meii !!

Includes: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Jason Todd & Roy Harper

Summary: when your current boyfriend abandons you with nothing but your phone, he's the first person you call

Content/CW -> gn! reader, abandonment, hurt/comfort, dehydration,

— requested by anon

froggi yaps -> i bombed my interview so badly today i really needed this comfort ;-; i feel like these kinda suck but this piece was kicking my butt so badly i just needed to get it out :p enjoy

ONE TIME THING • MC71

Pairing — Macklin Celebrini X F!Reader

In Which — You and Macklin are just friends but sometimes, friends have to help each other out.

W.C — 1.4k

Warnings — NSFW. Oral M!Receiving. Praise Kink. Hair Pulling.

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You don’t mind having Macklin over at your house. Sure he’s annoying, he eats all of your snacks, and he complains when you’re watching something he doesn’t like. But, you enjoy his company.

You’ve been friends since he met you at BU, and the two of you have been close ever since. He’s in his second season of the NHL, but he still makes time to see you whenever he can.

It’s the off-season now. And Macklin, being the good friend that he is, took the liberty to fly down to Boston just to see you again. Will’s back too, but he’s currently out with Gabe and Ryan.

Unfortunately for Macklin, a girl he was supposed to meet up with had canceled on him. So he found himself at your front door, just to talk to you about it.

Obviously, TMI doesn’t exist in your friendship. He's told you how quick he can make a girl cum, he's told you about his obsession with eating a girl out, he's told you how much he loves when they're on top. You’ve told him pretty much everything. You exchange stories because that’s what friends do.

He’s currently sat on your couch, legs spread with an obvious hard-on straining against his jeans. You don’t mean to look, but you’re literally talking about his sex life while it’s basically staring at you.

You sit cross-legged beside Mack, listening to him rant about how frustrated he is.

“I’m just pissed,” he complains, throwing his head back. His arm is along the back of his couch and his knee is almost touching yours. There’s never been a touch barrier between the two of you.

“Mack, you’re only mad because you couldn’t get your dick wet,” you say, laughing at him.

His face immediately scrunches up. “Well, yeah?”

You scoff and roll your eyes at his arrogance. “Just find another girl at a bar, or something,” you suggest. “You’re a hockey player, you’re hot, you’re tall—”

“Did you just call me hot?” Macklin cuts you off, his eyebrows raising. He’s not oblivious. He knows he’s good-looking. He knows he’s popular among the female audience. But hearing you say it yourself, he can’t help but grin.

“Not the point, Mack,” you huff, folding your arms over your chest. “You should’ve went out with Will and the other guys. You know, you probably could’ve found some random girl to suck your dick.”

Mack shakes his head. “I don’t want a ‘random girl’ all over me,” he murmurs. “Won’t feel the same. I need it to be a girl I trust.”

You don’t know if Macklin’s trying to subconsciously tell you something, or if you’re being delusional. You look at his face—his cheeks are flushed and you feel yourself burn up. You glance down, noticing how his legs are spread more than before.

“Mack,” is all you say, immediately realizing what he’s insinuating just by his body language. “Don’t be gross.”

“We’re just friends.” Mack shrugs, careless. He tilts his head. “I mean— It won’t mean anything, y’know?”

You and Macklin are good friends. You shouldn’t care about doing this one favor for him. That’s what good friends do for each other. You glance over at him—his hair is messy from the amount of times he’s ran his fingers through it, and his bottom lip is wet after dragging his tongue across it multiple times out of nervousness.

You stay quiet, contemplating. Doing something like this could probably result in nothing positive for your friendship, but that shouldn’t be likely.

“Fine,” you eventually give in, no real hesitance in your voice. It’s not like this’ll mean anything in the future; it’s not a big deal.

You stand up, noticing the wide, shit-eating grin tugging at the corner of his lips. You honestly want to slap it off of his face right now.

You drop to your knees, finding yourself between his legs. “You owe me for this,” you huff, reaching to unzip his pants.

Mack nods his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looks down at you. “I know,” he murmurs, still smiling.

You pull his jeans down, then you slip your fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers, teasing him. If Macklin’s going to get this out of you, you’re not going to give it to him easily.

“Don’t…don’t do that,” Mack whispers. His voice is low and desperate.

“Stop talking,” you say, looking up at the neediness plastered across his face. You tug his boxers down, struggling until he thrusts his hips up to help.

You free him, his cock springing free. You can tell he was hard for the entire journey to your house because he’s throbbing, thick, and the tip is already leaking. He stares down at you, pure disbelief flooding his features. He can’t believe that this is actually about to happen.

You don’t hesitate to spit on the head, making him whimper quietly. He bites his bottom lip as he gathers your hair in one of his hands, just as a reflex. You don’t stop him. Slowly, you lean in to gather the pre-cum on the tip of your tongue.

Your tongue swirls around the head before you fully take him into your mouth, twisting your hands around the base; you can’t fit all of him in your mouth. His cock is big and thick, way more than you expected.

Macklin fists your hair, guiding your head up and down. Lewd moans leave his lips as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. His eyes are squeezed closed because of how good your mouth feels around him. He has to force them open, just so he can happily look down at you. He can’t believe this is happening: you—his best friend—is currently on your knees for him.

“Fuck…” He’s breathless. He throws his head back while his other hand tightly grips the pillow next to him. “Keep going, you’re doing so good…” he trails off, playfully tugging on your hair.

You hum around him, continuing your movements. You sink your head lower, trying to take all of him in your mouth. You can feel tears pricking your eyes, but you relax and breathe through your nose. You pull back, just to run your tongue along a prominent vein, before you take him deep enough to trigger your gag reflex.

“Oh— That’s so fucking— God, don’t stop,” Mack whines, his eyes fluttering open. He looks down at you, watching a combination of your saliva and his pre-cum pool at the base of his cock. The vision is perfect. He didn’t expect his night to go like this, but god, he’s not complaining.

Macklin drops the makeshift ponytail he made, instead cupping the back of your head while his fingers thread through your hair. He’s close, he knows that. He pushes your head further down until your nose is pressed against the base of his cock, listening to the sounds of your quiet gags. His thighs begin to shake. You feel so good, like your mouth was created just for him.

“Yeah— Just like that,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so good. Too good.”

You hate to admit how his words are turning you on. You can feel a wet patch forming in your panties, and you hate that. You won’t tell him that because you don’t want to inflate his ego. You don’t even want to look up at Macklin. That’s too intimate when you’re just trying to be a good friend and help him out. But the way he’s praising you is triggering something inside.

His thighs are twitching and his cock is throbbing against your tongue because of how well you’re taking him.

“I’m gonna—” Mack cuts himself off, thrusting into your mouth as he releases his hot and sticky cum into your throat.

You gag at the feeling, quickly pulling off of him as he leans back. You don’t know what to do, so you swallow every last bit as you watch the rest pour out from his tip. A mixture of drool and cum trickles down your chin before you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

Silence follows. You’re both speechless after that unexpected moment.

“That was…” he trails off, unable to put everything into words. “Holy shit, you’re really good at that.”

“Don’t be weird, Mack,” you snap, standing up. Your jaw is sore and your knees hurt. If Macklin wasn’t your friend, you’d probably be mad at him for that.

Mack smiles. “Thank you,” he says. He means it. He’s glad he has a friend like you, who’ll help him with any problem he has.

You roll your eyes, reaching for a pack of tissues on the table. You pick them up, tossing them at him. “I hope you know we’re never talking about this again.”

He just laughs while he cleans himself up, as if everything that just happened was casual. He’ll probably mention this the next time he sees you, just because he knows it’ll annoy you.

But you want to forget about it because you’re just friends and it was a one time thing.

──────────────────────

🐰 thank youuu for the req i loved writing this

Pairing — Will Smith X Girlfriend!Reader.

In Which — During Will’s softball game, you can’t help but notice how much your boyfriend has grown during the off-season. Or more specifically, how much his thighs have grown.

W.C — 1.4k

Warnings — NSFW. Thigh Riding. Dry Humping. Spit Kink. Finger Sucking. (DirtyFreak!Will).

──────────────────────

You tried your best to only focus on the game, really.

You went to the MayeDay Softball Classic to support Will during another one of his off-season activities.

You just wanted to cheer him on, and that’s what you were doing for the majority of it.

But you couldn’t help yourself when your gaze snapped to his thighs several times throughout the game, noticing the way his muscles flexed every time he ran.

Will wearing shorts isn’t new to you. He wears them all the time, mostly during the hockey season or when he’s going to sleep.

But ever since the off-season started, something’s changed. He’s been regularly going to the gym, eating more protein, and rarely baking sweet treats.

The change is evident. His biceps are more defined, the muscles in his back are thoroughly outlined with every shirt he wears, his abs are even more prominent than before.

And most importantly, his thighs. They’re thicker, wider, and they’re all you can think about.

It especially doesn’t help that you’re currently on the couch sat next to Will, while he hasn’t changed since you got back to his apartment. He’s still in those thin, blue shorts that leave nothing to your imagination.

You’re trying to focus on the movie playing, but you can’t stop looking over at his legs.

He hasn’t said anything about it, because he hasn’t noticed. Or maybe he has and he’s just trying to see how long you’ll keep this up for.

You look over again, thickly swallowing as your eyes trace over his thighs.

“Baby?” Will calls out, breaking the silence.

You clear your throat, repeatedly blinking.

“You haven’t said a word to me since we got back.”

That’s true. You congratulated him after he ran over with the trophy after winning the game, and you praised him for how well he played in a softball match despite being a hockey player.

But since you stepped through those doors, you haven’t said anything else to him. You’re not sure why you’re acting like this.

You and Will have done almost everything together. You’ve fucked in the backseat of his Bronco (more times than you can count), you’ve let him spit in your mouth (seeing his saliva land on your tongue will always turn him on), you’ve practically done everything with him.

So why can’t you just come out and say that you want to get yourself off on his thigh?

Then again, you know Will by now. He’s cocky, he’s confident, he’s annoying when you fuck. He makes fun of how vocal you are, he recreates your facial expressions just to piss you off, he claims you can’t take his entire cock.

He’ll probably make fun of you and call you sensitive if you can cum just from riding his thigh.

But right now, you’re horny and the only thing you want is to feel his muscles flex beneath your core.

“It’s just…” you trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yourthighsarenice,” you blurt out in one ago.

Will’s eyebrows pull together, his jaw flexing as he chews on some peppermint gum.

“I mean— your legs. Your thighs are bigger, I can…tell you’ve been going to the gym.”

He nods, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can tell, huh? Think I’m almost ready for next season,” he boasts, smacking his thigh.

You fall silent, awkwardly twisting your lips to the side.

Will tilts his head, noticing how quiet you are. “That it, baby?”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his voice.

“It’s just,” you pause, dropping your head. “I want to try something else.”

Will chuckles. “You wanna ride my thigh?”

You look up, mortified that he even suggested that. Is he joking? Can he read your mind? Is he opposed to the idea?

“C’mon, baby. I’m not stupid,” he utters.

He looks at you, something different in his eyes. Then he moves his hand, patting his thigh for you to come over.

“You don’t mind?” you ask.

Will shrugs. “You think I don’t wanna see how quick you can cum just from fucking my leg?”

You bury your face in your hands, feigning embarrassment at his dirty words. But you don’t hesitate to jump up from the couch, standing in front of him.

He spreads his legs wider, his bulge poking through his shorts. “C’mon,” he mumbles, patting his thigh again.

You roll your eyes as you pull your shorts down, leaving yourself in a pair of black lacy panties and a tank top.

Will grins at the sight, reaching out and grabbing your wrist. He pulls you onto his thigh. You’re not riding him yet, just hovering as your core aches to feel his muscles tense beneath it.

He doesn’t give you any warning. Will places his hands on your hips, gripping your bare skin as he lowers your clothed cunt onto his thigh. Your breaths turn shallow as you move on your own accord, a quiet gasp slipping from your lips.

“Feel good, baby?” Will breathes out, looking up at you.

Despite how cocky he always is, his face is flushed. His cheeks are a light shade of pink, and his jaw is slowly moving now as he chews on his gum, prioritizing your pleasure over the growing bulge straining against his shorts.

“Yeah— Fuck, yeah,” you manage, slowly rocking your hips as he purposely flexes his thigh. “Fuck, Will.”

“Yeah, keep it going,” he whispers, a wide grin breaking out. Normally, he’d make jokes about how you barely need him to do anything to make you cum. But now, he’s too caught up in the moment of feeling your clothed, wet cunt grind against his bare skin.

He purposely tenses beneath you, causing a small whimper to slip from your lips.

“Doesn’t take much for you,” he remarks, his finger tracing over your stomach.

“Shut— God, it feels so…” you trail off. This moment of bliss feels so good, too good for you to finish your sentence. Your jaw hangs open, chest rising as you continue to move against his thigh.

Will can feel the wetness slipping through the thin material of your lace panties, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t mock you, or laugh, or tease you for being so sensitive. He stays silent, except for the occasional quiet groans leaving his mouth every time you accidentally hit his clothed dick. He doesn’t want to say anything. He just wants to admire your pretty and flushed face as you fuck yourself on his leg.

You let out a shaky breath as you drag your clothed clit against his bulky thigh. You place your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself. “God, Will.”

“You look so pretty,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. “So fucking pretty riding my thigh. You’re gonna cum just from that?”

You frantically nod, tipping your head back. Quiet moans slip from your lips every time he purposely flexes beneath you.

But it’s not enough. You push yourself off of him, wasting no time pulling your panties off and discarding them.

“So desperate,” Will comments, watching as you return to your previous position.

“Just— I needed— Fuck,” you cry out, the skin-on-skin contact feeling even better than before. You drag your wetness over his muscle, biting your lip to contain your moans out of embarrassment that this is all it takes.

He runs his fingers through your hair, sitting there and doing absolutely nothing. He occasionally flexes his muscles on purpose, but he wants to see how little he has to do to make you cum.

As you continue your movements, he places his thumb on your lips. You know what he’s trying to do, so you part your lips enough for him to slip his thumb in. He wastes no time exploring your mouth as you swirl your tongue around him, noticing the darkened look in his blue eyes.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, removing his thumb. He rubs your spit over your lips, watching the rest trickle down your chin. He loves it. It’s taking a lot for him not to cum just by the sight of your fucked out expression with spit all over your lips. “You almost there?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, nodding your head. You speed up your movements, dropping your head to his shoulder as you feel your climax coming. You can’t help it. The feeling of his thumb in your mouth combined with your bare pussy rubbing against him is too much.

He grabs your ass, kneading it beneath his fingertips as you cry out. You stutter out a moan, feeling yourself come undone over nothing but Will Smith’s bare leg.

You climb off of him, watching your own liquid puddle on his thigh. He looks down, sharply exhaling. “That’s all it took?” he asks with a grin.

“Just— can you stop?” you whine, hiding your face with your hands.

Will shakes his head, standing up to probably go clean himself up. “Don’t worry, baby. My thigh’s here whenever you need it again.”

──────────────────────

Three Weeks

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Reader

Word Count: 1559

Request open!

24 days of Christmas | Hockey Masterlist | Hockey Masterlist II

Quinn Hughes Playlist Valentine's Day Masterlist

The Shape of Control

You give birth three days before Quinn has to leave.

It is, by every possible definition, unfair.

The timing feels like a cruel joke from the universe, because one second Quinn is pacing your hospital room with dark circles under his eyes and the next there is a tiny, furious little person in your arms and Quinn is staring at them like he has forgotten how language works.

He is not crying exactly.

But he is close.

You look at him from the bed, exhausted and aching and absolutely wrecked in the best possible way, and say, “You can breathe now.”

Quinn blinks at you. “I am breathing.”

“Barely.”

He looks back down at the baby. “I do not know what I’m supposed to do with my face right now.”

You laugh weakly. “You can just look happy.”

Quinn’s mouth twitches. “I am happy.”

“You look terrified.”

“I am also terrified.”

That makes you smile, because honestly, fair.

The baby makes a tiny sound, and Quinn straightens like he has been summoned by the sound alone. He reaches out one finger, unbelievably gentle, and the baby grabs it with a grip so small it nearly destroys him on the spot.

Quinn stares.

You stare at Quinn.

“He has your whole hand,” you whisper.

Quinn swallows hard. “She.”

You blink. “She has your whole hand.”

He nods vaguely, still not taking his eyes off the baby. “Yeah.”

You watch him for a second, your chest full in a way you do not have words for. Quinn has been amazing from the moment he found out you were pregnant, but this version of him, the one standing there looking like his entire world just cracked open and became bigger, is almost too much to take in.

Then reality hits again.

Three days.

Three days until he leaves for the Olympics.

You do not say it out loud yet, because saying it out loud makes it real in a different way. But Quinn notices anyway. He always does.

That night, after the nurses have gone and the baby is asleep in the bassinet beside your bed, Quinn sits in the chair next to you with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles pale.

You watch him for a minute before asking, “What are you thinking about.”

He laughs once, without humor. “Too many things.”

“Try me.”

His eyes flick up to yours, then away again.

“I’m thinking about leaving,” he admits quietly. “And I hate it.”

Your chest tightens.

He keeps going, voice low and rough. “I know this is what we planned. I know it’s the Olympics and it matters and I should be excited, and I am, I really am. But I just had a baby and I’m supposed to walk out of here and pretend I can focus on hockey for three weeks.”

You swallow.

“Quinn,”

“No, I know,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “I know I have to go. I’m not saying I won’t. I’m just saying I hate that I have to.”

The room is quiet for a second.

Then you say, honestly, “I hate it too.”

He looks at you then.

You reach for his hand, and he lets you take it instantly, like he has been waiting for permission to fall apart.

“I don’t want to make this harder for you,” you tell him softly.

“You are not making it harder.”

You give him a look.

He exhales. “Okay, you are making it harder, but in a way that is unfair because it is not your fault.”

That gets a tired laugh out of you.

Quinn’s eyes soften a little.

“I keep thinking about the moments I’m going to miss,” he admits. “The first nights. The little noises. The bad sleep. The way she looks when she’s sleepy. And I know I won’t miss everything, but I’ll miss enough that it already hurts.”

Your throat burns.

“Quinn.”

He shakes his head quickly, embarrassed by how much he is saying. “I’m sorry. I know this is supposed to be a happy thing.”

“It is,” you say firmly. “It’s just also hard.”

That settles him a little.

He nods once. “Yeah.”

You shift carefully in the bed, wincing a bit, and Quinn is immediately on alert.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He does not believe you.

“You should not have to do this alone,” he says.

“I am not alone.”

His jaw tightens. “Not while I’m here.”

You watch him carefully. “You’re really freaking out.”

“Yeah,” he says bluntly. “A little.”

That makes you laugh softly.

He looks at you, still miserable. “It is not funny.”

“It kind of is.”

“It is not.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re allowed to be sad about leaving.”

Quinn goes quiet.

Then he says, almost reluctantly, “I know.”

“Even if it means the team and the schedule and the Olympics and everything.”

“I know.”

“And even if it makes you feel selfish.”

He looks at you sharply. “I don’t feel selfish.”

“Good.”

He relaxes a fraction, then glances toward the bassinet again. “I just keep thinking, what kind of dad leaves three days after the baby is born.”

Your expression softens so quickly it almost aches.

“The kind who is doing something huge for his career,” you say. “The kind who is trying to provide. The kind who loves his family and is being asked to split himself in two for a little while.”

Quinn looks unconvinced.

You squeeze his hand harder. “You are not abandoning us.”

The words make his eyes flash to yours again.

He is quiet for a long moment.

Then, very softly, “You promise you’ll say that if I start spiraling?”

You smile despite the tears that threaten immediately after.

“Yes.”

He nods, breathing out a shaky laugh. “Good.”

The next two days are a blur of feedings, diaper changes, sleepy phone calls to family, and Quinn learning every possible detail about how to be useful in a room full of tiny, chaotic human needs. He carries the baby like he has been doing it for years, even though every movement is still so careful it hurts to watch. He asks questions about everything. He writes notes in his phone like a man preparing for a final exam on fatherhood.

On the morning he leaves, he is already half-dressed when he comes back into the bedroom, because he apparently cannot do simple things like put on a tie without checking the baby six times.

You are sitting in the bed with the baby in your arms, both of you still sleepy. Quinn stops in the doorway and just looks at you.

You know he is trying to memorize the scene.

It makes your chest ache.

“You’re staring,” you whisper.

He gives a small, helpless smile. “Yeah.”

“Come here.”

He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, one hand brushing carefully over the baby’s blanket.

“I hate this part,” he says quietly.

“I know.”

He looks at you. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

You laugh softly. “I just gave birth to your child, Quinn. I think I’m allowed to be a little tougher than you are right now.”

That gets a tired laugh from him, but his eyes stay sad.

He leans in and kisses you gently.

Then he kisses the baby’s head, and his face completely changes again, like the whole world is being split in half by love.

When he pulls back, he says, “I’m coming back the second I can.”

“I know.”

“I’ll call every day.”

“I know.”

“I’ll probably be annoying about it.”

“You absolutely will.”

He smiles a little.

Then his expression falls again. “I do not want to leave.”

You reach up and touch his face.

“I know.”

His eyes close for a second under your hand.

“You can go be great,” you tell him softly. “And we will still be here when you come back.”

That does something to him.

He nods once, but you can see how hard he is trying not to break apart.

“Three weeks,” he whispers.

“You can do three weeks.”

“I know I can do three weeks.”

His mouth twitches. “I just hate it.”

You smile sympathetically. “That makes two of us.”

He laughs under his breath, then looks down at the baby one more time. “Be good for your mom.”

You roll your eyes. “She can’t even hold up her own head.”

Quinn looks offended on the baby’s behalf, which would be funnier if his eyes were not still glossy.

When he stands, he hesitates by the door.

You know he is trying to make himself go.

So you say, “Quinn.”

He looks back.

“You’re not leaving a hole here,” you tell him softly. “You’re just going to the Olympics.”

His throat works once.

Then he nods.

“Okay,” he says, voice rough. “Okay.”

He leaves with one last look over his shoulder, and the room feels bigger and quieter and a little too still after he’s gone.

But the baby stirs in your arms, and you think about Quinn standing on Olympic ice thinking about you both, and somehow it hurts less when you remember this is not goodbye.

It is only three weeks.

Love your fics btw!!

Brendon wouldn’t call himself strict (you would, but he wouldn’t), he’d call himself a firm parent.

And there are certain lines he doesn’t tolerate with his kids. They don’t get to walk all over the two of you, but especially not you. You’re a great mom, they don’t get to break your heart like that.

When Brendon says “I will turn this car around right now”, he means it.

Money is no object to him. He doesn’t care what he paid for something. If the kids can’t act right, he’ll leave right then and there.

One time, when your son was being a little shit in Disney, he looked at you and your daughter and said he was leaving. Taking your son back to the hotel because he can’t behave himself. Left the two of you to enjoy your day. You don’t get nice things if you don’t act nice.

Sometimes when he talks to his toddler son it feels like the same shit you said to him at the start of your relationship. Karma he supposes. “We can talk about our feelings like a big boy, and go back in the zoo, or you can keep throwing a fit like a baby and we’ll leave.”

⊹ pov: you’re a bookshop owner and one fateful day spencer stumbles across your small shop, starting a love story ☕️

pairing: female!reader x spencer reid

category: fluff

cw: none

a/n: something short & sweet as an apology for being gone for so long. I apologize for the lack of borders, I had to sacrifice them to finish the post. also please ignore the dates on some of the messages, it truly shows how long I've been attempting to work on this post. please like/comment/reblog if you liked, this was so much fun to make and i want to continue making smaus!

spencer masterlist main masterlist

yourusername

♪ Like the Movies • Laufey

Liked by yourbestfriend and 189 others

yourusername my idea of the perfect day; being surrounded by books, cats, and pretty boy geniuses

yourbestfriend that caption…anything to share with the class?

yourusername @/yourbestfriend pretty boy that claims to read 20,000 words per minute came into the shop today…pretty sure i fell in love

yourfriend1 cutest bookshop owned by the cutest girl

♥️ by author

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February 17, 2025

What ensures when the world finds out you’re not Miss Smith, but Mrs Smith after your private instagram gets leaked? Obsessive fans, protective public interactions, an influx of baby brand sponsorships, and everything else you’d expect after such a catastrophic breach.

pairing dad!will smith x fem!reader tropes childhood lovers, first and only love, romance, secret family & relationship contains smut will be marked by 18+

⮕ social media

Miss Yn Smith is actually Mrs Smith?

a fan leaks the secret Will’s been keeping from the public + the public’s reaction.

⮕ written fics

tba

⮕ blurbs + thoughts

tba

Will Smith publicly loved many things in life; home alone, hockey, “people watching”. But off screen, he loved more. It wasn’t like he was planning on keeping his family a secret, he just had no reason to expose his children to the limelight—not that you cared. Plus, it’s not like the fans didn’t know of your existence. For years you were a blurry face in the background, a head leaned on his sister’s shoulder in her tiktoks, the woman everyone assumed was one of his cousins because you “had the same last name.” But then a fan invaded your privacy, and suddenly the whole world realized they never really knew Will Smith.

pairing dad!will smith x fem!reader Mrs Smith masterlist

bedzzystar X

DOES IT FEEL GOOD??

Transmasc!tim drake x gn!reader

Mdni 18+

Warnings: Tim has pussy,fingering(m!revising),squirting(m!revising), orgasm denial

This is possibly the most embarrassing position Tim could ever find himself in. God, he should have listened and gone to bed, but here he is now, knees to his chest, ankle being held and restrained, with your pants discarded on the bedroom floor as you pump his pretty pink cunt with your fingers.

All he had to do was come to bed, cuddle up to you, and go to sleep, but noooo, he'd rather decipher ribblers' codes. Well, let's see if he can get out of this.

"Ahhh~! "Fuck...baby, I'm sorry. Please calm down!" Tim lets out a strangled high-pitched moan while his body tries to fight the feeling of immense pleasure. How could you possibly calm down? He looks practically fucked out of his mind from only two fingers in that tight little pussy.

"Mmmph—! Nnngh!~" Tim can barely breathe, his chest heaving in desperate, shallow pants. You feel him tighten around his walls, getting slick and gooey, so you pull your fingers out just when he's about ready. That sound that he lets out could be likened to a street whore. You look down at him and that pretty cunt—my god, it is gorgeous, raw, sticky, and agape.

The slickness of his pussy slips to his puckered little hole (you might play with two holes tonight), but Tim's desperate panting and moans snap you out of your stupor. "Mmmph! When in the hell did you get so mean...shit?" but you weren't listening to him; your eyes were confused by his cunt.

If you looked long enough, you could see his clit twitch. Tim can only laugh breathlessly at the sight. "God, you're such a fucking pervert obsessed with pussy, aren't you, baby?" He's starting to get cocky; you can't let that slide, so two fingers come up to rub that bundle of nerves and his clit. If you weren't holding on to his ankles right now, he'd definitely kick you in the face.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!" His entire body convulses, his pretty toes curling at the feeling of his pussy. His whole body locks up, you mercilessly rub his clit. You don't let up, not even for a second. As you watch your pretty boy almost collapse.

"Nnn-haaah! Holy shit, close!" And that was his second mistake, telling you he was close while he was about to cum. You swiftly take your finger off his clit, and the look on his face like he's about to cry; he's biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes squeeze together tight like he's trying to hold something in.

Your other hand comes up to stroke his face, moving some of his hair drenched in sweat out his face. He looks gone, and he didn't cum yet, so you gently slap his cheek until he's with you again. "Fuck, I'm here, I'm here," Tim pants as he tries and fails to catch his breath.

Your finger slips back into him slowly, agonizingly slow, and you can feel him try to kick at you. Oh, poor baby, he can't even handle it. Your middle finger finds his g-spot and gently rubs it, and if his hands weren't held down by yours, he'd be slapping and fighting.

"A-Ahhh! Ahhh~" Tim wails, his eyes rolling back into his head. He is completely lost to the sensation; his pussy starts to spasm once again. His cunt is practically gushing; his slick is splashing into the air. He's close; you can tell it's so fucking obvious, so you pump him full of your fingers.

Tim is clenching his teeth, holding back various moans and curses; he's completely losing his mind. Then before you've even noticed, "Oooh, fuck!" Warm wetness filled the air, splashing onto the bedsheets he'd squirted for the first time, and it was beautiful.

(and smau please! i love the photos and memes u use! makes me physically laugh!) Also i LOVE and LIVE for your work!! 💗💗 (your work makes me a mother of five)

I'm your daddy nowᯓᡣ𐭩 Tim Drake! smau

Where your boyfriend wants to be in charge but it doesn't seem to go as planned.

Includes: Tim Drake.

cw: fem!reader, mommy kink, use of "daddy," swearing.

P.s. I loved this request so much 😭😭 this is kind of short but I hope you like it!! I also wanted to use Conner cause he's his best friend.

taglist⭑.ᐟ @mmrlf @iangelofmusic @luminece @onigiri-nuts @fanfics4ever @willgrahamsbigfish @tribuh @lettucel0ver @ruiboo @missmontiopath @bellsgotagun @itzmeme @melliezz @taylordarling @rory20sworld @prettybird-ie @princesstrunkz @oh-sheetcake @eyesaremosaiics @nicolet1223 @theangryrobin @rafayelswifee @crystalpaw @hey-girl-hey @idontwantthis22 @jude-inej @the-ultimate-quokka @jennifer0305 @jtoddsbaby @tmrs-basilisk @giovax @mossmydarling @urfavvamp @dasiybynight @alulovesims @looha @adangerousbalance @prettypastelbear @eepymags @asilaydead @galacticknightbehemoth

(and smau please! i love the photos and memes u use! makes me physically laugh!) Also i LOVE and LIVE for your work!! 💗💗 (your work makes me a mother of five)

I'm your daddy nowᯓᡣ𐭩 Tim Drake! smau

Where your boyfriend wants to be in charge but it doesn't seem to go as planned.

Includes: Tim Drake.

cw: fem!reader, mommy kink, use of "daddy," swearing.

P.s. I loved this request so much 😭😭 this is kind of short but I hope you like it!! I also wanted to use Conner cause he's his best friend.

taglist⭑.ᐟ @mmrlf @iangelofmusic @luminece @onigiri-nuts @fanfics4ever @willgrahamsbigfish @tribuh @lettucel0ver @ruiboo @missmontiopath @bellsgotagun @itzmeme @melliezz @taylordarling @rory20sworld @prettybird-ie @princesstrunkz @oh-sheetcake @eyesaremosaiics @nicolet1223 @theangryrobin @rafayelswifee @crystalpaw @hey-girl-hey @idontwantthis22 @jude-inej @the-ultimate-quokka @jennifer0305 @jtoddsbaby @tmrs-basilisk @giovax @mossmydarling @urfavvamp @dasiybynight @alulovesims @looha @adangerousbalance @prettypastelbear @eepymags @asilaydead @galacticknightbehemoth

IN WHICH... each of the batboys deal with their notoriously sleepy girlfriend

featuring: dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, damian wayne, tim drake

warnings: fluff, f!reader, gf!reader in all except bruce's which is wife!reader, a lil suggestive in Dick's and Tim’s fic, reader is said to be Damian's mother in Bruce's fic, Damian is aged up in his own fic but not Bruce's, Tim calls you 'mother' even tho he's not biologically yours (he just luvs u enuf for you to earn the title!), just a cute lil crack fic!

a/n: i worked VERY hard on this oneshot especially so please show love thru likes, comments, and reblogs! thank you and enjoy :)

dick grayson:

"Oh, baby..." he coos softly as he enters your apartment with his key. There you lie, curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, arms clutching a throw pillow like its your lifeline.

You were supposed to have a stay-at-home-date together, maybe a movie marathon on the couch...followed by a sex marathon on your bed. But Dick should've known better than to plan a date to start at 8:30PM, granted you're usually in bed by 9:00 and snoring away by 9:30.

He gingerly sets the bag full of Chinese food on your kitchen counter then puts the two pints of ice cream in the freezer. After everything is situated he makes his way over to you, crouching in front of your sleeping form.

His eyes soften at the sight of his sweet girl, all cuddled up on her couch. He reaches for the blanket, tugging it further up over your shoulders before moving to pet your head.

feel free to ignore it of it does not pleases you lol! have a good day <3

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞 ⇢ your son was always meant to be a mama's boy. dick simply made sure of it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⇢ this is a sort of continuation of the tiny tyrant of blüdhaven ⬫ fluff ⬫ established relationship ⬫ f!reader ⬫ no physical description is given for the reader ⬫ for writing purposes, i named your baby thomas grayson ⬫ english isn't my language ...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⇢ 1,4k.

He has a whole big armchair in which he likes to read his daily paper so he's informed before he goes to work and it always turns you on because he looks so hot like this.

Lost in articles. Licking his thumb to turn a page. Paper rustling and luring you into a comfy sleepiness. Murmuring something under his breath and shaking his head at the news and always, always spreading his thighs for you so you can sit on his knee and snuggle against him.

He's a real multitasker like that, reading the paper and playing with your hair but once he has to turn a page and break contact, you whine.

"Hey...I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I haven't even reached the business part yet, there's plenty of time for cuddles."

"...Business is boring."

"Hm, it really is, huh? You want me to read your horoscope again instead?"

"Only if it's compatible with yours." A little kiss to his stumbled cheek.