#pls-dont-muffle

[scrapingby]

Hallo @pls-dont-muffle

Hier ist mein Wichtelgeschenk für dich^^

Ich habe mich mega gefreut, dich kennenzulernen und unseren Austausch sehr genossen.

Dir ein frohes Fest und hoffentlich versüßen dir die beiden Folgekapitel die Weihnachtsnachzeit^^

[flwrcrxwnlyon]

Working on another au ig

[rjkooks]

i'm outside, let's talk. (m)

you finally give in and talk to your ex after numerous attempts of him trying to contact you. surely, nothing will go beyond mere communication, right?

. pairing: exbf!jungkook x afab!reader . wc: 1.3k . genre: porn with very little plot, exes to lovers . cw: just two exes that don't know how to be exes lmfao, car sex, penetration, unprotected sex (don't be like them), doggy, dirty talk, dom!jk, sub!reader, creampie, i think that's it lmk if i miss anything!

a/n: heh... long time no see. after two years of hiatus, i thought about posting smth rlly short to ease myself into writing again :) happy reading! feedback is highly appreciated!

jungkook: come down jungkook: im outside jungkook: we need to talk

what more should be there to talk about? scoffing, you dismiss the string of messages your ex sent, proceeding to go back to your previous activity of mindlessly scrolling through tiktok videos.

why should you talk to him? he had a decision — and the decision he ultimately chose was to disrespect your relationship and leave, much like perpendicular lines never to cross again: that’s the only closure you need.

however, jungkook is different.

you think of him as an insect — those annoying ones in particular. once it gets in your abode, it’ll suddenly forget its way out and invade your precious space as if living with you free of charge.

that’s what your ex is.

stubborn, incessant, and most notably, stupid.

so, it’s not much of a surprise when you see his name appear on the banner on top of your phone again, one text being sent after the other.

jungkook: don’t leave me on read jungkook: i’ll climb up ur window if i have to, ___ jungkook: please baby i wanna talk with u jungkook: istg if u block me jungkook: pls dont

you were about to block him actually, if it weren’t for the video that redirected your attention.

“no caption, no hashtag, you were meant to see this! you’re going to get back with your hot ex tonight and i mean it. he’s thinking about you right now and is thinking of ways on how to make up for his mistakes. go get him, girl! get your fine shyt back!”

you swore your eye twitches after watching an absolute stranger predict the next moments of your evening.

with your ex’s unceasing messages and a random video that is severely relevant to your current situation, is the universe really giving you all the telltale signs you need?

as olivia rodrigo said, you probably shouldn't, but seeing him tonight isn’t a bad idea, right?

after deliberately having an internal conflict, you finally made up your mind after careful consideration.

you’re just going to talk. what harm could there be in that?

so, you heave a deep breath before standing up from your bed, your legs bringing you outside the premises of your home to see his black mercedes parked right in front of your lawn.

you stride over to it in quick steps with the intention of holding a brief conversation with him before you bid your final farewells: that’s what you hopefully thought.

assuming he’s inside the vehicle, you tapped on the tinted window a couple of times before you hear his muffled voice, “get in.”

you do as he says, sitting next to him on the passenger seat, and you almost regret it. it was no surprise that it was dim inside, and the air conditioning of his car only made goosebumps prick your skin, and what’s worst of all is the familiar scent of his perfume permeating your senses again.

and that’s when the realization sinks in that you’re actually with your ex boyfriend right now.

you gaze at him silently. thankfully, you couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but his features are still there. you part your lips to break the awfully dead silence, yet your voice came out more meek than you’d like.

“you said you wanted to talk..?”

he lowers his gaze to where your hands are placed right on top of your thighs. he knows his presence was suffocating you, so he can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. “yeah, just wanted to clear some things between us.”

that’s the last thing you remember your ex saying before he has you bent over in the back of his car.

“ngghh… jungkook!” you gasp, a string of drool dribbling from the corner of your lip as you leave a faint handprint of yourself on the fogged window.

“oh, fuck,” he hisses feeling you clench down on his throbbing length. “missed this tight cunt so much,” he groans before landing a harsh spank on your ass, for sure leaving a red mark that will sting for days. “you missed this dick too, baby?” he pants through ragged breaths, and you could sense that damn cocky smirk plastered on his face despite being behind you.

he pulls out another cry from you when you feel his dick kissing your cervix. “y-yes..!” you sob, face buried in the leather seats.

a chuckle full of menace was heard from him as you feel his slender fingers wrap around the roots of your hair, forcefully tugging you until you’re eye-level with the window.

he rips sob after sob out of you, undoubtedly aroused from how your gummy walls were sucking him in so eagerly, a creamy ring of white making a mess out of his length.

“bet you couldn’t find someone who can fuck you like i do, huh?” he huffs against your ear, voice hot and heavy as a tattooed finger presses itself against your clit. “that’s why your slutty little cunt is making such a mess on my cock, right?”

you mewl, resting your head against his shoulder as you nod eagerly. your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, rendering you speechless from the way he’s perfectly molding the shape of his cock in your pussy right now.

seeing you like this—all hot and vulnerable beneath him, he couldn’t hold in the cocky grin on his face, his ego inflating to a size larger than the earth itself.

he lands a particularly harsh slap against your ass, making you yelp in pain before you fall face flat on the leather seats again.

and when he sets his pace to that of raw, primal need, you begin to tremble, sensing as if your legs are about to give in on you any moment.

“j-jungkook—hah… too much,” you whine, feeling your impending orgasm approaching rapidly.

“cum with me, baby,” he pants, pressing his solid chest against your back, leaving you no room for any escape.

the way the tip of his leaking cock kept kissing your soft spongy spot has you seeing stars. his car became way too humid from how long he’s been fucking you, and you could care less whether the car could be seen rocking back and forth in the middle of the neighborhood, or whether or not the obscene noises you and jungkook were making could be heard a block away.

“please… wanna cum s’bad!” your words come out slurred, brain turning into complete mush devoid of any thoughts aside from cumming.

“awww, my baby wants to cum?” he coos sweetly against your ear, turning absolutely feral seeing you all submissive for him, sobbing as you beg for some sort of mercy from him.

and of course he’s going to give it to you.

he feels your walls hugging him for dear life, as if never wanting him to pull out, and he swears he could die a happy man like this right now.

“go on, baby, let go. i got you,” he whispers hotly before swiping your clit three more times, giving you the most delicious orgasm you haven’t tasted in months.

you tremble violently beneath him, a long whine escaping you as he fucks you through it, soon cumming right after you did.

he groans, flooding your hole with his warm cum before finally pulling out a minute later.

exhausted, he plops himself right next to you, and neither of you have spoken for a few minutes, merely the sound of your mingling breaths could be heard in his dark mercedes.

however, when you look into his eyes, you can see the change of look from lust to determination. you notice him hesitating for a bit, and before you could ask your ex what’s wrong, he swiftly cuts you to the chase.

“give me one more chance, baby.”

[k-aemi]

hiori yo ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a little blood wont hurt right?

smut, period, blood play(?), dub/non, none of my work are proofread.

yo hiori would definitely love the sight of your blood on his cock. just seeing the red stain on his dick turns him on more and his thrive to continue. if you were to protest a bit, he wouldnt force but convince you into it. "cmon baby, sex helps the cramps yknow.." rubbing that stomach of yours.

you tried to push him off but he insists. telling you to trust him and only the "tip" would be inserted. but can you really trust him? this man has a thing for crippled girls that cant escape from him. "but hurts too much.." youd grumbled.

"see? my dick will help okay? just the tip, yeah baby?" hed grind against your ass, feeling his bulge prodding at you. hes your boyfriend, so he wouldnt go beyond the boundary right? just the tip he said, yeah! just that...

"but my blood-" he shushed you. "'s okay baby, i bet your blood will make my dick look super pretty." he cooed you as he settled in between your legs, taking his hardened cock out to rub on your panties as he held it. seeing his cock head in and out as your panties wettened by the second.

you dont know this but hiori perhaps love the smell of your period blood mixed with your pussy juices. he doesnt know why but it has this musty skin smell that gets him thriving for more. he loves sniffing your panties inhaling that sweet nectar scent of yours. how could he only just put the tip in?

"'kay baby ready?" he slides his cock against your slit and you give a meek nod. you werent expecting him to insert it in, you just barely moved your head..."oh fuck...baby your pussy feels great..." he wasnt sure if it was because you were on your period, but it felt fucking great to him. whimpers elicit from your mouth as you clench your pillow.

"baby can i put more in...? please, feels too good." he didnt even get your permission yet and hes pushing more of his cock in! "w-wait yo...ah" you breathed out as the cramps were still present. "s-shit..." he shuttered. hiori wasnt that thick, but sure was lengthy. reached the deepest parts of you.

pulling out was probably his favorite sight, he got to see the blood coated on his dick, and it spurred something inside of him, like this desire to do oh so many things to you. "look baby, all your bloods on me." he grinned, starting his rough pace.

"w-wait yo-! you said just the tip.." you whimpered as tears peaked from the corner of your eyes, biting the pillow that laid below you. "but baby you feel so good, your cramps g'na go away soon ok? just let me have this..." he growled as he continued to look below him, blood mixed with your juices squishing out your tight hole, he cant hide that smirked of his.

you muffle your cries otherwise the neighbors downstairs will complain probably, youd hate the thought of knowing others you and your boyfriend have sex mostly every week...but the way he pounds into you, you cant contain them as shrieks spilled from your throat. your body tenses when you feel his thumb rub circles on your clit. you were on edge, your orgasm coming in soon.

"baby you tightened up, g'na cum?" he has that dumb innocent smile on him as hes pounding you so rough. skin slapping skin filling the room. you cant even give him an answer as your juices gush out, on his cock and sheets. red staining both.

hiori can only fasten his pace as he loses his rhythm, signaling his end. pulling out and jerking himself before he spill his hot liquid on your stomach and pussy. he sighs and admires the mess upon him. he falls next to you, wrapping his arm around you. "feel better?" he kissed you. but theres no response, he looks over to you and perhaps it was too much, you ended up passing out.

hi. back again(kinda). pls request :>

divider creds: cafekitsune, anitalenia

[gf2bellamy]

hi hi hi !!!

could i please request a spencer fic with uni/student reader where he comes home from a case and finds her sleeping on her books with her laptop open and just a chaotic environment and he gently tries her to sleep properly (and finds out she has not been taking care of herself the past few days) and she refuses cuz there's assignments to complete and exams to study for, and yk the vibes pls feel free to ignore this if you have written something similar or if you just dont want to <33 thankyouuu so muchh <3

assignments — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader studying too much , mention of a mean professor , spencer being concerned a/n: hi hi !! love this request ( bc i need this !! exams are actually killing me )

When Spencer stepped into the apartment, he was met not with the familiar sound of your voice calling his name, nor the warm embrace that usually followed , your arms wrapped tightly around him, your face buried in his neck as you whispered how much you'd missed him.

Instead, there was only silence. It had been a week since he left for a case so this was highly unusual. 

As he shrugged off his jacket and toed off his shoes, his eyes were drawn to the light spilling from the kitchen. Quietly, socks muffling his steps against the creaky floorboards, he walked toward the light.

And there you were. But not the way he expected.

You weren’t smiling, weren’t running into his arms. Instead, your head was resting on your open textbook, the screen of your laptop still glowing beside you, the paused video of a lecture frozen mid-sentence. Pens were scattered on the floor, likely knocked loose when you'd slumped forward in exhaustion.

He stepped closer, his touch feather-light as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. You barely stirred. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft and warm against your skin.

“Hey,” he murmured, then kissed your temple again, lingering a moment longer this time.

You stirred just slightly, a soft sound escaping your lips as Spencer, still with his hand resting gently on the back of your head, closed your laptop. You shifted again, mumbling a small, sleepy, "Spence?"

"Yeah, it's me," he responded, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. You lifted your head slowly, blinking at him, clearly trying to shake off the sleepiness clouding your vision.

"Hi," he smiled at you, leaning down just enough to meet your eyes.

You rubbed at your eyes, still groggy. "Oh my god, Spence, hi. I missed you." Without thinking, your arms flew around his neck, pulling him into a tight, welcoming hug.

Spencer let out a soft, relieved breath, brushing his hands over your back as he held you, his gaze flicking over to your scattered books. His brow furrowed in concern, though his hands continued to soothe you. "I missed you too," he whispered, the crease on his forehead relaxing as you kissed his cheek.

"Why are you awake?" he asked softly as your arms slowly loosened around his neck, falling back into your lap with a heavy sigh. You yawned.

"Studying," you mumbled, your words more coherent now as you began to fully wake up, your mind catching up with reality.

"Studying?" Spencer raised an eyebrow. "It's 2:15 a.m.," he said, glancing at his watch. You didn't reply, instead your hand instinctively reached for your laptop, the need to continue your work almost automatic.

"No," Spencer said gently but firmly as he stopped you from opening your laptop. 

You turned, a frown on your face. "Yes," you said slowly as you met his gaze, not quite ready to let go of your plans.

Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. "No," he repeated, a little more resolute this time, before grabbing your textbooks and carefully closing them. He sat down in the chair beside you, his gaze soft but persistent. "You need sleep, not more studying."

"Spencer, no, wait— I have so many exams and assignments." You pointed frantically at a blank sheet of paper. "I haven't even started on this one yet, and my professor is actually so mean when it comes to these things. I need to finish it."

Spencer watched you, his gaze gentle but filled with concern. His eyes drifted to the pile of cups in the sink, then to the outfit you were wearing.

"Did you leave the house today?" he asked slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheekbone in a soft motion.

You paused, trying to recall the last time you'd stepped outside, but the haze of exhaustion clouded your thoughts. "Uhm..." You trailed off, unsure.

Spencer didn’t push, but his voice dropped slightly, his tone more serious. "Did you leave the house this week?" His hand gently fell to the table, his fingers resting there as he watched you carefully, analyzing every small shift in your expression. The way you bit your lip, the way you avoided his gaze, it told him more than you realized. He leaned in a little closer, a softness in his voice as he asked, "Did you at least do something besides studying?"

And by the way you bit your lip and avoided his eyes he already knew the answer. 

"Spencer, look at my schedule." You grabbed a paper from the desk, almost shoving it toward him in a desperate bid to prove your point.

Spencer barely glanced at it, a soft sigh escaping him. "Okay, come on," he said firmly, but gently, already knowing what he had to do. You continued protesting, but it was half-hearted. With a gentle but insistent tug, he grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet.

Honestly, you were exhausted, and maybe that was why you didn’t pull away. Maybe it was because you knew, deep down, you needed a break. And despite your protests, despite the mounting pressure of everything that had been piling up, you allowed him to guide you to the bedroom, too tired to fight back anymore.He lifted the sheets, and you let him pull you under them, a soft sound of comfort escaping your lips as the warmth enveloped you.

But the guilt didn't go away.

Spencer could feel it, too. He pulled you closer, guiding your head to rest against his chest as he kissed the top of your head, three times, each kiss a silent: I love you. His hands gently brushed over your back.

“You need to take care of yourself,” Spencer started, his voice soft. He poked you lightly in your ribs before you could protest, a playful gesture to stop you from arguing.You smiled softly, despite yourself.

“Especially when I’m not here,” he added, his voice growing more serious. “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping over your books and just drinking coffee.” He paused, letting the words sink in.

You chuckled lightly, the tension in your shoulders easing a little. “Because that’s your thing?” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer smiled too, but his expression softened, concern still lingering in his gaze. “Because that’s my thing exactly. And it’s not healthy. So you shouldn’t be doing it.” His hand slid into your hair, fingers gently brushing through the strands as he continued, his tone gentle and filled with sincerity. “You have to take breaks.”

He pressed another kiss to your head, his touch so tender it made your heart ache with how deeply he cared. You bit your lip, knowing he was right. But the guilt was still there, pressing on you, weighing you down.

“And hey,” Spencer said, tapping your chin lightly to get your attention. You raised your head slowly, meeting his soft, hazel eyes.

“Tomorrow I’ll help you,” he promised. “We’ll study together. With breaks,” he added with a playful but stern look, as though he meant business. “And you’ll finish everything on time. I promise.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, sealing his words with it.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as you scooted closer, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Spencer held you close, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. Just when you thought he might be drifting off with you, his voice broke the quiet.

“You know,” he began, a familiar ramble already starting to take shape in his tone, “there’s actually a lot of research that supports the importance of regular breaks during study sessions.”

You smiled into his neck, already picturing his thoughtful expression. Here he goes.

“I mean, the human brain can only maintain true focus for around 25 to 45 minutes at a time before efficiency begins to drop. After that, you're not retaining much. It’s cognitive overload, really. And yet you—” he gave your side a playful squeeze, “—seem determined to break every rule neuroscience has ever suggested.”

You let out a sleepy giggle. There was a short pause. Then: “And also, I think I need to have a word with that professor of yours.”

You blinked. “What?”

Spencer leaned back slightly, just enough to look at you with mock seriousness, his brows raising. “Because if he's assigning enough work that you forget to eat, sleep, or breathe, then I have concerns. Strong ones. Potentially formal ones.”

“Spencer…”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be difficult,” he continued, entirely too casually. “Just show up, badge in hand—‘Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI. I’d like to discuss your time management expectations and the psychological harm of unrealistic academic pressure.’”

You burst out laughing, burying your face back into his shoulder. He grinned, proud of himself. “Maybe even cite a few case studies. Throw in some light statistics. Guilt them into revising the syllabus.”

You giggled again, finally relaxing fully into him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m persuasive,” he corrected, placing a final kiss to the top of your head. “And extremely concerned about your wellbeing.”

You smiled into his skin, feeling the weight of everything slowly dissolving in the warmth of his arms and his quiet ( and nerdy ) love.

“Spence?”

“Hmm?”

“I really missed you.”

He pulled you in tighter, his voice suddenly quieter. “I missed you, too.”

[beababoobies]

ME AGAIN!!! WITH A SAL X READER REQUEST (again) THIS TIME AIDJSJDH. a porn one at that !!!!

i need sal so bad its an actual problem

just like. imagine reader n the gang r havin a little sleepover. and reader is just so inconsolably turned on for some reason (maybe sal had his hand on their thigh when they watched a movie or smthin), so when everyone is asleep they asks sal to help them out :,,,) (his fingers r just so long n pretty,, they cant help but want them lol)

mayb he has to keep them quiet somehow, mayb covers their mouth/puts his fingers in their mouth to muffle them

hes so shy and nervous and awkward but he’s having the time of his life, watching the reader’s reactions. mayb he cant help but get himself off too, too enraptured by the way reader struggles to gasp and whine against his fingers

GOD DAMN.

would love if u wrote this mootie 🫶🏼🫶🏼 no pressure ofc ofc ofc !! (fem bodied reader pls if u dont mind <3!)

(i might write this too, i love my mind sometimes 🙏)

hey mootie!! Im giving you the fast pass because all the jjk stuff you repost got me into the series and I’m loving it, also cus you’re AMAZING! All characters are aged 20+ because this is based in chapter five of course, please do enjoy! :) (and for everyone waiting for their Hazbin requests to be filled - IT IS COMING! I am a busy woman.) 

Needy - Sal Fisher X Fem!Reader

words : 2k, warnings : SPICAYYYY!!, creampie, fingering, slightly public, needy!sal AND needy!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys, c’mon), hold the moan trope

The entire gang had been having more sleepovers ever since Sal and Todd had found the new house. Larry was moving in so it was just the normal next step, and you loved coming over so much. More specifically to spend time with your boyfriend, but also just to feel like old times again. Even Ash came from the city every once and a while, and this was one of those days.

Since it was Larry’s last day living in the Apartments, you had all agreed to made the most out of that small basement apartment you had spent so much of your awkward teen years in. You had been doing all the same shit you used to all day - smoking in the treehouse, playing card games for hours. 

You and Sal huddled up around his old gamebuddy, playing the games Larry had kept long forgotten in the corners of his room, Larry and Ash painting on a shared canvas, chatting about life while Larry’s old metal mixtapes blasted in the background, and Todd and Neil cuddled up on the beanbag in the corner, occasionally joining in their conversation, but mostly just cuddled up and enjoying each others company. All of this was wonderful, nostalgic - even healing. 

That was all up until Sal quietly suggested you all watched an old horror movie, and you were all huddled together in the dark, you with Sal leaning on your shoulder on your right, and Ash on your left, giggling and nudging you like old times. Larry laid out casually on the floor in front of you all because of how shit his eyes were from years of refusing glasses. Which should’ve been fine.

In fact - it was fine. Until Sal decided it would be a wonderful idea to put his hand on your thigh. Your bare thigh, just below where your miniskirt started. And even that - even that, you could’ve survived with some unwanted heat in your panties. But no, the blue fucker jumped at one of the scenes, hand sliding up the inside of your thigh to accidentally drag your skirt up, his hand knocking against your warm core - hand rubbing up against your clothed clit as he pulled his hand away, and all you could do was pull your hand away from where it was sweetly brushing through Ashley’s hair like you used to do, straight to your face to hide the unbelievably needy whine you would’ve let out.

“you okay?” Ashley whispers softly, looking over to you and you just nod quickly, watching her go back to watching the movie before shooting Sal a venomous glance, which he avoids nervously, already feeling your stare of death shoot through the side of his head. You pierced your lips together, putting one leg over the other and squeezing your thighs firmly shut, Sal’s hand now comfortably resting much, much lower on your thigh. Practically on your calve, as he preferred not to die tonight. 

But that’s when it started, the unwanted slick already gently collecting in your panties, your mind running through all the things you wanted to do to him - what you wanted him to do to you. God, your mind was like a dog in heat. You couldn’t even bear to focus on the movie, sitting there, cautiously eyeing up your dead silent boyfriend. His shirt ridden up his stomach just oh-so-slightly from the way he was slouched back, soft happy trail of blue peeking out from under his shirt. God, what you would do to pull those stupid red torn up jeans down - not even fully - and ride him until he was shooting blanks and sobbing under you. 

That is how it went on for the rest of the movie. That is exactly how it went on when you all decided the sleeping plan. That is where your mind still was when you and Sal decided to take the pullout couch, Todd and Neil in Lisa’s old room, and Larry sleeping on his bed with Ashley on a cot on his floor. With the thinnest fucking walls known to man kind. You should know - you grew up with the same ones. 

Sal yawned as he laid next to you, mask placed softly on the table right beside the couch, as well as his glass eye floating in a cup, looking at you nervously as he pulled the covers up over himself too, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him from behind, expecting you to be asleep by now - you were a heavy sleeper, he was an insomniac. It worked out like that. Until he heard a soft, half-whine of a whisper come from you. 

“S-sal..” you mumbled softly, pressing yourself back against him, causing him to let out a soft whine of his own, hand around your waist flinching ever so softly. “P-please baby, need you so bad..” you mumbled out softly, turning around to face him, seeing the needy tears in your eyes had him melting as well, piercing his lips together as he grips softly at your side.

“N-no, you know how thin these walls are - I’m sorry about earlier, but..” he says nervously as he watches you whine and writhe softly, pressing yourself up against him, one hand on his chest. That’s when you decide to make the move, grabbing his hand and moving to in-between your legs so he can feel how absolutely soaked through your panties are, causing him to experimentally run his fingers over them, biting down on his scarred lip so hard he’s concerned it might bleed. You can’t help a choked whine and a buck of your hips against his hand at that, looking up at him with those needy eyes. Fuck. 

He doesn’t say a word as he puts two shaky fingers to your lips, and you wrap your mouth around them without question, twirling your tongue around them and sucking on them like your life depended on it, all while he shakily pulled you panties to the side, prodding his fingers at your soaked hole, a quiet ‘fuck.’ Escaping his mouth when he slides one in with ease, feeling the vibrations around his fingers as you whine. “G-gotta be quiet, please - we h have to be quiet..” he mumbles out messily as he feels his cock throb to life in his sleep shorts, smearing precum across his thigh when he feels your cunt clench needily around his fingers.

He lets out a sigh of relief when you quickly nod at him, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly starts to curl his long fingers inside of you, the obscene squealing noise making him whimper softly, hips accidentally bucking softly against your thigh as his cock tries to find some sort of friction - daydreaming about how easily he could slip inside you right now with how wet you are - how you would feel around his cock, velvety walks clenching around him and providing him that oh so delicious friction he was searching for. 

His thumb moves to gently circle your clit as you start to find a slow grinding rhythm against his hand, practically riding his fingers as he finds that delicious spongy spot on your walls and pushes his fingers up against it, causing your cunt to give another urgent and needy clench, more slick falling into his palm, making a mess as he tries his best not to whine himself.

The slippery sounds of friction, the feeling of your thigh twitching pressed up right against his own throbbing problem, or the way his fingertips are pressing up against the entrance to your throat, the way his other fingertips are pressed up against your velvety walls. It’s driving him beyond insane, to the point he’s thinking he might cum in his sleep shorts if it continues this way. And he didn’t bring an extra pair - and it would just be a waste if he didn’t cum inside of you - not while you were practically begging for it.  

“B-baby.” He whines out, catching your attention for a second, tears of pleasure falling softly down your face as your hips still, whining against his hand from the way you stopped while being so close - it was beyond downright embarrassing how quickly you were about to cum, and you were honestly glad he stopped you. “C-can i please put it in? J-just the tip, please baby, ‘s so sensitive. Need you so bad.” He whines quietly and softly, pressing his hard on against your thigh to back up his own statement, whining softly again. “Just wann’ cum inside you, please…” he whispers, watching you nod eagerly.

Pulling his fingers out of you with an obscenely wet pop, pulling your soaked panties to the side and he lets out an erotic sigh pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he pulled his shorts down, cock slapping to attention against his abdomen, precum beading from the sensitive tip as he shakily pulled your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and gently rubbing it against your entrance, and you could hear how wet you were when he moved his tip to part your drenched lips and drag through them, whining into the crook of your neck as you grabbed his shoulders, brain fuzzy with the way his hot tip felt rubbing against your clit, sticky with your own slick. 

He bit down hard on your shoulder as his tip popped past the tight ring of muscles of your entrance, desperately rutting against you, trying not to whine or let slip how good it felt to be inside you - the way your hot, heady slick insides felt like they were trying to pull him in deeper. His hand cupped your mouth quickly, stopping you from making a sound as he gently pushed himself further inside you, feeling you grip tightly at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he broke his promise, pushing his cock inside of you, inch by desperate inch, trying not to slam his entire cock into you at once - which was unbelievably hard, considering how wet you were, and how desperate he was - his tip prodded at your cervix, making you jerk forward, groaning against the palm of his hand.

He rutted into you desperately, not daring to thrust properly, letting everyone else hear how wet and desperate you were, or even worse, how even needier he was for you, the head of his cock bumping against your sweet spot, the only sound in the air being the quiet sounds of your muffled whines, and the quiet rustling of sheets as he ground into you, abdomen rubbing against your clit as he did so, bringing you to the edge so much faster than you ever expected, cunt clenching around him, the sign that you were about to cum. He just nodded into the nape of your neck, hips refusing to stop. 

“m-me too, fuck, me too, me too ‘m gonna cum, ‘s too tight, ‘s so warm.” He half whines, half whispers right into your neck as he detaches his teeth from your shoulder for a second, before hurriedly latching them back onto your neck as you feel his cock violently twitch inside you, whining desperately into his hand as you felt yourself start to cum, cunt clenching around him desperately, slick flooding from you and creating an obscene squelching between you two as you spasmed and arched under him. 

He groaned into your neck as he quickly pulled his face from your neck, smashing his lips desperately against yours, muffling his own groans as he pushes himself as deep into you as he can go, cumming hot ropes into you as he stills, thighs twitching as he pulls his mouth from you, both of you panting and catching your breaths, feeling the warm liquid pool out of you and spill onto Sal’s abdomen as he lets out a small and raspy chuckle, still catching his breath.

 “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” 

[cl0udy3]

PLEASE PLEASE DO ELLIE WITH A BREEDING KINK PLEASE I BEG YOU

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐓

ellie williams x fem!reader literally just smut and the smallest amount of fluff at the end cw: breeding kink, use of a strap on, overstimulation, strap on has synthetic cum, cum play i think, honestly i dont know what else to warn of just 18+ wc: 1780 a/n: i think this is the first request i've gotten that isn't a mutual, i love you pls enjoy :D

The first time you feel it, you gasp—because it’s hot. Not just the strap-on pressing into you, thick and pulsing, but the way Ellie’s been moving. Slow, deep. Measured. Like she’s memorizing the way you flutter around her, like she’s in no rush to be anywhere but inside you.

You’re on all fours, arms trembling, muscles already beginning to give under the weight of everything—her hands, her rhythm, her presence.

Ellie’s behind you, one palm steady against your lower back, the other curled tight around your hip like she owns it.

Like she owns you.

“You hear that?” she murmurs, voice low and honey-dark against your spine. “That slick little sound every time I fuck back in?”

You try to nod, but she gives a sharp thrust—your breath catches in your throat as your body jerks forward with a soft, broken sound.

“God, baby,” she groans, dragging her hips back just enough to leave you empty—aching—before slamming forward again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

She leans in then, chest flush against your back, warm skin to warm skin, her breath ghosting over your neck. The weight of her pins you down in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

"You wanna know the best part?" she whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, words sweet and cruel all at once. "This strap? It's not just for show tonight."

You blink, dazed. Your head lolls to the side, already swimming.

She chuckles—low, dark, mean. “It’s loaded.”

Your stomach flips.

“You’re lying,” you whisper, your voice frayed, cracking at the edges.

She grinds in deeper—so deep—until your knees threaten to buckle beneath you.

“Feel that?” she purrs. “That weight? That heat?”

You let out a whimper, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s what I’m giving you, babe. Not just a fuck. Not just this—” she pulls out halfway, the sudden emptiness making you whine “—but a full load. Gonna fill you up so good.”

Your moan is helpless, muffled against the sheets, your thighs starting to shake. You’re already wrecked and she hasn’t even started yet.

Ellie kisses your shoulder—slow, claiming—before sitting back up and planting both hands firmly on your waist.

And then she really starts fucking you.

No teasing. No games.

Just hard, relentless strokes that have you seeing stars, pressing back against her like you’re trying to climb out of your own skin. Each thrust is a wave that crashes over you, your cunt so wet it’s obscene, the sound echoing off the walls every time her hips slam into you.

She’s panting now. Cursing.

“You’re takin’ it so damn well,” she mutters, almost like she’s in awe. “Fucking made for this. Bet your pussy’s already tryin’ to milk it outta me.”

You cry out—loud, wild, desperate.

She loves it.

“Gonna come in you,” she growls, voice ragged. “Fuck, I have to. You need it, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, barely coherent. Just gasps. Moans. Crooked, breathless please’s.

Her hand slips around to your front, fingers slick as they find your clit—swollen and begging for her. She rubs in tight, ruthless circles, syncing with the rhythm of her hips.

“Beg for it,” she growls. “Come on. Tell me.”

“Wanna feel it,” you sob, wrecked and trembling. “Want you to come inside me. Please, Ellie—please—I want it so bad—”

That’s all she needs.

She drives in deep, one final time, her whole body tightening like a wire.

Her hand moves to the base of the strap. Presses something.

And then you feel it.

The heat. The weight. Liquid warmth spilling into you in thick, pulsing waves. It rushes deep and slow, filling you until your body can’t tell the difference between pleasure and overload.

Your whole world snaps white.

You come hard—loud and shaking—clenching around the strap as her cum pours into you, grinding your hips back like your body’s trying to hold onto every drop.

Ellie moans—low and guttural, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades as she rides it out.

But she doesn’t pull out.

She stays inside.

When you collapse, it’s not graceful—it’s a full-body crumple, face-first into the sheets, limbs shaking and useless. Your breath comes in short, stuttered bursts. Everything’s wet. Your skin. The sheets. Your thighs, sticky and trembling.

Ellie follows you down without a word, still buried deep inside.

She curls around you from behind, one leg thrown over yours, strap pressing heavy between your thighs. Her chest is slick against your back, rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. You feel her heartbeat everywhere. In your spine. In the strap. In the way her arms wrap around you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish.

It’s too much. Too hot. Too full.

And it’s still dripping.

She kisses the back of your neck. Soft. Barely there. Like a secret.

Her hand drifts down—lazy, possessive—settling low on your belly. Right over the fullness she’s given you. She presses gently, and your breath catches.

“Keep it in,” she whispers, lips brushing your skin. “Just like that. Let it sit.”

You twitch, overstimulated, but you don’t move. Can’t. Her weight is everywhere. Her scent, her sweat, her breath. You’re wrapped in her like a second skin.

And then—God—her hand moves between your legs again.

You jerk violently, legs kicking weakly against the sheets. “Ellie—”

She kisses your shoulder. Calms you with her mouth before she even says a word.

“One more, baby,” she murmurs. “Just one more for me. Want you messy. Want it dripping down your thighs.”

She starts moving again.

Not fast.

Not rough.

Just deep.

Slow, dragging thrusts that make your spine arch and your hands claw weakly at the bed. She’s not trying to break you. Not anymore. Now she’s claiming. Reminding. Filling every inch of you with slow, deliberate strokes.

You’re whimpering now—quiet, wet little noises. The kind that don’t come from pain or even pleasure anymore. Just surrender.

The air is thick with sweat and slick and heat, heavy with every sound your body makes for her. The strap slides in and out like it belongs there, and her cum leaks around it, warm and sticky, trailing down your thighs in thick, glistening lines.

Ellie watches it.

Stares.

Her hand moves again—down, between your legs. Her fingers dip into the mess. She moans at the feel of it.

Then she does the unthinkable.

She gathers what’s leaked out—slowly, deliberately—and pushes it back in with two thick fingers.

You scream.

It’s not loud. It’s not sharp. But it’s wrecked. Raw. A helpless, breathless noise that dies in your throat as your body locks up.

“Shhh,” Ellie soothes, lips against your ear. “Can’t waste it, baby. Need it all in you.”

You sob, trembling under her, every nerve ending lit and sparking.

“I—fuck—I can’t—”

She presses her forehead to your shoulder, her breath trembling.

“You can,” she says softly. “You already are.”

She curls her fingers inside you. Just once. Just to feel the way you flutter and twitch around her.

You moan her name, broken and soft.

And it undoes her.

She melts against your back, wraps both arms tight around you and holds you like she’s scared you’ll come apart. And maybe you are. You’re so far gone, so full and overwhelmed and loved in a way that leaves no room for shame.

“Gonna take care of you now,” she whispers, voice ragged with the weight of it all. “I got you. Just breathe.”

And you do.

You let her.

Because she’s still inside you.

Still full.

And her arms around you are the only thing holding you together.

Time gets strange after that.

You don’t know how long you lay there—half-conscious, too full and too gone to move. The only thing anchoring you is Ellie. The press of her chest against your back. Her arms wound tight around you like you're something fragile she’s terrified to break.

You’re not even sure if the strap’s still in you until you shift a little and feel the wet weight of it, thick and heavy, keeping her mess inside. You make a tiny sound—barely a whimper—and Ellie kisses the back of your neck.

“I know, baby,” she murmurs, her voice all silk and ache. “I know.”

She doesn’t rush to pull out. Doesn’t try to move you. Just lies there, wrapped around your wrecked body, fingertips tracing soft patterns across your stomach. The spot where her cum sits thick and warm, like she’s painting it in.

“You did so good,” she whispers. “Took all of me. Let me ruin you, just like that.”

You exhale shakily. Your voice is barely there when you speak.

“I feel…so full…”

Ellie hums, nuzzles into your shoulder. “That’s because you are, sweetheart. Stuffed full’a me.”

Her hand moves down again, between your thighs—but not to tease. Just to feel the mess she’s made, to swipe her fingers gently along your folds where her release is still leaking out.

You flinch, too sensitive, but she soothes you with soft kisses.

“Easy,” she murmurs. “Just checking. Want to make sure you’re okay.”

You nod slowly, even though your body still feels like melted wax.

“I got you,” she says again, like a promise. “Let me take care of you.”

Eventually, when your breathing steadies and your hands stop shaking, she shifts. Pulls out slowly, gently, her free hand stroking your hip like she’s apologizing for the loss.

The moment she’s gone, you feel the drip—hot, running down your thighs. You moan softly, squirming at the sensation.

Ellie shushes you with another kiss.

“Stay right there,” she says.

She disappears for a moment, then returns with a warm, damp cloth. You barely open your eyes as she starts to clean you up—careful, reverent. She murmurs soft nothings under her breath as she works.

“You’re such a good girl. Let me fill you up like that. Let me have you.”

She kisses your inner thigh.

“I should take a picture,” she says, voice playful but low. “Your pretty little cunt, leaking for me. Proof you’re mine.”

You whine, pressing your face into the pillow, but you don’t tell her no.

Once she’s done, she tosses the cloth aside and climbs back into bed, pulling you into her arms. Your body fits against hers like it was always meant to be there—her chest under your cheek, her fingers carding slowly through your hair.

“Still with me?” she asks quietly.

You hum a soft yes. You’re tired, fucked out, but safe. Held.

Ellie presses a kiss to your temple.

“Good. Just sleep, baby. I’ve got you.”

You drift off wrapped in her warmth, her scent all around you, the ache between your legs a pulsing reminder of everything she gave you.

And everything you let her take.

this was kind of rushed and short and i think maybe a little bad pls no hate ily guys

[chleem]

One shot: bf!rafe cameron x gf!reader

Summary: rafe teaches you golf

Genre: flirty/sexual tension + lil verbal fight at end (read at own caution

⋆.˚ dont copy or translate my work pls!

♡⸝⸝ russian roulette with rafe

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Rafe wasn’t sure why you decided to join him at the country club today. 

He remembers you calling golf the “most boring thing ever,” practically mocking it the last time the subject came up. 

But here you are, standing beside him on the manicured greens, your eyes scanning the course with a look of curiosity. 

He’s trying to keep his attention on the game—Topper lining up his shot, the sound of the club meeting the ball—but his eyes keep drifting back to you, walking over to the golf cart. 

The golf skirt paired with the pink polo you wear gives the perfect balance of sporty and feminine, suiting you perfectly. 

And whenever you move, the skirt hikes up just enough to expose your ass cheeks. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the outfit or just you, but it’s definitely distracting.

“Aw, shit,” Topper mutters under his breath, the ball flies off the mark, heading straight for the trees. “I can’t catch a break today.”

Rafe remains motionless; eyes focused as you rumble through the bag of clubs. 

You have no idea which one to grab, but the way your fingers move with confidence makes it look like you’re in control.

“Rafe, your turn,” Kelce’s voice breaks through the moment, pulling Rafe back into the game.

“Wait! Lemme try,” you butt in, your voice light but with a hint of determination.

Rafe’s eyes flick back to you, a little surprised by the interruption. He watches as you step forward, confidently grabbing the club you had been fiddling with earlier. 

But before you can even get ready, Rafe steps in, stopping right in front of you.

“That’s… uh, not really the one you want,” Rafe says, his voice lowering slightly, but there's no mocking in it—just genuine concern.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours as he takes the club from your hand and holds it up for a moment, inspecting it. 

9-iron. 

He glances up at you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, his gaze flicking down your frame before landing on the club again.

Yeah, your 165 ass isn’t using that one. 

He steps away for a brief moment, and comes back handing you a different club—a 7-iron, lighter and a little more forgiving.

“Here,” he says, the briefest smile on his lips, “this one’s better for you. Trust me.”

“Thanks babe,” you smile, your tone warm and easy, the words slipping out naturally.

Rafe watches you, his eyes following as you walk toward the ball (the one Rafe previously hit), but then his expression shifts—he notices the way you're positioning yourself.

You're totally off, standing at the wrong angle, about to take a swing in a way that's definitely not going to work. 

His brows furrowed as he watches, a mix of concern and amusement crossing his face. 

He hears the quiet, muffled laughter of his friends and shoots a glare their way, silencing them instantly.

Stepping in once again, he lines himself behind you, his body pressing tightly against yours as he adjusts your posture. His broad shoulders come around, and he reaches forward, his hands settling over yours. 

He’s practically hugging you from the back. 

The proximity sends a slight pulse of awareness through you—his body so close, his presence solid and sure.

“You’re holding it- completely wrong,” he murmurs, taking your hand. 

Through the rough texture of his gloves, you can feel the warmth radiating through as he steadies your grip, guiding you to the perfect hold on the club. 

Rafe then lines your arm up to the ball, but not before his hand slips briefly to your lower stomach.

“Arch your back,” he instructs softly, his breath near your ear, making the moment feel more intimate than it should.

You do- and it causes your ass to further curve into him. 

A light groan escapes his lips, the sound somewhere between a chuckle and a soft exhale. “From your hips, babe, not your waist.”

“Oh,” you reply, your voice laced with a mix of realization and a little embarrassment. You quickly adjust, shifting your weight back from your hips like he said. 

“Good,” he mutters, his voice low, lips brushing against your cheek. “legs shoulder-width apart, and knees bent.”

As you settle into position, you feel your body anchor itself, grounding you in the stance.

“This feels weird,” you comment, the unfamiliar grip suddenly feeling heavy in your hands.

Your words slip out of Rafe’s mind, his mind consumed with this position of you. The way you have it all backed up into him- it’s making it hard to keep the dent forming in his pants under control. 

“Rafe? How do I swing it?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

“We should try this tonight,” 

Rafe whispers to you, his voice dropping to almost a possessive tone. 

It sends a chill down to your spine, and you turn your head over to him, meeting his blue eyes. They stare lazily into yours, the color sparkling just enough for them to reflect.

“What? Golf?”

His lips twitch into a smile, not playful, almost smug. 

His gloved hands tighten its hold around yours. 

“…sure,” he murmurs. 

Taking a breath, Rafe then shifts his focus back to the sport. 

“Right,” he says, his voice a little raspier than before. “First, rotate your hips as you swing. Don’t just use your arms.”

He moves along with you, guiding you as you raise the club to the height of your waist, your arms moving in sync with the flow of the motion.

“And follow through, keep your head down and eyes on the ball.”

His lips are near your ear, voice low and steady, guiding you like he's teaching you more than just the swing.

He takes a step back, eyes scanning your stance.

You feel the space between you widen, and for a second, you almost miss the warmth of his body. 

You take a breath, focus on Rafe’s voice in your ear, rotate your hips, eyes on the ball.

The club swings down, and there's a sharp, satisfying thwack as the club hits the ball.

The ball takes off, flying straight and clean.

There’s cheers behind you from his friends, but all you focus on is Rafe’s expression. His eyes locked on you, lips slightly parted, a look of quiet approval in his gaze.

You can’t help but smile, feeling that warmth spread through you.

“That’s my girl,” he says, his voice soft but full of pride.

“She’s better than you, man,” Kelce teases. 

You play along, turning slightly and giving an exaggerated bow. “I’m a natural,” you say with a playful grin.

Rafe chuckles too, but his eyes never leave yours, affection still clear in his gaze. “Yeah you are," he mutters, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The next one up is Kelce, and once you return to Rafe’s side, he casually slips an arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. It’s a natural move, but the closeness sends a warm jolt through you.

“You think I’ll be this lucky next round?” You ask him, leaning onto his shoulder. Your eyes glue to the side of his face, watching the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly.

Rafe’s lips curl up into that half-smile of his, the kind that makes your stomach flutter. “That wasn’t luck,” he starts, “purely you…and this great teacher you have.”

He tilts his head slightly toward you, giving you a side glance, his expression playful but with that underlying intensity you’ve come to know so well.

You roll your eyes at him, earning his throaty laugh. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron,” you say flirtatiously. 

But before you can add anything more, Rafe leans a little closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “You’re driving me crazy.”

The comment is soaked with horniness, and your thoughts are confirmed when the hand around your waist slips underneath your skirt, kneading the soft fat there.

You can’t help but let out a soft, surprised whelp—louder than you’d intended. The sound catches the attention of his friends, eyes on you again. 

Flushing, you push his hand away playfully, trying to cover up your flustered reaction. “Nothing- there was a spider," you lie, mumbling shyly. 

They laugh lightly, and that’s when you notice Kelce was done with his turn. 

“Hey y/n—” Rafe pauses, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of your forehead, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders as he pulls you back in. “How ‘bout a private sesh?”

His friends, already finished, start heading over to their golf carts, clearly ready to move on. But Rafe doesn’t seem in a hurry to follow.

You glance up at him, seeing the playful yet lusting spark in his eyes. 

He’s too easy to read, honestly. 

You bite down on your lower lip, trying to suppress the eager smile threatening to break free. “…no funny business,” you tease, while your hand gives his clothed crotch a light pat. 

Rafe’s smile deepens, taking your hand and interlocking it with his. 

He peers over your shoulder, yelling back at the guys, “You guys go ahead, we’ll, um…”

The group pauses, looking between the two of you, and then Rafe glances down at you with that familiar, devilish smirk, “don’t wait for us.”

As if on cue, the group doesn’t need another word. They exchange a few amused glances, rearranging the carts (leaving one for you two) before heading off. 

The faint chatter and laughs echo away, leaving just you and Rafe on the opened golf course. 

Rafe wastes no time, leaning in and kissing you hungrily. 

Both of you drop your clubs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. You feel the rough glove wrap around the back of your head, angling your face so his tongue dives deeper into you. 

It’s a sloppy kiss, but one that only gets more passionate by the second. 

“Shit,” he mumbles against your mouth, hands slipping under your skirt again. He kneads your ass again, another hand going to undo the buttons of your polo. 

But you hurriedly stop him, almost panicking as you pull back. 

“Not here, Rafe-“

“There’s no one here-“

“Cameras, and people over there-“

“Let them watch-“

“No, Rafe,” your voice finally cuts through his, and distance is created through the both of you. Your chest rises and falls, from both the breathless kiss and the sudden rush of energy. 

Rafe’s smirk fades slightly, but his eyes stay locked on yours. “You sure?” he asks, voice low, a hint of challenge in it.

You hesitate for a second, your pulse hammering in your ears. “Yeah, I’m sure,” you reply, steadying your breath. 

You glance around, and you were right- someone drives by on their cart. 

“You couldn’t be patient for a couple of minutes?” You scold lightly, picking up the two golf clubs from the floor. 

Rafe’s eyes flicker briefly to the cart passing by, then back to you, the realization of you being right settling in. 

“I can,” he says, following you as you make it to the golf cart. “But you sure as hell make it difficult.”

Once you're at the cart, Rafe casually takes his gloves off, tossing them somewhere inside without a second thought. Before you can even react, he’s already taking the clubs from your hands, placing them back into the bag. 

“Just sit down already,” he tells you, a flicker of frustration in his voice. 

Somehow, he’s irritated again, the short fuse of his temper flaring up. 

Not wanting to add fuel to the fire, you hop into the driver’s seat. 

“Fuck, and you know where to go?” he asks, his voice laced with snark.

You shoot him a look, before scooting over to the passenger side. You cross your arms, deliberately not engaging with his mood.

Rafe sits down, resting his hand on the steering wheel, his eyes flicking to the wide field, as if he's suddenly noticing how much of a dick he's being.

The silence stretches between you for a moment, and then his jaw tightens, like he's working through something. Finally, he exhales sharply, glancing over at you.

Tapping his fingers against the wheel, he says, “I didn’t mean to snap- get angry like that.”

The words hang in the air, but you don’t respond. Instead, you keep your body angled away from him, building that invisible wall between the two of you.

Rafe notices, his gaze darkening as he watches you, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

With his mood swings and your stubbornness, things can easily spiral south, and he knows it.

“C’mon, don’t do this,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you, “I- I’m not even mad to begin with, c’mon babe.”

His voice drops to a softer tone, and his hand wraps around your thigh. The touch is soft, almost like a silent plea for forgiveness. 

You turn your face back to him, and meet the desperate, pretty eyes of his. 

“Just drive, Rafe,” you murmur, your voice soft but resolute, an unspoken surrender.

He pulls his hand back reluctantly, resting it back on the steering wheel. His gaze lingers a moment longer on your face, studying your features. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, a little defeated, “I’ll drive.”

He starts the cart, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. 

As he drives off the grass and onto the paved road, Rafe’s hand slides over yours, forcing it onto the wheel. His fingers curl around yours, covering your hand completely, holding it firmly in place.

When you don’t pull away or argue, he takes it as a win. 

Even more so when he feels you scoot over slightly, your head gently resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but the subtle shift in your proximity softens him, a hint of relief washing over his features.

“…you really think I did good today?” 

You whisper over at him, and he glances down at you. 

His lips curl into a small smile, “yeah.”

He then adds on more firmly, “Yeah, you did. Join me next time.”

“Okay,” you softly whisper, the quiet affirmation slipping from your lips like a promise.

Maybe golf can be the most interesting thing ever, if you do it with Rafe. 

Plus, there’s most definitely a bonus at the end, which is, three rounds of orgasms flowing out of you. 

As soon as the two of you got back to the main building of the country club, Rafe wastes no time in fucking the brains out of you, of course, with your skirt on. 

And now, almost every time he’s on the course, you’re there with him.

-------------------------------

word count: 2.4k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: ngl, relationship with rafe is: mood swings. and its mostly rafe's. one moment he could be very loving, and then boom, he gets a bit annoyed (but thats just imo

but hope you enjoyed...whatever this was! its so fun to write about rafe

elevator | russian roulette w/rafe

[neeeooon]

video game lover !

5 | winner takes it all

cw. cussing

chat: sooooo we gonna address the elephant in the room

you twirled your headphone wire between your fingers like a strand of hair. “i don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

chat: you are a liar

chat: HIOYN HIOYN HIOYN

chat: r u dating DONT LIE

chat: give us the hiori bf pics pls

chat: CUDDLE PICS PLS

chat: HARD LAUNCH PLEASE

you smiled at your chat but didn’t reply. hiori, as promised, sent you an invite to his minecraft world through discord. honestly, the game choice surprised you, considering how building wasn’t his thing. you sensed he was planning something, but you were going to ask him to put his minecraft bed beside yours if he didn’t make the first move.

you waited for the world to load and jumped when you turned your character around to find hiori’s right there. “jeez!” you screeched lightly, throwing a hand over your heart. “you scared me!”

“sorry,” hiori apologized sheepishly. his character was hovering slightly above the grassy terrain, signaling that the world was set to creative.

you clicked your mouse until you were the same height. “are we building again today?”

hiori’s character turned away from you. his skin looked just like him, which you thought was adorable, considering your character's skin was miffy.

“i’ve actually been building off-screen for about four hours,” hiori admitted into his mic.

you tried not to look surprised, but your viewers immediately began bullying your expression in chat. “four hours? building what?” you followed as hiori flew higher and took off into the distance. confused, you muted yourself and asked your chat for spoilers.

chat: girl he Just said he built offscreen

chat: off screen = no viewers babe 😔

chat: It’s okay Y/n, we still love you even though you’re mentally challenged! 🫶💓

rolling your eyes, you unmuted yourself and continued following. “how far away did you build?”

“pretty far. maybe too far. i don’t know… we’re almost there!”

“are we, though?” you teased, when the ugly yellow of the stupid sponge block appeared in the distance. chat, again, slammed crying laughing emojis when you failed to school your expression. “no way.”

“way.”

“no way.”

hiori giggled. “way.”

the sponges formed a heart around a cluster of flowers that would have looked randomly placed if you weren’t floating above them. you covered your mouth, muffling your loved-up laugh when you read what was written in the pixels. “‘be my girfriend?’ aww, i knew you fell for my charms.”

hiori let out a choked sound and his character dropped to the ground. “wait, i promise i know how to spell. pretend that says girlfriend.”

“nope! i like girfriend more.”

chat: he forget the L on purpose cause hiori only take W’s

chat: WWWWWWW

chat: HIOYNNNHAJDKSJ WWWWW

chat: no no he didn’t put the l on purpose cause he knew you’d say yes!!!!

“words are hard,” hiori grumbled, sounding so sulky over the mic that you completely combusted. “that sucks. oh well.” turning to your camera, you squealed. “chat, i’m a girfriend!”

chat: someone check on otoya and karasu

chat: AWW CONGRATS HIORI AND Y/N!!!!

chat: love is still alive 💗

☆ 🐇

you stood on hiori’s doorstep with a bundle of white and blue hydrangeas in your hand because they reminded you of hiori. you’d been at the same conventions and events before, but never actually interacted with one another. part of you was nervous about meeting him, but the other part was too excited that you were trembling in anticipation as you waited for him to open the door.

“why are we here again?” otoya asked, slumped against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

you frowned at him. “in case this isn’t actually hiori yo’s place and i was catfished, duh.”

“but we’ve been here before,” karasu added from your other side. you contemplated smacking him with your flowers.

“i’m hungry,” otoya whined, which in turn caused karasu to perk up. “saw a burger place not far from here.”

“fuck yeah. later, y/n.”

“traitors!” your screech was immediately met with the opening of a door, and you whipped your head around to find hiori staring at you with his pretty blue eyes. you fawned. “oh, hello. boyfriend.”

hiori flushed at the endearment and held the door so you could kick your shoes off as you entered. you glanced back to find him scrubbing at the back of his head. “howdy, girlfriend.”

“ah ah. girfriend.”

“i’m never livin’ that down, am i?” hiori asked with a breathless chuckle, and you pushed yourself up on your toes as you held the flowers out for him to take.

hiori blinked at the bouquet before pulling it close to his chest. “i don’t think i own a vase. wait here, i’ll find somethin’.”

fuck, he’s so cute, you internally screamed, fighting air the second he turned back.

you followed him into the kitchen and propped your jaw into your hands as you watched him search for something to put the flowers in. feeling a bit more confident, you let your chin roll in your palm. “so. when am i getting you pregnant?”

hiori coughed, choking on air. he flashed you a look, eyes wide and flustered in a way that made you grin. “kidding, kidding… we’re here to film a collab, right? our first since becoming official?”

hiori, still hung up on your prior words, scratched his jaw. “why does the entire internet think i’m the one getting pregnant?”

“we’d make such pretty babies.”

“why don’t we start with a rabbit first, yeah? or a plant. plants are nice.”

the giggle that slipped out of you was unplanned and caught you off guard. “calm down, babe. we’ve only been dating for six hours. it may be a bit soon to talk about plant adoption.”

“but babies are on the table?” hiori asked with a raised brow. he filled a bowl with water and set the hydrangeas in it. “we can raise these flowers.”

you pursed your lips in agreement. “fine. we should pick a name for them, though.” hiori suggested one, you gave another. sighing, you straightened into a stance and pressed an open palm to his countertop. “okay, idea. we duel for the name of our first plant as a couple.”

hiori mimicked your position but leaned forward slightly, his chest hovering above the counter. “winner takes it all.”

you leaned right back. “deal.”

masterlist // previous (ch 4)

notes -> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING VIDEO GAME LOVERRR (thank you kaiser’s wife 🐟 anon for the confession idea!)

tags -> @lovingmayday @hioriyolover @mymeloreo @l1f3isf00d @bigclownshoes @x3nafix @luvsymai @s4turnx1 @ravenbc @ohagiyoo @miss-aesthetic-13 @academiq @practicoi @n0tbelle @sevarchive @inojinieeee @narcjsistx @ihsoti @pixelpancakes @ume356 @blu3-l0v3r @mivqko @n0ah-hal00 @starlvcied @kyaanii @ro4love @heididaily104 @idexmids @jimabbenamara @kuronarnze @demiitria @pctterheadd @kaz-0e @sapphireluv @kim1chii @90s-belladonna @literallyushiwaka @itz-phantomz @tired-child00 @realrintaro @5-laska @akis-crazy-world @sagging-saging @minlahzz @sickly-cute @risagichi @shaeies @sasukevrz @milkbugzz @dontmindtheevie

© neeeooon, 2025

[comet-forgot-you]

jealous reader x overstimed tara….PLEASEEEEEE 😫😫😫😫

smut. 18+ pls.

your hips burned with your fast, unwavering pace as you fucked into tara. she was hardly holding herself up with how exhausted she was. she had cum more times than she could remember and you had yet to let up. her back was arched with the way her face was buried in your shared sheets.

“pleasepleaseplease,” her words muffled into the sheets as she begged for you to slow down.

“what, cant take it? thought all you wanted was the brat to be fucked out of you.” tara whines, fingers gripping into the sheets beneath her. “why dont you be good, say your sorry and maybe ill slow down,” you leaned over her, listening for any sort of sound from her.

pants and whimpers are all you can here for a moment before shes whining out a faux apology. “im so sorry, please slow down, please.” you push off of her, pulling out nearly all the way. tara would’ve collapsed if it werent for the firm grip you held on her hips. she takes deep breaths, thinking it was the end of her punishment.

“i dont believe you,” you reply before bottoming out inside of her. tara whines, body nearly going limp as you continue to fuck into her. you pull her up, her back pressed against your front, her head falling back to meet your shoulder. “look at you, so pathetic. just wanted to be fucked, wanted to remind you of who you really belong to, didnt you?” tara nods as best she can.

“just needed to be reminded,” she whines, body nearly slack in your arms.

“good, just one more, then we’ll be done, think you can do that?”

[gamblersdoll]

URGHHH PLEASE I NEED IZUKU BEING VERY MEAN RUDE AND ROUGH FUCKING READER PLS PLS I'LL BEG

“you always do that tiktok shit.” he growls into your skin, his hips slamming into what felt like your throat, which he then starts to choke at a decent amount of pressure. “you feel that? you feel me right here?”

you cant respond, the bone shaped ball gag restrained your vocals. he thrusts particularly a little hard, cause you to yelp and he smacks your rear. “asked you somethin, fuckin’ brat.” he scoffs, flipping you over and pressing your knees to your forehead. “always have to do stupid shit that gets you fucked up.”

you muffle out a moan, eyes crossing and he (what he feels like is light) lightly smacks your cheek. “what? you finna come?” he asks, watching you nod and plead with your eyes. “do you think you deserve that? after the shit you pulled today?”

your pathetic nod sends him over the edge, a twitch in his eye and he pulls you close by your throat. “you think you can say why?” he asks, the smell of a vanilla-y cigar smoke on his breath. “thats right, you cant.” he spits in your face, at least making sure it didnt get in your eyes— pushing you back down into the bed. “you can keep getting fucked, but you aintm coming for shit.”

you sob behind the gag, eyes tearing up as you feel the saliva dripping down your chin to your breasts. you try, try and try to pat ok his shoulder to tell him you were close. a signal, but he only swats your hand away and slaps your breast. “hands off, you better not come.” he warns, leaning down to you and whispering in your ear. “whys’ a slut like you thinkin’ that you can just come whenever and wherever?” he says with venom, feeling your walls attempt to spasm. “you come now, itll be yer’ fuckin funeral.” he groans, a hand going to your jaw.

by this point, youre ball gags been knocked out of your mouth, his hips having a force to he reckoned with. “baby— fuck, im !” you gasp, feeling his fingers shove into your mouth.

“dont remember telling you to speak either, this ones dumber than she looks.” he scoffs, feeling your tongue swirl around his fingers. “dumb fucking mutt, doesnt know whats good fer’ her.”

you lie flat, your ass raw and red, tingling from the air and your folds pulsating from their abuse.

“why do you always have to make me so mad, ma?” he questions, a hand on your lower back and he coos. “did i fuck you to sleep…?”

“no.. but why did you fuck me like that?”

“why was your tits on tiktok? shouto came to me asking about it.”

[noobsoconfusing]

nasty dog_hamzahthefantastic

gross perv sub hamzah, stalker!hamzah, raging virgin hamzah, dry humping, begging, crying, overstim kinda? weird hamzah pls dont hate

>_<

- if neediness was a person, it would be hamzah.

- if the concept of loser was personified, it would also be hamzah

- now, guess what? if being intense and a virgin at the same time could be shortened to a word, it would, oh! also be hamzah

- maybe it’s the way he’d sneakily steal glances at you from the hallways, or the way he would rush his steps to ride the elevator with you.

- though, you never really noticed his presence. it made him sad. super sad. was he not worth your time? was he not friendly enough? he thought.

- living in the same apartment complex as you made him notice many things… he was very observant! that, or maybe, he did his research just fine

- he quickly picked up on your schedule…

- you were not very social, never leaving your apartment if it was not needed, the only times he’d see you in the stairs or elevator was when you went grocery shopping

- hamzah adores to peak outside to your side of the hall from the peephole on his door

- if he’s lucky enough, he’ll catch you grabbing mail or fixing the welcome mat you have on the floor

- and he was not so discreet about it. his breathing was loud and erratic, and sometimes by the closeness of the apartments, you could hear it behind the wooden door..

- at first, he got nervous. his heart stopped when you’d pause your actions to look around, shrugging as you dismissed the situation

- ugh, it makes him so stupidly horny how clueless you are, how you never notice his long glances and the lewd gross intentions he means w them

- hamzah’s hidden album on his photos app is full of pictures and videos of you :(

- sometimes normal pictures of you entering your apartment or videos of you running up the stairs…

- the thought of you being naive made his heart flutter, it was almost endearing how his imagination could really flow with all the pictures he had taken of you doing mundane stuff ……

- he’s also the type to steal your clothes from the common dryer the apartment complex has down in the basement in the laundry area

- loves the scent of your softener, but actually loves your natural scent even more. he craves your attention and taste and wonders how soft your skin must be, how pretty you look always, how desirable your lips are to him.

- hamzah is pretty much losing common sense each time you wander his mind. or when he sees you around, he loses the ability to act normal.

- now,,, just as he is utterly lovesick, he is also fucking weird and gross

- jerks off with your underwear (the ones he steals from your laundry basket) and absolutely feels no remorse after finishing

- even after he cums a first time, he keeps going on and on until he pretty much can’t get to physically cum anymore :(

- quite literally passes out, shaking and shivering from the stimulation.. thinking of you is enough to make him want to milk his nuts dry #rip

- now, hamzah is loud. yeah, but when he thinks of you while doing it, he gets a tone or two louder. just hoping you’d hear him and magically appear inside his room to help him up :(

“y/n, y/n… please…” his head was thrown back into the pillows, eyes shut and a bead of sweat slid down forehead. “oh my god, y/n, just….yeah, just like that..”

- actually imagines his own hand is yours, it helps him finish, not quicker, but just more intense.

- spills load after load, the puddle of cum adorning his lower tummy and part of the sheets, but somehow he can’t get to stop :c not when his imagination does wonders while thinking of his pretty neighbour, you.

- when he feels like he’s getting too loud, meaning, when his common senses start kicking in, he’d shamelessly just use your previously stolen panties as a gag to muffle his moans.

- unhinged as this man is, he is also the type to clean his cum up with your underwear T_T pathetically shivering at the touch of the thin fabric against his skin, gathering the drippy fluids and smearing them up

- yeah, he knows he’s gross and weird, but somehow can’t get himself to stop.

- something about doing all that lewd stuff behind your back makes him warm inside, a crude excitement fills him up each time he touches himself to the image of you

- blushes extremely hard the morning after his doings, when he not so accidentally runs to you on the hallway

- not a single ounce of shame inside that perverted body of his…….. -_-

- there’s times when he can no longer use your belongings to cum, practically unusable after jerking off w them repeatedly #•_•

- so he opts for the pillow. just slowly thrusting his hips to gather a touch, the fluffy fabric barely in contact with his boner makes him feral

- he is so stupidly desperate is so embarrassing

“s-shit… owwww!” hamzah bit his lip down so hard he swore he drew a bit of blood, “please, please, y/n let me- fuuuck, let me cum please? can i- just..”

he doesn’t even care if nobody is listening to him let alone you, he still asks for your permission because he wants to be good so bad

- humps the pillow like it’s his last day on earth.. the squeaking of the bed gets repetitive as his movements get clumsy and fast while chasing his high

- maybe the neighbours from the floor below will finally think he got to get laid. shame is, that’s just his pillow.

- hamzah thinks a screw came loose inside his mind when he gets the sudden urge to knock on your door to make his presence known

- but not exactly to introduce himself

- his hands are sweaty and shaky when he fidgets with the lewd object between his fingers but smiles to himself as he thinks of how beautiful and precious your surprised face would be ^_^

- after knocking twice, loud enough for you and the whole damn building to hear, he runs ungodly fast back to his apartment, ready to uncover the peephole and watch your reaction

hamzah smiles when he admires how you slowly open your door with a greeting smile, one that disappears after you realise there’s nobody at the door.

your big puppy eyes get wide at the expectation of seeing someone maybe around the halls, but when you turn your head both ways and see no one, hamzah bites his lip, feeling the know inside his stomach get tight with anticipation.

god you’re so fucking pretty. so naive.

when your sight glances at the floor, your eyebrows furrow confused, you bend your knees to the ground and kneel infront of the object placed on your welcome mat. huh?

“w-what…?” you murmur, and hamzah lets out a tiny moan when your soft voice leaves your lips.

“oh my god!”

you yelp when you realise that in fact, it is your long lost panties right there in front of you! however something doesn’t sit right when you grab them from the floor…

why are they damp and sticky?

hamzah observes behind closed doors, he wishes he could just go out and admit his nasty crimes, but how could he? if he can admire you from anonymity.

how could hamzah ever show his true self to you? oh, you’re just so innocent, so blind and clueless. he loves how dirty he feels when thinking of you.

- a few days later, he makes sure to do down the laundry room at the same time as you usually do, hoping to see you there.

- to his surprise, there you are! sorting out your dirty clothes and throwing the wet items into the dryer.

- he hesitates to say hi, just a polite good morning! or maybe a damn that’s a lot of laundry! but decides to shut up.

- instead, his eyes widen in surprise when you are the one to speak up at him for the first time….

“hey, sorry to bother, could- umm, could you maybe lend me some of your detergent? please?” your eyes looked glossy and shiny and he just wanted to devour you right there

he gulped and swallowed hard. suddenly his hands started sweating abnormally. however, he put up with a gentle smile.

“sure, use as much as you need.” he passed you the bottle. your fingers brushed and while you didn’t really mind, hamzah felt like he was about to bust.

“thank you! im double washing and ran out of my own detergent, but i’ll make it up to you! thanks a lot!” you explained, and he found it so endearing how you took the time to explain even when he didn’t need an explanation.

i’ll make it up to you! your words engraved into his brain. for real. he had many, many ideas of how you could make it up to him.

“it’s fine, don’t worry, i really don’t mind sharing, hah.” he reassured you. then he swallowed hard again, getting closer to you. “why are you double washing for?” he tried to make small talk.

you stopped your actions and looked at the ground.

‘oh well, someone likes to steal my underwear and nut on it! that’s why!’ you thought. then quickly laughed it away.

“just because.” you said. “better to be clean, right?” you friendly bumped his shoulder and he giggled.

hamzah knew damn well.

“yeah, right.”

- after that interaction he a 100% couldnt keep his hands off his dick for a week straight, just thinking about the way you carelessly speak, how you move and how you exist

- he’d fantasise about you talking him through his orgasm…. he’s obsessed with your voice so fucking much.

“owww, fuck! yeah, yeah…. just… fuck, yeah thank you, thank you, thank you, y/n…”

his chest heaved with shaky breaths, he was exhausted. jerking off was exhausting when he couldn’t stop to rest, just kept going and going until his mind was blurry and could no longer even think of you.

he imagined how your pretty voice would praise him, how you’d caress his hair as he spilled over and over his hand. ugh, he was so needy.

- hamzah’s obsessive curious feelings towards you keep growing even more when you start greeting him in the halls

- or when you hold the elevator door open for him

- and he can’t help but think, that if he hadn’t cum on your panties, you would’ve never noticed him. ever.

- how cool is that? hamzah thought, very fucking cool.

>_<

i hate this BUT i had been writing this since last week i just needed to LOCK IN. bye sorry this sucks byeee

[invmakiholic]

𝐏𝐀𝐕𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄. (zayne/li shen)

You never felt so impure, body conditioned to automatically respond to his stimuli. Absolute filth dripped from your mouth, calling out his name as if you were greedily asking for more. You were his perfect test subject. 0.7k words genre: smut, fluff warnings: SMUT. MDNI. tags: straight smut below the cut T_T, intercourse with no protection, everything is consensual ofc, softdom!zayne, subfem!reader, (a lot of) finger sucking, zayne licks ur saliva, reader has multiple orgasms, temperature play (zayne uses his EVOL), creampie, uhhh lowk kinda filthy but also fluffy, i love zayne so much hes my wife, minor grammatical errors pls dont attack me taglist: @xhongshan

a/n: im ovulating

“F-fuck…so pretty.” Zayne’s fingers brushed against your lips. He teased against your flesh, saliva glossed over it from how much he gave you mind-breaking orgasms. It was as if he was taking you to heaven and dragging you back to earth with every thrust he made.

Without a second thought, you take his index and middle finger in your mouth. You graze your tongue against it whilst looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. The way you sucked on it so greedily made his cock throb inside of you. You were perfect. So docile, eager to accept every piece of him.

You recall the first time he offered his digits for you to suck on. You felt nervous doing it, cautiously looking up at him as you ran your tongue from the base to the tip, afraid to make a mistake. He rewards you with a hard thrust, causing you to suck down harder in order to ground yourself to reality. He drives his fingers deeper, practically fucking your mouth with it. “Take it. S-shit, looks so good…”

Zayne does this many more times until it becomes second nature to you. He had conditioned you to draw his fingers into your mouth everytime you wanted him to fuck you harder. His little test subject. You were no better than Pavlov’s dogs. You’d—without fail—suck on his fingers every single time he offered it during love making sessions.

“I’m—ah! I’m c-close,” red lines decorated his back as you dug your fingers against his skin. It hurt him, but it hurts so good. The sting only made his hips move in fervor, even faster than before; it felt like he was fucking you like he hated you. “Let me cum, Zayne!” His fingers muffled your whines, yet he could understand what you wanted—and he would rightfully give it to you.

“Come for me, sweet girl.” Those were the only words you needed. Your body convulsed, your back arching and your legs spasming. Sparks glazed your eyes, tears accumulating in your waterline. Your jaw slackened, letting drool seep out of your lips. He absolutely adored you in this state—fucked out of your mind, spent, and needy for him.

He took his fingers out of your mouth, licking all the remnants of your saliva. His grip on you tightened, releasing his fingers with a lewd pop. A sly smirk spread across his lips whilst he leaned down to your ear, lightly nipping at your helix. “Bear with me, my love.”

Words could barely register in your mind before he pounded harder, fucking you deep. Open-mouthed kisses travelled from your neck to the valley of your breasts, sucking and leaving purple marks. “Z-Zayne!” Your hands found his jet-black hair, gripping it with intensity.

He could feel himself becoming increasingly sensitive. His lips trembled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He was close. “I—fuck! Ah, I love you,” you squealed as his other hand made its way to your clit. Not only was he rubbing the meanest circles on it, he was using his fucking EVOL. “Cold!” More tears pricked your eyes as mind-numbing pleasure coursed through your veins. “Yeah?” He laughed lightly, soaking in your sweet moans. “But I know you can take it. Right, darling?” Nodding, you let him continue. You’d definitely get back at him, but now was not the time.

His breath became more shallow, and thrusts started getting more erratic. “So good for me, ‘m gonna come.” You sputter out incoherent sentences in response, all different variations of you begging for his release. The sight of you was absolutely ethereal: wet, spread out, and asking for his cum. He thinks of himself as a lucky man; having a pretty angel as a partner isn’t exactly a privilege everyone has.

His release came with one final thrust. He stilled inside you, letting you scream out his name in ecstasy as you came once more alongside him. The room was hot, and the smell of sex lingered, the expensive bed sheets ruined with the bodily fluids that dripped out of you. The both of you couldn’t care less about the cleanup, choosing to be in each other's arms instead. “You did well, love.”

[gf2bellamy]

hiii!

i was wondering if you could write spencer x reader, where she’s having a really bad day but spencer is coming home from a case and is exhausted, mentally and physically so she feels guilty that she would bother him with her mood

So she just hides away and is on the verge of a panic attack and spencer finds her and is all “you save me, so pls let me save you” and just comforts her (and calls her angel because 🫠)

thankyouuu so much (you dont have to do it if you dont want! no pressure at all!) i love your writing, it’s so incredibly cute and endearing <3

exhaustion — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader crying a lot , reader feeling guilty / tired / exhausted, spencer calls reader angel a/n: hii thank you so much for your request !! i hope you like this <3

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. You sat on the couch, curled up in one corner, staring blankly at the empty space in front of you. The TV was off, the big overhead light was off, and the only light came from the small lamp on the side table.

You hadn’t moved in what felt like hours, your mind swirling with the events of the day. It had been one of those days. The kind where nothing went right, where every little thing seemed to pile up until you felt like you were drowning under the weight of it all. 

You missed Spencer. A lot. Especially right now.

He had a way of making everything feel better. You longed for his comforting hugs and the way he’d listen to you ramble about your day.

But he wasn’t here. He was at work, buried under mountains of paperwork and case files.

But then, the sound of keys jingling in the lock snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, your heart leaping in your chest as you hurried to the door.

Spencer stepped inside, looking disheveled and exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He dropped his bag by the door with a heavy thud, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into a tight hug. 

You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you buried your face in his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and faintly of paper. For a moment, you just stood there, holding each other.

“I missed you,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled but sincere. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to let go, but after a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed gently over your cheeks.

“Today was horrible,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he let go of you to shrug off his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, looking more tired than you’d seen him in a long time. 

You bit your lip, hesitating. “What happened?” you asked softly, following him as he moved further into the apartment. 

He sighed again, sinking onto the couch and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Just… paperwork. So much paperwork. And then Garcia’s computer crashed, so we lost half the files we needed, and Hotch wanted everything reorganized by tomorrow morning…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just one thing after another.” 

You sat down next to him, your heart aching as you watched him. He looked so drained, so unlike his usual self, and you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about burdening him with your own problems.

Today had been hard for you, but it sounded like it had been even harder for him. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. 

So instead of talking about your day, you reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That sounds awful.” 

He gave you a small, tired smile, his fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s okay. It’s just… one of those days, you know?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening. You did know.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Instead, you shifted closer, pulling him into another hug. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“How was your day?” Spencer mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him.

You settled against his side, his head still resting on your shoulder as your fingers continued to gently card through his hair.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment, your hand stilling briefly before you forced yourself to keep moving. 

“It was… good,” you said, your voice carefully neutral. You tried to inject a note of cheerfulness into your tone, but it came out sounding hollow, even to your own ears. 

Spencer hummed against your shoulder, seemingly too tired to notice the slight falter in your voice. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his words muffled as he nuzzled closer to you. His warmth was comforting, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest. 

After a moment, he shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before slowly sitting up. “I’m going to get changed,” he said, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before standing and heading toward the bedroom, leaving you alone on the couch. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the lump in your throat returned, thicker and more suffocating than before. You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all evening.

But it was no use. The dam broke, and before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, hurrying toward the bathroom. 

You shut the door behind you, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another.

Soon, you were crying , your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. You muttered curses under your breath, frustrated with yourself for not being able to hold it together. 

“Get it together,” you whispered harshly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The tears kept running, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

You felt like a mess, your face hot and your chest tight. But just as you were about to try to pull yourself together, you heard footsteps outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft knock. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Can I come in?” 

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t know what to do. Part of you wanted to tell him to go away, to spare him from seeing you like this, but another part of you desperately needed him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand before slowly getting to your feet. 

You opened the door just enough to peek out, your eyes meeting Spencer’s. He was standing there, his expression soft but worried. His hair was still a mess, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. 

“Hey, hey,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I—” you started, but your voice broke, and you shook your head, unable to continue.

How could you even begin to explain? Everything was wrong. The entire day had been wrong, and now you felt like you were falling apart. 

Spencer didn’t push. Instead, he reached out, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, wiping away a tear. His touch was so tender that it only made you cry harder.

“Come on,” he said softly, his hand slipping down to take yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling you with him, leading you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. 

You followed him numbly, your fingers intertwined with his as he guided you to the bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. 

“Talk to me, angel,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?” 

The nickname made your heart ache, and you shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You had such a bad day, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” 

Spencer’s expression softened, his hands moving to cradle your face. “You could never make my day worse,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re never a bother. Not to me. Not ever.” 

You shook your head again, your hands gripping his wrists as you tried to steady yourself. “But you were so tired, and I didn’t want to—” 

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “You save me, I save you. That’s how this works, remember?” 

You nodded slowly, your breath hitching as more tears spilled over by just hearing those sweet words. Spencer leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You went willingly, burying your face in his shoulder as he held you close. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you felt some of the tension in your chest begin to ease. After a while he slowly let go, but his hands remaining on your arms.

“Tell me about your day,” he said after a while, his voice soft but insistent. “What happened?” 

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—so patient, so understanding—made it impossible to hold back. So you told him. You told him about everything that had gone wrong.

And he listened, his hands never leaving yours, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

When you were done, he pulled you into his arms again, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. But I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You nodded, your face buried in his shoulder as you clung to him. For the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe again. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Always, angel,” he said softly. “Always.” 

[sebmindbreak]

can i rq a fluff shedletsky x reader fic pls.. i hc he has wings so i think a wing preening fic would be cute. it'd be kinda like washing someones hair in terms of intimacy imo

HEHEH TIME FOR THIS

i dont knwo what ot say im tired so like

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <33

TITLE : neglect

The room was quiet save for the small, muffled sounds coming from the bed.

The kind of sounds that made your chest ache.

Shedletsky lay curled up on his side, his form trembling beneath the blankets.

His wings, normally full of ruffled mischief and sarcastic confidence, now looked… broken. Not in the literal sense, but in the way a neglected thing sags.

Feathers bent the wrong way, some fallen onto the sheets. The soft down at the base was matted, frayed.

His shoulders were hunched, wings twitching with pain.

You had tried to help him for weeks now.

Told him. Begged him. Warned him. But every time, he waved you off with a forced grin and a dismissive shrug.

"I'm fine."

But he wasn’t. And now he was crying.

Small, barely-there sobs as his body trembled like a wilted bird in a storm.

“…It hurts,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I-I didn’t think it would get this bad…”

You sat beside him on the bed, hand hovering carefully near his wings. He didn’t resist. He didn’t even look up.

“I was just gonna fix it later. You kept telling me and I didn’t listen…”

You slowly reached out. His body tensed for a heartbeat—then stilled under your fingers.

“…Sorry,” he mumbled, breath catching again. “I should’ve let you help earlier… I didn’t want to be—weak.”

As your fingers began to move through the worst of the damage, his breath hitched.

Then a shuddering sigh escaped him, followed by a shaky exhale as your hands worked gently through the tangled down and bent feathers.

“God… that feels… better than I thought it would…”

You were slow, careful not to pull too hard.

Every little movement seemed to draw him deeper into stillness, the pain unwinding from his muscles as you smoothed and preened the mess he’d let fester.

“I didn’t mean to ignore it. I just” His voice cracked again. “I thought if I said I was fine enough, it’d stop hurting.”

Your touch traveled along the arch of his wings, easing the twisted spots and plucking away the loose feathers that had been tugging at the skin.

He shivered but not in pain this time. Relief was creeping in. Soothing. Anchoring him.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered, head sinking deeper into the pillow. “Even when I’m stubborn. Even when I snap.”

You continued, your hands gentle as water over stone. The feathers slowly aligned under your touch. You didn’t say a word but you didn’t need to.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice small, like it was meant for the darkness and not for you. “You do this for me, even after I pushed you away…”

One of your hands brushed along a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his wing, and he let out the smallest, most vulnerable sound a soft, broken coo that cracked your heart in two.

He leaned into your touch without thinking, burying his face into the pillow as you worked.

There was no teasing in him tonight. No sarcasm. No witty remarks. Just a quiet, aching version of Shedletsky you rarely saw. One who let the walls drop.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, barely audible now. “I didn’t want you to see me like this…”

His voice trailed off as your hands moved slower, now focused on the softest, most tender parts of his wings.

You felt him begin to breathe easier. The trembling eased. His body relaxed truly relaxed for the first time in what felt like days.

“…Don’t stop,” he breathed. “Please…”

You didn’t.

His voice was softer now. Barely there. “…Feels safe when it’s you. Even when I’m a mess.”

Another feather slipped loose under your fingers. He didn’t even flinch.

“I’ll let you help sooner next time. I promise.”

Your hands never left his wings.

Even when he fell quiet, even when the sobs faded and his breathing evened out, even when he shifted just enough to press into your side like a child curling closer to warmth.

“…You always fix me,” he mumbled at last, voice muffled into the pillow.

And then he went still. Heavy with sleep. Safe in your presence.

You didn’t stop preening not until his wings were back to the way they should be.

And even after that… you stayed. Right there beside him.

Because you always would.

HHEHEE

i like silly small angst that goes to fluff <3

[skzficdump]

The Forbidden Always Tastes Better

paring: Seungmin x fem!reader (lee know's younger sister)

gender: smut

word count: 1k (1064)

warnings: corruption kink, degradation kink, penetrarion sex, oral sex (fem recibing), sex without protection (pls dont be stupid), size/power play, dirty talk, praise/humiliation mix, verbal dom, power dynamics (age and hierarchy), friend's younger sister (she is over 19)

You're always there. At rehearsals, during breaks, in the studio. Lee Know's younger sister.

Too young. Too sweet. Too close.

And Seungmin hates you for it. Or so he wants you to believe.

Because every time you laugh with others, every time you look at him longer than necessary, something inside him snaps. It tightens. It burns.

He doesn't like how your laughter burrows under his skin. He doesn't like how your shorts seem shorter and shorter. He doesn't like knowing that if Minho found out what he thinks when he sees you… he'd kill him.

And you know it.

That's why when you run into him alone in the studio, with his shirt rolled up and his eyes lowered, you don't hesitate to stay in the doorway. You don't say anything, you just look at him. You provoke.

He doesn't even turn his head. He just talks.

"Are you having fun pretending you don't know what you're doing?" he says, in a low voice. A dry whisper. "What?" "You come here wearing those crappy shorts, with that perfume you don't even know how to use, you look so innocent." He turns. He looks at you. And it takes your breath away.

"But you're not, are you?"

His body is close before you realize it. You feel the hard wood against your back. His hands don't touch you, but they're there, close enough to make your body burn.

"I should tell your brother," he spits, but there's no morality in his voice. Only desire wrapped in rage. "I should tell him his little sister is offering cheap glances as if it weren't obvious how much she wants someone to corrupt her."

Your throat trembles.

"Is that what you want? For me to break your mouth just to shut you up?" "Seungmin…" "Since when do you call me that?"

His finger brushes over your lower lip, pushes it down slowly.

"So easy to ruin," he murmurs. "And the worst part is, you like it." "I don't like it…" "You lie like a bitch in heat."

And then he kisses you.

It's not sweet, it's not soft. It's the kind of kiss that comes with consequences. He bites your lip, pushes you with his body. Your legs tremble.

He grabs you by the neck, not to suffocate you, just so you won't look away. So you'll see him while he tells you what you are.

"You're going to let me do whatever I want. You're going to kneel like you know your place." Silence. Your chest rises and falls like you've never breathed before. And yet… you nod.

"Good whore," he smiles. And everything turns to fire.

Your back hits the closed study door as he kneels in front of you as if about to pray to you… but there's nothing holy in his mouth.

"Spread your legs."

His words fall like a divine command.

Your breath catches, but your thighs yield. Slow, nervous. He laughs, that low, dry laugh he has when he's about to do something unforgivable.

His hands slide over your skin, unhurried, without permission. He squeezes your thighs and leaves a quick bite just above your knee.

"Look how easy you are," he whispers against your skin. "How many times have you fantasized about this? Did you touch yourself thinking of me while your brother slept a room away?"

"Seungmin…" "I said don't call me that. Call me like a good bitch."

You choke on your own words. You don't know how to say them, but your body has already responded.

He moves your panties to the side to gain easy access to your core. The first brush of his tongue is gentle, almost merciful. But then… Then there's no mercy.

He licks you as if he's hungry for you, as if your body were something he deserved to destroy. He holds your hips tightly, keeping you in place even though your legs tremble and your back wants to arch. Your moans are muffled in your hands. Until he takes them off.

"Don't cover up," he growls, forcing you to look at him. "I want to hear you beg."

One of his hands slips under your shirt, the other pulls your soaked panties down completely. There's no pause. He penetrates you with two fingers while he continues to devour you as if seeking punishment. And he finds it.

Your nails scratch his shoulders. Your mouth says his name—the one he forbade you—and he smiles, cruelly.

"That's it." So ruined by someone who shouldn't even look at you."

He pushes you onto the desk, spins you around, forces you to arch up, hands against the wood. You're trembling. Soaked. Exposed.

And then you feel it.

His erection pressing right where you need it most. Still clothed, still in control.

"Ask me." "W-what…?" "To fuck you like the whore you are."

Your pride falls to the floor like clothes. You can't take it anymore. You don't want any more limits. Not with him.

"Please…" you sob. "Fuck me, please."

And then he enters. All at once.

A stifled moan escapes you, and he just laughs, huskily, through gritted teeth.

"So tight. Almost like you're a virgin," he pants against your ear. "I love ruining you for anyone else."

The thrusts are rhythmic, dirty, desperate. He grabs your hair. He pushes you further against the desk. The word "bitch" mixes with "good girl" when you moan for him. Your legs can't support you anymore.

You cum, and you don't even know when. But he knows.

"Did you cum yet?" he whispers maliciously. "Too easy. Let's do it again." "I-I can't…" "Yes, you can. You're going to do it. Again. And then again."

He overstimulates you as he continues to penetrate you, deep, so deep you can't tell if you're crying or moaning. He touches you as if you were his. As if you were already his. And you are.

When he finishes, he does it with a dry growl, buried in your neck, his teeth clamping down on your skin. And still, he doesn't move.

You both pant. The sweat is real. The silence is brutal.

Until he speaks. Quietly. Cruelly. Almost sweetly.

"You shouldn't have come today."

But he doesn't leave. He just straightens your shirt. He helps you clean your trembling legs. He kisses your neck.

And then… yes. He leaves.