#It’s always sunny in philadelphia x reader

[n1ghtman]

could you possibly do a kinda dark Charlie Kelly x female reader smut , where Charlie is obsessed with the reader like he was with the waitress and the reader feels bad for him and finally gives him a chance I could see him being really whiney and excited!!

PICKING UP A STRAY

summary: on your way home from work, you catch charlie outside your apartment complex in the rain. you don’t have the heart to tell him to go home.

pairing: charlie kelly x reader

cws: reader has a 9-5 job, reader is implied to be broke/struggling, afab terminology, reader has a bra, i imagined reader as a lady as per request but technically reader’s gender isn’t really specified, stalking, premature cumming, charlie unintentionally overstimulating himself, charlie is very unhygienic, bad sex but it’s okay reader fixes it, “making love,” charlie is a closet pervert, reader and charlie are both pathetic in their own ways, charlie is EXTRA pathetic though, panty sniffing, panty stealing, the year is ambiguous so you’re free to picture whatever season you want, excessive plot before porn, plot holes i’m sure but reader HAS to be insane for this to work, reader is bitchless, charlie is nervous and excited, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), not really proof read

wc: about 6k

reblogs appreciated!

5:08 PM

ON A FRIDAY

the ten minute drive home from work was always a little depressing. you didn’t exactly live in a comfortable area in the city, and it only looked more gloomy in the dark, gloomy rain; the further you got from the bustling heart of the city and closer to your humble apartment, the more the reality of your life brought down your mood. the music humming in your car does it’s best to drown out the harsh patter of rain hitting your roof, but it wasn’t enough to truly distract you. you pull into your usual parking spot outside of your apartment building, aching to just get inside and rot inside your bed. at least you got to leave work a few minutes earlier than usual.

stepping out of your car, you grimace slightly as the rain waits no time in soaking you. you’re quick to slam your car door shut and lock the vehicle, before making haste to your apartment building. you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping your light jacket will spare you even just a little. you’re approaching your door when you see it — him, actually.

“charlie?” you stop, squinting. in contrast, he looks like a deer caught in headlights as he whips around; he stands straight, the bushes he stands in catching on his worn out jeans. even drenched in rain, you could recognize charlie a mile away — after all, he was your non-threatening stalker. it was a long story, really, but it’s important to recap. it’s important because, while he was non-threatening (for now), he was still stalking you. sometimes, you wouldn’t see him for weeks, and would almost forget the amount of times you’ve changed apartments.

it all started about two years ago. while you were working at an old service job, charlie was your customer. he was with two of his friends, and you were polite — that was your job. to be polite. a job that you really needed at the time, and so, you always did your best with customer service, no matter how rude or strange a customer was. maybe you were a little too good at it, because it had certainly left a lasting impression on charlie. he kept showing up by himself after that — most of the time, he wouldn’t actually order anything. he’d only linger, making various poor attempts at conversation with you; which, of course, since it was your job, you had to offer polite conversation back. people hitting on you at work is always an awkward situation, especially when the person doesn’t directly ask you out, leaving you unable to verbally reject them. maybe charlie knew you would, and so he never gave you the opportunity.

it went on like that for a couple of weeks. after that, you’d see him less and less. it didn’t stop, but it was no longer a daily occurrence. another few weeks went by before you started noticing some odd things — your hair was suddenly much nicer than usual, which was odd considering your cheap shampoo and conditioner. the outside of your car looked less and less dirty, as if you started regularly taking it to the cleaner — which you certainly did not do. you’d suddenly have extras of basic necessities laying around, ones that you swore you were running low on. maybe your memory was playing tricks on you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird about it.

you finally found out the reason behind these things one day while you were getting out of the shower. you had gone to your room to get dressed, only in a towel, when you saw a figure move down the hall in your small apartment. at first, you froze — then, you grabbed the nearest blunt force object available, and carefully tip toed towards the opening of the fall, which lead to the open concept entrance, living room and kitchen. there, you saw a disheveled figure struggling to prop open your kitchen window. you had yelled, with a shaky voice, for the person to freeze and turn around — what were you, a cop? no matter, when they had, you saw him. and that was when you discovered that charlie had been meddling with your life in secret. he argued that he was helping it, but you weren’t so sure you could get behind the idea.

after that, you moved out as quickly as you could. rent around city had gone up, unfortunately, leaving you with little options; you ended up somewhere shitty, and stayed like that until it started happening again. and the process repeated, until you eventually ended up where you lived now. why didn’t you go to the police? it was complicated — sure, charlie was bothersome and a delusional freak, but he really wasn’t violent. he was the most consistent part of your life the past two-ish years. you also didn’t technically have any proof, and people often ignore cases like this until it was too late. the police just felt like a waste of time. you really should have gone, though.

“uh—“ charlie’s squeaky voice brings you back to reality. what a strange reality you lived in. his stance was stiff and rigid, clearly uncomfortable. and likely from much more than just the rain. “you’re… home early.”

“what are you doing here?” you ask with a pinch between your brows. you already know the answer. well, you had a few guesses, anyways. he’ll spill his guys anyways. he had a bad habit of rambling when he’s caught.

“well, uh— i was just… stopping by. wanted to see if your new place was… safe.” he answers, awkwardly playing with his hands and adding on a fake, airy chuckle to the end of his words. that was another habit of his; downplaying what he was doing to a causal, chill explanation. you clearly don’t look impressed, and he falters. he looks like a kicked puppy. or, a drowned rat — he goes to speak again, but you cut him off.

“how long have you been out here, charlie?” you already feel cold, and you’ve only been in the rain a few moments. he looks like a complete mess. you knew charlie didn’t live lavishly — he didn’t have to tell you. if you couldn’t tell by his barely held together clothes, or the sickly complexion of his skin, you’d at least smell his ungodly odor. maybe him out in the rain was good. like a bath.

his eyes widen at your question. he looks aside for a moment, nervously chuckling. “ahh—“ he waves a dismissive hand; “don’t worry about it.” he says, because he thinks you’re creeped out by the prospect of him hanging around outside your windows. he hates to cut this short, because he really wanted to get to know your new place better, but he supposes it’ll just have to wait for another day. he would have just broken in like he usually did, but with all the rain and mud, he would have left too obvious of a trail. he had started to learn how to be real sneaky early on.

again, you stare at him with an unimpressed expression. he hates when you look at him like that. he misses that cute customer service smile you used to always flash at him. you were one of the only people that made him feel like an actual human being. in a poor attempt to save face, he goes to start again, and you once again cut him off.

“c’mon.” you grumble, nodding towards your apartment door. it’s rainy and cold and maybe it was messing with your judgement, because you’re inviting your stalker inside. he looks surprised, too, but he stumbles out of the bushes and follows you inside. you aren’t 100% sure why you’re inviting him in — he just looked so… pathetic. for some reason, you didn’t like seeing him look like that, and you certainly didn’t like the idea of him walking home in this weather. after all, you practically moved to the other side of the city where you first met him. you wanted to get away from him. and yet, you were letting him inside your home.

charlie clumsily reaches down to take off his beaten up sneakers after he watches you step out of your shoes. the rain outside clearly wasn’t a good enough bath, because now that you were inside with him, you could still smell… him. you try not to cringe, and he seems to not be self aware of his odor. he looks quite happy for a guy that was soaked to the bone. his gaze doesn’t stay on you for long, wandering instead to look around your apartment. it wasn’t very homey yet, as you moved recently, but anything that was yours he loved.

“do you want to take a shower?” you ask after a moment, trying to not be flat out rude, but also desperately needing the man to wash if he was going to stay until the rain passed. plus, you didn’t want him to get sick — maybe you can toss his clothes in the dryer? he perks up at your offer, and you can see the affection in his eyes. you weren’t sure what else to call it. any display of kindness you showed seemed to be just another nail to the coffin.

“really?” could this night get any better? when you tentatively nod, he grins — you lead him to the bathroom, and give him a general guide; letting him know any quirks of the shower, since it wasn’t exactly well kept before you had gotten there. you didn’t have very fancy products, but you got him a wash cloth he could use with the soap and such — there was already a few towels in there, and while you’d debate burning whichever ones he uses after, the premise of him not stinking up your apartment was enough to get by. you leave him to do his business, and you decide to get changed in your room. while you didn’t stay in the rain nearly as long as charlie did, you were still pretty wet. afterwards, you head to the kitchen — when you pass by the bathroom, you hear awful singing.

you remember that you were going to put his clothes in the dryer. right. you hesitate before knocking on the bathroom door — you hear nothing back, and sigh through your nose. of course, he didn’t lock the door, and so you were able to just open it. the shower curtain is thick, so you couldn’t see him, but a loud gasp pulls from him as if he could.

“just getting your clothes — i’m putting them in the dryer,” you say quickly, and grab the mentions items from ontop of the closed toilet lid; he lets out a little *oh, okay, * and you don’t stick around. you close the door behind you, and head over to the corner where you crammed your washing machine and dryer. since it’s only a few items, it shouldn’t take too long. you doubt his shower will be terribly long, either. still, you have time to kill; why not make supper?

you keep it simple, with a classic box mac and cheese, because fuck cooking after work. you take your time as you get plates and such together, before actually grabbing a box to cook up — it’s a few minutes later that you hear the bathroom door open.

coming down the hallway is a slightly wet, but surely cleaner charlie; he walks into the space with one of your towels messily wrapped around his waist. you can see some remaining droplets of water rolling down his abdomen, getting trapped in his poorly maintained happy trail, and —

“you’re cooking?” he sounds much jollier than he usually did. you blink, and quickly meet his gaze. there was no way you were just distracted by charlie — well, you haven’t been with anyone in… awhile, so, surely that explains it!

“y—yeah,” you clear your throat a little; “just mac and cheese. uh… your clothes will be dry soon, i think. sorry about…” you trail off, and gesture to the towel. “that.”

he glances down and chuckles. “nah, can’t complain.” his cheeks are a little flustered. “thanks for letting me shower.”

“no problem…” you almost mumble, bringing your attention back to the mac and cheese. you didn’t want to start ogling him again like a freak. were you really so lonely and starved of male attention that… *charlie * had you feel some type of way?

around when you finish up cooking, the dryer goes off. charlie snags his clothes, and heads to the bathroom to change. you can’t help but eye him as he walks down the hall. you were practically asking to be murdered, weren’t you? you take out two plates, serving food on both and placing them on your dainty kitchen table; charlie shouldn’t take too long, and so you decide to start without him.

“heyyy-yo!” charlie greets as he comes back in, now dressed in, not quite clean, but at least not soaked clothes. you swallow down the food in your mouth, perking up a little — you can’t help but look him over. you never thought charlie was particularly bad looking, only extraordinarily disheveled at all times; he didn’t clean up half bad.

“hi,” you eventually reply, and gesture to the seat in front of you. “i made mac and cheese.”

“holy shit, really?” his eyes light up and he makes his way over with haste. pulling out the chair across from you, he plops down and doesn’t really bother to tuck himself in under the table. he grabs a utensil with an overzealous carelessness, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he ate was from how he starts to eat.

“uh… no one’s gonna take it away from you,” you try to joke, but your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and there’s a pinch between your brows. from this close, you can see his still damp hair start to drip.

charlie looks up at you through his eyelashes and away from the food. an airy, small chuckle falls from his lips. “ah, yeah…” he seems almost self conscious, but he makes little effort to change, aside from straightening up a bit. “i just haven’t had a proper cooked meal in awhile.”

you blink, because your boxed mac and cheese was most certainly not a ‘proper cooked meal.’ you knew a lot of random trivia about charlie, from his early day visits. to keep conversation going, he would unpromptedly share facts about himself. they tended to be drawn out, poorly explained facts, though. you’re beginning to realize that, in the big picture, you don’t know much about his actual life.

“well…” you start again, unsure of what to say. “i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love it!” he compliments, taking a generous bite. “you’re a super amazing cook, i mean —“ he swallows; “seriously.”

you try to not notice his poor table manners, because it wasn’t like you were exactly classy yourself. you look down at yourself and your shitty work clothes. with a small, hardly audible sigh, you thank him and continue to eat. dinner carries on; charlie makes various attempts at conversation, and you do your best to keep up with his random thought process. it’s hard to not stare during his tangents — he was, admittedly, passionate. it was endearing, when it really shouldn’t have been.

as the pair of you finish up eating, you can still hear the rain tap against your windows. the realization that you may just be stuck with charlie all night is starting to sink in, and you still have no idea what your plan is. you had let charlie in on a sympathetic, impulsive whim. you didn’t exactly have a spare bedroom in your dingy apartment.

“thanks for the food,” he says, and if you didn’t know anything about his mother, it would seem uncharacteristically polite. you only nod, and awkwardly stand to grab his plate and yours. you can feel his eyes on you as you place them in the sink — you’ll clean those later, you think. you glance over your shoulder, and charlie only smiles. you try your best to offer one back.

“so…” you trail off, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter. he makes no attempt to add on, and can’t help but squint a little.

“wanna watch, like, tv or something?” you suggest, and his eyes widen.

“oh, shit, you got cable?” he grins, and you open your mouth to confirm, but he’s starting again; “yeah, yeah, we should watch tv!” he stands up from your table, and clumsily tucks it back in. you lead him to your living room, and the two of you do your best to get comfortable on your not so impressive couch.

this close, you can smell your shampoo on him. you can only imagine his body smells like your soap. blinking hard, you reach for the remote and flick through channels until you find some romcom that was in decent quality. throughout the movie, charlie makes some unfunny commentary, which you hardly have the energy to even fake laugh at. when the male lead finally works up the courage to kiss the female lead, there’s a sudden silence in the room. out of the corner of your eye, you can feel him staring — again. you glance over, and this time, he’s not smiling. he looks almost dazed.

“… charlie?” you question slowly, squinting and leaning back a little. you’re suddenly very aware of just how close you two are. he isn’t meeting your gaze, though — instead, it looks like he’s looking down at your lips, his own slightly parted. your brows furrow.

“char—” you start again, a little exasperated. he cuts you off, mirroring what he saw on screen moments ago. your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he presses his lips against your own. a vague noise of protest rumbles in your mouth, and he only takes the opportunity to, as best as you can put it, eat your face.

you promptly push him back, your hands planted firmly on his chest. he looks confuses, eyes wide and his brows stitched up and together. there’s a little bit of a rosy hue on his otherwise pale cheeks.

“what the fuck was that?” you ask, but your voice is much softer than you expected it to be. you should be angry — furious, really. you can feel your heart pound against your ribs, and in the dim lighting of the living room, you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks as he tentatively apologizes.

what the fuck were you thinking?! this is the guy who had been harassing you. sure, he argued he was making your life better, always looking out for you — something no other guy has ever really done. the dating scene in the city was six feet under, really. a guy even planning a date was a one in a million chance. your friends insisted guys were just intimidated by you, but the last couple of years had been notably lonely. other than…

something in you was changing, and you wish you could blame it on alcohol. the hands flared out on his chest, move to grip his shirt, and you tug him back in for another kiss. this time, it was his turn to make a sound of surprise, but he settles into the kiss much faster than you did.

the hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt move to the back of his neck, your fingers sliding into his still damp, dark hair. you can feel his hands grip your waist, and there’s an underlying uncertainty in the touch — you can tell he isn’t so sure about what was happening, but he’s kissing you all the same. you’re kissing him. he was most certainly not your ideal hookup candidate, but dick was dick and you were really struggling to remember the last time you got that.

“uh—“ you can feel his nervous chuckle against your lips as you start to climb into his lap. pulling back, you look at him — he looks at you like you put the each and every star in the sky, and you still aren’t entirely sure why.

“is… is this okay?” charlie asks, swallowing thickly. you squint a little, because you don’t want to talk about it. this has to be in your top five worst choices made — sleeping with your stalker? seriously?

so, instead, you just nod and lean back in to kiss him again. he seems more confident this time, practically hugging you closer; he’s surprisingly warm. your lips messily mesh against his — you don’t feel any need to impress him, which was … actually pretty nice. if anything, he should be trying to impress you!

he does — as you grind down against his crotch mid-makeout, he wraps an arm under you and flips the both of you. the kiss breaks as you lay back, eyes widening. he leans over you, your legs hooked over his hips. if the lighting was better, you’d see how blown out his pupils were.

charlie presses his lips against yours again, but it’s more like a peck. his lips wander, and he kisses along your cheek in haste as he shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall down besides the couch. you cringe a little as he sucks at the edge of your jaw, a little too close to your ear lobe. you can feel yourself start to grow wet nonetheless. a hefty sigh pushes through your nose at the feeling.

none the wiser, charlie mistakes your sigh for a sound of pleasure and smiles to himself. he can’t even remember the amount of times he’s jacked off to this idea — let alone to the lingering scent you left on your pillows when you weren’t around, the panties you left in your laundry bin, your used washcloth from the shower you had that morning — his pants feel awfully tight now.

“you…” he starts again, his voice a little breathy. “you — you do want this, right?” he asks, an excited undertone to his words. the hands on your waist inch down to the edge of your shirt, and you know he wants to take it off. so, you do it for him — you sit up a little, peel your shirt off, and let it fall by his jacket.

“yeah…” you practically mumble, and you aren’t sure if he’s really listening. he seems to have no shame as he stares at your bra-covered chest. you can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “hello?”

“oh, oh— yeah, yeah. yes?” he shakes his head, gaze flickering between your face and your breasts. his tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip, and you bite yours.

you feel his hands reach behind you, and they unclasp your bra. he doesn’t struggle with it as much as you’d expect. well, if you consider all the locks of yours he’s picked, maybe it makes a little more sense. he drops it to the growing pile of clothes.

he leans back on his knees as he looks down. “wow—“ you almost miss it with how quietly he mumbles, and his hands come to cup your breasts.

“hey—“ you distract him, and he looks at you. your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “come on.”

“oh, right, right. sorry,” he chuckles, reluctantly removing his hands from your chest to tug his shirt up and over his head. he smiles down at you, and you really notice his crows feet. he presses a kiss to your lips again, and then to your chin; the kisses are quick to trail down your neck, and then the valley between your breasts.

“i’ve waited so long for this—“ he confesses against your skin, as if you don’t know. you inhale softly as his lips stop at the top of your pants. he looks up at you through his lashes; “can i…?”

you nod, and he leans back on his knees. he unbuttons the button of your pants, and unzips them. tugging them down with an underlying desperation, he stares intently at your underwear while he tosses your pants aside. you feel almost insecure at his staring, but before you can comment, he moves.

charlie lowers himself, lower and lower, until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt. his nose, probably unknowingly, presses against your clit and he takes an excessively long inhale.

“charlie.*” you cringe, your hips involuntarily arching in an attempts to get away from his bizarrely embarrassing interest. he pulls back, looking up at you.

“sorry,” he says with a loose smile, and you can tell he doesn’t really know what it was he was even apologizing for. he leans back up to sit on his knees again, his fingers coming under your underwear to tug them down your leg. he shoves them in the back pocket of his pants, and starts to get his barely held together, worn jeans off. he’s a little clumsy, as he tries not to disturb your legs hanging on his hips, but you’re considerate enough to lift them while he shoves his pants down. his boxers look… well, they look. if you weren’t so focused on the tent in them, maybe you’d be a bit more concerned with the state of his underwear.

“so…” he swallows hard, and a hand combs through his slowly drying hair; he feels a little sweat building up in his hairline, and he hasn’t even put it in yet…!! sometimes, he wishes he was even half as ‘smooth’ or… what was that other word? sw-ouve? suave? as dennis… maybe he’ll have to get in his apartment and re-watch some of his sex tapes… but, the angle of them was so…

“i’m, uh, i’m good.” you say, noticing what looks to be charlie spacing out right before having sex with you. you try to not take offence. after all, you’re quite literally positive that he has even less luck in the love department than you.

“oh—“ charlie blinks hard, “yeah? yeah, okay, good. that’s good.” it feels like his heart was gonna jump out of his throat as he tugs his boxers down, but is too lazy to take them off all the way; his cock falls out, erect and already leaking pre-cum. you can’t help but stare at the hairy mess of his crotch.

charlie is staring at yours, too, but for different reasons. he’s looking at your little hole, biting his bottom lip — he really has waited so long for this. the gang was never going to believe this. maybe, after this… you guys can… hang out a little. you know… date!* and you can tell them yourself!! the thought makes his dick twitch. he grasps his length, and angles it so that it presses against your drooling cunt. you feel a spark of arousal zap you at the feeling of his tip against you, but you don’t get to really appreciate the feeling for long before he’s pushing inside you.

a little noise of discomfort hums in your mouth, your lips pressing together firmly; it wasn’t like a terrible rip inside you, but, you usually preferred a little more… prep? charlie stops half way in, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“are you okay?” he asks, voice breathy. you wave a dismissive hand, nodding.

“yeah, yeah— you’re fine, don’t worry,” you assure, and once the initial stretch settles, you finally feel full. even if you masturbated, your fingers couldn’t truly emulate the feeling of an actual cock inside of you. your face heats up as charlie pushes himself the rest of the way inside, and you can hear him let out a little groan.

there’s a pause, assumably to let the both of your adjust for a moment, before charlie is dragging his length against your velvety walls. he doesn’t pull all the way out, leaving most of his tip in before pushing back in; he works up a rhythm, even though it’s a little uncoordinated. he’s panting softly on top of you, and you struggle to hold back soft sounds of pleasure. he catches them, and his hands move from your hips to your hands — he intertwines your fingers, and your eyes widen. he leans over you, and you can’t help but squeeze his hands. he smiles at you, and squeezes back.

this pace lasts for about 30 seconds before his hips buck forward with more passion. he groans, and you can’t help the way your cunt tightens around him; a whine settles in his throat, and he feels too caught up in the feeling of your warm walls around him to realize he should back off before he —

you suddenly feel a thick, gooey substance inside you and your eyes widen. your back arches, and you feel grossly turned on — you just wish it didn’t end… so fast? you open your mouth to say something, but charlie is just as quick to apologize.

“sorry, sorry—“ his voice is even more pitchy than usual, and his hands grip yours like his life depended on it while his hips stay nestled against yours. he seems to struggle every time your walls contract around him. you kind of wished he pulled out, but… oh well? he will in a second, anyways.

to your surprise, he takes in a shaky breath before slowly starting again. a pinch forms between your brows, and a quiet moan gets caught up in your throat. you can hear a light squelching sound from between your legs, and your face burns. you feel hot and a little sweaty, and he looks… well, much worse. you’re surprised he’s even still hard, but… you know he tends to get hard around you most of the time. still, this must have been awfully overstimulating for the guy? the thought that he just wanted to fuck you so bad that he’d continue to, orgasm after orgasm…

one of your hands wiggle out of his grip and snake down your body. your fingers find your clit, and you softly rub it; your tummy tightens and so does your cunt. charlie whimpers on top of you, and he breathes out an i love you. you’re too focused on chasing your own high to fully process his words.

his thrusts start to smooth out a little, rolling his pelvis into yours — there’s still an obvious uncertainty to them, but your fingers speed up against your clit all the same. you pant, and the two of you make eye contact. his cheeks are flared, his lips are red from biting and kissing, his pupils were blown out; in the shitty lighting of your apartment, he looks so good like this. he feels so good inside of you. you can physically feel your distaste for the man melting away each time his cockhead plunges against that spot inside you.

an actual moan escapes you, and he refocuses. he leans does to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, while trying to hit that same spot inside you again. you can hardly kiss him back, jaw slacking — your fingers move furiously against your little button, and your legs cross behind him, desperate to feel him against you. the feeling begins to overwhelm you, and your tummy flips.

it isn’t much longer before that knot inside you snaps, and you cum around him. the pleasure washes through you, and your swear your foot just twitched. the hand that was messing with your clit comes up to push in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping the strands there; charlie’s hips buck against you at the feeling, and he moans and whimpers into the kiss. he cums for the second time tonight with a whine, and he slows to a stop inside of you.

a few moments pass before he reluctantly pulls back. you look so beautiful like this — under him, panting softly, with parted lips and a notable slump. he had thought about this moment so many nights with his dick between his hand, and none of those scenarios ever compared to this.

charlie pulls his cock out of you, and some of his cum dribbles out of you. he doesn’t really notice, although you feel it. you let go of the hand that still held yours, and you almost cringe at how sweaty it feels.

“… hi,” he practically whispers with a little chuckle — reality was really starting to hit him now, and he can’t help but feel giddy. it makes your heart flutter.

“hi…” the hand at the back of his head comes forward, brushing his hair out of his face. you feel tired and a little spent. reality was hitting you, too, but you feel more weirded out than happy. charlie takes your hand and presses a playful kiss to it, and you realize that you’ve really made a mess of things.

“do you wanna… go to bed?” he suggests, his mind wandering. he imagines himself abandoning frank and coming to live with you. maybe he was just feeling romantic and impulsive, but he thinks he’d probably abandon everything for a chance to be with you.

“i think…” you slowly pull your hand away from him, and start to sit up. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

“oh,” is all he says for a moment, but then he grins. “i’ll see you in bed, then?”

“uh, sure.” you nod, and you can still hear the rain outside. he nods too, and his grin stretches so wide it hurts his cheeks. he gathers up his clothes, putting his boxers back on and starts to head down the hall to your room. you watch him, and your mind wanders, too. you aren’t sure how you can ever hope to even possibly get rid of him, now.

[star-girl-05]

Officer Reynolds

Dennis Reynolds x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

“Where did you get that?”, after all these years you would think nothing would surprise you anymore, and yet almost everyday there's something new. Today's newest thing is Dennis dressed in a cop uniform, holding a grey cat. 

“Frank got it” he did a twirl letting you take in his appearance fully, and you have to admit he looked good. “Sprang for all the bells and whistles.” he lifts up the baton hanging off his hip spinning it in his hand before pocketing it once more. 

“Why?” 

“We got a cop car and we can’t go driving it around in civilian clothes”

“Ah, I see” you had more questions, like why on earth did you guys buy a cop car but you keep your mouth shut. Knowing that the answer would only raise more questions. “If you bought a cop car shouldn’t you be riding it it and not here” 

“Maybe I just wanted to see you”, now it’s all starting to make sense. 

“Is Officer Reynolds hoping for a quickie?” Dennis smirks at the nickname immediately making his way over to you. 

“When I said Frank sprang for the bells and whistles that includes handcuffs” He suggestively twirls the silver cuffs around his finger. 

“Well hurry up and read me my rights before the others come back.” The two of you quickly head to the back office. Dennis gives agent Bower a pet on his head before setting him on a bar stool. 

“Stay here agent bower, this is a solo mission”

[hwsing]

WRITING COMMISSIONS

hello hwsingers! i do very much enjoy writing, however there is a lot going on at in my personal life at the moment. and several past moments, really, considering my inactivity for the past while. i don’t know when or if i’ll post regularly again, however i would love to offer taking writing commissions for anyone who is interested. please feel free to privately message or inbox me with any questions or concerns. ko-fi

PRICING:

MATCH UPS (~250-500 words): 2 CAD

REQUEST (~500 words): 5 CAD

REQUEST (~1000 words): 10 CAD

REQUEST (~2000+ words): 25 CAD. +10 CAD for every extra 1000 words requested past this point.

FANDOMS

HETALIA. however, i would also accept requests from the following: it’s always sunny in philadelphia, genshin impact, honkai star rail, haikyuu, inside job, peacemaker

[bethsvrse]

Wade: I’m just saying that the plan was genuinely dumb, as many of our plans are, I now realise

Y/N: What about your whole speech about, “I have the grace of a falcon, and I’ll be in and out like a demon’s whisper”?

Logan: You stood up on your chair in that burger restaurant and said that speech for everybody

Wade: It was a damn good speech, very persuasive. But I regret it now

[sailormercurysdiary]

eren jaeger is that one character I’ll always run back to because he’s just that fine

[dandelionpixels]

could you do romantic Dennis or Charlie hcs with a super affectionate s/o btw I love your account ^^

YASS i got you!!!! and tysm omg!!

charlie

- lowkey really obsessed with you. like hes never had anyone so openly love him like this. so it kind of reduces him to gibberish when you kiss him on the cheek

- hes always pointing you out to people who come into the bar bc hes so dumbstruck that you’re actually his and he wants to tell everyone

- sometimes when the gang is sitting in a booth and you scooch in next to him and interlock your hands, he just goes blank for a couple minutes until he comes back to reality

- one time he actually offered you his jacket and you kissed him on the nose in gratitude. he didn’t stop grinning until mac tried to tackle him for “looking dumb as hell”

- im sooo picturing lots of times where you’re holding his hand and he just can’t stop glancing over to look at you because hes so amazed

- at some points he gets so overwhelmed he has to take a couple laps around the bar

dennis

- initially pretend he hates it. hes always pulling his hand away or swerving away from a kiss while mumbling “pda is gross”

- but one time when you guys are sitting at the bar, you catch him off guard with a kiss on the shoulder. he spins his chair away with an annoyed noise but you can see his cheeks go bright red

- he’s bartending one night and gives you a drink and you go “thanks handsome” and he has to fumble to not drop the bottle he’s holding. you pretend like you weren’t looking to save him the embarrassment

- one of the first times he initiates is when you guys are sitting in a booth with the gang, and he nudges ur hand under the table. when you go to move it away, he interlocks your pinkies and shoots you a quick smile

- you come into the bar one night after an awful day at work and make a beeline for him. he opens his mouth to say something rude but stops short when you wrap your arms around him. he looks around to make sure no one’s watching and surrenders, putting his arms around your shoulders and mumbling his best attempts at encouragement

soo fun!!! i luv writing the boyz :))

[n1ghtman]

can we get some closeted mac smut? Like season one himbo mac, literally any context will do !!

CLOSETED MAC

summary: more rambling than a coherent fic, what it’s like to get with closeted mac

pairing: mac mcdonald x non-woman! reader

cws: reader’s gender isn’t exactly specified other than they aren’t a woman (inclusive to non-binary folks), reader’s genitalia also isn’t specified, hookups, non-established relationship, but established friendship sort of, toxic, mac is so horny that he should be put down, season one mac so his hair is still nice, reader is basically mac’s gay awakening, drunk sex, reader is much more comfortable in their sexuality than mac

wc: about 1k

reblogs are appreciated!

mac has never had much of a reason to question his sexuality. sure, he admires the male form and craves male validation more than anything, but he’s always gotten with women. that’s just… how it went, really. he didn’t think too much on it, including his general disinterest in anything other than just emptying his balls when it came to girls. he found women irritating and hardly attractive, aside from, uh, you know… the stuff he’s supposed to like. you know, big tits, tight tops, whatever.

it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to him when he felt a certain type of way when he met you. for the first night, and the next while, he felt like a teenager again — giddy, tripping over his own two feet, and often finding himself having to readjust his pants. at first, he didn’t think much of it; you were cool, he wanted to impress you. he wanted to be friends. bros. pals… he just struggled to get why he felt so *nervous, and how much he liked just looking at you.

the first time you two slept together, both of you were drunk. it was a nighttime blur, the lights of the bar somehow turning into the lights of an apartment. all either of you really remember are the messy, heated kisses, desperate touches and moaning — being intertwined, and grasping to be even closer. you woke up first the next morning; you weren’t entirely sure what happened, but being naked under the sheets with mac lightly snoring besides you told you enough. that was the most peaceful you had ever seen him.

things were incredibly awkward once mac woke up. as he realized what went down between you two last night, his jaw dropped — for a solid minute or two, all that managed to come out of his mouth were vague noises of shock. he looked like a fish out of water, really, before he finally got the idea to scramble out of bed and snatch his boxes off the floor. he insisted that you two didn’t have sex — or, even if you did, which, god forbid… both of you were just insanely drunk. which meant that it meant nothing — a mistake at best. you can only watch with a raised brow and slightly unimpressed look as he clumsily tugs his pants on. this reaction didn’t totally surprise you. after all, you had heard various of mac’s homophobic comments and jokes.

you might have expected things to end there, with mac leaving your apartment in a rush. mac could only *hope that things would end there. on the way back to the bar, his heart was pounding in his chest. he would have just gone home, but, even one question from dennis about where mac had been the night before probably would have sent him over the edge. mac found himself oddly productive that day, desperate to will away his curious mind — the one that couldn’t help but try and put together the pieces of last night. as much as he tried to shoo the thoughts away, they just kept coming back.

the next time mac sees you, he has to desperately try and will away an erection. he can feel the sweat forming in his palms, and he feels like a total idiot in front of you. it doesn’t help that you hardly seem bothered — a little concerned and slightly amused, perhaps, but you were by no means as graceless as him.

he wasn’t sure how, but he found himself going home with you again. while not quite sober, neither of you were piss drunk by any means; when you point this out, mac tries to form an argument, but he can’t. and so, he just presses a heated, open mouthed kiss to your lips. and that’s how it went, really — you didn’t talk about it. there wasn’t much point to it. actions spoke louder than words, anyways, right? that might explain how quickly he got off, how a few touches from you were enough to make him cream his pants; how he got hard again just minutes after; how clingy he began to get; how much he insisted on putting his lips on you, touching anywhere and everywhere you’d let him; how he’d grip your hips like he wanted to nail his hands to them.

sleeping with closeted mac means never showing any form of PDA, of any sort. even friendly affections made him nervous. all his friends could tell what was going on, but mac thought they didn’t have a clue — and he wanted to keep it that way. he started to carry around one of those pocket sized bibles. any attempts you make to have a conversation about it, he shoots down — most of his excuses make no sense, but he rambles until you couldn’t possibly come up with a response.

funnily enough, though, the reason his friends can tell is because of him. if they ever confronted him, he’d blame you, but in reality, it’s him who slips up. it’s him who grins nonstop around you, who wraps an affectionate arm around your shoulders, who practically giggles at your jokes. it’s all him. the only way you could get him to even consider labeling anything would be by giving him an ultimatum. is it a bit toxic? sure, but compared to *his shit, it’s practically angelic.

[sofmoth]

Smooth Stuff

for her birthday, @strang3lov3 challenged me to write dennis reynolds, and to use his DENNIS system on the reader. naturally i’m nervy because who can do dennis but glenn howerton honestly??? and genuinely not to suck myself off but i feel like i met the brief LMAO

this is for all us dennisfuckers, dennisfucker nation stand up!!!

also posted to AO3 by me (@sofmoth), link here.

divider created by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

dennis reynolds x reader. WC: 2.3k

DO NOT BOTHER INTERACTING IF YOUR BIO IS AGELESS OR BLANK.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT.

HEED ALL WARNINGS:

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. dennis is a literal sociopath, dennis is manipulative, dennis manipulates reader for sex, dubcon, reader is psychologically tortured, sober sex with a drunk person, reader gets drunk, canon-typical dennisisms, no confirmed relationship, use of the DENNIS system, smut. once more for the cheap seats, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

“My name’s Dennis, I’m collecting donations for the Boys & Girls Club.”

That’s how it started. He’d come in to ask if there were any old toys your store was about to throw out, and if you would consider donating them instead. Unfortunately not, you’d told him, but you were pretty sure you had a phone number he could call and he might have some luck with that. You’d written it down on a Post-It for him with the name of the person he should ask for, and then you handed him a Post-It with your name and number. You’d never been so bold before; something about him inspired that in you.

He called you every other night, and you talked for a few hours each time. It felt like nothing, talking to Dennis was as easy as breathing. He was charming, and funny, and he actually listened to you bitch about the day you had at work instead of interrupting every 38 seconds to talk about himself. Friday night, near the end of your call, he asked if you’d ever been to a restaurant called Guigino’s. He’ll be taking you on Sunday.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous walking to the restaurant with him; you’ve gotten pretty comfortable with him over the phone. He can probably sense your anxiety, hooking his arm into yours as you walk. You hear it before you see it, Dennis groans and you look up. A sign on the door reads CLOSED, and Dennis holds his face in his hand. He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Unbelievable, I’m sorry. How about we take a rain check on this? We can grab a pizza or something and head back to my place, watch a movie? My roommate’ll be there but he keeps to himself. If that’s okay with you, of course.” You hum, bite your lip.

“Okay. It’s still Italian.” You stifle a nervous giggle and Dennis chuckles, wrapping his arm over your shoulder as you continue down the street.

As the apartment door opens you can see a man sitting on the couch, reading a book with the TV barely on. He must be Dennis’s roommate. Dennis clears his throat.

“Hey man. Do you mind taking that to your room? The restaurant was closed, we’d like to… y’know, get to know each other a bit. In private.”

“I’m not going in there.” Dennis’s jaw twitches.

“Why not?”

“I saw a black widow. I’m not going back in there.”

Dennis sighs, looks over at you.

“I mean, I guess we could take this to my room? Eat on the bed, watch a DVD in there?” You nod and he relaxes, smiling at you.

You sit on top of his covers with the pizza box between you, eating absently as you attempt to follow the movie. You’re not entirely sure what it is, but you think you recognize a few of the actors. You feel Dennis’s knee touch yours, looking over at him.

“Pretty good pizza.” He closes the box.

“Not the only good thing I’m looking at.”

God damn, does he fuck. You almost feel bad for his roommate, though the thought is immediately pushed from your mind as the head of his cock borderline bruises your cervix. His hand on your throat stifles your moans, your eyes roll back from the sensation. You’re practically folded in half, knees pressed closer to your shoulders than you ever thought possible, your arms around his neck as he kisses you messily.

Your legs start to tremble, toes curling as you feel the tension building in your belly. You knot your fingers in his hair, tugging hard as your back arches into his chest and you begin to see stars. He doesn’t slow down, if anything he fucks you harder, tears pricking at your lashes as the stimulation toes the line of too much. You silently thank God he had condoms, glad he won’t have to pull out and finish on you. His pace falters, hips stuttering as he grates out a near-rapturous “Oh, fuck.” 

He pants against your neck, wincing as he pulls out. You prop yourself up on your elbows, legs still shaking You look him up and down, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the wild look in his eyes nearly doing you in again. He tosses the spent condom down into the wastebasket by his nightstand, pulling his boxers up and laying on his back next to you. You look over at him, raising an eyebrow. He raises one back at you.

“Oh, really?”

The next evening after work, you find one of your tires almost completely deflated. You groan, inspecting the rubber and locating a sizable screw lodged between the treads. Fucking fantastic. You sigh, chewing on your lip. You’ve only been talking with him for a little over a week, and you don’t want to seem too needy, but you call Dennis anyway. Maybe he’ll be able to give you a ride to the auto shop at least.

He’s there in no time, happy to help. He even offered to change the tire for you. As he stands he wipes his hands on his jeans, kissing you quickly before replacing the jack in your trunk. You feel your cheeks heating up, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve got some stuff to do this week, so how about we go to Guigino’s next week?”

“Sounds good to me. You free that Friday?” He smiles at you.

“Yes, I am. How does 7 sound?”

“That’ll be great. Give me a call when you’ve got time, I’ll see you.” You enter your car, starting the engine as he backs away and raises a hand to you.

You notice he watches you leave the parking lot before leaving himself. That’s the first time any man has bothered to make sure nothing else happened to you. Dennis calls that night, you talk for a bit before you both decide to go to bed. The next two days follow the same routine, but the third day he doesn’t call. You feel a bit dejected, and by 8:30 you’re two glasses of wine deep, nearly ready to go to bed. Your phone rings and you’re wide awake again, picking up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” You’re met only with the sound of heavy breathing. “Hello? Who is this?”

“I know where you are, you dirty slut. I’m gonna gut you like a fish.”

You hang up, throwing the phone almost across the living room. Your hands shake and you stand slowly, walking carefully over lest it ring and be the same man on the other end again. You call Dennis, and as he picks up you can’t control your tears attempting to explain what just happened. He arrives at your apartment shortly, holding you on the couch as you try to calm down. He offers to stay the night and you insist he doesn’t have to, he insists he wants to if it’ll make you feel safer. You gratefully accept.

Your week is filled with mishaps and threatening calls, notes left on your car in your apartment and work lots. You tell him the only person you can think of who would do this to you is your batshit crazy ex, so Dennis comes to visit for a bit most evenings. Dennis has to cancel your plans for Guigino’s, and as he leaves he kisses you at the door with a promise that he’ll call you.

He doesn’t call. You try to only call him once a day, leaving simple and short voicemails. The threatening calls start again and you try to get ahold of Dennis, still to no avail. You spend the next week almost too afraid to set foot outside, but you have obligations that must be met, phone stalker or not. By the end of the week you’ve given up. You didn’t expect this from him, don’t know what prompted it. You can’t tell whether you were too clingy, or perhaps you weren’t paying him the attention he deserved. You sit on your couch, already down three glasses of wine and working on your fourth when a knock on your door startles you.

You lean against the peephole, trying to make out who it is. Dennis. You groan quietly, holding your face in your hands. You sigh deeply, pulling the door open to face him directly. His shoulders are slack, he looks sad.

“Can I come in?” You gesture him inside, he sits on the couch and eyes the wine bottle. “I know I’ve been distant. I’m sorry.”

You sit next to him, picking up your wine glass and finishing it in one long swig.

“I just wanted to explain myself. Listen, I was being a coward. I was afraid. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, and you’re too good for me. I was scared it was gonna happen again and I was gonna lose the best thing that’s happened to me in ages, so I did a really shitty thing and cut you out before you could do it to me. That was awful of me.”

You rub your temple, sighing through your nose as he talks.

“I… I’m not afraid of that anymore. I thought about it really hard, and being away from you this week has been killing me. I wanna be with you. I love spending time with you and talking to you, when I have a bad day getting to talk to you makes it feel like it never even happened. Please, give me another chance.”

Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the stress you’ve been under, but the sincerity in his eyes knocks down every emotional barricade you put up. How exactly you got into bed with him is a blur, but you remember Dennis pulling you up at some point as you made out on the couch. This isn’t like the first time you fucked him, he’s taking his time with you now.

Your eyelids flutter as he lays kisses to your neck and chest, peeling your shorts away as you toss your tank top across the room. You can’t keep your hands off of him, fingers digging into the flesh of his back as he removes his shirt. He kisses you deeply, you hear the harsh sound of his zipper and he pulls away for a moment to remove his jeans. He’s back over you in an instant, hips grinding into yours evenly.

You make out slowly, fingers tangled in each other’s hair as he continues dry humping you. His pace begins quickening, his breathing becoming shallow. You’re both getting desperate, and you push his hand down to the waistband of your panties. He removes them without hesitation, pulling away from you once again only to push down his boxers. He reaches over to your nightstand, fishing around in the drawer for a condom.

You could cry when you finally feel him push inside you, the slow roll of his hips into yours making your eyes nearly cross and your back arch. One arm holds him up just above your torso, his other hand grips your hip. You can feel his teeth and tongue on your neck and clavicle, whining at the soft bites he lays down. The hand on your hip comes up to your chest and you gasp as he squeezes, his thumb grazing your nipple as he wraps his lips around the other. The wet heat drives you fucking crazy; you bite down on your own hand to ground yourself.

Your hips start to sting, you don’t even know how long you’ve had your legs spread at this point. Dennis doesn’t seem anywhere near tired or finished, his speed increased and his grip on your skin even firmer. You wrap your legs around his waist, he moans openly and fucks you harder. It still isn’t as hard as your first hookup, but you imagine this is what finding religion feels like. You feel his hand snake down between your bodies, gasping at the sensation of his thumb circling your clit.

Your eyes start to water, breathing becoming jerky as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His pelvis slams against yours, the speed and friction only pushing you closer to your orgasm. You whimper; the rubber band is about to snap, your stomach tenses and your thighs twitch. Dennis kisses you, hard, pounding into you and stopping abruptly. Your whine becomes a broken moan as he focuses his attention on your clit, tears falling as your entire body stiffens and relaxes from the relief your orgasm brings.

You moan again into his mouth and he continues fucking into you, and you can tell he’s close. Courteous, too. His speed is unrelenting, plowing into you so forcefully it almost hurts. He buries his cock inside you one final time, pressing his face into your tits and moaning raggedly. You almost wish you could feel him cum inside you, curious to experience the sensation. Dennis pants against your chest, squeezing your hip as you release his waist from the confinement of your calves.

He doesn’t move, holding his cock inside of you for what feels like hours. By the time he pulls out, you’re wracked by a wave of exhaustion. You can barely keep your eyes open, only vaguely aware of his movements  as he throws away the condom and pulls the blankets over you both. You feel him stroke your hair and press a kiss to your cheek, and you think you hear him say something but you can’t quite understand him.

Your alarm scares you awake, on your one day off no less. You reach behind yourself, feeling only the mattress under your palm. You sit up, confused, listening for the sound of Dennis moving around anywhere in your apartment. The entire place is silent. You pull on enough clothes to cover yourself, walking to your window to look into the parking lot and searching for Dennis’s car. You don’t see it anywhere. You try to call him, immediately you’re met with the telltale chime ready to inform you you’ve dialed a disconnected phone number.

“Douchebag” doesn’t even begin to describe that motherfucker.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Tara: Oh, do me a favor. Can you peel this apple for me? *she tosses the apple to Sam*

Sam: No! I'm not gonna peel an apple for you *she tosses it back to Tara*

Tara: But Y/N always does it for me...

Sam: Why does Y/N peel your apples for you??

Tara: They don't like for me to eat the apples with the skin on it. They say the skin's loaded with toxins

Sam: Okay well good news: Y/N's not here

Tara: I know they're not here and that's why I need you to do it for me please? Please?

Sam: Oh jesus- just eat it with the skin

Tara: I do not like it with the skin Sam! I am not allowwed to eat it with the skin! I am not allowwed!

Sam: Oh my god alright! If you just shut up I will peel the apple for you the way Y/N likes you to eat it. Give it to me. Give it to me! *Tara tosses her the apple*

Sam: I'll do it the way Y/N insists, okay?

Tara: Yeah :D

[teagballs]

Hihi!!! I was wondering if you could do a fluff/smut fic w Charlie and afab!reader, the reader is a virgin and is nervous for their first time but Charlie is just super sweet, funny, and caring w them <3 thank you!!!

-🐀💜

first time | charlie kelly x reader smut

authors note: this request has been in my inbox so long i am SO sorry anon omfghwuehehe. im finally in the mood to write smut cuz im off for summer (woohoo) and charlie was also the most requested for me to write smut of 😭😭 SO here we are. this is my first charlie fic i hope i did him justice. love yall as always

cw: NSFW !!!!!!!!!! smut smut smut. afab!reader, taking virginity, p in v sex, charlie is so sweet shsh, 1.9k words

nsfw below the cut

----------------------------♡----------------------------

Charlie was an amazing boyfriend. Astonishingly. Not that you went into this relationship believing he was a horrible person or something, just expecting that he would have a lesser grasp on how a relationship functions, and the key things that happen in one. But no. He remembered birthdays and brought you "unique", but well appreciated gifts. And he tried to do one thing he knew was vital for a relationship: affection. Charlie, despite not totally getting the hype himself, was intuitive of what a partner would expect in a relationship and made sure to give you affection. He would give you little awkward cuddles when watching a movie, forehead kisses when you left for work, and would make out with you if you both felt in the mood. When things got heated though, you would back away and mutter apologies about not being ready. And that was okay. He would confirm with you that that was okay and he didn't want to do it if you weren't happy, and that he wasn't upset. But even still you would understand if he was. Because you never explained why you didn't want to.

Despite general weirdness and being unadjusted to society as a whole, Charlie Kelly knew how to fuck. Put gracelessly. It was probably that rough and rugged look that attracted others, as well as you. You knew him long enough to know this about him. And this thought was haunting. Not because you were insecure about him having partners in the past, but because you hadn't. There was a major difference between you and you're boyfriend, Charlie: you were a virgin.

You were growing tired of this abstinence, but you were ruled by fear. What if Charlie was embarrassed or even turned off by your lack of experience? Even so, you couldn't stay like this. For his benefit and your own. So you ask him to talk. Charlie wasn't great with picking up on social cues, so he didn't understand why this could be a big deal. He did pick up on your uncomfortable behaviour, however. You were fidgeting with your hands and pushing your hair out of your face obsessively. You fumbled over your words.You avoided looking at him on the opposite side of the couch.

"So, um, I wanted to talk to you about taking another, uh, step? I guess? In the relationship. Not like marriage or something, um, like sex?" You blabber nervously.

Charlie felt it was important to hold eye contact while you spoke. He was unusually quiet and nodding along. It was encouraging. He wasn't overly eager but also not distressingly unemotional either. He waited for you to continue.

"I know I haven't really wanted to go, uh, 'all the way' before, and you've been really good about it, but I think I'm ready now? But I've been really hesitant about it because, well, I don't have any experience." You were starting to get more comfortable expressing your feelings. "I'm a virgin, Charlie."

Charlie studied your face for a moment. He went to speak, but you butt in first.

"I don't know if I was maybe supposed to tell you? I don't know. I was just nervous you.." You paused and bit your lip, "I thought maybe you'd lose interest?"

"No, never!" Charlie said quickly. It was the first he'd spoken since you asked him to talk, and it was a strong rebuttal. "No, I'd never lose interest in you. I like you a lot. I jus' wanted to make sure you were happy n' stuff." He said. You smiled, feeling a wave of relief hit you.

"So, what, you wanna do it now?" Charlie said bluntly. He wasn't known for being tactful or having much grace in his words. He didn't move from his place across from you. He waited for your reaction. Suddenly, you were feeling a little warm under his gaze.

"If- if you want to- I.." you fumbled.

"No. Do you want to?" Charlie enforced.

You nodded gently before given spoken consent. "Yeah. I do. Badly."

Charlie leaned over the couch. His calloused hand found your cheek. You assumed they were coarse from all the 'Charle work' he had to do at the bar, but he was so so gentle with you. Before he connected his lips, he leaned in close, his breath vibrating against your skin for a moment. He was giving you an opportunity to protest of back away, but of course, you didn't.

You had a lot of practice making out with him, but this felt more charged. You knew what would happen after this. His body followed yours. When you needed to pull away for air, he followed suit and gave you space. When you reconnected, his hands gently held your waist. You found yourself being pushed to be lying on the sofa.

"Is this okay?" he pulled away to ask. You nod and his hands tangle in your hair - not pulling or tugging, just relaxing in it - and moved your face closer.

You're fully laid back on the sofa when your lips disconnect this time. His hands move to grab your shirt. Your heart is beating faster and faster when you realise this is happening now. You're not uncomfortable. No, this is a feeling of excitement.

He delicately lifts the shirt over your head. He's treating you as carefully as you would some bone china or a kitten. You were in the comfort of your own home, so you were braless, and he's studying your tits like they were a piece of fine art, someone's magnum opus. Or whatever Charlie would consider fine art.

"Can I uh- touch?" His voice has a gravelly touch to it, unusual for your squeaky boyfriend. It makes your stomach flip.

When you nod, his hands quickly reach to paw your breasts. The rough texture of his hands against your nipples makes your breath labour a little. He takes note of it.

He continues to fondle you. You're twitching and breathing heavily. But to be honest, you're wishing he would touch your pussy. Deciding to take matters into your own hands and feeling more confident now, you grab his shirt and pull it over his head. He's taken a back by your actions but not upset at all. He let's you take his shirt off. It ruffles his hair a little

You lay back and admire his toned arms. It had always been a feature you were drawn to in him. You'd watch him carry beer boxes or a keg in the bar and feel yourself get wet at the view.

He lets you study him without saying anything and obliges when you kiss him again, just happy to see you gain some confidence in the foreplay. His beard is rough against your face as he angles his head to get deeper into your mouth.

His hands move lower, headed towards the waistband of your sweatpants. "Is this okay, baby?" He mumbled your mouth in-between kisses.

"Yes, please." Please? 'I sounded so pathetic', you thought.

Charlie shimmied your sweatpants down. Your lips stopped moving against his, and you felt your chest get heavy. Charlie stopped what he was doing quickly.

"Are you okay?" probably the 100th time he had said that tonight, but comforting no matter. "We can stop if you need -"

"No, no, no," you cut him off. "It's okay. I'm just a little nervous still."

Charlie leaned his forehead against yours. "You're okay, s'only me." He repeated.

After a minute of silence and when your heart rate returned to normal again, "You can keep going."

Charlie gently took your underwear off. You were embarrassingly wet. Apparently, caring and affirmative boyfriends really get you going.

"So pretty," Charlie mumbled to himself. You could've cum right there.

He gently rubbed his finger along your soaked slit. The contact made you jolt. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, ensuring you were still into it. The whines you were letting out were all the confirmation.

"Are... do you need me to, like, uh, 'warm you up' or..?" Charlie mumbled awkwardly while still stroking your wet slit.

He was asking if you were wet enough for him to fuck you. You were. You had been since you started making out. And you certainly were now that you were staring at his hard dick in his pants.

You shook your head, "No, I'm ready." You say, taking a deep inhale.

Charlie carefully hooked his hands under your knees to bring you to the edge of the sofa and spread your legs. You angled your hips and watched him bring his dick out of his pants. He tugged it a few times while looking at you spread before him. He kept one hand hooked under your knee again as the other held himself.

"You ready?" He asked.

"Yeah." You reply breathlessly.

He pushes himself into you. When he's got his head in, he grabbed your other knee to open you more. He was trying to keep you at the most comfortable angle. The squelch noise that was produced was borderline pornographic. Your eyes squeezed shut when you took him in, slowly slowly. It did hurt. You felt like you were being split open.

Charlie obviously noted your discomfort and repeated, "s'okay," and "doing so good" in a soothing manner over and over until he bottomed out.

He brushed the hair that was sticking to your forehead away so he could see your beautiful face. He was waiting till you gave him confirmation to move. It felt like forever as you waited for the horrible sensation to fizzle out, but it did. Eventually all you could feel was a deep, deep need for him to properly fuck you.

"You can move," you said shakily.

Charlie cautiously moved out, then back in again. This time, it felt good, so good. You found yourself angling your hips so he could be deeper. He kept increasing the pace, letting out low huffs while you began to whine and groan.

The he hit it.

"Jesus! Fuck.. right there."

He jumped a little at your outburst, worried he had hurt you. But when he realised he had found your G spot, he quickened his pace.

You were moaning now, and Charlie had to bite his lip to hold back a smile. Of course he was happy to be fucking you, but he was also grateful that you trusted him enough to be your first.

Charlie moved your legs to his shoulders so his hands were free. One moved to fondle your chest while the other moved down to apply pressure to your clit. The combination was all too much. You gripped his forearm tightly and choked out, "gonna cum."

Charlie only sped up his administrations, and you were pushed over the edge. You spasmed and whined as you came. He let you ride it out on his cock as he gently stroked your hair.

When he was sure you were done, he pulled out to jerk himself off while watching you pant and come down from your high. He grabbed his discarded shirt and came into it.

He shuffled back down onto the sofa so he could hold you. You leaned into his chest and tried to catch your breath. He danced a finger around a strand of your hair.

"S'good... oh my god." you mumbled while looking at him. "Thank you... thank you, Charlie," you babble.

"'It's no biggie." Charlie replied. But he did understand the gravity of the sex you just had.

"Let me get you a towel," Charlie moves to stand up, but you grab his arm.

"No, no, we'll do that in a second. Just hold me." You whisper.

He does, of course. Gently kissing your head while appreciating that he gets to inhale the scent of your hair. He rubs gentle circles on your upper arm. You both could die happy in this moment.

[n1ghtman]

it’s always sunny writing blog! read below cut for details

MASTERLIST

i. this blog is intended more so for x reader content, but you’re welcome to still request character x character

ii. both sfw and nsfw content can be requested, there will be appropriate warnings. dark content is also permitted, within reason; don’t be utterly insane, but, you know, these people do suck

iii. default gender neutral reader, please specify if you want otherwise

iv. you can request up to four characters in the same ask

v. the more specific your ask, the better! feel free to ask whatever you’d like, i’m happy to provide

vi. i will do matchups but preferably in direct messages

[heartthrobin]

cowboy kisses

charlie kelly x fem!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: cowboy charlie (s7e1), soft touch-starved charlie, (fake) blood, mention of vomiting, no use of y/n, mac is a jealous baby, fluff, lotsa kissin'

an: i know this is a very niche part of the market but i needed to get it out my system. it's a personal head cannon of mine that Charlie is ace but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve some kissy kissy and my need to love on him is literally making me a non-functional member of society: so enjoy! remember to reblog and comment to support your favourite writers :3

summary: Charlie makes a handsome cowboy, covered in fake blood or not.

the knock rumbling against your door is almost certainly loud enough to wake up the whole floor of your apartment building. you flinch back against your couch at the sound, flicking off the television that’s been only half entertaining you for the last hour.

“babe! babe!”

even without his calls, you know it’s him. Charlie was the only person who could arrive so unprecedented at your apartment at nearly nine o’ clock at night and not expect a right hook to the jaw as soon as you swing the door open.

you’re halfway to a whisper-yelled “Charlie, keep it down!”, tugging the door open, when you take in the state of your boyfriend.

he’s lively, bouncing on the balls of his feet: hands fidgeting around the orbit of his head. “you won’t believe what happened.”

beyond that, his umber locks are hiding under the reach of a caramel cowboy hat. his chest tucked into a denim vest with a bowler tie flat against it.

most jarring of all is how his whole cowboy get-up and the better half of his face is covered in … is that blood?

“—so then Frank got on one knee and when he proposed, Roxy literally had a heart attack and—“

your boyfriend is still standing out between the hallway and the doorframe, halfway through another outrageous tale that the neighbors are no doubt privy to.

“baby …” your chest tightens and twists in concern. you reach for his face, the blood is caked in his beard but dry to the touch. “you’re covered in blood?”

he quietens at your touch. he usually does. whole body stutters like he’s never been met with a soft hold a day his whole life.

“oh— this? don’t worry, i ate some of these tablet things so i could go on this date with this lady from the internet—“

you’re guiding him gently by the wrist into your apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“you went on a date with a lady from the internet?”

he fumbles, fingers drifting to brush against your palm. “well, not for me. obviously not, i have you—“

nudging him through the apartment to lean against your kitchen sink, which he does without resistance, you laugh lightly. “well, don’t let me hold you back, Charlie.“

his forehead tightens in confusion. you love the look of it on your sweet, sweet boyfriend. the water is cool where you run a rag under it’s stream.

“you know what they say, don’t let your current girlfriend stop you from finding your future wife.” your voice curls at the edge, teasing him, and you’re horrible because you know Charlie is no good on picking up on stuff like that.

he shakes his head, hands nervously scrunching at his sides. your own rise to his head, gently bumping the cowboy hat so that it sits further up his crown and you can start working the wet cloth over the crimson marks on his creased forehead.

“why would— you’re my future wife. aren’t you?” it’s phrased like a fact more than a proposal. a clarification.

Charlie is sometimes the most romantic person on the planet, by no fault of his own. he says things like that with such honesty and quiet conviction that it curls a warm feeling between your organs: like maybe he was the other half every person sets out to find between the throes of fighting general existence. at least yours.

you smile at him. that i’m so fucking sickeningly in love with this doofus kind of smile that seems to set him a little more at ease. his fingers are tentative when they reach for your hips.

“i was just teasing, babe. i’m sorry.”

you’re gentle where you’re dragging the cloth over his skin, working from the top of his face to clean it of blood.

“oh.” he settles. “well anyways, so Roxy has this heart attack: Frank is still on one knee, Mac tries to call 911–!”

Charlie rambles and you listen. at least as well as you can with his less than comprehensible story-telling abilities and his talent for being involved in mostly unbelievable happenings.

the rag has made it’s way to his beard, you’re still trying to work softly: hand under his jaw while the fabric works between strands of wired hair, thumb pressing a bump into the hollow of his cheek.

“so after that we hung up. and i came straight here, cause i wanted to tell you.” he sighs, body slumping with the catharsis of imparting his tale upon you. “Mac said i’m a pussy because i’m always leaving them to come here. but i missed you, and i think he’s kinda jealous cause i have a girlfriend and he doesn’t.”

your hand stills, curling under his chin so your knuckle is steering his face up to yours. “Mac can go suck a dick. and i missed you too, Char.”

he’s the one who presses up for a kiss, eyes still wide and desperate as the day you met. you indulge him happily, squishing your nose against his when your lips meet sloppily and your hands wrap around his neck: pushing him further against the edge of the sink.

Charlie hums and it’s your favourite sound. his hands are lost, but excited where they’re chasing up your back and over your face.

your boyfriend tastes bitter and metallic, like the blood capsules he threw up, but also sweet like the melting packet of caramels he keeps in his jean pocket.

you pull back, brushing your nose against his. his face chases yours: eyes still closed.

“you look so handsome in this little get-up, baby.” sighing, hand twisting into his, you say. “you make a good cowboy.”

he perks up at that, “you should hear my accent! what i said to that lady, so, when she opened the door i said—“

there’s a grumble, like he’s clearing his throat, “—tarnation, you look pretty as a peach. yes you do!”

the accent is crumbly but charming in a way that only your Charlie can make it. he nods, grinning and proud, and you throw your head back to laugh.

you pat fondly over his shoulders, “you’re sure talking a lot about this lady you took on a date while i was sitting home missing you like crazy. was she pretty?”

he guffaws, huffs like you’ve asked him about the weather. “nah. i mean … like, not pretty like you.”

there’s a moment of quiet. he waits to see if he’s said the right thing.

“hmm.” you run a gentle thumb down the side of his face. “you know i don’t like to share.”

you press your chest against his and his breath buckles. his skin is sticky with sweat when you push a kiss into his neck.

“you’re kinda making me all jealous with your story.”

Charlie shakes his head. “you-you shouldn’t be.”

releasing his neck with a pop, briefly grinning at the hickey you’ve painted there, you bump your nose lovingly against his.

“i know.” he’s red with a blush now. “wanna put on a movie and not watch it while we make out on the couch?”

he beams. “hell yeah.”

-

remember to comment and repost if you enjoyed :)

taglist:

@gremlinb1ke @mydogtypedthis @luigisbroth @newluvcassette @karlmarxpizzaparty

[lesbian-deadpool]

(During a widow family dinner)

Natasha: Y/N, what are you doing?

Y/N: I'm eating because I'm very uncomfortable.