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Can I get a Sabrina fanfic where reader got glasses and than makes Sabrina wanna see her in nothing but the glasses, and that's exactly what gonna happen! (Also can reader be a bit of an "ERM ACKSHUALLY" ☝️🤓)
hiya mamas. I'm in love with your brain, I just needed you to know that!! :)))
Sabrina didn't understand the hype for nerds until she saw you in glasses.
Well, she'd always known you were a nerd. Always going on about how the stage designs would only be perfect if they matched the physics to a T. You'd get this concentrated look on your face whenever you looked over blueprints. Your brows would furrow and your tongue would poke out. Then, in less than a second, you'd pull a pencil and paper from god knows where and start on equations she chose to forget after high school.
And then you got glasses.
Small ones with wire frames. They constantly tried to escape down the bridge of your nose. Complaints about them always run out of your mouth; like they were the bane of your existence. They were temporary. The pair you'd fight with before obtaining the actual pair— at least, that's the only thing she got from that conversation.
In hindsight now, she should be somewhat ashamed. Because the only thing she could focus on during that conversation was how you'd look with only those glasses on. Would you be shy? Try to cover yourself in a way that would obligate her to whack at your hands, pinning them someplace else to get a good look at you? Or would you be confident? Standing tall like the sexiest person she'd ever had the pleasure to indulge in naked?
But Sabrina doesn't get ashamed easily.
And she'd found a clear mission: find out the answers to her questions.
So she plotted. Dropped hints— a glance from across the room, lingering touches, and even got into your space once. She'd tilted her head and looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, asking you to keep going on a tangent. Those moments weighed heavy like gravity itself was pulling them down.
Each time she'd get a spluttering mess. An adorable spluttering mess! Gradually, she worked that spluttering mess out of her clothes.
You're spread out beneath her, fingers pushing your slipping glasses up your nose. The sight before her is one better than any Picasso. Her fingers curl into your cunt, cooing as a cry rips from your throat.
"Shh, messy girl. Stay still f'me." She murmurs, soft smile pulling at her mouth.
Sabrina was thrilled. She'd gotten her answers— and they were better than she could have ever hoped. You're shy to take your clothes off. They had been peeled away from your body slowly, little glances being thrown her way to make sure she liked what she saw. Sabrina had loved what she saw.
The second your back touched the sheets and her knees settled between your legs, that shyness evaporated. It was like someone had flipped a switch. Plunged the entire room into a different reality.
Because you got whiny. Any tease she delivered was met with a bratty whine, hips lifting to urge her. Normally she wouldn't give in. Meet impatience with a slap against the thigh. But she found she couldn't do it; those foggy glasses and blown out pupils had bewitched her.
"I am!" You stutter, a gasp filling your lungs. "As still as p-possible! We're on a, fuck, floating rock spinning a thousand miles an hour."
Sabrina almost wants to laugh.
Instead, she leans over and lands a glob of spit onto your cunt. Her thumb slips between your folds to rub your clit.
The suburbs couldn't contain her. Neither could her father—the graying preacher a few towns over. She was too free spirited. Too headstrong.
applebaby!reader has room to roam by herself; no longer confined by the fence of her parents ranch, the Holy word, or the police station that knew her name for all the wrong reasons. She's made herself a home in a quaint little town that reminds her of home. They've got all the things she loves without the grueling memories. Along with a little farm stand in the square!
Baking has always been a specialty of hers. She'd reckon it was due to her late mother who'd bake for the church every weekend. Even as a little tot, she'd help her mom in the kitchen. Sometimes that was rolling out sugar cookie dough, peering over the counter while sipping from a Dixie cup, or sneaking a taste of blueberry compote. She had every intention of bringing this aspect of her to the little town.
supernatural so silly bc you get stuff like "he was poisoned by belladonna" "the pornstar?" but you also get insanely profound "freedom is a length of rope and God wants you to hang yourself with it"
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c.seavers x fem!reader ⋮ fwb relationship ⋮ sneaking around ⋮ no jody and colt au ⋮ cannon lover boy colt ⋮ kisses ⋮ colt being a flirt ⋮ cocky!colt
Someone is banging on your trailer door.
It's a harsh rapt with barely any time between the next. Whoever is out there seems terribly impatient— like they're a second away from busting down the door. Maybe you'd let them. The silly thing was starting to creak each time you opened it, anyway. You just might get a new one.
"Hey!" His voice drifts through the door, hushed and panicked. "Let me in."
His knuckles rap against the door again.
You've been trying to break this thing up between you two for the last few months. It wasn't something plausible— not even to mention the fact jody would have your head. sneaking around with one of her longest friends?
She'd been kind enough to give you a supporting character role in her newest film. Surely, you'd get kicked to the curb if she knew Colt was getting... friendly with you.
You almost stumble over yourself. The trailer door gets yanked open, haste in your actions. With the way he was banging there better had been a fire. Instead, his palm is resting against the side wall like some cheesy cassanova.
"Colt!" You whisper-shout his name, fingers tucking into the neckline of his shirt to drag him up the stairs.
He chuckles the entire time, large legs ascending the steps in one. His broad frame dwarfs you easily. It's like standing in front of a giraffe.
"Hey, baby." He grins, side of his mouth tugging up into a silly grin.
There's not even a sliver of recognition to the overwhelm you're feeling right now. All he cares about is getting to see you and spend time with you. Even if it was just only for a few minutes— those stolen minutes were his favorite.
"Aren't you doing stunts today?" You ask, hand running through your hair. "You shouldn't be in here—"
Colt waves a dismissive hand. He shrugs, grin widening. "I have a couple minutes. I just needed to see my girl."
His hands come out to make a grab at your waist. You slip from them at the very last second, flattening yourself against the far wall of the trailer. Colt frowns.
"We can't. They're gonna look for you." You huff out a breath, trying to ignore the puppy eyes Colt is leveling you with.
"Let them." The words fall from his mouth so fast. He doesn't even need to think about the consequences of this little thing you have going on. And he especially doesn't care about the fact you've been trying to end it.
He knows you don't really want to.
It's just for optics.
Which means, to him, it holds no merit. You want to be with him. But your torn between the fury your sister has beneath your fingertips and her role as director. It's like a secret relationship between a princess and a knight.
He thinks that's pretty romantic.
"One kiss." He closes the distance slowly, giving you time to run away again.
You don't.
Colt grins.
A long-suffering sigh leaves your lips. "Fine. Just one— then you gotta get to set!"
He's moving before you even finish your sentence. Colt closes the last of the distance between you, stepping right into your personal space. He's warm and smells like lighter fluid. There's an underlying scent that's unmistakably him— it's familiar and cozy.
Colt's fingers graze your hip, dipping them beneath the hem of your shirt. He giggles after you gasp at how cold his fingers are. His other hand lets his fingers tangle in your hair.
Being this close to him always felt dizzying. It's like your brain had switched off and your heart was steering the ship. Butterflies rise from your abdomen into your chest.
Colt guides you to look up, giving him easier access to kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed as you wait for the maddening press of his lips. The pulse in your throat jumps.
Colt's nose bumps against yours. It makes you grin, completely forgetting the world around you. His kisses are always mind-melting. They're not sloppy, no— it's pure passion. Devotion. Unadulterated reverence in each press of his lips against yours.
His lips finally crash against yours. The taste of coffee is on his tongue. You feel like you've been thrown into thrashing waters, unable to think or move. Just the feeling of being tossed about the waves.
You're not sure when yours arms linked around his neck. But they did. Your lips melded against his like perfect puzzle pieces, moving against each other in the perfect rhythm.
There's no air in your lungs when you break apart. You take a gulp of air. Each breath is shaky, coming in fast and exhaling shallow. Colt's fingers tighten in your hair just a fraction.
"There she is." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. "Missed you today."
You can't help but tighten your grip, pressing your chest against his. A breathy laugh leaves your lips. "It's been three hours."
"Yeah." He affirms, grinning like a goofball. "Too long."
Colt's hand slips from your hair to the back of your neck. His finger rests on your chin before sneaking up to press against your bottom lip. There's trace marks of his kiss left on your lip. He runs the pad of his thumb across your lip silently.
His gaze is glued to your mouth.
You watch him. His eyes dilate, a hazy mist seeming to overcome them. His tongue juts out to wet his upper lip.
"Hate this sneakin' around shit." He admits after a moment, voice thick. "I wanna show you off. My girl. Don't wanna care what people think."
His words are like honey. They're sweet and sticky, coating your body to melt against him. Colt isn't someone to just say something like that. He can be a humorous guy, but, there's authenticity wrapping his world like silk. They're beautiful to listen to.
A breathy sound leaves your lips. "Colt, please. Don't do this right now."
Colt sighs, letting his thumb fall away from your lips. He would follow you to the ends of the earth and be happy if you were to only have him carry your things.
"Lets just kiss." He relents, dipping back down to press his lips against yours. "Talk later."
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fatherfigure!taylor with a pretty, sweet thing a few years younger than her.
fatherfigure!taylor who drinks whiskey on the rocks. The amber liquid glows like fire, swirling around in the crystal like it's got something to prove. Ice clinks together as she sighs. The liquid burns your throat but Taylor's been able to adapt to the sting. Her throat works around the booze and her eyes flicker to your gaze, staring you down as her finger circles the rim of her glass. She stays unblinking. "Come here, baby." She coos, using her free hand to beckon you closer.
fatherfigure!taylor who dries your tears with her sleeves. In the warm light of her study, Taylor looks up. She follows the sound of quickened breaths. They sound wet and frayed. When she sees you standing halfway behind the doorway and half in the threshold—much like a child hiding behind their mothers' leg— a frown creases her brow. You're standing there in a satin nightgown; the one she'd bought you earlier that week. Fat teardrops are slipping down your cheeks, but only the remnants on crying shake out from your breath. Taylor sighs. Motions for you to come in and you do—practically falling into lockstep for her. She helps your legs slot beside her hips, holding you steady as you're comfortable on her lap. She rubs the tears away with the soft sleeves of her blazer. She pets your hair, strokes your back, whispers sweet nothings into your ear, pressing kisses into the juncture of your neck.
fatherfigure!taylor who protects her sweet girl. She's got her palm flattened on your back, heavy as she shepherds you through crowds of stars. The two of you are at a VMAs after-party. Taylor nods to a bald man with hefty forearms, watching closely as he unclicks a velvet rope and lets you into a secluded area. Taylor ushers you onto a couch with her. Drinks are delivered, liquor glinted beneath the light "Drink up, baby. I've got you."
fatherfigure!taylor who offers unsolicited advice. She stands behind you in the mirror, silk wrapped the gentle curves of her body. Her hair is a mane about her shoulders. The remnants of your rendezvous against her cheeks like droplets of blood in milk. "They'll only ever want you to rise." She says solemnly, hip pressing against the door frame. Hers arms cross. Rings glint on her fingers, sparkling even beneath low light. "It scares them when you reign. But persevere; you're a young woman deserving of the good of fame." She walks up behind you, hunching over herself to press a kiss against your shoulder. "Let them fuck around; let them find out."
c.seavers x fem!reader ⋮ fwb relationship ⋮ sneaking around ⋮ no jody and colt au ⋮ cannon lover boy colt ⋮ kisses ⋮ colt being a flirt ⋮ cocky!colt
Someone is banging on your trailer door.
It's a harsh rapt with barely any time between the next. Whoever is out there seems terribly impatient— like they're a second away from busting down the door. Maybe you'd let them. The silly thing was starting to creak each time you opened it, anyway. You just might get a new one.
"Hey!" His voice drifts through the door, hushed and panicked. "Let me in."
His knuckles rap against the door again.
You've been trying to break this thing up between you two for the last few months. It wasn't something plausible— not even to mention the fact jody would have your head. sneaking around with one of her longest friends?
She'd been kind enough to give you a supporting character role in her newest film. Surely, you'd get kicked to the curb if she knew Colt was getting... friendly with you.
You almost stumble over yourself. The trailer door gets yanked open, haste in your actions. With the way he was banging there better had been a fire. Instead, his palm is resting against the side wall like some cheesy cassanova.
"Colt!" You whisper-shout his name, fingers tucking into the neckline of his shirt to drag him up the stairs.
He chuckles the entire time, large legs ascending the steps in one. His broad frame dwarfs you easily. It's like standing in front of a giraffe.
"Hey, baby." He grins, side of his mouth tugging up into a silly grin.
There's not even a sliver of recognition to the overwhelm you're feeling right now. All he cares about is getting to see you and spend time with you. Even if it was just only for a few minutes— those stolen minutes were his favorite.
"Aren't you doing stunts today?" You ask, hand running through your hair. "You shouldn't be in here—"
Colt waves a dismissive hand. He shrugs, grin widening. "I have a couple minutes. I just needed to see my girl."
His hands come out to make a grab at your waist. You slip from them at the very last second, flattening yourself against the far wall of the trailer. Colt frowns.
"We can't. They're gonna look for you." You huff out a breath, trying to ignore the puppy eyes Colt is leveling you with.
"Let them." The words fall from his mouth so fast. He doesn't even need to think about the consequences of this little thing you have going on. And he especially doesn't care about the fact you've been trying to end it.
He knows you don't really want to.
It's just for optics.
Which means, to him, it holds no merit. You want to be with him. But your torn between the fury your sister has beneath your fingertips and her role as director. It's like a secret relationship between a princess and a knight.
He thinks that's pretty romantic.
"One kiss." He closes the distance slowly, giving you time to run away again.
You don't.
Colt grins.
A long-suffering sigh leaves your lips. "Fine. Just one— then you gotta get to set!"
He's moving before you even finish your sentence. Colt closes the last of the distance between you, stepping right into your personal space. He's warm and smells like lighter fluid. There's an underlying scent that's unmistakably him— it's familiar and cozy.
Colt's fingers graze your hip, dipping them beneath the hem of your shirt. He giggles after you gasp at how cold his fingers are. His other hand lets his fingers tangle in your hair.
Being this close to him always felt dizzying. It's like your brain had switched off and your heart was steering the ship. Butterflies rise from your abdomen into your chest.
Colt guides you to look up, giving him easier access to kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed as you wait for the maddening press of his lips. The pulse in your throat jumps.
Colt's nose bumps against yours. It makes you grin, completely forgetting the world around you. His kisses are always mind-melting. They're not sloppy, no— it's pure passion. Devotion. Unadulterated reverence in each press of his lips against yours.
His lips finally crash against yours. The taste of coffee is on his tongue. You feel like you've been thrown into thrashing waters, unable to think or move. Just the feeling of being tossed about the waves.
You're not sure when yours arms linked around his neck. But they did. Your lips melded against his like perfect puzzle pieces, moving against each other in the perfect rhythm.
There's no air in your lungs when you break apart. You take a gulp of air. Each breath is shaky, coming in fast and exhaling shallow. Colt's fingers tighten in your hair just a fraction.
"There she is." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. "Missed you today."
You can't help but tighten your grip, pressing your chest against his. A breathy laugh leaves your lips. "It's been three hours."
"Yeah." He affirms, grinning like a goofball. "Too long."
Colt's hand slips from your hair to the back of your neck. His finger rests on your chin before sneaking up to press against your bottom lip. There's trace marks of his kiss left on your lip. He runs the pad of his thumb across your lip silently.
His gaze is glued to your mouth.
You watch him. His eyes dilate, a hazy mist seeming to overcome them. His tongue juts out to wet his upper lip.
"Hate this sneakin' around shit." He admits after a moment, voice thick. "I wanna show you off. My girl. Don't wanna care what people think."
His words are like honey. They're sweet and sticky, coating your body to melt against him. Colt isn't someone to just say something like that. He can be a humorous guy, but, there's authenticity wrapping his world like silk. They're beautiful to listen to.
A breathy sound leaves your lips. "Colt, please. Don't do this right now."
Colt sighs, letting his thumb fall away from your lips. He would follow you to the ends of the earth and be happy if you were to only have him carry your things.
"Lets just kiss." He relents, dipping back down to press his lips against yours. "Talk later."
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hihi! just read your holland x reader where he has like a concussion and is drunk and i was just wonderingggg if it was inspired by @iktheend one thats similar! loved the writing on it:)
hiya, honey :)
the one with holland having a concussion was a request, so it wasn't inspired by her fic. But thank you so so much for saying you liked it!
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No but imagine it's your first time making out with Lars, like you have kissed before but never really more than a peck and you just couldn't stop yourself this time and ended up sucking at his bottom lip. All of a sudden he pushed you off saying he has to go chop wood, and you just sit there dumbfounded before you noticed his raging hard-on. Lars who felt like such a pervert from getting hard from just kissing and had to get rid of it somehow.
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s.carpenter x fem!reader ⋮ nsfw, 17+ ⋮ use of a strap-on ⋮ multiple positions ⋮ dominant sabrina ⋮ use of 'angel' and 'my girl' ⋮ aftercare ⋮ no use of y/n ⋮ reader's apperance is not detailed
req: Sabrina and reader try out a bunch of positions to figure which one to use for Juno, like with a strap and they do a bunch of stuff. Sabrina be the top?
Sabrina has been using you like her own personal science experiment.
The delicious torture started an hour ago. She's given you those puppy eyes you were never strong enough to turn down. The way she'd explained it—unfairly, if you'd ask yourself about it now—her palms pressing warmth into your skin, rubbing up and down your thighs, to plead you to help her find a new position for Juno.
The newest tour tradition.
Something that was fun and carefree— to the audience. They weren't the ones being spread out for Sabrina to work on. But it was impossible to say no to your girlfriend. Especially when she'd sunk down to her knees to shimmy your shorts down.
Now, sweat pours down your neck from the exertion. Your legs had turned to jello twenty minutes ago. She's used her tongue to rip you from the seams twice, lapping up your essence and swallowing it down with a grin.
Your hips are elevated with a pillow. It's soft and cool beneath your back, flush against your warm skin. Your head had lulled to the side somehow. But your gaze was unfocused, overstimulated tears were dribbling down your cheeks, and you knew there was a mess between your legs. She had just eased out of your cunt, the dildo now shinning beneath the low light. Covered in you.
"Hey, look at me, angel." She coos, leaning over you to cup your cheek. Her thumb brushes over your cheekbone gently. The treatment felt like balm being applied to frayed edges.
Your legs twitch as you feel the silicone dildo press against your inner thigh. Your body had been flipped ten ways past Sunday. Legs on her shoulders, face down into the mattress... you name it. Each new position had her sinking into you like she belonged there. Your walls had clenched around her so many times as your climax shattered through you like broken glass. Sabrina's curls were frizzy. Her cheeks were a little flushed, sweat dabbing at her hairline.
A stark contrast to the disheveled appearance you were adorning.
"nghn—Sab." You whine, high pitched and barely audible to the human ear.
You felt like nerve endings. Every touch was just too much. It was like your skin and muscle had been ripped away, leaving nothing but the highway of nerves leading to your brain. It was getting a little tricky to breathe now. Though, you reckoned that aided in your fuzzy mind. You weren't entirely sure just how much of this you could take.
Her gaze finally meets yours. Soft, pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left. Just a dark cave of lust. A lick of fire goes up your spine.
"Can you give me one more?" She asks, her voice soothing. Her words were sweet but you could tell she wasn't asking— that was just for courtesy. At least she's looking down at you with some semblance of sympathy.
You force yourself to nod, body limp but cunt clenching around nothing.
"That's my girl." Sabrina praises, hands moving carefully.
She helps you manuver onto your side, arm tucked beneath your head. The sheets envelope your spent body. They feel like a gracious hug—softness encapsulating your entire being. Sabrina settles in behind you. Her mouth presses kisses onto your shoulder, hands ghosting over your skin. Her lips feel like aloe applied to a nasty burn. You can feel the come-down fuzziness encircling your thoughts, creeping further into your mind.
Just melting you into a puddle of wax for her.
Her arm hoists one leg up, fingers making dents into the soft skin of your inner thighs. The subtle movement makes your legs ache. It felt like you'd run a marathon without practise—like your legs were heavy cement blocks. But you could feel yourself collecting wetness. Clenching around nothing.
Sabrina's chest presses against your back, breath puffing against your neck. She eases the head of the strap to your entrence. Her lips press into the juncture of your neck when your hips jut against her, already shaking like a leaf.
"Shhh." Her voice is next to your ear, thrusting slowly into your cunt. The dildo presses into the wetness of your walls, nudging deeper now that you're so relaxed. It kisses your cervix and makes tears pring to your eyes. "Doin' so good for me."
Your cunt is fluttering, barely able to handle the stimulation. It's almost painful. Ripping your from the seams, filling you up, and simultaneously stitching everything back together. You feel yourself grasp onto the fluffy blankets. It's a death grip; one that offers no comfort.
"Mm—Sab—hurts." The whine falls with pinched brows, expression twisted upon like you'd licked a lemon.
Sabrina's shallow thrusts pause for a moment.
Her hand glides up over your thigh, inching closer and closer to your burning heat. She hums like she knows exactly what you're feeling. "So spent, aren't you? All tired and still bein' s'good."
Her middle finger slips between your puffy folds, collecting some of your wetness to swirl around your clit. She smiles into your shoulder.
"Just gotta get your pussy to open up for me. That's all." Her words are frayed and condescending, a breathy chuckle spilling from her throat. She thrusts shallowly into you again. This time, another inch fills you up.
A sob escapes from your mouth, body barely able to stay still beneath her strict scrutiny. It all felt so good. The pain was blurring into pleasure, gasping breaths shaking your ribs.
"P-please—More!" A whimper bubbles in your throat, the words coming out like gibberish.
But Sabrina understands. She always knows what you need.
Her thrusts become more pointed. She seeds herself all the way inside you, stopping to give you time to adjust. There's never a second where her fingers aren't circling your bundle of nerves. She alternates from harder pressure strokes to lighter pressure strokes, depending on how well you react to it.
"Makin' a mess on these sheets." She teases, breath warm against your skin. "Just gotta make sure everyone knows you're treated so well?"
There's no thoughts in your mind—just the way she's gliding in and out of you so perfectly. Every spot gets rutted against like she's on autopilot. Her moves are precise and calculated. Not even her delicious circles against your clit are uncounted for.
She's working you to your fifth orgasm of the night.
Babbles are coming from your lips. There are no actual intelligent words anymore. It's like your tongue has turned to stone in your mouth, giving no aid in voicing your pleasure. Just a symphony of whimpers, moans, and the occasional stuttered 'please.'
"Found my new position." She grins, pulling out to the tip before sinking back in. "Gonna show everyone how you take me. You love that, huh?"
Her words make you feel so turned on and so small. They wash against you like waves, crashing and soothing at the same time. A coil has spun itself in your lower abdomen.
Sabrina's hips have started to slow in pace. She's slowing down to fuck you the way you need it—hard and loving. She circles your clit with fevor, cooing at your whorish noises.
"Come on, angel. Make me proud."
She's your undoing. The stimulation is everywhere at one—you come with a cry of her name. Babbling when she slows to a stop.
Her lips are soft as she presses them to every inch of your skin. Praise falls from her like its holy scripture. When she eases the dildo from your aching cunt, she shushes you sweetly.
"Want a bath?"
"Your soap?" You mumble.
"Obviously. Rose petals or lavender?"
You think for a moment. "Both?"
Sabrina presses a kiss to your cheek. "Anything for you. Just gotta put this away."
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