#and to hear that it's something that exists in your mind too is just like. wow. yeah. 🥺

[winterrrnight]

rafe loves to hear you talk and talk about things you are so passionate about… <3 a rafe x reader blurb <3 cw: reader is chatty and rambl-y and is insecure about it, in this scenario reader is extremely passionate about japanese legends, lovesick rafe + casually dominant rafe, intentional lower case <3 just something for me to post after a small break as I work on other projects <3 for @zyafics who is one of the biggest reasons I am feeling motivated to write again <3

“oh here’s another one I read about yesterday!” you say excitedly as rafe squeezes your intertwined hands, smiling at you.

“mhm go on,” he smiles as you both continue to walk on the sidewalk, the full moon shining bright down at the two of you.

“this one is about the red thread of fate, this thread connects two soulmates,” you smile at him. he looks at you with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“connects two soulmates?” he echoes, and you nod.

“yeah,” you say. “it’s said there is a man who lives on the moon who comes to earth to show people their futures and who they’ll end up with. he does that with the help of the red thread of fate. he ties this invisible red thread between the two people who are meant to be together. this thread can tangle over the huge distance between the two people, it can stretch, but it will never ever break, and it will always tighten to bring those two people together.

“it also talks about the existence of a red pencil which can trace this invisible red thread, and this pencil gets shorter with its usage.

“oh and, this thread is always tied between the pinkies of the two people. that is because it was discovered a long time ago that our heart is connected to our pinky finger by an artery, which is now called the ‘ulnar artery’. this artery carries oxygenated blood from our heart to our pinky. so, in a way, our heart is directly linked to our pinkies via this artery, so when we make a pinky promise, we are basically connecting our hearts while making the promise. and that is why the invisible red thread of fate is also connecting our pinkies, because it is basically connecting the hearts of the soulmates, and–”

you take a look to your left at rafe, who’s looking down at the sidewalk as you both walk. you got so absorbed in talking you don’t even know if he is still listening or if he has tuned you out. honestly, who can blame him? since you keep on talking too much, anyone would quickly tune you out.

“oh god i’m doing it again aren’t i?” you say nervously as you stop in your tracks on the sidewalk, causing rafe to stop too. he eyes you with furrowed brows and creases on his forehead.

the actual truth is, rafe was thinking about tying a red thread to your pinkies when you both get home, his mind racing on where he can actually find some red thread in his house.

“doing what?” rafe asks softly.

“the, the ramble thing, where i just talk and talk till my mouth falls off,” you sigh, looking down. “I do that way too much, i don’t even know if you want to hear it or not but I just start speaking with no seeming end to my talk whatsoever, and you have to force yourself to listen to it because you got stuck being my boyfriend. and then i just keep on talking without thinking, it’s like my mouth has a mind of its own, I really should start to think–”

you are immediately cut off with rafe’s lips on yours, your eyes widening as you try to adjust to what is happening. rafe’s free hand comes to rest on your cheek to pull you even closer into the kiss, and your eyes flutter shut, letting you get lost in the feeling of him.

rafe gently pulls apart from the kiss, his eyes barely open as he gazes down at you.

“listen to me…” he says softly. “you don’t talk too much. I love hearing you talk. I love the cute expressions you make when you talk about things you are passionate about. I love how much knowledge you have about them and how you want to share it with me. I love the shine in your eyes when you start to talk, and the shine is even brighter under the moonlight. never ever apologize for talking too much because I won’t hear it, and you’ll only end up getting kissed by me each time. you get it?”

you look up in rafe’s eyes with a stunned expression. for the first ever time, you are at a loss of words, and all you can do is nod.

he smiles softly at you, as his thumb caresses your cheek. “words, baby, you hear me?” he says softly.

“yeah…” you let out. “I hear you,”

“good,” he mumbles. “never apologize again, okay?”

“okay,” you whisper.

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and tugs on your hand gently, both of you now walking again. “come on, continue what you were saying,” he says, urging you to continue about the legend you were talking about.

you nod as you clear your throat before resuming to tell him more, this time not allowing even a single thought to let you stop as the stream of words spills from your lips, and rafe only listens in awe, loving hearing what it is you have to tell him.

#hi hi here's a new blurb :) #hope you all like!! <3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #written by edith! 🪄

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Four times Simon wanted to kiss you, you're just so irresistible that Simon couldn't wrap it together why he's obsessed with you. The one sided feeling (from his point of view) that he tried to suppress always fail successfully cause what, you're existing and that's enough to make his knees weak. Something about the way your lips moving while talking, or the way they open when eating, and the way your lips are just there. The softness, plump and shape of your lips. Sometimes, your lips are glistening with lip balm, spit and water. Simon never feel this strong urge before and now he's going to take what he needs to claim — your inviting lips

Your Inviting Lips - Simon “Ghost” Riley*Reader

Hello! I hope you don’t mind having the last few words of your req as the title because they’re beautiful! and tyvm for the idea :D 💖

Simon wonders if you know how intoxicating you are.

He will fall to his knees if you chant praises, watching your plump lips move, tongue darts out and give it a swipe, like coating sugar to already juicy cherries.

He’s falling, deep and deeper, to this unknown abyss. Is it a honey trap? Is it worth him to become human? He has no idea.

Will he stop this expedition? No chance.

There’s no map leading him to your heart, so he just watches you from afar, observing how your lips open, take a bite at the strawberry.

If he takes you in his arms right now, and presses his chapped lips to your soft ones, will it taste as sweet as the strawberry? can he derive a hint of the sweetness when his tongue dances with yours?

The smile you wear on your lips, why is it so irresistible? The slight curl at the corner, he wants to caress it with his calloused thumb, hoping that won’t ruin the perfection. The shape of your lips is prettier than any model he sees on those lipstick posters.

He never dreams of reciprocating from you. The one side feeling will last forever, till he sees another man claim those lips that should be his.

Your existence is already enough for him, encouraging him to breathe, subsiding his anger.

Don’t be greedy, Simon tells himself, yet it’s difficult when you keep tugging at his heartstrings and staying oblivious.

Albeit he repeats the sentence as if it’s a motto, the screaming reminding him to make you his in his mind overshadows it when he walks into the room, and spots you having a lip balm in your hand.

“You should quit staring, LT.” Simon hears you chuckles, eyes meeting his through the mirror.

“Curious about how to put on lip balm?”

“Just a bit.”

“Well” With the lip balm in your hand, you stand up and raise an eyebrow at him. “How about you try it yourself?”

His eyes stick on your figure as you sway towards him. Every click of your heels only makes his heart pound harder against his chest.

Taking over the lip balm, and looking back at you, eyes closed and pouting a bit for him to spread the ointment on you.

Not now. Simon restrains the urge as he cradles your face in his palm, and carefully starts his mission.

“Not bad.” You take a glimpse at your pocket mirror.

“Thanks I guess.”

“Don’t you want to learn more?”

“About what?” He’s reading the tag on the lip balm as you ask.

“I’m sure you will be curious about the flavor of it, Sir.”

Snapping his head up in a blink of an eye, he is able to recognize it. The smirk spreading across your glistening lips, just few inches from his masked one.

Without a second thought, he shoves his mask above his nose, and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

He smashes his lips with yours, opening his mouth when you lick at his bottom lip to demand an entrance. Two famished people, finally get the things that are theirs since the start, avariciously drink in each other's essence, absorbing the nutrients deprived for too long.

If there are no barriers between the bodies, it won’t end until the fusion of both hearts.

Pulling back and panting, his spit provides a new layer of protection for your lips.

“How’s the taste, Ghost?”

“Need one more time to make sure.”

Lips touching again, moving at a tender pace this time, Simon realizes why there’s no map indicating the path to your love.

Because he’s already at the location hoarding the treasure.

#cod imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

[tf-imagine]

Noah had been working out at his local gym. Every Sunday there are these two guys who almost constantly stare at him when he's working out. He notices one of them regularly stares at his feet, he figures this guy must be into feet. The other guy who he learned by listening is the other guys brother hates feet. He always tells his brother to stop starring, feet are disgusting.

Noah decided this Sunday these two brothers would have a new experience. It was late in the evening, just him and these two brothers in the gym. Noah pulled out his TF device and walked over to the two lads. He smiled at them both.

"So you like my feet huh. I ain't deaf ya know, I always hear you and your brothers conversations about me. Well if you like my feet so much, lets get you a front row seat"

Before the foot whore brother could respond Noah zapped him with the TF device. He quickly started changing, his body changed to multiple types of fabric and rubber. Hollowed out and split into two white trainers.

Jace: "Luke! What did you do to my brother!?"

"Don't worry. I've given him new purpose in life. And your next. I understand you absolutely hate feet, find them sickening, repulsive. Well I've go the perfect job for ya"

Jace attempted to pick his brother up and run, but before he could he was zapped and he started changing. His nobody changed to a white cottage fabric and within moments there was just two white trainers (Jace) and two white socks (Luke) on the floor. Noah chuckled and picked the socks up and slipped em on. He wiggles his toes in the socks. If Luke had a mouth he'd probably be puking all over the floor. Noah then put the trainers on and tied up the laces.

Both Jace and Lukes bodily senses were in tact. Jace found himself actually enjoying his new existence. Luke however was extremely angry and scared and wanted to vomit so much. The smell was truly something to behold.

2 YEARS LATER

Noah had worn Jace and Luke every day, Jace was still in constant bliss. He always wanted this life. Luke however was long gone. His mind got so wapred ages ago his mind is that of just socks now. Jace knew this, he could sense his brothers mind and enjoyed his brothers mind being so warped.

2 MORE YEARS LATER

Noah took his trainers and socks off. Both were so worn by now, the trainers full of holes, one of the rubber soles were hanging off a bit. The socks were basically rotten, holes all over them and so unbelievably rotten right through. Noah picks up the trainers and socks and tosses them both in the trash compactor and hits the on button. Noah then put on his new trainers and new socks. His two BFFs got too annoying. He dealt with them. His BFFs he's been best friends with since they were all in diapers together. Even his oldest friends are ultimately just objects to him.

#permanent transformation #tf #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #permanent tf #brothers #sock tf #sock transformation #brothers transformation #permanent shoe tf #shoe tf #shoe transformation #trainers transformation #trainers tf #sneakers transformation #sneakers tf

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

#desire mona #YAYYYYYYYY TODD AUTISM POST #do yall want a seperate autistic anderperry hc post cuz i can do that #genderqueer todd i love you so much #dead poets society #todd anderson #anderperry #the todd spectrum #actually autistic #banger

[strawbxrryanime]

symphony of a lifetime - boxer!gojo satoru x singer!reader

Commissioned By @imgonnachewyourtoes <33 ~ Gojo was a professional boxer, no matter how many times his fists touched the punching bag, he'd always manage to perfect knocking it over, breaking the punching bag. You, you were a fabulous singer. Nobody could touch your voice, ever. The way you sung such beautiful high notes, that same beautiful smile as you were finished with your performance had Gojo clapping in the audience, proud of you for reaching this far.

Gojo hit with his fists, and you hit with heart, something both of you managed to intersect. Gojo with the strength of the relationship, you with the heart. Everyday Gojo reminds you of how amazing you are, how beautiful your voice is, and how he's so lucky he gets to hear it everyday. Being with you everyday is almost like a blessing to him, a reason to his existence.

You also were lucky to witness Gojo's beautiful ocean eyes, which he keeps blindfolded every time, people are usually surprised when they found out this blindfolded man can destroy so much. His muscular body, his sweat, his pants within each punch on the bag, it made you lucky too, lucky that you get to be with him.

So you both decided to express your gratitude, that night you and Gojo kissed was like heavenly trumpets were playing in your mind, and you were just waiting to sing those high notes, something that Gojo will make you serve later. "I'm so lucky to have you my darlin'~" Gojo said in between kisses, your serene voice groaning as he invades your lips, intertwines his tongue with yours, and glares at you as he takes off his blindfold slowly.

"I'm so lucky... that I get to take you into this moment~" Gojo glares at you, he chuckles and laughs, almost giggles as he pushes you down the bed, tackling you. "I want you to moan with that beautiful voice, over and over for me okay honey?~" Gojo kisses your lips more deeply and passionately, as he smiles in your voice making groaning noises. "My Y/N~ Making such beautiful noises~ I'll make you hit those high notes hm?~" Gojo kept kissing, ravaging through your body, marking you up.

It was in the moment, you moaning as Gojo moans on the taste of you, the sound of you, everything... everything about you. As you two were now stripped bare. Gojo's hardened cock was a sight to see, as you glared at it, as Gojo ravages more of your body. "Mmm!~" Your voice belted out. "Mhm yes baby~ My Y/N keep going~" Gojo responded with a smirk. Gojo dragged you in the heat of the moment, holding you tight, as his cock slowly slides in your hole.

"GAH!~" Your voice yelled, such beautiful high notes was a harmony that even Gojo can't stand, as he began to thrust deep inside of your hole, his brute strength pounding through your tight ass. "FUCK!~" Gojo would yell out, as he would hold tightly even more on your wrists, making you clench on his cock even tighter.

"You're so fucking good, so fucking good for me~" Gojo thrusts even harder and faster, as your groans paired with his symphonize with one another. His cock smashing against your tight walls as screams of pleasure erupt. "Fuck!~ I'm close!" Gojo screamed out, as his warm, thick cum flows inside of your hole. Making you sing sweet harmonies as the night passes on.

Gojo kisses you on the forehead and smiles. "You're my star~" Gojo smirked, as he cuddled you till the night ends.

#anime #smut #anime smut #hardcore smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #boxer #boxer gojo #boxer satoru gojo x singer reader #boxer satoru gojo #singer reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you smut #jjk smut #jjk #gojo x you smut #gojo x y/n smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x y/n smut #gojo satoru x y/n smut #gojo satoru x you smut

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 01. Whitney Worship

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,652 Warnings: OOC, body worship, general worship, older whitney, fingering, established relationship, consent checks, praise kink Prompt(s): 05 — worship Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: YAYYYY thank you so much bby for being my first event request eee!!! my biggest fan MWAH smooching u sm right now. so happy i get to start this event off with something soft and loving <3 sending u so much love, thank u sm for your kind words and for always supporting me!!

(also i really want some more soft whitney content... u cant convince me that this man wouldn't absolutely dote on you the older he gets </3)

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he's always felt this way about you. A bit difficult not to, his heart stuttering from the first moment he met you, blindsided by how much he wanted to be yours— enough that his need remained buried under layers of dominance and control for years to come. But the stubborn little boy you learned to love was incapable of expressing his emotions correctly, in a way that could ever truly be understood; and yet you loved him anyway. Even through all the harsh words, the endless name calling, and the straight up abuse he had you suffer through, you loved him. How you're still by his side is beyond him, a twinge of hurt in his chest burrowing down to his tummy, soothed only by the cute little mewl you instinctively know to let out in encouragement. Describing himself as thankful doesn't even do his emotions justice, and words of praise even less so— though still he tries.

This is the least he could do in return for all those awful years he subjected you to. A gentle promise spread across the pad of his thumb, rubbing tenderly up and down your hip for you to giggle at. And God, what a pretty sound that is. You can hear how it tugs at his heart, can't you? Surely, because he can barely hear himself think over the loud thump in his chest. How even the comparatively innocent touch of his free hand squeezing at your waist is charged with intent, the way your pretty lashes flutter under him as his nails drag up and down your exposed skin so lightly that it must tickle causing his breath to hitch. He can't help but mumble a pitiful pretty, and pitiful is correct, because he's so fucking down bad for you that it's insane. Should be illegal, if he had anything to say about it. Pouting down at you when you whisper his name, followed by a sweet thanks that God he just wants to drink up, biting down on his bottom lip to try and hide the wide smile your dulcet tones bring out of him— but it's no use. Of course you can see right through him. Always have, only now he's not so afraid to hide his true nature.

That being his complete and utter adoration for you and your pretty little body, soft skin hot under his rough hands; it's nice, yknow. To just touch you like this, ignoring the underlying hint of greed shown in the tent in his underwear in favour of rewarding you simply for existing. Because you deserve to be treated like the best thing that's ever happened to him; because you are. And he needs to do right by you now, make up for his past mistakes with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in faux playful annoyance over your holier than thou position beneath him. The bottom truly holds all the power, don't you, love?

"I meant it. Too fuckin' pretty, s'annoying." He smiles, toothy and genuine when you smile back up at him. And he does mean it, fuck does he mean it. Leaning down a little to give your forehead a little kiss, trailing his lips down to your cheek only to place another, smiling against your skin when you giggle at his barely there touch grabbing at your waist to keep you in place for him to press a few more kisses at the corner of your lips in a teasing manner— a hoarse be patient crawling up his throat when you try to wiggle free to give him a proper kiss, but he soon gives in to your cuteness anyway. Letting his tongue poke out just a little against your lips, chest vibrating with a satisfied hum he moans down your mouth when you reciprocate the lewd action. But still, he'd like to take his time. Making out with you so slowly, still letting his hands roam up and down your naked body with purpose, as if mapping every possible inch of you in the event that you were to ever leave him— the thought of which has him kissing you deeper in a silent beg for you to stay. See, I love you.

Running his wide open palms up to your tits, letting himself cup them as delicately as possible as if he were afraid that anything stronger would have you shattering beneath him; a far cry from his younger self, he internally cringes at the memory. But in his kiss there lies hope. Hope for a better future, to become a better man for you. And that starts here, with every suck of your tongue inside his wanting mouth, every drop of shared saliva down each others throats, and every grope of his big hand against your tits. The other rests idly at your waist, dipping down just to playfully pinch at the fat of your thighs; one of his favourite places to be between.

He pulls away from your lips when he feels you do the same, enamoured by the string of saliva still stretched between his lips and your own as if it were an extension of you, and by that he means deserving of all the love he can muster. When you simply stare up at him with those big puppy eyes he has to bury his face against your chest just to hide the creeping heat on his cheeks, content enough to turn his attention to your tits with one getting palmed by his hand, and the other receiving his mouths tender treatment. Surely you won't complain about his cowardly hiding if he were to devote more time to pleasing you, right? Lapping at your nipple like a kitten, savouring every sigh, hiccup, and moan you make while he busies himself with indulging in your taste. Worshipping every inch of you as he shuffles his body closer between your legs, gasping into the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against his underwear which rests heavy at your cunt. Not that he has any intention of doing anything about it, because loving and doting on you is pleasurable enough for him, slurping and sucking and pinching as a means to communicate: I'm sorry, let me make it up to you.

Because he's never really been the best with words, opting instead to pop off of your pretty tits with a loud smack! only so that he can see how cute your expression gets when you feel his hand travel further south, ghosting over your skin just to have you shiver into him, make you feel as good as you've treated him, yeah?

"Dunno what I'd do without you," He sighs, almost whispering from how sincere his words are. "Wanna show you how much y'mean to me. S'at okay?"

Instinct begs him to attach slut on the end of his question, but your wide eyes and rushed gasp in shock of how soft he's being convinces him not to.

You take a moment to reply, and in the meantime he takes to running a single finger up and down your already sopping slit. Proof enough of how much you love him, and yet still he feels the need to earn your affections again and again, sorry remaining at the tip of his tongue regardless of how often you remind him it's okay.

But when you give him a sure nod he's immediately filled with boyish confidence, determined to prove his worth for as long as he needs to in order to properly apologise to you, and then to revere you as you rightfully deserve. He knows he's got his work cut out for him, but he's nothing if not stubborn when it comes to you, for better or for worse.

"Thank you." He whispers this time, finally allowing his fingers to stretch your folds open for him to gawk at. Hearts in his eyes and all, fuuuuck, he has to fight with himself not to tug his boxers down and just shove his cock in right there and then— because he's meant to be worshipping you. But you make it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything other than how fraught with sheer desperation he is for you, distracting himself from his more indulgent thoughts by thumbing at your clit, clenching his teeth at the sweet little sounds his fingers touch out of you. Reaaaally taking his time, perhaps a bit too much so when your lower half wiggles under his thumb. Inwardly, he laughs at his previous words of patience; don't you know that he's trying to love on you?

"Need it that much, huh?" He gently taunts, though there's no malice in his words. Just amused domesticity, a certain warmth to his tone borne out of complete admiration for how... Well, if he's honest with himself, how perfect you are— in every respect! Every fibre of his being just begging to be allowed to worship you for the rest of his life, to have you see yourself the way he sees you.

You once again nod up at him, pretty pleading eyes coaxing him to fall further into you, to rub meaner circles against your puffy little clit like he's done plenty times before; except you're asking for it now. And there's no greater feeling in the world than to have his prayers answered as your slick coats his fingers in anticipation for his praises.

"All right then, pretty girl. Ask and you shall receive."

And true to his words, he slides his fingers down your slit and dips into your cunt. Just a little, and only one finger. The lazy pace of his actions frustrating even him, but he knows it'll all be worth it. Has to be, especially when you're huffing so cutely back at him given all his teasing thus far, jus' a little more he promises you, unsure if he's even telling the truth when you mewl all pretty and shit— God you're gonna be the death of him. Torn between teasing you all night, prolonging his prayers until the sun comes up, or giving you the release you're so desperately seeking, every squeak of the bed below your movements hypnotising him further. All he wants to do is make you feel good, praise your body to the high heavens, kiss every single inch of your skin and whisper sweet nothings against your cunt. A simple ask, really, considering you're more than wanting him to do exactly that.

So he follows through, lazily pushing a single finger inside of your warm little hole and he practically melts himself from the heat wrapped around his digit. How soft and fuckin' tight your little cunt is around him, the slow nature of his loving tonight allowing him to experience you in a whole new way; something more akin to appreciation, rather than the days of greed in the past.

"Feel okay?" He checks in with you, though there's really no need. He can tell from a mile away that your scrunched up little nose means you're having fun, but it's nice to ask anyway. If only to boost his own ego, or to show that he's serious about changing for you. "You feel— I mean, fuck. Always feel amazing," He swiftly corrects himself, chewing on his bottom lip out of habit while curling his finger inside of you, gently pulling it out and pushing back in— a slow enough pace to give you a little relief whilst also keeping you on that edge he'd like you to be at. "Always have, best cunt I've ever fucked." He's being sincere, but he cringes at the crass way his praise comes out anyway. That is until he takes a look at your face, peeling his gaze off of your finger swallowing hole for just a moment, and he bares witness to the lewd look you've now adopted.

Fuckin' praise slut, he should have known it all along, but having confirmation in the form of your rolled back eyes from a single fucking finger was worth the wait. You're worth the wait, and he can only hope that he is too when he picks up the pace. Just a little, encouraging you to writhe around a bit more, cooing down at you so sweetly in stark contrast to his usual self.

"Look so pretty like that," the finger inside of you buries deeper, curling consistently against your sweet spot until you're practically clawing at his wrist for some respite— but it doesn't come. Not out of spite, but out of love for you, he continues crooking his fingers against your squishy insides because he knows what that whine means. Gushy little cunt wrapped so tight around his finger, sucking him further in despite your desperate whines for a break. All he does is hush you tenderly, tongue between his teeth in fear of snapping and reverting back to his old manners when you look so fucking perfect with his finger inside of you, his eyes flickering between your pretty face, heaving tits, and your shiny with slick cunt.

"C'mon—" He seethes, brows furrowed in concentration of praising you, getting you off on his hand would be the highest compliment, he thinks. "Let me make you feel good, jus' give in, 'kay? He encourages, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips when your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Got you, he thinks to himself. Cock twitching merely from getting you off, from making you moan his name all high pitched and pretty like that while you gush around his finger, soaking through to the bed sheets below when he starts finger fucking you again to help you ride your orgasm out nicely. And the whole time he's thanking you. Softly rubbing up and down your side, occasionally groping at your tits, tugging at your ass while your insides convulse around him. Thank you, he sighs. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for sticking with me."

"Thank you for letting me see you like this."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for cumming on my hand."

And even as he removes himself from you he's still worshipping you, practically eye fucking you as he shifts his weight down, ending up half laying on the edge of the bed to tug you closer, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs so he can sniff up and down your slick soaked slit. Vulgar as always, but it doesn't matter when he's so pussy whipped it's almost laughable, right? Maybe he should feel ashamed about how much he wants you, embarrassingly acting like a dumb dog when faces with your cunt like this— salivating from your scent alone. But upon sticking his tongue out flat against your slit to lap up all your sweet juices he figures it doesn't really matter. It couldn't matter when you taste this fucking good, cock leaking fat globs of precum from just a single suck of your clit. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, flipping his fringe up and out of the way for easier access to your sweet soaked cunt, he's serious about this, don't you know?

"Jus' cleanin' y'up." He slurs against your hole, wincing with you when you complain about how sensitive you are.

But that's okay, because if you cum on his tongue (which he's hoping for, fuck he wants you to gush in his mouth please—) then he'll just help you clean up again. And again. And again. As many times as he needs to until you instinctively know how worthy you are of worship, and how he loves you just oh so much.

#500 event! #i hate that this is technically an “aged up” writing but yknow #HES ALREADY AN ADULT ITS OK #dol smut #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

[raine-soft]

🅔🅧🅒🅤🅡🅢🅘🅞🅝

POV: Mission with Konig, Ghost and Soap

You go on a mission. Your companions will be Soap, König and Ghost. Outside you find a military jeep. There are some gun boxes in the back seats.

"There you go. There are only 3 seats." Ghost grumbled with apparent annoyance and dissatisfaction.

“I'm definitely going to drive. I mustn't let Ghost drive again.” Soap said and snickered. Ghost glared at him, he hated being reminded of the day he got lost on a mission.

“Mein Schatz! Sit in the back with me, eh?,” said König. I was squished in the only available back seat. The front seat was moved completely forward. He is very tall, maybe that's why Soap calls him a burnt giraffe.

"Y/N: Um… Ok :]" You responded with all the innocence in the world, you were known for your kindness and innocence. Everyone wondered how you became a lieutenant, as always, gossip exists and whether it was because your father was a colonel or because you had relations with a superior, but you were simply a sweet and innocent flower… Except when your life or of those you loved were in danger, or on a mission.

He laughed lightly. He loved you for your innocence. “Don't pay attention to my big…uhh…” Looked down. I was trying to keep it… Could you say… PG? Yes PG. He tried to keep it that way for your own good, he knew that once he started in the slightest he would give in to his primal instincts that he always tried to contain. “*Great presence? You’re on my lap after all.*” he said in a slightly mocking tone, but you just ignored him." E-em, o-ok…" You feel a little nervous, your innocence is like that of a little girl, but it's kind of cute.“Jesus Christ..” Ghost and Soap laughed at the whole thing. “She's so innocent…” Ghost thought to himself. König also thought the same, both of them with somewhat perverted looks while discreetly licking their lips. "She's so innocent… I could do anything with her…" the thought flashed through Konig's mind. Konig sighed and closed the door. He leaned back and hugged her. Soap and Ghost went up. They started driving, and the car accelerated quickly, it didn't seem like it would take long to reach the mission site. Konig smiled at you. “As young and innocent as ever…” he said in a strange way. She just looked at the ground and took jelly beans out of her bag, a very childish bag, made of woven strawberry, very pretty. He ate some gummies, some strawberry sour patch. “Aww~ You have some gummy bears! Can I eat something?” Ghost said, leaning down in an attempt to grab one. Konig chuckled. “Ghost, you always want candy.” He said in a slightly mocking tone. You give him a jelly bean directly into his mouth with an affectionate gesture.“Mmm~ Thank you!” Ghost said happily. “She's too innocent…” Soap muttered a little annoyed “She's adorable!~” Ghost almost purred, it was strange to hear him say that. Konig had a small smile on his face and watched you eat the gummy bears. You licked your fingers, like in one of those porn videos, but those things were not to your liking.“Mmmm…” Ghost murmured again, with a small perverted smile on his face. Soap just stood there doing nothing. Konig chuckled in that usual cold and authoritarian tone. “Ghost, you are being so disgusting…” *"Oh come on! ~I'm getting one of the cutest reactions from her!~"* Ghost argued. “Yes, and that's disgusting.” Soap said. “It's not disgusting!~” Ghost said, now annoyed. "*Ghost! Come on! You're basically a 45-year-old man lusting after a 25-year-old girl!" Soap said, almost mockingly.

#konig call of duty #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig smut #john soap mactavish #soapghost #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mactavish #cod konig #soap call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost bc

[searidings]

my sister & i were talking about unending love, and i was immediately reminded of "i'll take the desert, you take the coast", so i pulled it up and read some of it to her, and i got to the line "even if she still can’t look at a bunch of fresh kale without a deep twinge of something she’d prefer not to define," and golly and knocked me over, i was tearing up about it all. so good. so all that to say, thanks for writing beautiful words :)

bro this message has fucked me all the way up i'm so 🥺 truly and honestly thank you so much for this

#im beyond honoured that you would think of that in that kind of discussion like !!!! wow #if anyone needs me i'll be over here having a heart attack #i rly love that little fic actually like in terms of economy of language while still having it Hit i think that's one i'm most proud of #i know it's probably too bittersweet for many but im really happy with how it turned out and for once in my life #i actually don't think there's anything superfluous in there like i think every sentence has something to say #which is very unusual because i am extremely wordy and simply do not know when to Shut Up #but with that one i held myself back and it turned into something near and dear to my heart #and to hear that it's something that exists in your mind too is just like. wow. yeah. 🥺 #thank YOU so so so so so much for this message it means a tremendous amount to me #and has made me unbearably warm and fuzzy inside #this ask has knocked ME over #hope you're having the best day of your life today #asks #theghostofpreston

[forzalando]

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #forzalando #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[shotmrmiller]

now im thinking about how you're technically johnny's wife of convenience but now also simon's girlfriend.

like maybe you're crazy but you do remember johnny telling you that you can see other people, just don't bring them home. but every time you try to, simon is there.

something always suspiciously happens when you're out, conveniently forcing you to cut the date short, and the one that picks you up is simon. he doesn't even let you walk yourself out either. he'll already be at your table, putting your phone and wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. and what's worse, with the one guy who didn't mind, the one who had asked for a raincheck, simon told him that you have a husband at home waiting for them with a warm dinner.

he chuckles under his breath at the guy's reaction— ashen face, wide eyes, and gaping mouth. "don't know what ya saw in tha' bloke anyway. he didn't even cover the bill." because simon stared at him until he skittered out the front door without a backward glance.

and then their dates. they're supposed to be a couple; you're just a front, so why do they keep taking you with them as a third wheel. is it an exhibitionist kink? because that's what it feels like every time they're together. it's all sloppy kisses, grabby hands and you swear that if you hadn't spun around and briskly walked away that one lazy saturday simon was home, they would've probably let you watch them fuck each other stupid on the living room carpet.

it's also hard to bring it up to johnny because either simon's there, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed as he watches you exist, or is taking up far too much space on the couch so that if you want to sit there and watch the telly, you're obligated to press up against his massive thigh. (manspreading, simon? really? truly?) or you can't look him in the eye after listening to the headboard repeatedly slam against the wall all night. you can still hear johnny's moans curling around the edges of your very conscious.

then, you meet the rest of the 141: a tall, broad bear of a man with the ocean in his eyes and an iconic mutton chop beard. john price, he'd rumbled as he shook your hand. and then the other one, a devastatingly pretty man with chocolate-brown eyes, a small scar on his cheek, and perfect, white teeth. kyle, the boys call me gaz. a pleasure. he'd grabbed your hand with both of his as he also shook it.

johnny doesn't stick around, excusing himself quickly as he takes a phone call but simon does. he stands directly behind you— a suffocating presence a silent guardian— so close you can feel his body warmth on the expanse of your back.

little close there, eh simon?

no' at all, boss.

once he starts showing up at your college with lunch, you feel like your patience is dangling by a fragile, whisper-thin thread so you confront him directly.

only to have him shut you down in seconds.

what's johnny's is mine. now sit, i know ya didn't eat breakfast this mornin'.

at least he brought you your favorite meal:}

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

[incognit0slut]

All I Need

Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love? Based on:

Warnings: 18+ mature content but nothing too explicit, this is just sweet love making

words: 2077

A/n: I’m supposed to finish my last kinktober and update my series, but both are very heavy and I needed something sweet to defrost my writer's block. I hope you don’t mind me squeezing something else until I finish my other WIPs🥲

“…every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need…”

SPENCER KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't familiar with—from every mole, every scar, to every stretch mark. Any imperfection you considered of yourself he found to be perfect.

He was well aware of the small scar on your hip bone. Or the mole resting at the back of your thigh. Or the way you disliked caffeine, because every time you drank it, it increased your heart rate drastically. Which was why you always judged him every time he had a cup of coffee in his hand, especially with the amount of sugar he never seemed to stop adding.

"That is definitely not healthy," you would always say, to which he simply responded with a small peck on your lips. It was his way to shut you up without saying anything.

He also knew how soft you actually were underneath that hard exterior you always carried. You were an enigma the first time you joined the team, but Spencer always had a soft spot for mystery, and solving you became his mission even when he wasn't the best at maintaining conversations. He remembered making a fool of himself when he talked to you, stuttering about one of the random facts engraved in his brain.

But you still listened to him, and for once in his life, he finally found someone who didn't mind hearing him talk. It was nice to have somebody who found his knowledge interesting, and with that thought in mind, it didn't take long for him to take an interest in you.

Not that he wasn't interested at first, because honestly, you were a splendid sight when you first walked through the door. It was more so an interest that was considered surpassing a simple friendship. An interest that had him push his confidence into asking you out.

Spencer never pegged himself as someone who would be content having a significant other in his daily routine—his past relationships never seemed to work out, after all—but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was actually in pure bliss. It seemed as if you had cast a spell, drawing him deeper into your presence, a magnetic force of affection that went beyond the superficial. Every smile, every touch, seemed to emanate a radiant heat, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnitude of your warmth.

Especially at this moment, staring into your eyes as they slowly fluttered open from a long night of slumber, he found himself leaning forward. You were so warm, so inviting. The soft light coming from the curtains cast a shadow over your curves and he couldn't help himself from trailing down your body.

You were fully awake now as he pressed his lips on every part of your skin. The slight movement of your arms wrapping around his neck had him grunting, and somehow he was suddenly positioned between your legs, pressing his hot length onto your wet folds, wanting nothing else but to push himself deep into your warmth.

As he watched you beneath him, eyes half closed, mouth open in anticipation, he couldn't help but mutter his next words because you looked breathtakingly beautiful. Heavenly gorgeous covered in a sheen of sweat, so damn pretty with eyes full of desire. You looked like a siren, an angel, and a lustful woman all rolled into one.

Everything about you was so divine, and the desire to consume every part of your existence became an insatiable hunger. It was a need, a yearning that made the idea of spending a lifetime without you seem unfathomable as if oxygen slowly drained from his world, leaving him breathless. 

The words bubbled up from the depths of his heart, and before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out, "Marry me." 

Your eyes snapped open as he finally sank his hips into you, and before you could even respond, before you could even register his words, his rough thrust stole the breath from your lungs. Rational thoughts shattered as he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was slightly painful yet completely pleasurable.

He slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, your back arching, legs wrapping around his waist. "Spence," you moaned as he started a steady pace, trying to gain your focus but failing miserably. You couldn't think of anything else except the sensation between your legs. "Oh, God."

Languid and smooth, his hips continued to roll into you. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

The feel of his cock sinking in and out of you had your head falling back against the mattress. Your fingernails tightened upon his back, and he drove you gently into the bed with low grunts. His voice was rough, broken by focused breaths. "We could do this every morning."

A whine broke out of you.

"I'd wake up first," he told you. "I'd make you breakfast in bed..." He slipped out again before thrusting into you slowly, dragging his cock along your inner walls that had you mewling. "...right after I wake you with my tongue between your thighs."

You let out another moan. He drank in the sound with a smile before lowering his mouth to the base of your neck. Heated kisses trailed along your skin as his fingers trailed down the outline of your body before they stopped at the warmth between your legs.

Your mouth was wide open against his shoulder, eyes watering with the force of pleasure from having his cock smacking through your wetness, his body forcefully shoving your knees apart. You felt his fingers trailing your clit in slow circles and you arched your back, each tender brush tightened that coil of heat simmering in the pit of your stomach. The simulation drove you further into a haze of pleasure that a soft yes finally escaped your lips without you realizing it.

The barely whispered word didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yes to this," he wondered as prompted his weight on his other hand. "Or to my proposal?"

You glanced up at him, your face a mixture of pleasure and alarm as you gave him a look. "You're crazy."

He watched you closely, mesmerized by the way your hips were bucking every time his cock hit that soft spot inside you while his fingers continued their tease. "Maybe." He leaned down and softly bit your shoulder. "But I am crazy in love with you."

When you didn't respond, he slowly pulled away and fixed his gaze on you. Your reaction, or lack thereof, spoke volumes, and as his eyes met yours, he found himself captivated by the reflective pools of emotion within. There was a hint of fear and concern, shadows that danced with the flicker of uncertainty. Yet, beneath those layers, he could see the distinct longing in your eyes. It was hard not to distinguish it as it matched the same look in his. Your stare was warm and domineering.

They were so full of love.

And that moment, Spencer realized, that was what you were to him—love. You were the greatest passion he had ever known.

You felt completely in the moment with him as you let your gaze scan over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room, but you could still see the soft lightness of them. Then, you leaned up, noses brushing gently against each other before you pressed your lips onto his. His body moved again in response, hips bucking into you and you felt him pulsing inside your core as his mouth worked harmoniously along yours.

"Marry." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

You whimpered. Everything was too much. The intensity of the pleasure was almost intoxicating, a heady concoction that wrapped around you, rendering you momentarily breathless.

"Having you for the rest of my life is a privilege." He continued, grunting as you clenched around him. He lost himself with one final, jagged plea. "Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

His words, touch, and the stroke of him inside you—it all blurred together. It pushed you so wildly that the coil in your stomach twisted sharply through along your body. He lunged down to kiss you again, tongue pushing deep as he stole your moan before it could break into the air. He tugged you into him at the same time that you submitted to his pull.

There were times when you would appreciate this. The contact, the intimacy, the warmth of your boyfriend connected with you. Right now though, you needed release. So you buried your hand in his curls, all messy and askew.

"Spencer," you breathed out against his lips. Each of his thrusts fed the growing flame in your body as your body turned pliant for him. “Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

He peppered kisses over your neck, your jaw, your temple, desperate to be even closer to you, to melt into you. "Yes to what?"

Your senses were heightened, every touch and every breath seemed magnified in the intensity of the moment. Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes." A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give him a pleading look. "Spencer, please, please."

You were panting, your breath hot and your skin even hotter, and you could barely hear him when he spoke, "Yes to what, Angel?"

Angel. The syllables carried a warmth that resonated deep within your heart. Sometimes you were his Angel. Sometimes you were his Sweetheart. While you cherished the way he expressed his affection, a yearning for more had taken root.

Marry me.

You could be more than his angel. You could be his wife. But it wasn't just about the affectionate words anymore; it was about a promise, a shared future, and you realized as he hovered above you, all sweaty and desperate, that you wanted to feel this bliss every day. How could you not when he fits so perfectly inside you that you could swear he was made for you?

And then you felt it, his hand trailing down your arm before it stopped right along your fingers, intertwining them with his. Your hand clutched onto his as his thrust sped up a fraction—but it was still deep and lazy, enough to make you squirm. His cock was achingly hard inside you and when you clenched down on him, you adored the twitch and resounding moan it drew out of him.

You wanted this for your life. You wanted him every day. You wanted to wake up each morning in his arms, him whispering sweet nothings as he buried himself inside you.

You wanted him so much you would be a fool not to accept his proposal.

"Yes," you breathed out. "I'll marry you."

He grunted against your lips. "Say that again."

His thrusts were now fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time you could feel him deep inside you, it brought you closer to that familiar coil in your stomach. It was a heady sensation, an intoxicating blend of desire that quickened your pulse and set your senses ablaze.

"I—shit," you cried out, legs shaking at the pleasure traveling along your body you were starting to wail desperately for your release. "Fuck, baby, I'll marry you."

A sound of satisfaction erupted from him as he kissed you with every ounce of power he had. He kissed you as he had never kissed anyone before. He kissed you deeply, possessively even, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from different angles, but it felt perfect.

You felt perfect. Your lips. Your curves. Your scent. It was as if you were made especially for him. He was fully consumed with you, consumed by you, and yet he couldn't get enough. Though you were beneath him, he was at your mercy, and the fact that you could still have such control over him made his stomach twist even more.

He was so in love with you. He was so sure of it, so sure of this abundance of passion, for Spencer Reid could sometimes be dense when it came to sudden bursts of emotions, but he was not stupid. He wasn't oblivious, nor was he lacking in perception. It wasn't about intelligence or lack thereof, it was simply about the purity of his emotion. 

And he was deeply, unequivocally in love.

.

Oneshot taglist: @simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @natarataca @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim

PLEASE READ: The crossed out ones are blogs I can’t tag. And if any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #Spotify

[radiance1]

"Danny!" Danny turned around to find Plasmius, gunning straight for him on his motorbike, and came to a quick stop as if he wasn't about to run him over. "You need to keep your alternative self on a leash. You hear me?"

Danny took one long sip of his tea, staring Plasmius straight in the eyes, savored the taste for a moment before swallowing. "Nuh uh."

"What do you mean 'Nuh uh'!?"

"Nuh uh."

Plasmius straight up hissed, red eyes glowing from beyond his pair of sunglasses as he stared the teenager down. "Do you know how many times he's woken me up, before the sun itself is up, just to annoy me into spending valuable hours of my time with him!?"

Danny took another sip of his tea, reaching a hand under his shirt to scratch his stomach. "That sounds like a you problem, really."

"Da-"

"You know he's also made from you right? If I had to fight him, you're going to be annoyed by him." Danny stated plainly, making a gesture with his thermos. "Also, it's a bonus for me since you're too busy to do your frootloop things-"

Plasmius grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt and wrinkled his nose. "You really need to get better pajamas than a simple shirt and oversized pants." He placed the boy under his arm and took the sky. Danny idly shifted to Phantom as he took another sip. "So like, where're you taking me?"

"To go and put stop to that imbecile."

"You know I had plans today."

"Ice cream for a month, all from my card."

Phantom humed. "Make it two."

"Deal."

Phantom flexed his fingers. "...Three..."

"Doable."

"Oh, you're actually serious about this."

A drive later

You see, Dan was having the time of his life. Strongarming that old man at the asscrack of dawn, driving to Metroplis and causing mass amounts of property damage with the crown jewel being that he got to chase around Superman in an attempt to run him over.

He should've expected something to go wrong.

One moment, he was casually minding his business, trying to trample one of the Earth's greatest heroes under his motorbike. The next he was nearly knocked off of it when something slammed into him.

"Ello." Phantom said calmly, as if he wasn't just thrown by Plasmius right into his alternative self from a future that no longer exists. "Twerp." Dan also said 'calmly' as he grabbed onto Phantom and lifted him off of him.

Then dropped him.

Superman was very quick to catch the boy. "Thanks." Phantom said, and Superman smiled. "You're welcome! Are you here to pick him up now, or are you just waiting?"

"I'm getting three months worth of ice cream if I stop him now so like, pick him up I guess."

Superman help him up under the armpits and faced him towards Dan. "He's here to pick you up, by the way!"

"I fucking heard that!" Dan shouted at Superman before turning his attention to Phantom. "Also, what the fuck! You can't just do that! Did that old fuck put you up to this!?"

"Whaaaat? Noooo, he would neveeer..." Phantom glanced around, looking for Plasmius before clicking his tongue. There was an unfortunate lack of said halfa to throw under the bus. "If you stop for like, now, I'll share some of my ice cream with you."

Dan genuinely considered this proposal. "Know what, fine." He yanked Phantom from Superman's hold and dropped him onto the seat beside him before driving away.

"Enjoy your ice cream!" Superman shouted.

"Shut the fuck up boy scout!" Dan shouted back.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

[lovrspell]

Reflection

Pairing: Astarion x Afab!Reader (no gender specific pronouns used, only anatomy)

Summary: Astarion can't see his own reflection as he fucks you, but he can still see yours.

Warnings: 18+. Katoptronophilia. Body worship. Fingering. Hair pulling. Sprinkled some dry humping in there. PiV. Creampie. Astarion has an oral fixation. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Word count: 3,3k.

Masterlist.

(Screenshot ↷ by @cheekylittlepupp, I cropped it a bit)

Astarion has accepted the fact that he'll never truly know his own appearance. Denied the privilege to see himself through his own eyes, he must rely solely on others' description to gather an image of himself.

Something which makes him feel particularly vain is hearing your own portrayal of him. You make him feel so beautiful, basically flawless.

You would tell him that he has hypnotizing ruby eyes, you would tell him about the way his white strands curl around his pointy ears or about the sensual curve of his upper lip — and he'll love it all.

In your bedroom, there is a mirror right next to your shared bed, against the wall. He likes to watch you through it when you get ready for the day or, which he prefers most, when you get ready for the night. Your pre-bed routine is sacrosanct and he somewhat finds it relaxing, too. He has learned the smallest of your habits in depth.

On the other hand, during your most intimate moments, he likes to turn his head to admire the shapes of your body, or, when he takes you from behind and holds his hand in the locks of your hair, making you sink your head into the soft mattress, he notices how your cheek slumps against it; how you drool, how your face contorts in pleasure...

On all the times it has happened, it has always been the breaking point for him. That view is all he needs to come undone. Perhaps that's why he doesn't do it too often.

So it usually ends at a quick glance, nothing more.

Usually.

He had different plans in mind tonight, it seems.

It's one of those nights where having sex was inevitable. It occurs when you feel that simply being close is not enough anymore; when you feel the compelling desire to mold into a shared existence and become one.

It's not that difficult to do something that makes the other shiver with the familiar thrill of arousal. By now you are used to it: you immerse yourselves in intimacy, in each other, ending up in a realm with no name, that is simply all yours. In moments of passion, you lose all sense of surroundings: be it on the bed, on a table, against a wall — on the floor, even. Nothing matters anymore, just the two of you.

“Come here,” he whispers against your lips, finally detaching from them after yet another intense kiss. He grabs your hips and pushes you onto his lap, his back resting against the headboard of the bed.

You follow the motion as your lips come to latch on his throat, where you plant wet kisses. Your arms reach around his back to wrap around him, bodies nestled perfectly like a lock and a key.

As you do so, you feel him doing something you absolutely adore: he lets himself go.

It's always a wonderful feeling: his muscles softening under your touch as he lets himself be touched, loved, explored; you touch him as if you are rediscovering him every single time. Moments like these remind you of how much he trusts you.

His head tilts to the side and he groans, arms snaking around your form and coming to a stop once they reach your rear, of which he grabs an handful.

He gives it a few gentle slaps, something he does to encourage you to come closer.

You oblige, scooting closer with your hips, making your sexes brush against one another above the fabric of your clothes.

His sex bumps into yours as he buckles his hips up gently one, two, three times. Enough for you to feel his cock slowly getting harder and harder under your spell.

The gentle movements earn a languid whine out of you, and you pull back from his neck only to meet his gaze.

Astarion leans in, parting his lips as his front teeth gently catch your cheek in an affectionate nibble, ensuring his canines don't intrude in it.

He adores those soft spots of yours. Perfect for his teeth to sink into.

You grin, giggling softly as you press yourself down against his hardening member; he feels the damp heat coming from your sex, even through your pants. Not surprising after your intense make out session that had been going on for at least thirty minutes.

A slow drag of your hips along his length is enough to make his nose scrunch up as he suppresses a hiss. You big tease.

His cock twitches for you.

But he's not going to let you know just how needy he is yet.

He moves his hands to your hips, bringing his lips to your ear and mumbling a gentle command: “Lie down, darling.”

You hum in understanding, but pull back from him reluctantly. The friction between your sexes had just started to feel nice.

You adjust on the mattress and as he scoots closer to you, your hands immediately reach for him again.

As he's at your side, his hands go for the hem of your trousers. His thumbs slip past the fabric so he can get ahold of your panties too, and slowly, he starts to pull them down.

Your breath is uneven already.

“Part your legs for me, yes?” he whispers, smiling wryly at you. He's awfully aware of how much these alluring commands can turn you on.

“Gods, Astarion...” you whine, biting the inside of your cheek.

He knows what that's about.

“Oh, come on. Don't be coy. You can't possibly be any wetter than what I've made you on other occasions.”

You roll your eyes, watching him as he slips those clothes past your ankles and finally, your feet.

Tossing them aside, his gaze returns to you and he gives you a knowing smile.

“Let me see it.”

You spread your thighs slowly, making space for him in between them — a space he immediately occupies. He looks down at your exposed sex, raises his eyebrow and hums.

“Could've been a lot worse.”

He takes such pride in knowing he can make you wet with so little. He'll brag about it. Tease you as if you can't make him hard as brick without even touching him.

“Oh, please. Don't start.” you reply, scowling.

“You know you love it.”

You're grateful he didn't notice the clench down there.

It is true, after all, that deep down you love it when you're left bare and exposed for him in all your glory — and sticky wetness.

Before you can muster up something to say, you feel a pair of cold fingers brush over your clit.

You gasp softly, as Astarion starts to trace delicate circular motions, swelling up that particularly sensitive spot. The pace is slow, but he puts a noticeable amount of pressure on it — enough to make your legs twitch slightly every time he touches it from a specific angle.

“How does it feel?” he purrs, persistently keeping his eyes on yours. “Feels good?”

All you can manage is a nod. Now, come on, you could've certainly saw his response coming,

“Use your voice, dear.”

You swallow, then mumble “It feels good.”

With his free hand he caresses your inner thigh, before slowly trailing it towards the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, up, up, until your breasts are left exposed.

The view is certainly pleasing to him — you could swear that you saw his ears perk up a little.

He sighs deeply, leaning down to plaster kisses all over your breasts. His lips find your nipple and he nibbles gently, sucking on it a bit. When he pulls back from it, a string of saliva still connects him with its hardened surface. You writhe in pleasure, wrapping both arms loosely around his head.

He rests the side of his face on your soft tit, his sensitive ear right where your heart sings a rhythmic armony. He listens carefully as it beats against his ear, closing his eyes. That's life flowing inside you. Your body hot and and lively and vigurous with passion is something he'll never tire to admire, feel or taste.

He can hear the noise the blood coursing through your veins makes, your heart pounding faster and harder as the pleasures builds.

In the meantime, his fingers trace your swollen clit for one last time before his fingers slide down to trace your folds expertly. When they reach the entrance to your sex, he traces a few circles around it.

“So wet,” he comments, sliding a pair of fingers inside.

They follow an agonizingly slow in-and-out rhythm. You squirm, moving your hips in the direction of his hand — it's not enough.

He feels his pants going quite tight as he works his fingers inside you, caressing your sweet spot in deep strokes.

“More,” you whine, squeezing his waist with your thighs.

He doesn't answer, but he does move his thumb to circle your clit gently.

He has to bite back a groan when your walls hug his fingers tightly and a pool of warm wetness drenches them.

You writhe underneath him and his cock responds to that unexpected motion with a twitch.

He pushes his hips down the mattress and ruts against it, since his cock is too far away from any part of your body that he could possibly hump.

He turns his head from one side to the other and as he newly nestles against your chest, adjusting comfortably.

Then he sees it.

Your reflection.

In the mirror, your arms wrapped around his head look like they're floating.

Back arched, lips parted, thighs squirming, eyes shut rightly...

You look sublime.

It's not the first time he's greeted by such view, but even so he can't refrain himself from commenting on it. You're stunning when you have any part of him inside you and you need to know that.

“Look,” he mumbles, but you don't hear him.

Lifting his head from your chest, he smoothly raises his free hand to grab your chin, turning your head toward the mirror. The abrupt motion interrupts your pleasure momentarily; his cheek presses against yours as you both face the mirror.

“Look at that,” he repeats, his fingers curling into your sweet spot deeply enough to earn a high pitched moan out of you.

Knuckles deep, his fingers now fuck you at a rather frantic pace.

“Gods, you're beautiful...” he mumbles, his eyes fixed on that image before him.

You don't even have time to process what he's saying that he's basically already grinding his hips against your inner thigh. He skillfully maintains a coordinated rhythm with his fingers even while he's pleasuring himself.

But this dance doesn't last long.

He has to be inside you.

You're about to approach the edge of an orgasm when he pulls away from you.

“Up,” he gestures with an hand, patting your thigh impatiently with the other. As you do so, taking your time, he's already unbuttoning his pants. Only when he lowers his underwear enough to let his cock spring free he does exhale a quiet sigh of relief. He pumps it a bit, glancing up at you as he does.

He's not surprised to catch you staring, lips parted to form an ‘o’ shape.

“Up, honey. On your hands and knees. And face that mirror.”

Oh.

“...The mirror?” you echo, raising your brows and searching his gaze again.

“Did I stutter?” he retorts, raising his brows in a familiar fashion, playfully mocking you. “Go ahead.”

You take a few moments to process that order but you eventually oblige, placing yourself on all fours in front of said mirror.

Astarion scoots behind you, hands coming up to the small of your back to press on it, making you arch. He hears your sigh as his hardened cock presses against your ass. His lips curve in a knowing smile when one of his hands cups your rear and squeezes gently. He drags his cock along it again, grunting.

You whine, looking back at him from behind your shoulder. “Stop teasing.”

“Patient is the key,” he murmurs, leaning onto you and planting a tiny kiss on your shoulder before his chin comes to rest on it. He observes your reflection with feline attention.

“Look up.” he orders, and so you do. You meet your own eyes, feeling a certain embarrassment; you've always found it kind of creepy how, whenever you cross a reflective surface and you're in his company, he's simply not there.

“Do I have to?”

“I'm not going to let that go unseen,” his hips press into you and he uses an hand to help himself part your damp folds with the tip of his cock. “you look so pretty when I fuck you senseless.”

You grunt as your lips part in delight, eyes fluttering closed. He fills you with his whole length, slowly, and you're already at his mercy as he begins thrusting at a lazy rhythm. Astarion's lips press on your ear and he hushes you when you whine, “I've not even started yet,” he mumbles, reaching an hand up to grasp your hair so to hold your head up. Yet again, you're forced to meet your own reflection.

“That's the problem.” you answer, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Trust me, darling, if I had let my instincts win I would have been ravaging you by now. But waiting makes the experience better, doesn't it?”

Every word whispered brings sweet shivers down your spine. His lips move down the nape of your neck as he makes sure you feel every single inch of him as he pushes in and out. The pace picks up gradually and his eyes never leave the immacolate vision ahead of you.

You look in absolute bliss, lip twitching up whenever he speeds up a bit. It's impressive how you seem to forget about the rest of the world in a flash whenever he takes you.

Astarion starts to get impatient with himself. His cock is straining and all he wants is to get straight to the point and fuck you into oblivion until you're a sobbing, stuttering, trembling mess. But he insists on fighting against that urge; he always plays this ‘edging’ game with himself. It makes it all the better, somehow.

“You there?” he asks after a few seconds, given the fact that you've gotten silent and dropped the whining. He lifts off your back and straightens his own. His hand leaves your hair, trusting you to keep you head up on your own.

“Hm,” you hum in response. It seems you've gotten quite fond of the slow, gentle rhythm.

He has to fix that.

Can't have you falling asleep now, can he?

His hands find the soft curve of your hips and he gives them a strong squeeze that only lasts for a second, like a warning. It seems to stir you up a bit.

He angles his hips in a way that ensures that each movement he makes meets your deepest spot. He switches to a rapid pace so suddenly that it almost makes you lose your balance and slip your hands past the edge of the bed.

Fortunately, Astarion is there for you.

He grabs you by the hair not so gently, pulling you up. Your back arches naturally as a yelp escapes you.

He grins, letting out quick puffs of breath with every thrust. One of his hands finds your throat and his fingers curl around it, while the other rests on your ass for good measure. He tilts his head back, loosing himself in the warmth of your wet walls.

But he quickly raises his head back up towards the mirror. Your breasts, partially covered by the shirt you didn't bother to take off, bounce with every thrust. And as if that sight isn't enough to make his dick twitch inside you, he catches a glimpse of you rubbing your clit as he's fucking you.

This view somehow encourages him to give you more. So much more.

Until you can't handle it.

He uses the hand around your throat to pull you against his chest: an hoarse moan rumbles in your chest and fills the room as the movement chokes you a bit, but you don't mind.

His hand leaves your neck and find the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts further. His other arm snakes around your stomach and your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder.

Astarion doesn't miss the opportunity to plant kisses all over your neck, nibbling here and there and leaving a few scratches with his sharp fangs. He doesn't make too much of an effort to find the point in which your pulse pounds, pressing his parted lips on it and sucking.

When he makes sure he has left an hickey, lips find your earlobe and he bring it in between his lips, suckling it gently. “Such elegance in your every movement,” he sighs, voice low and alluring. “impressive.”

You whimper in response, and as he tilts his to the side, he catches your hand trembling in the reflection.

Your brain fogs up and you reach that moment in your ecstasy in which you go limp, letting yourself go completely. Your stomach slowly twists in a knot as your orgasm approaches.

“Let me do it for you,” he whispers, gently pushing your hand away, replacing it with his own. His fingers circle your clit in quick movements that match the pace of his thrusts, which, however, gets messier and sloppier as he approaches the sweet edge as well.

He groans as his free hand gropes you all over, squeezing and pulling on the softest spots of your body he knows by heart by now. You manage to open your eyes and see clearly for a couple of seconds and, well, you're surprised to notice that the view ahead of you does turn you on some more.

There's just... Something in the way you know that it's Astarion reducing you to such a mess and and most of all, it's to be witnessing it in real time what earns a clench of your walls around his member.

The way your sex responds to that vision can't go unnoticed when Astarion is balls deep inside it.

He smirks, biting the shell of your ear as he rams inside you, chasing both yours and his orgasm. Your moans sound breathless as your clit swells with arousal under the tips of his fingers, aching for a release. You raise an hand up to grasp his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. You tilt your head so that you can meet his lips for a messy kiss, which Astarion reciprocates.

However, he breaks away with a growl when you start panting into his mouth. He watches the climax happen on your face, then your body: you tremble, losing control over your hips that chase those fingers on your clit and his cock. Both your shaking hands find his hips and you grip them tightly, dipping your nails in his flesh.

Your clit swells and your walls clench deliciously around his member, squeezing him in.

He stares, eyes wide and basically glowing.

His pace doesn't falter, not even for a second, although he pulls his hand back from your clit in order to focus on his cock straining inside you.

He whimpers desperately, getting impatient to come, which results in sloppier thrusts. His name leaves your lips in a sobby moan; you lose balance, letting yourself sink into the mattress.

He sounds so good. You grip the sheets tightly and he leans down, lips against the nape of your neck.

“Just a little more, a little bit more... I know you can handle it,” he mumbles breathlessly, feeling his cock twitch and balls tightening.

He looks up to meet the blessed view of you, squirming and spent as you cry into the mattress, muttering phrases of ecstasy he doesn't quite catch; he finds it adorable how you kind of... Lose your ability to speak properly when you're drunk on his cock.

His hips falter and he groans, sinking his fingers into your flesh and pushing you down against him. He feels his knees abandon him for a second or two as he spills his semen inside your aching cunt. The thought of pulling out didn't even cross him, not when you clench around him so tantalizingly.

He grunts, mumbling your name a few times as the last thrusts guide him over the wave of his ecstasy.

Next, he collapses on top of you.

You lower your ass under his weight, grunting. It takes a few moments, but he eventually lazily pulls out of you, unable to contain a small, content grin at the sight of his cum spilling out of your puffy sex.

He lays on his back beside you, making the mattress bounce gently with his weight as he settles. You turn your head to him, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He's following your every movement with his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, hand raising to caress your face.

You snuggle against the cool palm of his hand, giving up on trying to keep your eyes open. You give a slight nod, then ask: “Are you?”

“Do I not look like it?” he replies, smiling lovingly, fangs peeking at the corners of his mouth.

A comfortable silence falls between you two, but you're the one to break it:

“I might be into this whole mirror thing, y'know.”

He grins, narrowing his gaze. “Oh, love. I always knew you were a bit of an exhibitionist.”

“...It was your idea, I shall remind you.”

“And you went along with it.”

“I did.”

You yawn, leaning in to rest your head against his unmoving chest. He wraps you up into his arms and you do the same, lifting your head up to print small kisses all over his face.

You both lay there for a while, not bothering to get cleaned up right away: it has been like this ever since you've grown more comfortable around each other. You take it easy, savoring the aftermath of passion and the softness that comes with it, between giggles and stolen kisses.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x fem reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x afab reader #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

[chikaras-garden]

Hi petal! May I request Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne dick headcanons? Like, size and width kinda thing? Thank you!

Sweet Jesus. Yes. Goodness. Oh my god.

DICK GRAYSON 💦

Not the longest. Not the girthiest. A pretty pink head that demands kisses. But the curve of his dick helps him reach places inside you that no one else could ever dream of. This is a cock that finds every spot that makes you squirm and scream—and then invents new ones, just to be sure no man has ever made you feel as good as he does. 

He uses his whole body to fuck you. Hands cupping your cheeks, forehead against yours, breath fanning over your lips in between kisses. When he’s inside you, you’re two halves of one whole, and the point where your body ends and his begins may as well not exist. He’s so agile, so flexible; he’ll work as hard as is necessary to find every position that has you coming undone all over his cock.

Loves to stay inside you. He came so much, so hard, so fast—so he’ll just plug you up, you know? You don’t mind, right? He’ll be so impossibly gentle about it, too; laying on top of you, weight on his knees so he doesn’t hurt you, peppering little kisses up and down your face until his cock softens and slips right out.

DAMIAN WAYNE 💦

A cock so perfect that they should be making dildos based off of him. Very long. Very thick. Tanned and super veiny. Honestly, the worst part is that he knows this because he’s heard it a billion times. Praise does nothing to him after hearing so many people say he feels so good, that he splits them open just right—but the look on your face when he thrusts hard, fast, and deep until your eyes roll back in your head? 

That has him feeling something he’s never felt before. He’s buried to the hilt inside you, you feel him all the way up to your lungs, and you reach down to grab his wrist and hold him right where he is. When your fingers wrap around him, he groans, seeing stars of his own. You reach around his hips and press your hands into his ass to pull him even deeper, and he starts forcing himself into breathing exercises to stop himself from coming right there.

Prefers you to come first. Also prefers when you have the time for both of you to come multiple times. He has a thing for coming on your tits first, and he’d love to come on your face if you’re into that, but sex isn’t finished until he fills you, duh.

@uc1wa I wasn't kidding

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne smut #batfam x reader #batfam smut #🌸— mine. #🌸— damian wayne. #🌸— dick grayson. #💌— letters for the gardener. #💋— anon.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

What about Graves with a breeding kink or if reader is pregnant? I know you don't rlly write for him a lot, but I love when you do.

Idk if you'll feel like answering this, but ily and ur fics regardless 🫶

Graves w/ a Breeding Kink

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Breeding Kink, Possessive Graves, Housewifery, Pet Names,Profanity,  Fem! Reader.

He lusts for the American dream; the very foundations upon which he continues his existence. To have – to create – a family. And he can think of nobody better to achieve that dream with than you.

He’s on top of you, arms either side of your head, gasping, panting, bent over you and exerting every inch of himself as if you were crafted of some divine substance with tools far beyond human comprehension.

He’s been at it for hours now. You see it in the way his hair sticks together, slicked with sweat as it drips down his face, hear it in the thick, wet sound of his cock slipping back into you with every thrust of his hips, feel it in the growing ache in your abdomen as he fills you again, letting out a strangled, short-breathed moan as your body squeezes around him. He doesn’t let up, though.

He pushes through, gripping you by your hips and pulling you closer onto him. You gasp, back arching as he hits a spot deeper within you. An area he’d been abusing all night, 

“B’such a good little mommy for me,” he whispers into your hair, just above your ear. He presses a lopsided kiss there, lip wet from the many times he’s drawn it into his mouth with his teeth.

“Y’want that, Sweetness?” he pants, looking into your eyes with his half-lidded pair. “Want me to–” – he grunts – “want me t’make you mine from the inside out?”

You can’t get the words out fast enough; garbled and twisted, they come out tangled and in knots, as if tripping over each other to reach a unified ‘yes’. With the little energy you have left, you nod with all the enthusiasm your half-gone mind can conjure. Graves smiles, giving a brief, airy laugh. “Knew I’d made the right choice pickin’ you. Knew you’d make a good housewife for me someday,”

You clench. Graves gasps. He brings warm lips to yours as if to press his love there, as if you are to now impart upon him that which he has longed for for years unnumbered; a family.

He angles deeper, presses his throbbing, pulsating instrument into the most inconspicuous part of you that has you arching your back and letting out an almost-scream. Your knees press into the sides of Graves’ waist, tightening around him just as your cunt did. He yells, uses every ounce of his strength to not collapse on top of you, the tip of his nose against yours. Something in him tightens, snaps, and he floods you for the umpteenth time, pressing himself deeper, making sure his seed takes.

Not that you can see for your eyes being screwed shut, but Graves gazes upon you as you bask in the afterglow of his labour, feeling a smile creeping up onto his cheeks as he takes in your every feature. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen them, in one form or another, he never stops being fascinated – enamoured – by them. By you.

When you come down, come to, you give Phillip a smile he knows all too well – one that preludes your telling him you’re ready for bed. He all but pounces on you as you turn onto your side, taking you by the wrists and pressing them into the pillow beneath you. A dark glimmer passes through his eye, and he gives you a hazy, slithering smirk, followed by his southern drawl.

“Oh no, Princess,” he says, taking your chin between his fingers.

“We’re not done ‘til I say we’re done.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod smut #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #graves mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

[hairmetal666]

Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #angst with a happy ending #getting together #falling in love #protective steve harrington #oblivious eddie munson #mutual pining #steve harrington is bad at feelings #not quite rivals not quite enemies but a secret third thing to lovers #it's angst but then it's sweet #we're all traumatized here