apartment and finally breaks the silence that had been sitting there too long.

Krypto might be gone for now.

But a new furry sidekick? That is a mission you and Clark are more than happy to accept.

⸻

Bonus Scene – Two Weeks Later

Clark walks in, streaks of ash and dirt still clinging to his suit. He stops cold when he sees you on the floor surrounded by chew toys, giggling while a chaotic ball of fur launches itself at your face.

“She tackled the mailman,” you say proudly while cradling the fluffy shepherd mix like a baby.

Clark squints. “You named her Wicket?”

“From Endor.”

He sighs again, this time with nothing but joy.

“She’s perfect.”

And just like that, your little super-family feels whole again.

[thelitlantern]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Taking up the lieutenant on his offer, you find yourself in his room, more than ready to have him take your virginity. Will it be a night to remember or will it be like your friends said that first times are terrible?

Word Count: 4k

Warnings:

Cat and Mouse, Part 1 Here

You're barely inside the small private room of the lieutenant, too nervous to move further than the door so that he has to reach around your body to bolt the lock. He looks so sure, so confident; does he know why you’re here? You expect him to move away, an invitation for you to follow him further into the room, but he stays close so that you feel pinned between him and your exit.

"What're ya doin here, hmm?" he asks, his voice hushed, his mask barely clinging to the top of his face as if he doesn’t really want it on, but had to be sure who it was knocking at his door first. "Like I said, i's late."

He’s barely said a few sentences, but the proximity of his bare torso being so close you can make out all the details: old wounds, slight imperfections, the variation in color through the hair on his chest, leaves your mind reeling so that it’s hard to pay attention. You can already feel your pulse quickening and the words seem too thick in your throat to come out without shaking. 

This isn't the time to back down though; you’re a trained military operative and you came here for a purpose. You want this, you can still feel his mouth between your legs… you can do this.

"I...um... Wanted to take you up on your offer, sir," you answer.

Slowly he moves in even closer until he has you pushed against the door as he leans over top of you, resting against his arm that he props above your head. His pulsing is racing, but he keeps his body still as stone. "An' what's that?" he asks as if he can't remember what he said just a few hours ago.

He knows exactly why you’re here and he didn’t realize how much he really wanted this until this moment.

His fingers slip along the waistband of your pants, a light touch for fingers so rough and worn from tough work, but still effective in raising your temperature. He moves with precision, hoping he can mask the slight tremble in his touch. "Tell me whatcha want, little mouse," he says. His face is close to yours so that each exhale of word warms your skin.

"Need ya ta use your words."

The magnitude of his presence swallows you more than his physical size and you have to close your eyes as it leaves you unable to find your voice for a moment in the haze of rampant hormones raging. Surely he can hear each ragged breath you take as you desperately try to fill your lungs with enough air to speak. Will he change his mind if you keep acting so timid? 

His hand leaves your torso only for his palm to cup around your cheek. "Wanna hear ya say it," he groans, his voice low, dripping with need, but something else that you can’t quite understand, something that doesn’t feel quite like lust, but something more. "There's no reason ta be nervous. Jus’ need ta know you're gonna speak up for yourself."

With little effort, he tilts your face up just enough that as you open your eyes you make direct contact with his. His gaze is intense, yearning, but patient. 

He's waiting.

You swallow down the nerves tightening your throat. If you want this to happen, you are going to have to say it. "I want you... to fuck me."

A knowing smirk crosses his lips for only a moment before he easily pulls off the mask, tosses it aside, and leans in to take your lips slow and possessive. "Good fuckin' girl," he breathes the praise into your mouth.

With eyes closed, you wait on baited breath for the lieutenant to quickly drag you over to the bed and get to it, but each minute slips by and his lips only tangle with yours more with no sign of stopping, not even as you feel his hand slip between your bodies to find your arm. Taking your wrist in his hand he places your palm against his abdomen and runs it up to his broad chest, slowly, precisely, having you feel the contours of his body.

“Are we gonna…” your words are cut off as he runs your hand through a patch of hair in the middle of his pecs and you hum in your throat at the feeling of all that soft hair under your touch.

The lieutenant understands your question as he keeps your hand at the spot you seem to enjoy to linger a little longer."No need ta rush, we got all fuckin' night,” he murmurs back against your lips. “This ain’t somethin’ I wanna hurry."

He is moving your hand again and suddenly it feels so intimate as he guides your touch to one side of his chest and your breath hitches as he glides your fingertip delicately over his nipple in smooth, circular motions, hoping you can’t feel how hard his breath hitches at your touch.

A groan low and guttural rumbles up from deep in his throat. "Fuck... feels good."

He guides your fingertip over the hardening bud a few more times and you realize it: the lieutenant’s building trust with you by teaching you how to touch him. 

“Wanna touch ya, sweetheart. Will ya show me?" he asks as he places his hand in yours. "I need ta know what feels good to ya."

Switching your hand to his other nipple he follows your direction, wrapping around your hip where you’ve placed his hand to give it a squeeze before you are leading him up your torso under your shirt. 

“Why don’t we get this off ya, hmm?” he asks and you help him to pull the fabric up and off your head. 

He looks down at your bare breasts a moment and you flash a weak smile. “Didn’t think I needed a bra tonight,” you say before his lips are back on yours and his hand is put back on the last place it was so that you can continue to guide him. 

His rough hands send shivers down your spine wherever they grace along your warm, soft skin so that you’re struggling for air even before he’s reached the edge of your breast. You give into the feeling and lean into his kiss as you make him palm over that juicy bit of flesh at the top of your chest. Releasing him just enough so that he can take charge, he runs his fingers along the sensitive underside, tracing the length with a delicate touch. The sensation has you squirming even before those same fingers rub over your nipple to send shockwaves through your body. 

He smiles against your mouth. “Sensitive little things, aren’t they?” he breathes. 

Over and over he toys with the bud gently, rolling it in between his digits, pulling at it carefully, until you feel a rush of pleasure between your thighs and suddenly there is a craving to caress more than just his chest.

Your hand is twitching in his as if wanting more of him against it. "Whatcha want, little mouse?" he asks. 

Maybe it’s the pleasure flooding your veins and leaving your mind in a haze, but your answer is more bold this time. "I want to touch you lower. Can I play with you cock?"

He releases your hand from his grasp. "Undo tha string for me." 

You drag your knuckles down over the middle line of his body and feel him writhe at the sensation until you reach the waistband of his pants. With one good tug the drawstring keeping them secure on his hips comes loose enough that they can easily be gotten in.

Your hand securely back in his grasp he brings it into the confines of his pants. Your fingers brush over hair descending down his pelvis until you reach it and slowly he wraps your hand around his shaft. His girth fills a good bit of your palm and you can feel the veins running up the length, hard and throbbing with a pulse.

"Fuck... your touch feels good, sweetheart." Just the pressure from your hand gripped around him has him groaning deep as he starts to move your hand. “Like this, nice an’ steady… mmm….”

You’re trying to focus on the pressure around him, the rhythm he sets, to memorize just how he likes it even as the haze of ecstasy clouds your mind. His touch is so sure, so steady, so in control, that you can’t help letting yourself succumb to it. And yet, that isn’t the only thing that makes your mind falter.

It’s how his body is reacting to your touch. 

The sounds he makes as you stroke his cock, the way his hips slowly snap against your hand, it awakens something in you that needs more. You need more of the pleasure building between you and he needs to be between your legs now.

“Will you touch me between my legs too?” you ask and immediately his attention is back on you.

“Can do better than tha’,” he says, taking your hand away from him, but not out of his hold. “Come wit me.”

On the move, then on the bed he sets you down, his hands already on your pants. You help him to get them off and he tosses them aside before kneeling on the floor and pulling your body forward until you’re sitting on the edge. “Kissed your lips enough, got another set I wanna focus on now,” he says as he pushes your thighs apart enough to get his face between them. 

Goddammit he’s good at this.

“Want ya nice an’ relaxed,” he murmurs, mouth right at the lips of your pussy. “And definitely need ya ta cum for we do anythin’ else. Now, keep those pretty eyes on me. I want ya ta watch what I do to ya.”

Looking down, you watch him lean in to kiss those sensitive bits of flesh between your thighs, lavishing them with extra attention as if giving thanks before his feast. His kisses are tender and you can’t help but moan at the sensation; no one had ever been so obsessed with your pussy before, especially not someone who made your heart skip a beat.

The lieutenant has the time to be slow now, thorough, fully enjoying his new favorite activity: making you fall apart on his face with each stroke of his tongue. But first he will take his time. Kiss after delicate kiss, he presses into you until he can feel your hips as they start to writhe over his features and only then does he open his mouth to slip out his tongue and glide it up the slit between your lips. 

You brace your hand against your thigh as he parts you and shoves his tongue inside, dragging that thick bit of muscle up the length until he reaches that perfect little numb that rests right at the top, coating you in his saliva to help with the friction.   

Suddenly, the bulk of his tongue is pressed squarely up against your clit, sending shockwaves through your body so you have to grip into your thigh to have something to hold onto as your body sings with pleasure and your mind glazes over.

Lt. Riley can feel the reaction before he can hear it and he smiles into you. If he knew how much it would thrill him to have you fall apart at his hand, he would have pursued things so much sooner. And with a pussy like yours he could happily devour it for hours without stopping to come up for air. Right now, that’s exactly what he wants; he needs to eat you out more than he needs to breathe.

He needs to be smothered.

Ripping your hand off your thigh he places it on the back of his head and your fingers tangle in his hair, the pleasure surging through you causing you to hold him in place against you. Right where he wants to be. 

Fuck, he’s a sight to behold. So sure, so steady, so in control as if he knows your body better than you do, even with your fingers locked in the short, light brown strands that cover the top of his head to keep him to you. He has you, completely, and you let yourself go. 

His tongue begins to stroke at your clit, each stroke being observed for your reaction until he has your hips rolling with his movements so that he knows he’s hitting his mark. Your slick coats his lips, dances on his taste buds, as your pulse finds its way to that swollen bud. Goddammit it’s too tantalizing to ignore and quickly he locks his lips around it to suck it into his mouth to taste your heartbeat on his tongue.

Warmth is gathering in your core, a throbbing heat that feels on the verge of bursting open, and your fingers clamp down on his hair. “Fuck, right there, right there,” you murmur down to the tangled mass of man between your legs. “Don’t stop.”

A deep, rumbling hum into your pussy lets you know that he hears your plea and he braces himself for the finale by bringing the tip of his tongue back into play, keeping the pace of each flick even and steady. He counts the beats of the rhythm in his head to keep him focused, even though he is now ravenous to feel your release and taste its sweetness.

Tension, pressure, and then a snap as if a rubber band pulled to its limit as all that gathered pleasure floods your senses, overwhelming you as your head falls back and you clench your thighs around his ears, your fingers ripping at his hair still in your fist. You cry out into the silence of the room in shaky expletives and though the sound is muffled for him, he still enjoys the intensity of it.

Your orgasm courses through you and the lieutenant’s tongue is there guiding it the entire time, his pace never slowing until your whimpers quiet and you go limp against his mouth. Only then does he stop and finally emerge with a smile covered in your nectar.

You look at him through blurred vision, somehow more handsome a mess than he ever was to you, and watch as he licks his lips clean. “Fuck, sir, you are good at that,” you breathe out the exhausted words followed by a chuckle. 

He chuckles back and wipes the rest of your slick from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ve cum on my face twice now, sweetheart,” he says, “think we can dispense wit tha formalities. I’s Simon from now on, yeah? Least in private.”

Moving his body back between your legs he draws his face close and pulls you into a kiss that has you tasting yourself off his lips. “How do ya feel?” he asks as he breaks the connection.

You aren’t even hesitant with your desires anymore. “I feel like I really want you inside me now.”

Simon makes his way back onto his feet. “Move up the bed a little, luv,” he says as he slips out of his grey sweats and leaves them in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

You do as he says, but catch a glimpse of that thick appendage dangling between his legs, pulsing and stiff, and you can feel a throbbing of your own radiating in your pussy at the sight of it. Mere moments separate you from being filled and though you are aching for it, there is still a bit of apprehension trailing behind all that need.

What if he doesn’t enjoy this? What if you make everything fall apart with your inexperience?

Those thoughts are pushed back as Simon climbs onto the bed over top of you and reaches for something above your head. "Lift yer hips for me," he says as he grabs his pillow from the head of the bed. You do as he says and he situates it under your butt, making your hips tilt upward.

He catches the wrinkle in your brow. "It'll help, trus' me."

Slowly he positions himself between your thighs, adjusting your legs to sit up higher on hips. One arm he keeps himself up with while the other he finds your hand and tangles his fingers into yours, bringing it up to just beside your head to rest.

His cock throbs at the lips of your pussy and even though the nerves are still churning in your stomach, his hand in yours helps to tether you in the moment. 

"Ya ready for me?" he asks, never breaking eye contact.

The word comes more confidently than you thought you were capable. "Yes."

"We're gonna go slow, yeah?" he reassures. "Want ya ta guide me in. If ya need to stop, ya stop. Understand?”

You nod and you’re met with a swift kiss. Mouths still connected you move your free hand down until once again you have his shaft in your grasp and align it with your entrance. Simon grunts into you as his tip presses into you and his hips move with you to help you get him in. 

Pressure, a little more than you expected, and he’s in only a little past the tip. 

Your back arches up off the mattress as you moan back into him. Quickly he pulls back, trying to stay sane as he looks into your face. “Ya alright?” he asks as he reads your expression until you reassure him with a nod. “Jus’ give it a second. Your body needs time ta adjust ‘fore we do anythin’ else.”

The initial pressure slowly begins to subside as Simon lowers his head towards your chest.

“This’ll help,” he murmurs before his lips are wrapped around your nipple. Gently he sucks on the bud, rolling his tongue over it. You start to feel the sensation in your pussy and soon his girth feels comfortable enough to keep going.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Want to keep going,” you mutter behind closed eyes and without even lifting his mouth from you, he rocks his hips slowly until he's thrust in more and is resting completely inside you down to the base.

You moan out into the silence, this time enjoying the fullness stretching you out. “There ya fuckin' go, sweetheart,” he praises with his lips still against your skin. “Hard part’s over. Ya did it and so fuckin’ good too.”

His praise is punctuated with another kiss as he raises his head back to find your mouth, this one gentle and calm as his fingertips trickle over the warm skin of your hip as he lets the time pass until he can feel your body relax. 

“Should I keep goin’?” he asks finally, but even as you nod with your eyes still closed he hesitates. “Then I need ya ta look at me, jus’ for a second.”

He pulls back and your eyes flutter open to find his. “I want ya ta know tha’ ya don’t need ta cum, alright? If ya can’t i’s nothin’ ta do with ya, got it? Ya didn’t fail; it jus’ needs ta feel good. Yeah?”

You nod in understanding and are met with a kiss that feels like praise as his hips slowly begin to move. More pressure, but this time it’s…nice. The manual contraction and release of your body is no longer uncomfortable like at the start, the longer he goes the more tantalizing it gets and the more he thrusts the more you want. 

Simon knows he’s done the prep work right when not even a few minutes in and you’re moaning steadily, an encouraging sign to go a little faster. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” he mutters as he picks up the pace only slightly. “Takin’ me so well.”

You respond well to the change and meet his movements with your own, using your legs around his hips as leverage to rock your hips with him in what feels good. He hums in approval and it gives you the confidence to keep at it, enjoying the sensation. 

“Fuck, ya look so good like this,” he growls as he moves in to press his forehead against yours as he continues to thrust in smooth strokes. “Ya really are incredible, ya know that?”

His words work just as well as his thrusts in unraveling your sanity. Is this what a first time is supposed to be like? You’d heard your friends talk about their horror stories, of confusion and let downs, of awkward and uncomfortable, but being here under Simon feels so… right.

Your thoughts are violently brought back into the present as there is suddenly touch slipping down between your bodies and now his finger is once again locked onto your clit to draw circles over it as his cock still splits you wide.

“Does this feel good?” he asks and immediately is met with a mumbled ‘yes’ followed by a moan.

He should have asked first, but he is overwhelmed with everything happening. The way you body feels wrapped around him, the sounds of your pleasure filling his head, your scent still lingering on his lips, being tangled with you, that he can’t help himself. Selfishly he wants you to cum again, needs it, and he wants to do all he can to achieve it. 

And he’s struck the right cord because you are whimpering faster and faster as if something is happening that you had not expected.

“Ya gonna cum for me?” he asks and you nod against his head. “Jus’ listen to my voice an’ relax. I’s you an’ me now yeah? Hold onto me, hold on tight, an’ jus’ let go. You can fuckin’ do it, luv.”

That sensation in the pit of your stomach is gathering again, in hot, churning waves fast and faster. You’re right on that edge, right at the finish line, it’s within reach. His fingers working your clit, his cock stretching your hole, his encouragement in your ear are enough to get you there and you fall over the ledge for the second time tonight. 

Simon’s room is suddenly filled with the sound of your open-mouthed whimpers as you writhe beneath him and your core clenches around his cock. “Fuck, there ya go, there ya fuckin’ go, sweetheart,” he’s able to get out before a few more thrusts into your fluttering walls and he has to quickly pull out to cum on your stomach.

Warm ribbons of cum coat you as you continue to ride out the intensity of your orgasm to the sounds of your lieutenant’s grunts until he’s milked himself dry and sits back on his legs to wait for you to calm before he moves.

He gets up and searches along the floor, picking up an old t-shirt to bring back with him to clean you off before he throws it back down where he had found it and crawls back into the bed beside you, his arms immediately wrapping around your body to pull you flush to him.

“Ya did so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your face as he nuzzles his nose against yours. “An’ look a’ tha’, ya actually came for me.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, no longer from the nerves of doing something you’d never done before, but because of the tenderness in his words. They seem a little too sweet, a little too caring, something that was for more than a one time fuck. 

Maybe… maybe…

Simon’s rough fingers draw patterns along your bare back as he holds you close, both of you simply breathing in the comfortable silence that washes over you. Your heartbeats start to sync and he counts each thud he can feel, strangely grateful to have shared such a moment with you.

…and secretly hoping to share more going forward.

But he would have that wait for another time. Right now he would simply enjoy your body being in his arms for as long as you wanted to stay. 

[thelitlantern]

Toothache| Simon Riley|

A/N ❤️ Ive been suffering from a horrible toothache so why not imagine Simon taking care of me🤷‍♀️

Summary: you’re suffering from a toothache

Warnings: tooth pain, use of painkillers, and mention of gun shot wound

—————————————————————————

You’re in hell.

Or at least, it feels like it. Your jaw is pounding like something is trying to break its way out from inside. It’s the kind of pain that makes your head swim and your whole body go tense. You haven’t eaten. You can’t sleep. Even blinking feels like too much effort.

You’re curled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that isn’t doing much. A heating pad is pressed against your cheek but it offers barely any relief. The TV is on in the background, low and useless.

The front door clicks open, followed by the heavy sound of boots hitting the floor.

Simon.

He steps into the room, his sharp gaze landing on you instantly. His mask is still up over the bottom half of his face, and his jacket looks like it was thrown on without much care. You can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he rushed home.

He doesn’t speak at first. He just stares, assessing. His head tilts slightly.

“Christ, love,” he says finally, voice low and rough. “You look like you got hit by a truck.”

You don’t even try to look at him. You barely lift your hand to wave him off.

“Tooth,” you groan. “Hurts. Bad.”

He walks over and crouches in front of you. One hand gently tugs the heating pad away, the other brushing your hair back from your face.

“Which side?”

You gesture vaguely.

“Right. Feels like it’s trying to kill me.”

Simon hums, his thumb brushing your cheekbone carefully. Then he leans in a little.

“Open for me.”

You squint at him.

“Not happening. Feels like hell.”

He doesn’t push. He just stands, vanishes into the kitchen, and returns a minute later with water, painkillers, and a cold washcloth.

“Try these. Just a little. I know it’s rough.”

You manage to take a sip of water and the medicine, but every swallow feels like glass. He stays close, sitting beside you, keeping his body turned toward yours. His hand finds your knee, heavy and grounding.

When you shiver, he disappears again and returns with one of his hoodies. He pulls it over your head himself, careful not to touch your jaw.

“That’s better. Warm now?”

You nod weakly.

Simon eases down onto the couch and tugs you into his lap like you weigh nothing. One arm wraps around your waist, the other comes up to hold the side of your head, his palm cupping you gently away from the pain.

“Try to rest,” he murmurs against your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You sink into his chest, every part of you heavy and hurting. His body is warm beneath you, solid and comforting. You feel him shift every so often, brushing his knuckles across your back or adjusting the blanket when it slips.

And when you finally doze off for real, jaw still aching and body weak, his voice follows you into sleep.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Nothing’s going to touch you. Not even that bastard tooth.”

[thelitlantern]

Do it Again| Part 2

AN❤️ I’ve had someone request a part 2 to the original “Do it Again” and who am I to deny such a request ❤️ I hope you enjoy ❤️

Summary: Part 2 for the Simon Riley One- Shot “ Do it Again”. It’s an continuation of part 1 with more squirting and more filthy mouthed Simon

Warnings!!! Overstimulation, rough oral/fingering (f receiving), possessive!Simon, dom/sub undertones, squirting, degradation & praise mix, breath play (light choking), dirty talk

——-——————————————————————

You could barely move.

Your limbs were lead, trembling. Your chest heaved with every breath, and your thighs kept twitching involuntarily, sticky with slick and spit and the mess he’d pulled from you.

And yet Simon smiled like he hadn’t even started.

“Look at you,” he said, voice hoarse with desire. His fingers slid slowly up the inside of your thigh—slick from your release—until he was rubbing lazy circles right above your swollen, overstimulated clit. “You don’t even know how fuckin’ beautiful you are like this.”

You whimpered, tried to squirm away, but he just grabbed your thigh and pinned it down.

“No,” he growled. “You don’t get to run from this. Not when you made this mess. Not when I’ve been starving for it.”

“Simon—fuck, I c-can’t—”

His hand gripped your jaw, not too hard, just firm enough to tilt your face to his. His eyes burned into yours.

“You can,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You will.”

Then his mouth was on yours—hot, wet, tasting you—and when he pulled back, saliva bridged your lips, his thumb still stroking your cheek like you were something delicate. Like he didn’t just ruin you.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on that sweet little pussy again,” he said, slowly crawling back down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. “And you’re gonna give me that pretty fucking mess one more time.”

“Simon—please—” You weren’t sure what you were begging for. To stop? For more? You didn’t even know anymore.

“Please what?” he murmured against your inner thigh. “Please make you soak my fuckin’ face again? Please make me lose my mind over this perfect cunt?”

You sobbed—yes, no, more—as his tongue flicked over your clit again, and he didn’t hold back this time. One hand under your ass, the other forcing your thighs open wide, his mouth devoured you, tongue dragging through the mess he’d already made, moaning like he needed it to live.

You couldn’t stop the cry that tore from your throat. Couldn’t stop the pressure building again, impossibly fast. Couldn’t stop the way your hips started grinding against his mouth, desperate and mindless.

“That’s it,” he muttered, face buried between your legs, voice guttural. “Come on. Give it to me, sweetheart. Make a fuckin’ mess for me.”

And when you came—shaking, sobbing, soaked—it was like your whole body short-circuited.

Again.

This time, it gushed. Uncontrollably. And Simon groaned, loud and obscene, as he licked it up like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. His eyes rolled back. His hips even rutted against the mattress like he got off on it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed, lips swollen, chin dripping, completely wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Just stared, dazed and flushed, thighs shaking like they’d never work again.

Simon sat back on his heels, chest heaving, wiping his soaked mouth with the back of his hand as he stared at you like a man unhinged.

“Think you’re done?” he asked, voice dark, already climbing over you again—pressing you into the soaked mattress with his full weight, rock-hard cock grinding between your thighs.

You shook your head weakly. Or nodded. You weren’t sure.

Didn’t matter.

He bent down, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re not,” he whispered. “Not until I fuck that sweet little cunt and make you do it on my cock next.”

[thelitlantern]

Do it Again ( Simon Riley)

AN❤️ This one is a little shorter than my others but I really liked it! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: You squirt for the first time, you’re embarrassed, but he’s obsessed.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, squirting, overstimulation, rough language, possessive behavior, mild dom/sub dynamics (dom!Simon), degradation kink (light), praise kink, reader embarrassment, messy sex

—————————————————————————

You weren’t supposed to do that.

You didn’t even know you could.

One second, you were moaning into the pillow, your legs trembling around Simon’s shoulders, the next—your body seized. Heat bloomed under your skin, something tight snapped in your core, and then you—

You gasped. Froze.

“…Fuck,” Simon breathed, voice low and awed from between your thighs. “Did you just—?”

Your hands scrambled for the sheets, trying to hide your face, your soaked thighs, everything. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know I—”

You could feel the slick mess between your legs, dripping down the curve of your ass, soaking the mattress under you. Humiliation burned in your cheeks. “I’m sorry—shit, I didn’t mean to, that’s so gross—”

“Gross?” Simon’s voice sharpened. You felt him pull back, just enough to look up at you.

“Sweetheart,” he growled, grabbing your thighs and dragging you back down the bed like you weighed nothing. “You just made a fucking mess all over my face, and you think I didn’t love every second of it?”

Your heart stuttered. You peeked down, breath caught in your throat.

Simon’s eyes were black. Lips shiny. His jaw soaked with you. And when he smirked—filthy, dangerous—you saw something dark flicker behind it.

He was possessed.

“That was the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasped, leaning down, tongue dragging through your folds again like he was trying to taste the memory. “And you’re gonna do it again.”

“Simon—”

“I said again.”

He didn’t wait for your protest.

His mouth was ravenous, tongue fucking into you with purpose now, two fingers sliding back inside your still-throbbing cunt—soaked, sensitive, raw—and curling just right. You let out a sob, body jolting, legs trying to clamp around his head but he held you open, rough hands gripping your thighs.

“Let me hear those sounds again,” he murmured, voice thick. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

“S-Stop, it’s—too much—!”

“You’ll take it.” His tone left no room for argument. “You’ll make a mess on my face again like a good girl, yeah? So fuckin’ pretty when you lose control.”

You could barely breathe. He was relentless. Every stroke of his fingers, every lap of his tongue was fire—teasing that same pressure that had overwhelmed you before.

And when it came again—fast, brutal, shattering—you cried out. Your body arched, thighs trembling, eyes squeezed shut as another gush soaked his mouth and hand and the sheets beneath you.

Simon moaned like he was starving for it.

“Fuck yes, that’s it,” he groaned. “Look at this perfect fuckin’ cunt, so wet for me. You see this?” He held his fingers up, glistening. “You feel how soaked the bed is, sweetheart? That’s all you.”

You whimpered, still twitching, still blushing—your body a mess of aftershocks and shame and raw need.

And he just smirked.

“Think you’ve got one more in you?”

Because he sure as fuck wasn’t done.

[thelitlantern]

Masterlist

Smut-🌶️ Fluff-💛 Angst 💔

I decided to go ahead and create a Masterlist so everyone can easily keep up with my stories and writing updates!

Feel free to send feedback, asks, comments, or concerns—everything is welcome and truly appreciated. Thank you so much for giving my blog a chance and supporting my work! 💛

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Let’s Play Pretend -🌶️

Do it Again-🌶️

Do it Again pt 2-🌶️

Toothache- 💛

Stalker! Simon

Let Him Watch-🌶️

David Corenswet

Clark Kent/ Superman

New Puppy? -💛

[thelitlantern]

Let’s Play Pretend

Authors Note: Here’s another Simon smutty one-shot I’ve written a little while back! Enjoy! I can also do a part 2 if you’re interested ❤️

Prompt: After a creepy encounter at the bar, the reader pretends Simon is her boyfriend.

Asks are OPEN!

Content & Trigger Warnings: This one-shot contains explicit sexual content (18+), glove and masked kink, rough sex with dominance and control, light choking and breath play, possessive language, and mild degradation. It features obsessive behavior with mild stalking themes, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, and messy, intense physicality. There are themes of power imbalance and size kink, as well as sexual tension following a creepy interaction at a bar.

—————————————————————————

You weren’t supposed to be out tonight.

But after the week you’d had, you needed a drink and the kind of darkness that only a back-alley bar could offer.

What you didn’t need was the man three stools down—the one who smelled like cheap aftershave and desperation, who’d been trying to corner you into a conversation for the past ten minutes.

You tried polite.

Then firm.

Now you were one uncomfortable laugh away from throwing your drink in his face.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, sliding closer on his stool, knee bumping yours. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be drinkin’ alone.”

“I like drinking alone.”

“Bet you’d like it better with company.”

Your jaw clenched. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a way out—any kind of exit, any excuse—

And then your gaze caught his.

In the corner.

Silent.

Watching.

He was leaned back in the booth, nursing a whiskey with one gloved hand. Cap pulled low. Mask up over the bottom half of his face. Eyes dark, unreadable.

But locked on you.

Simon Riley.

Ghost.

You’d seen him before. Always in the shadows. Always still. Always alone.

But something about the way he was watching now—like he’d been doing it for longer than you knew—lit something dangerous in your chest.

You made a snap decision.

You pushed off your stool, walked straight across the bar, and slid into the booth beside him.

His brows lifted just slightly.

“Go with it,” you whispered under your breath, loud enough for only him. “Pretend you’re my boyfriend. Please.”

You didn’t have to explain.

He shifted immediately—massive body turning toward you, arm sliding around your shoulders. His gloved hand curled possessively around your hip, dragging you in until your side was pressed to his chest.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and edged in accent, thick and warm in your ear. “There you are. Thought you were grabbin’ drinks, not collectin’ creeps.”

Your pulse skittered.

The guy from the bar watched from across the room, confusion—and then hesitation—crossing his face.

Ghost turned his head and stared the man down. Unmoving. Silent.

He didn’t have to say a word.

The creep took his drink and disappeared toward the back.

You exhaled slowly.

“Thanks,” you whispered, heart pounding. “Seriously.”

Ghost didn’t move his hand from your waist.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You blinked up at him. “No?”

His eyes dragged over your face, slow and deliberate. “You walked over here. Sat in my booth. Crawled under my fuckin’ arm like you belong to me.”

Your breath caught.

“You said pretend,” he murmured. “But you’re playing a dangerous game, love.”

Your pulse pounded in your throat. “What if I don’t want to pretend?”

That smirk he gave you—sharp, predatory—sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then you’re comin’ home with me.”

⸻

The air between you was electric the entire walk back to your place—charged and heavy, your hands brushing now and then, his steps always falling just half a pace behind yours like he was stalking you through the dark.

When the door clicked shut behind you, you turned and found him standing very close.

His voice was a rasp in your ear. “Still playin’?”

You shook your head. “No more playing.”

His gloved hand reached out, slow and firm, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his.

“Then let me make it real.”

He kissed you with the kind of hunger that made your knees weak. His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you tight against him, and fuck, he was already hard—pressing against your stomach through his jeans, thick and hot.

His tongue slid against yours, deep and possessive, like he was tasting something he’d earned.

You gasped against his mouth as his hands found your ass, lifting you effortlessly and walking you backward until your back hit the wall.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively.

He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you—his mask now pushed up, lips slick and parted.

“I watched you in that bar,” he growled. “Watched the way you squirmed away from him. Watched how your eyes lit up when you saw me.”

Your hips rolled against his abs. “I needed saving.”

“No,” he rasped, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. “You needed to be claimed.”

You whined as his hand slipped beneath your shirt, palm rough and warm against your skin, dragging up your ribs and cupping your breast through your bra.

He squeezed—firm and slow—thumb brushing your nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.

“Been wonderin’ what kind of sounds you make,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along your jaw. “Bet you’re loud, aren’t you, dove?”

“Only if you make me loud.”

That broke him.

He set you down just long enough to rip your shirt over your head and toss it. Then his hands were everywhere—palming your tits, sliding down your waist, grabbing your ass as he walked you backward again, this time toward the couch.

He pushed you down gently.

Stood above you, cock straining behind his jeans, gaze burning into your body like he could see through your skin.

“Take ‘em off,” he ordered, voice sharp. “Everything.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You peeled your jeans off slowly, eyes locked on his. Let your panties slide to the floor. Sat there, legs spread just enough.

“I’ll keep pretending, if that’s what you need,” he rasped. “But make no mistake—this pussy’s mine now.”

He dropped to his knees.

Hooked your thighs over his broad shoulders.

And then devoured you.

His tongue was hot and slow at first, just the tip tracing your folds, teasing your clit, making your hips jerk. Then it turned hungry—wet, relentless, filthy. His tongue fucked into you while his fingers spread you open, making obscene noises that echoed through the room.

You were shaking within minutes.

“Fuck, Simon—don’t stop—please—”

He didn’t.

He grunted into your cunt, eating you like it was the only thing that mattered. Your legs trembled around his head, your back arched, your hands clawing at his scalp.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Wanna taste it. Come on, sweetheart—give it to me.”

You fell apart with a cry, legs locking around his shoulders, your hips jerking as he licked you through every wave of pleasure.

When he stood, his lips were slick, his cock already in his hand—thick, flushed, leaking from the tip.

You didn’t even get a second to breathe before he flipped you over on the couch, dragging your hips up and positioning you on your knees.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he rasped. “You’re gonna take this cock like you begged for it.”

You whimpered, grinding back against him.

And then—with one brutal thrust—he was inside. His cock split you open with one brutal thrust, thick and heavy, stretching you so deep you cried out, hands scrabbling against the couch cushions.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon growled through gritted teeth, his gloved fingers digging into your hips. “You feel that, sweetheart? How tight you are around me?”

You could only whimper, back arching, trying to take all of him. He was massive, filling you like no one else ever had—your walls fluttering, struggling to accommodate the sheer size of him.

“I knew it,” he muttered darkly, hips rolling forward again. “Knew you’d be fuckin’ perfect. Built for this cock. Built for me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust. Didn’t let up.

Simon set a punishing rhythm—deep, relentless thrusts that rocked your body forward with every snap of his hips. Skin slapped against skin, the sound echoing through the room like something obscene, and god, it was good.

Too good.

“Listen to you,” he rasped, leaning over your back, his chest pressed to you, his mask brushing the side of your cheek. “So fuckin’ wet for me. Cryin’ for it.”

You were—you knew you were. Each thrust punched a helpless moan from your throat. Your cunt clenched around him, greedy, desperate, milking him like you were made to.

“Felt you come on my tongue,” he whispered, voice a filthy growl in your ear. “Thought you were sweet then. But this?” He rutted into you, brutal and deep. “This is where you belong.”

You nodded, whimpering. “Yes—yes, Simon—fuck—I’m yours.”

He groaned—deep—from somewhere primal. One hand slid up your back, grabbed the back of your neck, and pushed you down until your cheek was against the cushions.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours! Fuck—please—”

“That’s my girl.”

His other hand left your hip, reached down between your thighs, and found your clit.

You jerked.

His gloved fingers rubbed tight, fast circles, in perfect rhythm with the pounding of his cock inside you. You were unraveling—completely unmade—your body right at the edge.

“You gonna come for me again?” he hissed. “Gonna cream all over my cock like the good little slut you are?”

“Yes—please—don’t stop—”

“Then fuckin’ come.”

You shattered.

The orgasm hit like a freight train, your whole body seizing as you cried out, clenching around him so tight it stole the breath from your lungs. You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs, coating his cock, soaking the couch.

And still, he didn’t stop.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, fucking you through the aftershocks, his thrusts turning messy, ragged. “Gonna fill you up now. Gonna make this real.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Fill me—want it so bad, want you inside me—”

He cursed sharply under his breath. “F-fuck—yeah, you’re getting it—”

With a deep, broken groan, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he spilled inside you—hot, thick, and so much of it you could feel it leaking out around him.

He didn’t move for a long second.

Just held you there—cock still buried, one hand gripping your throat lightly, the other pressing against your belly like he wanted to feel how deep he was inside you.

Then he leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “Not just pretend. Not just tonight.”

You shivered, wrecked and sated beneath him.

“Good,” you whispered back. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

He stayed inside you as he pulled you into his lap, your back against his chest, his arms locked around your waist like a cage.

Not letting you go.

[thelitlantern]

LET HIM WATCH (NSFW)

Stalker! Simon

Authors Note❤️ This is my first posted story. I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGs: stalking, voyeurism, breaking and entering, consensual non-consent (CNC), choking/breath play, rough sex, possessive behavior, obsessive themes, power imbalance, degradation.

—————————————————————————

You knew he watched you.

You could feel it.

That hot, searing weight on the back of your neck every time you passed the window. The flicker in your peripheral vision when you peeled off your clothes at night. The ache between your thighs that didn’t come from the toy in your drawer—but from the shadow in the house across the alley.

Simon Riley.

Ghost.

You’d only heard his name once—late at night when he had a fellow soldier over. The guy had a loud mouth and too much whiskey, but that name stuck.

Ghost.

And from the way Simon stood silently in the shadows that night, watching you step onto your porch in nothing but a tank top and no bra…

You knew.

He didn’t wave.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t stop staring.

That was the moment it clicked.

And god help you—

You liked it.

So you gave him a show.

Every night.

Tonight, the bedroom light glowed low and golden. The window was cracked open—just enough. You stood with your back to the glass and let your robe fall, revealing only a tiny black thong.

No music.

No distractions.

Because he was out there.

Watching.

Probably fisting his cock.

You liked to imagine it—the way his gloved hand might grip the length of him. Rough. Veined. Big enough to ruin you.

You slid onto the bed, legs parted, fingers moving slowly between your thighs. You arched your back, putting on a performance just for him. Your nipples were hard, the chill of the air nothing compared to the heat pulsing through you.

“Fuck,” you whispered to the empty room, just loud enough for him to hear. “I know you’re watching me.”

And then—a sound.

A click.

The back door.

You froze.

But you didn’t cover yourself.

Didn’t run.

You didn’t want to.

You ached for this.

Heavy boots moved down the hall. The bedroom door creaked open.

There he was.

Full gear. Black mask. Broad shoulders that filled the doorway like a fucking nightmare. His eyes locked on yours—dark, hungry, feral.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he rasped. His voice was thick, rough with need. “Putting on your little shows. Touching yourself like a needy fuckin’ slut.”

You bit your lip and spread your legs wider. “You liked it.”

His jaw ticked beneath the mask. “Liked it so much I nearly jumped the fence and dragged you into my bed.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

He moved.

In one breathless second, he was between your thighs. One gloved hand wrapped around your throat—not tight, just firm enough to make your breath stutter— as he pulled you up and pressed you to the wall.

“You wanted me to break in.”

“I did.”

“You like bein’ hunted, little dove?”

You whimpered. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

He made a low, guttural sound in his chest—and then dropped to his knees.

Your leg was thrown over his shoulder before you could gasp.

And then his mouth was on you.

He didn’t ease in. He devoured you—tongue working you over with brutal, possessive hunger. Like he’d fantasized about this for weeks. His eyes never left yours, even as he licked and sucked and fucked into your heat.

Gloved fingers curled inside you, hitting just right while his mouth latched onto your clit.

You cried out, back hitting the wall as you fisted his hair, thighs trembling.

“Gonna come,” you gasped, riding his face. “Simon—don’t stop—please—”

“Come for me,” he growled into your cunt. “Let me taste how bad you fuckin’ want me.”

Your orgasm ripped through you—sharp, intense, devastating. He held you steady, licking through the aftershocks until you were limp in his arms.

When he stood, his lips were wet with you. His eyes were black with want. He undid his belt one-handed, your slick still shining on his gloves.

Then he freed himself.

And your breath caught.

Thick. Veined. Leaking.

You dropped to the bed instinctively, knees sinking into the mattress, ass up, presenting for him like you were made for this moment.

He stood behind you, fisting his cock, looking at you like a man on the edge of losing control.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Wet, spread, fuckin’ begging me to take what I already claimed.”

You whimpered, rocking your hips. “Do it. I want you to ruin me.”

He grabbed the back of your neck, pressing your face to the sheets.

“Oh, I’ll ruin you, sweetheart. Gonna split you open on this cock until you never forget who owns this cunt.”

The head of his cock pressed against your entrance—thick, hot, heavy.

He didn’t start slow.

With a brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.

You cried out, body arching at the sudden, overwhelming stretch. The burn was perfect—deep and punishing.

“Fuck—so tight,” he groaned, hips already snapping forward. “Knew you’d fit me perfect.”

His thrusts were punishing, deep and fast, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room.

You could barely breathe. Barely speak.

He fucked you like he’d been waiting a lifetime—brutal, hungry, and without apology.

“You like this,” he said, voice low, cruel. “You like being hunted. Like knowin’ I’ve been watchin’ you—strokin’ my cock while you touched yourself.”

“Yes—fuck—I loved it—I wanted you to see—”

“That why you left the window open? Wore those tiny little panties, showed me your sweet fuckin’ pussy?”

“Yes, Simon—please—”

He grabbed your throat again, pulled you up against him. His cock never stopped moving.

“Say it. Say you wanted me to watch.”

“I wanted it,” you gasped. “Wanted you to see me—wanted to know you were there—wanted to make you want me.”

“Mine now,” he growled in your ear. “Only mine.”

His pace turned brutal, hips slamming into yours with obscene force.

“That’s it. Feel me, sweetheart. Feel how deep I am. Gonna fuck you so full you feel me for days.”

Your orgasm built fast—your whole body tensing, every nerve coiled.

It hit you hard. Blinding.

You came with a strangled cry, clenching down around him, trembling in his arms.

“That’s it—fuck—milk my cock like a good fuckin’ girl.”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t let you breathe.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he hissed. “Wanted me to take you?”

“Yes—yes—please—fill me—want it—”

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Simon—please come inside me—need it—need to feel you dripping out of me—”

“Fuck—fuck—you’re gonna get it—”

His rhythm shattered. One final, brutal thrust—and he was deep, groaning into your hair as he came, thick and hot and endless, spilling inside you.

You collapsed beneath him, boneless, shaking, his cock still buried inside you as he wrapped himself around your back.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t let you go.

He held you there, tight and full.

“You like bein’ watched?” he whispered, his voice soft now—dangerous in a different way.

You smiled, breathless. Blissed out.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not stoppin’. You’re mine to watch. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck.”

You shivered. Smiled wider.

“I was always yours.”

And you meant it.

[thelitlantern]

Hi guys!

I’m new to the writing blog scene, and I just wanted to say that my asks are OPEN!

I currently have a ton of free time, and I love writing about hot men and women! I’ll be posting a list of characters/people I’m open to writing about, but feel free to message me if you have someone else in mind!

Also! I do write smut—but I’m also happy to write angst, fluff, or just about anything you’re craving.

CHARACTER LIST!!

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

-Joe Burrow

-Rafe Cameron

-Drew Starkey

-Glenn Powell

-ANY of the ACOTAR men

-Milo Manheim/ Wally Clark

Thank you so much if you give my blog a chance ❤️❤️