#I have a plot about it I'm just to lazy to write it down

[hard-core-super-star]

cards on the table [L.Calderu]

pairing: lilia calderu x vampire!reader

summary: the morning after, you can't bring yourself to leave lilia again. instead, you let the desire you still feel for her take over.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> morning sex; mommy kink galore [because it's lilia, duh]; SO much biting [because vampires duh]; desperate switch!lilia is SO important to me; grinding; making out; unholy uses of magic; fingering; praise kink go brrr; lilia's boobs deserve their own warning fr; plot and feelings randomly thrown in because i can't write porn without it; so much banter

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: HELLO! this part took longer than i planned but i'm really happy with how it turned out. i couldn't write vampire!reader without throwing some smut in before more plot 😌i'm having a lot of fun writing for lilia so i hope i've delivered. as always, my inbox is open and i hope you enjoy <3

part one |

* * * * * * *

When your eyes open, the first thing you see is the way the sunlight bounces off the ceiling. Unlike what most vampire myths said, you weren't afraid of the sun. At least not any more than a mortal with secrets made far too vulnerable by the light.

The second thing you notice once your eyes focus and your mind starts clearing is the comfortable weight settled on top of you. Reality's quick to crash into you after that.

For some reason, you had expected Lilia to be up and about by the time morning came. Even though she had made fun of you for wanting to run away, she was the same way. Actually, she tended to be worse. But of course, she would never admit it, preferring instead to throw the blame on you.

Seeing her like this, though, soft and vulnerable, reminds you why you hated leaving her in the first place. While you knew it had to be done, it didn't change how awful you felt about it. How lonely the years that have passed have been.

"How are you already so tense?" Her words break the silence and draw a sigh out of you. It really isn't fair how easy she can read you, even now.

"I'm just not used to waking up under a beautiful woman," you reply, the corners of your mouth tugging up into a lazy smile.

"I find that very hard to believe, sweetheart."

You suppress the urge to laugh and instead give in to the easy atmosphere. "Ouch, are you calling me a whore, Madame Calderu?"

The eyeroll you earn yourself is more worth it. "I'm calling you charming, my dear."

"Oh, my mistake."

She laughs, the sound rich and soft and capable of turning all your thoughts to mush in a second. "I've missed this."

You know what she means, but you don't allow yourself to linger on her words too much. A part of you feels undeserving. It wasn't like you didn't have good reason for leaving and yet…the guilt threatens to swallow you whole.

"Insulting me?" You ask as your fingers draw random patterns on her back. The fabric of her robe is thin enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin beneath it.

With a soft sigh, she lifts herself enough so she can stare down at you. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes are as soft as her smile. "Laughing with you."

It's impossible to ignore the truth in her tone. "Yeah, I guess that's nice too."

"You guess?" She responds, attempting to sound offended. It doesn't work very well, though, since she's still grinning too hard. "You're a hard woman to please, my darling."

It's impossible to stop yourself from laughing at that. "You of all people should know that's not true."

Instead of instantly replying, she allows her eyes to drift down your face, lingering on your lips. You're not sure if she knows exactly what she's doing, but you do know you can't stop yourself from craving more.

And you can't even be mad at yourself for it.

You never even tried to lie about your feelings for her. Even after the visions, the prophecy, the knowledge that she'll be your undoing, you still love her. You've always loved her. How can you fight against that part of your fate?

One of your hands comes up, fingers slowly grazing against the side of her neck. The only thing left of your bite is the memory and yet she still shivers. Still leans into your touch.

"y/n," she whispers, her eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"I find that very hard to believe," you reply, your voice just as soft as hers.

She lets out a soft huff of air, something halfway to a chuckle, before you steal whatever teasing words were on the tip of her tongue away with a kiss.

Despite how strong your longing for her has been, you still surprise yourself. You almost assumed you'd walk out of her life again without doing exactly what you'd been thinking about since you left.

Clearly, you're a fool in more than one way.

Your fingers move back to tangle in her hair and even though you try to keep yourself in check, you can't. You want more. Need her in ways that scare you and excite you at the same time.

Lilia pulls away from the kiss, her heaving breaths fanning across your lips. "I missed this too."

"I missed you," you admit, your face warming up exponentially.

It's dangerous to say it out loud, but there's no use in hiding. Not when her eyes can see everything you don't say. Everything you feel without meaning to.

"Yeah?" Her head tilts to the side, wide pupils scanning your face. "Show me."

You grin, sharp teeth poking out from under your top lip. "Gladly."

Your hands travel down her body in an instant and your fingers grasp the fabric of her robe. A laugh escapes her as you hurry to slip the garment off of her, shifting around until your lips can meet the exposed skin of her shoulders.

"Impatient as always, little one?" She questions, using her words to distract you from the way she's moving above you. It's subtle, but you can't ignore the feeling of her heat pressing against your thigh.

"Only when it comes to you."

You let your fangs graze her skin, dragging along her shoulder blade until she's shivering above you. The urge to bite her is far stronger than it should have been considering how much you'd drank the night before. Then again, your thirst for her has always been stronger than anything else. Including your common sense.

"Such a flatter," she mutters.

Her hands move to her robe, helping you get the rest of it off, while your attention is captivated by her warm skin. You sink your teeth into her shoulder, not hard enough to actually draw blood, but enough to feel the connection that thrums beneath your veins.

"And so eager too," Lilia hums.

There's no way you can deny her claim. Especially with the way your hands start exploring the newly revealed contours of her body. Your fingers trace the lines of her muscles, mapping out the freckles you can't see but know are there.

As much as it pains you, you remove your fangs from her without drawing any blood, focusing on her hunger instead of your own. "I'm not the only one, I think you're soaking my pants."

"Oh, very funny." Her voice lacks humor but her eyes dance with a mischief she was sure she'd lost years ago. "Maybe if you weren't so preoccupied with biting me, I wouldn't have to be doing all the work by myself."

"All the work- oh-"

Your question is answered by the way she shifts her hips, slowly grinding against your leg. One hand lands on her hip to steady her as she sits up slightly to get better friction. You move with her, rising into a slightly uncomfortable position just to latch your mouth onto her chest.

"There you go," she coos. "You remember what mama likes?"

You don't think you could forget if you tried.

Your lips wrap around one of her nipples, feeling it harden under your tongue. Her back arches into your touch and you can't stop yourself from letting your teeth graze her sensitive skin.

The noise she makes in response is more than enough of a reward, but then her hand tangles in your hair and pulls you closer. "Fuck, darling. You're so good for me."

Her whimpered praise sends sparks of electricity up your spine. Not even your own pleasure can distract you from your mission, though.

One hand stays on her hip, slowly guiding her movements when her hips stutter, and the other one comes up to toy with her other breast, lavishing both of her nipples with the attention you know she needs. If your mouth wasn't so busy, you would have teased her for how frantic her movements against you are.

And she was making fun of you for being eager.

"y/n," she whispers, her voice shaking almost as much as her thighs.

All you do is hum, biting down on her nipple just enough to hear her gasp. Her movements speed up and you double your efforts, flexing your thigh and pushing up into her as much as you can.

It makes you a little dizzy due to the proximity but you force your eyes to travel upward until you can take in the curve of her neck and her parted lips. The puffs of air she lets out sound more like whines than anything and you let them wash over you like a wave.

You wait until she starts muttering curses beneath her breath to move again. Your hand leaves her breast and glides down the front of her body, easily slipping under the waistband of her ruined underwear.

You detach yourself from her nipple only to trail kisses up the valley of her breasts. "Cum for me, mama, I know you need it."

Your fingers press against her swollen clit and you watch as her whole body shudders in response. It's the most beautiful sight you've seen in years.

You work her through her orgasm, feeling as she soaks your fingers and her underwear all in one go. It's sinful and delightful all at the same time.

When she slumps forward, worn and overly sensitive, you instantly wrap your arms around her waist and lie back against the couch once more. For a moment, it's like no time has passed at all. Like you managed to cheat both time and space just to be with each other.

As silly as it might be, you allow yourself the fantasy.

Your lips press against her temple as the two of you lay there, her head on your shoulder and her nose nuzzling your jaw. As hard as it is, you don't move. You don't dare break the moment.

Because you know once you do, you won't get to have her like this again.

The runes may be strong and the wards may pulse with life every time you make her heart skip a beat, but you're being hunted. And every second you spend with her only puts her in more danger.

You know that.

But then she's shifting again and her lips find yours and it's hard to think about anything else except her.

When she pulls away, you're both breathless, gripping onto each other like you're afraid you'll disappear. The helplessness that simmers beneath the surface is hidden well under desire and desperation, but you can still feel it. Thrumming to life after every kiss.

"You were so good for me, angel," she murmurs, almost like she doesn't want to risk breaking the moment by being too loud. "Let me make you feel good."

"Yes please," you reply as your arms wrap around her neck to keep her close.

To your surprise, she makes no move to make fun of you for how clingy you are and instead her arms move down your arms, caressing your skin like she's commiting every touch to memory. You don't doubt she is.

Once she reaches your shirt, she simply smirks down at you and with a flick of her wrists, your clothes dissapear. "Cute trick."

Lilia just raises an eyebrow at you, hovering over you with a borderline dangerous glint in her eyes. "Trick? Are you insulting my magic, little one?"

"Oh, I would never dare," you tease.

Of course, she doesn't believe you, and you honestly don't blame her.

"You just can't stop yourself from being a brat, can you?" Her question is completely rhetorical, especially considering her next idea.

She hovers above you, watching your face closely as one of her hands trails down your body to the heat eminating from between your legs. Her fingers part your folds, revealing your clit to her before she murmurs something ancient under her breath. You have no idea what she's doing…until you feel a sudden shock on your clit.

"Lilia-" you gasp, your thighs attempting to close.

She clicks her tongue in dissaproval as she lands a warning smack to your inner thigh. "Don't you dare close them, I'm just getting started."

Your cunt clenches around pure air at that and the pleasure sends another shock-like sensation through your cunt. You quickly realize you don't mind, though, as the pain morphs into unbelieable pleasure.

"Oh, fuck."

"You read my mind, baby."

You don't get anther second to react before two of her fingers are teasing your already sensitive clit, pressing down until your thighs shake and then moving down to gather your wetness on the tips.

She's absolutely playing with you and you can't find it in yourself to mind. Not when the way she toys with you feels so damn good.

"Please," you all but whimper. "More."

"Always so needy, it's adorable."

You whimper again and she finally takes pity on you, sliding those same two fingers into your wet cunt. It only takes a few thrusts and another well placed shock for you to near the edge.

"Mama- please-"

"Already?" Despite her teasing tone, she can't hide her excitment. "You wanna cum for me, sweet girl?"

You desperately nod, your hips bucking up into her without meaning to as you chase your incoming orgasm. "Yes, need it, please."

"I've missed hearing you beg like that. Go ahead, baby, don't hold back."

She doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body instantly reacts to her, clenching uncontrollably around her fingers while her thumb plays with your clit. You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you and you're left whining and shaking underneath her.

She leans down to pepper kisses across your face, her tongue darting out to lap up the few tears that escape the corners of your eyes. "Always so sweet for me."

All you can manage are a few incoherent mumbles and she chuckles as she removes her fingers from between your legs. Another incantation is mumbled and the ache on your clit subsides.

"Better?" She asks, shifting around once more so she's on her side, arms bringing you closer to her.

You nod and mirror her, tucking your head beneath her chin and wrapping yourself around her warmth. "Did you melt my brain so I wouldn't leave?"

"Not on purpose," she replies with a laugh. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

You allow the question to hang in the air for a few seconds. There's nothing you want more than to stay. Not only are you technically still injured, you'll have to drink from her again soon or risk growing weak once more.

You know the risks, the ones that go beyond simply being a vampire in love with a witch. Between the Guild, your family, and the prophecy that looms over both of your heads…staying with her will do nothing besides bring you more pain.

And yet, the answer forms before you can stop it.

"Yes. But only because I'm still hungry."

Lilia knows you're lying, but she doesn't call you out on it. Instead, she simply holds you closer, her fingers tracing the area where you'd been stabbed by the Guild's hunter. "Just give me a few minutes, then we can get up."

You know she's lying too, but all you do is smile and burrow into her chest.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @p00ki3-m0nst3r

[denebolablack]

Steve and Bucky:*Arguing with their Brooklyn's accent in the middle of the common room*

Tony: *Flushed as fuck*

Pietro: You okay, brains?

Tony: Fine. *Mutters something*

Pietro: What was that?

Tony: IjusthavealittlethingwithillegallyhotsupersoldierstalkingwiththeirBrooklyn's accent.

Pietro: *Amused* I think you forgot something very important about that pair of super soldiers.

Tony: What do you me- ¡¿Steve?!

Steve: *Pulls the genius to his chest and talks with a very strong Brooklyn's accent* Glad to hear that you like our accent, sugar.

Tony: *Dying of embarrassment* Goddamn, super ear.

Bucky: *Also with a strong accent* Yeah, sugar, amazing super ear.

Pietro: Well, I'm out. I have zero interest in seeing any of you naked.

Tony: *Totally ashamed* ¡No one's getting naked!

Bucky: Oh, really?

Tony: Why do you sound so disappointed? Steve, why does your boyfriend sound so disappointed?....Why do you seem disappointed?

Steve: Oh, it's nothing. You know, I was kinda hoping to see you naked.

Bucky: You and me, Stevie.

Tony: But why in the world would you want to see me na- oh, oh.

Bucky: *Smirks* Your brain is finally braining, dollface?

Tony: Uh-uh, yeah.

Steve: *Gently touching the genius' hips* Yeah?

Tony: Yeah! Absolutely, yes, totally!

Bucky: *Kissing Stark's neck* Good, cuz I really wanna see how much you like our accent.

Tony: *Dying inside* If this is a dream don't you dare wake me up.

Pietro: Please get a fucking bed, then!

Tony, Steve & Bucky: PIETRO!

Pietro: *Runs away*

[gentlethorns]

okay but i'm still in awe of this process. like it has been so consistent and easy. there are still days i don't feel like getting my words in but i've continued to soldier on and hit my mark day after day (except for yesterday but that wasn't just laziness or a lack of discipline, i wasn't physically feeling up to it). and i have 60k words to show for it in under a month!!!! like that is so insane to me and i'm so excited, not only about the immediate payoff (having almost a complete draft) but also about the idea that i've unlocked the secret to doing this again in the future, as many times as ideas that grace me. like this is so so huge for me and the idea that something so big can come about through small habits every day (prioritizing those 2k words no matter what) is not lost on me. so proud of myself for developing that discipline bc like i've said, i always knew and feared that i wouldn't get anywhere worthwhile without it

[em1i2a3]

Now that I know asks are open *rubs hands*

I got a bit of juicy drama for you! A magic user!reader who is in a stable relationship with bob. The rest of the team know but they all keep things on the quiet. But Valentina finds out and wants to make a PR stunt out of it.

All The Rage Back Home

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Magic User!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob have been in a relationship for eight months, and somehow everything has managed to stay extremely stable…That is until Valentina Allegra de Fontaine gets her hands on it.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because Bob is in this and on top of that some little plot points are mentioned. No warnings apart from that, there’s some fluff though? Yeah some fluff

Author’s Note: Hehehehe, we love drama, we love drama a lot, and we love when Valentina caused the drama because that just makes it even better. I didn’t know what kind of magic to choose so I settled on Necromancy? There’s too many magical powers to choose from lol. :)

Word Count: 3,641

The room smelled like incense, lemon, and sage–sharp, earthy, and a little sweet. It clung to the linens, soaked into the floorboards, and drifted in the morning light like a second skin over the space. It was one of the things Bob loved most about your room, though he never said it the same way twice.

Most times he would hold you close and quietly ask where you got it–like maybe if he got it bottled, he would be able to bring a piece of you into every room he walked into. But more often than not, he just took in a larger breath of air the second he crossed the threshold into your room, like it was easier to take in with you laced into it.

This morning was no different, as you laid tangled up with one another, whispering as softly as possible, and touching every plane of skin that was available to the both of you.

Bob was on his back, and your head was on his chest, you were listening to his heartbeat–the way it would steadily increase every time you shifted, or how it slowed when the both of you got into a position where it felt like you were more in sync with one another. His fingers were tracing idle shapes along your spine, sometimes it would be random numbers, other times he’d spell out words and make you guess what he was writing, but today it was squares, triangles and circles.

Your hand was against his face, caressing the smooth skin of his cheek, trailing down to his jaw every so often to feel the sharp bone of it.

“We’re like two furnaces when we’re in bed like this.” You whispered, pressing yourself closer to him, looking at the way his face slowly took on this deeper crimson, deeper than the pink that usually dusted his cheeks when he was around you.

”Told you…We need to buy a fan. I have this innate fear that I'm going to give you a heat stroke.” You smirked at his comment, placing a gentle kiss on his chest.

”Can’t kill me that easily Bob.” He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that warmed your hair and curled his chest against your cheek as it moved. His fingers kept up their lazy trail against your spine, not quite mimicking shapes anymore, but just moving for the sake of touching you. His other hand slid down the length of your arm slowly, letting the pads of his fingers catch on every tiny ridge of your skin, watching goosebumps bloom like a silent spell you never had to cast.

Then, with such care and warmth, he took your hand and drew it away from his face, shifting it just enough to look at it properly, cradling your wrist in his palm like if he was holding an ancient relic–something sacred. His thumb brushed gently along the edge of your coven mark, the intricate chain of carved sigils that rested deep in your skin–a scar that never quite stopped whispering.

It wasn’t ink. It had been branded–sliced into you when you came of age, sealed with blood magic and bone ash, symbols of what you were bound to before you even had a choice.

His thumb traced the deepest cut–right near the base of your palm–then slowly, with such gentleness and care, he brought your wrist to his lips, closing his eyes before kissing the mark, like a vow. His lips were wet from the amount of times he had licked them, but you didn’t mind the dampness because the act itself was always something you loved–it was his way of expressing that he loved every part of you, even the ones people feared.

His eyes fluttered open, looking down at you for a second, seeing the soft, golden-haze that lingered over his naturally bright blue irises. His cheeks flushed even deeper when he saw the way you were looking at him–with the tenderness and love you had for him as a backdrop. He pulled off the mark.

”Sorry…” He murmured, voice a little shaky, “I know I do that a lot.” A small smile came up on your lips, as you shifted to get closer to his face, your bare chest dragging along him until you were eye to eye.

”I like it…You know I do. It makes me feel like you’re loving every part of me, not just the normal side.” You whispered, pushing a lock of his light brown hair out of his face so you could get a clearer look at him.

“You do the same though…” He replied, voice barely above a whisper, “With me, I mean…The Sentry, The Void…All of it,” He added, his eyes falling away from you for a moment, “You’ve never made me split myself up…Never forced me to hide anything or be just one…You just take all of it, all of me…Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.” Your hand slid down his cheek to cup his jaw.

“That’s because they don’t scare me, they’re not strangers, they’re just different versions of you, and I love all of them.” You could see the way his eyes softened from the words.

”Even…The Void?” He whispered, voice small and hesitant, like saying its name might conjure it by accident. You nodded, sliding your hand to the back of his neck, your thumb brushing along the little baby hairs that laid there.

”Even The Void Bob…Because it’s still you, and I love every version and every layer of you…Like I always say.” He went scarlet. His eyes flitting up to yours before immediately dropping again with a smile coming up on his lips. Beneath you, his chest fluttered like his heart wanted to bust out of its confines, but he didn’t pull away or hide from you.

”I love you too.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, and he let out a soft laugh, nose brushing against yours.

And just before he could lean in to kiss you.

The door slammed open with a crack that made Bob jump so hard he nearly flew off the bed. You groaned loudly and dropped your forehead against his shoulder with a thump, already knowing who it was.

”James Buchanan Barnes,” You snapped, “It better be important, because the next time you don’t knock, I’m going to make sure we’re doing something way worse than lying here, and you’ll be scarred for life.” Bob turned bright red from your words, blinking over at Bucky who stood with his arms crossed, holding a glossy magazine in his hands.

”Well good morning to you too, necromantic hellspawn,” He replied, “Get dressed. We’ve got a situation.” He added, tossing the magazine across the room, letting it land on the foot of the bed with a slap. Your entire posture shifted in an instant–from soft and pressed against him to rigid and coiled.

Your gaze dropped to the magazine now lying crookedly in front of you, and the photo on the cover hit you in the face like a slap.

There, under bold, gleaming headlines, was an image of you and Bob on the rooftop garden. The lighting was dusky, but you remember that day like it was yesterday. It was just as the golden hour was slipping behind the both of you. The both of you had gone up there to get some fresh air and talk, you had no clue you were being watched, and it was evident by the photo.

Your hand was cupped gently at his jaw, and his fingers were curled around your wrist, the two of you were so close your noses were touching, and it was clear–achingly clear–that you were just about to kiss. Your eyes trailed up to the headline above the image.

”DEATH AND DIVINITY: Inside the steamy new relationship between two of the world’s most powerful Avengers.” Your mouth fell open,

”What the fuck.” You breathed, which got Bob’s attention immediately. He sat up with you, the sheets slipping down his chest, and his hair flopping messily over his forehead as his eyes caught the front page of the magazine.

“W-What? What is it?” He asked, confused, like he was still trying to catch up. You were speechless, so all you could do was pull the magazine closer to him so he could get a better look. He took it out of your hands carefully, and squinted down at the image, then his face went red.

“O-Oh my god…” He whispered, his eyes going wide, “Is that…Is that us? When was this take-”

”Three days ago.” Bucky replied, cutting him off, “I remember because Yelena and I were playing poker in the surveillance room and we were both betting on how long it’d take before you two started kissing.”

“You were watching us?” You snapped.

”No, we turned the screens off before it got all mushy…But someone else was definitely keeping tabs.” He shot back, walking over to the bed to tap on the photo.

”This image is definitely not from the cameras. It’s way too zoomed in, and edited…This was a planted shot.” Bob’s brows furrowed, and you could see the way panic was rising behind his eyes.

“Are you saying someone…Snuck onto the roof?” Bucky shook his head.

”No, this was taken by someone who had access. If nobody apart from us knew…Then it must’ve been Val.” You went still, feeling the rage building in your chest–hot and thick, vibrating just beneath your skin.

”She fucking followed us and waited till we were alone to take these.” Bucky nodded.

”Probably sold them too,” He responded, “Page three has an ‘anonymous quote’ that’s oddly specific how the Sentry ‘looks at her like he’s made of light and she’s the only one who can hold it without burning.’” Bob’s jaw dropped.

”Wait…Wait, that's something you said to me,” He hissed, looking over at you. “I remember because you were sick–how does she know that?” Your hands curled into tight fists against the sheets.

”Because she’s been listening.” Your voice was colder now–quiet and laced with venom, “She’s been watching us, and waiting for us to slip up.” Bob looked devastated at this information. His shoulders hunching forward, as he glanced over at you, showing the guilt that was creeping in behind his eyes.

”I’m so sorry,” He whispered, “I shouldn’t have kissed you on the roof, I should’ve–“ You cut him off, raising your hand up.

”Don’t do that. We didn’t do anything wrong. She did.” Bucky exhaled loudly through his nose.

”You’ve got maybe three hours before this becomes a press frenzy. I would recommend figuring out what kind of damage control you want to do.” You glanced down at the magazine again and looked up at Bucky,

”Is killing Valentina on the list of options?” You muttered, voice flat and simmering.

“Could be arranged, “ He replied, deadpanning, “Might take a few minutes for Yelena and Walker to collect their matching shovels though.” Your lips curled faintly, but the rage still burned beneath your eyes like hot coals. You were already calculating how you could make her life a living hell, and you didn’t know how extreme you wanted to go.

But then you glanced at Bob, seeing the way his eyes were glancing between the photo and the headline. He looked overwhelmed, and it automatically diffused the feelings you had towards Valentina, because she wasn’t the person you cared about the most…It was him.

You reached out immediately, placing your hand over his, curling your fingers so they were pressed against his palm. He looked up at you, seeing that the colour in his eyes had faded into a grey.

”Hey. We’re okay Bob…You’re okay…We will get this handled and I promise we will be fine, alright?” He nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

“I just…I just wish people didn’t see us like that…That’s just for us…” You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment to let the contact settle him, before pulling away.

”They don’t know anything about us, and no matter how they spin it, or how they plaster it on the headlines they will never be able to really understand what we have. That part is only for us to share…I will make sure we won’t have to answer to anyone about our relationship, okay?” He looked at you then, and in that moment you watched the panic retreat from his eyes, like a wave sliding back into the sea. His eyes shifted back to blue, like you had diffused a ticking time bomb.

”Okay…” He whispered, his breath catching a little, “I trust you.” You squeezed his hand once more, before turning back to Bucky who was leaning against your dresser with his arms crossed.

”Set up an emergency meeting,” You said, your voice sharp, “And make sure Valentina is going to be there. I want this handled now.” You added.

”On it,” Bucky replied, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “Do you want me to tell Yelena to bring her blowtorch?” You exhaled through your nose.

”Tell Yelena no weapons…With all the rage in me, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle it.” Bucky smirked, thumbing open his phone.

”Duly noted.” He muttered, “No backup required in the weapons department.” He added.

He was halfway to the door when it opened again, and this time Alexei strutted in like he was arriving at a red carpet event, waving his own copy of the same magazine above his head with pure delight on his face. He looked like he had just won the lottery.

”Death and Divinity!” He boomed, accent heavy and dramatic, “This is sexy, yes? Sounds like vampire opera.”

“Oh god,” You muttered, pressing your fingers into your tear ducts.

“Oh Jesus,” Bob added, sinking slightly lower into the bed, trying to shield his face away from the world.

Alexei, undeterred, flipped through the pages.

”Page four has nice photo. Very very romantic. You are holding his face like he is scared little mouse, and he is looking up at you like you are moon goddess. Very touching.” You groaned again and lobbed your pillow at him, only for him to catch it.

“Alexei,” Bucky growled, already herding him towards the door, “Out…And change that attitude, we need to be a solid front line for these two at the emergency meeting.”

————

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, you didn’t know what exactly you were expecting–but the moment your eyes landed on Valentina, standing smugly at the end of the conference table with a martini in one hand and a matching smirk on her mouth, something sharp and electric lit up in your chest.

She was in a sharp navy power suit, tailored within an inch of its life, not a single wrinkle was in sight. Her heels clicked softly as she turned to face all of you fully, a smile spreading across her lips, while she spread her arms open like she was about to congratulate you.

”There’s the stars of the hour!” She cooed, “The public loves you. Death and Divinity–absolutely genius. Not something I created unfortunately, but it’s still absolutely amazing.

Your steps echoed across the floor as you approached her. Bob stayed close behind you, quiet but tense–his fingers wrapped around one of your fingers while the other one picked at his sleeve. Mel was standing off to the side with her arms crossed, looking at the team you had brought, who were already looking over at her with judgemental gazes, like she had betrayed them.

But it was you Valentina was looking at, as your body slowly casted a shadow across her.

”YOu took a photo of me and the person I love, in a private moment, and sold it to the press without our consent. You’ve been eavesdropping, manipulating, and spying for weeks…And you think we came up here to thank you? For a fucking magazine cover of all things?” Valentina blinked slowly, taking a sip from her glass before putting it down on the table.

”A front cover,” She corrected, unbothered by the rage that was twitching behind your eyes, “On twenty-nine different newsstands worldwide! You’re welcome.”

“Welcome?” Your voice cracked slightly–heat rising beneath your skin, as Bob’s fingers squeezed your one, “You’re using our relationship like it’s a fucking PR stunt.”

“And it worked.” She stated simply. You stared at her, jaw locking. You were pretty sure the lights above the table dimmed for a fraction of a second–like your body was going to snap on her at any second. You stepped in closer to her, but her smile didn’t falter, if anything, it widened, like she was proud of you for showing up with your claws already bared.

”You better have a good fucking explanation,” You said, your voice low and venomous, “Because if I don’t like the next sentence out of your mouth Valentina, I swear on every grave I’ve ever raised–you’ll be joining them.” She let out a short, delighted laugh, and cocked her head slightly to the side.

”You are so dramatic,” She said, her tone leaning on the side of condescending, “It’s charming really.” Bob shifted behind you, and his hand tightened around your fingers, almost like he was grounding you, like he was draining you of what you were feeling, just a little bit.

”We didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Mel chimed in, taking a step forward, “It was a strategic decision–“ You didn’t even turn your head, you just held up your free hand, your palm curled and open.

A faint, eerie green glow pulsed from the center of it–low and steady like a heartbeat in the dark.

”I didn’t ask you,” You said, voice cold as ice, “I asked Val.” The glow made the room go still. Yelena, straightened up ever so slightly, exchanging glances with Alexei, and Walker. Ava gave Bucky a small nudge, almost like she was expecting him to step in, but he remained silent, locking eyes with Valentina like he was daring her to keep going.

Val let out a long exhale, then finally stepped closer to you.

”Do you honestly think the world wants The Winter Soldier as the face of the New Avengers?” She said, voice low, as if she were explaining something to a child who didn’t understand how the world worked, “A walking weapon with a kill count in the hundreds–possibly thousands–most of which are caught in grainy footage? He may be rebranded but you can’t slap a new label on a nuclear warhead and expect the public to forget what it is.” Your jaw clenched so tightly your teeth hurt.

”He was pardoned for all that. Cleared. Redeemed publically. Then he got elected…For y’know…Congress? Remember that? Oh and let’s not forget when Bob went all…Well y’know and he saved New York with all of us.” Yelena cut in, motioning to Bucky, coming to his defence. Val’s eyes glanced over to where Yelena stood, her expression turning unreadable for a moment–like she was weighing whether or not it was worth vocally sparring with her. But then she waved her hand dismissively.

”Doesn’t matter,” She said, as though the conversation was beginning to bore her, “The public only sees what you show them, and as much as you parade redemption papers and congressional ribbons around, it doesn’t erase people's memories. We had the opportunity to give you all a better image, one that isn’t cluttered, and we took it.” You tilted your head slightly, now pointing your open palm at her, which made Bob slowly pull you behind him so there was space between you and Val in an attempt to diffuse the anger pulsing through you.

“Cluttered?” You echoed from behind him, trying to look over his broad shoulder.

“Yes, cluttered,” She repeated, “Between Bucky’s guilt complex, Yelena’s PR liability, Alexei’s Cold War nostalgia tour, Walker's entire existence, and Ava who is always on the brink of leaving, it’s chaos…But now?” She gestured broadly towards the both of you, “Now the public sees something beautiful, something they can sink their teeth into.” Bob’s eyebrows furrowed.

”B-But we’re a team…It’s not just Y/N and I…We’re not at the forefront, it's all of us…” He explained quietly.

“Come on Robert…You think the world wants realism?’ She said with a dry laugh, “They want symbolism, they want a reason to believe in what we’re building here.” She motioned around her.

”Then…Why don’t you actually build something real then…Instead of putting our relationship on full display for the public.” Val’s eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth lifting like she was enjoying being challenged.

”You think you’re not already at the forefront?” She said, voice honeyed and sharp, “That’s adorable. You’re a god in a golden shell. You were born for the spotlight, all I’m doing is pointing it in the right direction.” Then the elevator dinged.

”Now get ready for your closeups.” She added, with a smile on her face.

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊˚── Synopsis: The last time you slept together, you asked Sevika for more than she had equipped; she makes sure she's prepared for the next time 'round.

Word Count: 647 Content/Warnings: nsfw, porn w no/little plot, strap (r receiving), top! sev, bottom! reader, softdom! sev, reader has female anatomy, i must be ovulating A/N: Honestly, this did not turn out as nasty as I thought it would… anyway, first smut! Woohoo! I'm currently working on a dancer! vi au headcanon (enemies to lovers too how juicyyy), but I had this idea pop into my head today and thought I'd write a little drabble about it for y'all to have in the meantime; so here ya go, and I hope you enjoy! 

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin as you stare slack-jawed at the silicone in front of you

୨ৎ Dark purple (her favorite color, you’ve noticed), eight inches long, and two inches wide

୨ৎ Your eyes slowly trail up to meet her own, eyebrows raised

୨ৎ “Sevika,” you begin with a breathy chuckle, “I… I don’t know if I can.”

୨ৎ She quirks a brow at you

୨ৎ “You took all of me last time and then asked for more; you can take it.”

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s got you coming undone below her; flesh hand on your hip, and the other guiding the first inch of the purple toy into you

୨ৎ You don’t know how many hours it’s been, but you know you’re a handful of hickeys and orgasms in; and still, here you are, clawing at her arms, begging for something (you’re not even sure what)

୨ৎ “I hear you baby,” Sevika would soothe, kneading your hip, “I’m right here; doing so good f’ me."

୨ৎ She’s in a trance, watching the toy sink into you inch by delicious inch

୨ৎ Until, you suddenly reach out in between your spread legs, placing a hand on her stomach

୨ৎ “Fuck, it’s too much,” you’d pant, “Shit, Sev, ‘s too big…”

୨ৎ She cocks her head to the side with a lazy smirk

୨ৎ “Yeah?” she’d tease, “Can you take this much for now, baby? Can you do that for me?” 

୨ৎ “Yeah,” you’d say weakly, too full of her to muster anything else

୨ৎ “Atta girl.”

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s fucking you into the mattress, flesh hand pressing into your lower back, mech hand gathering your hair into her fist

୨ৎ You’re drunk off of the fullness

୨ৎ The stretch of your walls around the silicone, the kiss it just barely plants on your cervix with every thrust; you need more, more, 

୨ৎ “More?”

୨ৎ You hadn’t realized you’d been doing your pleading out loud

୨ৎ “Yes, fuck yes, please, please, please…”

୨ৎ She’d let your hair loose, placing her mech hand parallel to the other and pulling you back up onto your knees by your hips

୨ৎ You’d attempt to push yourself back onto the toy, and she’d land a quick slap on the swell of your ass, ordering you to “Slow down.”

୨ৎ The last thing Sevika wanted was for you to get hurt (which is why she refused to be any rougher with you in bed than she already was, despite your reassurance that you could handle it), so she’d be slow to push into you

୨ৎ The sound that leaves your body when you feel Sevika come to a hilt inside you is guttural

୨ৎ Your arch deepens as your arms reach out to grab at the rungs of the headboard in front of you, knuckles turning white

୨ৎ The cool metal of Sevika’s hand trails up from your hip, to your back, to your forearm, and eventually, just above your own hand so that she can grab hold of the headboard herself

୨ৎ Her breathing is heavy, her body trapping yours, and you can tell she’s coming undone, so you reach over your shoulder to interlock your fingers with her flesh ones (whenever Sevika begins to fall apart, she needs the contact)

୨ৎ “Fuck, Y/n,” a kiss on your shoulder, “Okay for me to me move?” 

୨ৎ You nod frantically, brows knit together in pleasure, but that isn’t enough for her

୨ৎ “Words, love; I need words.” 

୨ৎ "Yes! Fuck, Sevika, please fuck me!”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s slow to pull the silicone out of you so she doesn't jar you, and quick to take the harness off so she can hold you

୨ৎ Your breath is still coming out in pants as she strokes your back and peppers kisses on your forehead, your temples, your cheeks

୨ৎ “You okay?” She’d ask

୨ৎ “Mhm,” you’d nod into her chest

୨ৎ “You need anything?”

୨ৎ “Mm-mm.”

୨ৎ “Can I clean you up?”

୨ৎ “No,” you’d mumble, “more cuddles for now.” 

୨ৎ And she’d chuckle, pulling you closer

୨ৎ “ ‘S always more with you…”

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

[skiiyoomin]

Potential on Actually writing the gangbang?

I'm sorry if you don't want to but if you want to I'd like it be older au (Like mid 20-early 30) if you can and with Kirishima,bakugou,midoriya,shoto?

And you can add more if you want:)

If you just want too!!

Thank youu if you do

– jUNA:]

ʚft.Deku, Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima

ʚCont: SMUT, p in v, gangbang!! double penetration, cunnilingus, blowjob, creampie, anal, reader has female anatomy, smut with no plot, aged up characters (mid 20s), Kirishima and reader are in an established relationship ⤑Back to navigation

a/n this has been rotting in my inbox for MONTHS, im so sorry for the long wait but its here at last! also, ive never written something like this so if its a little shitty im sorry i tried

You´re not very sure how you ended up in this situation. Scratch that, you do know, you just never thought it´d actually happen. It all started when your sweet boyfriend, Eijiro, suggested spicing things up in bed by having a gangbang. Admittedly, it took you by surprise that he´d be into that sort of thing, but how he had painted it so vividly in your mind made it hard to deny how arousing it was.

So that´s how you found yourself laid back on the mattress, completely bare and writhing under the dark lustful gazes of four pairs of eyes. The apples of your cheeks were decorated a rosy pink, both from arousal and from the embarrassment of being exposed to so many eyes.

"We haven´t done anything and she´s already dripping wet"

Izuku coos, his green eyes trailing over your body in a way that has you clenching around nothing. A needy whine rumbles from your throat as you attempt to close your legs, but a familiar calloused hand takes hold of your thigh, forcing your legs to stay spread open.

"Don´t close your legs sweet girl, let us see you" The warmth of Eijiros hand on your skin fills you with a sense of comfort, easing you into a more relaxed position on the bed. He crawls over onto your side, sliding his hand up to your chin as he places his lips over yours.

Izuku takes your other side, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulders. His lips curl into a smug grin from your gasp when he kisses the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Eijiro takes advantage of this to slide his tongue into your warm cavern, twirling his tongue with yours in a lazy dance.

A pair of warm lips wrap around a perk nipple, while fingers play with the other, making your head dizzy with stimulation. It´s not until you take a breather from the intense make-out with Eijiro, that you look down to see Katsukis blonde locks and his lips wrapped around the skin of your breasts. He´s relentless with the hickeys he leaves on your smooth skin but it only turns you on more.

Another gasp escapes your swollen lips when Shoto takes place between your thighs and slides his warm tongue up your inner thigh. Close, but not close enough to your dripping core. Without thinking, you grab hold of his bicolored locks and push his head towards your needy cunt. "So needy" He chuckles, yet he doesn´t waste a second in pressing his tongue flat on your slit. The deep guttural groan that leaves his lips vibrates against your pussy, making you moan from the slight stimulation.

He takes his time tasting you, sliding his tongue inside your hole and sucking your swollen bud. But your attention is from him to Izuku, who grabs your chin and forces your head to him. You don´t have time to focus on his soft lips before he slides his tongue into your mouth, your teeth clashing together in a heated make-out.

The familiar knot in your stomach tightens as Shoto continues to thrust his tongue into your tight entrance. Occasionally his nose rubs against your clit, making your mind go insane with pleasure. But just as you´re about to reach your first orgasm of the night, Katsukis gruff voice intervenes"Move over icyhot, I want a taste" He pushes a pussy drunk Shoto back, his chin glistening with your arousal. Rough hands flip you over onto your stomach, raising your hips so your ass is in the air.

Unlike Shoto, who took his time tasting you, Katsuki ate you out like a starved man having his last meal. His hands are on your ass, spreading them apart while he has you spread open for him to devour. "Fuuuuck ya taste so good doll"

You´d moan into the pillows if you could, but Eijiro grabs a fistful of your hair and forces you into all fours. He taps the angry red tip of his cock against your red lips coaxing you to open your mouth. Obediently, you grab the base of his thick length, taking what you can in your mouth. Eijiro gives you a moment to get used to the feeling but soon his pleasure overrides his patience and his thrusts turn more animalistic. He throws his head back with a groan when you gag around his cock, your throat clenching around him. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks from the soreness of your slack jaw and the almost painful feeling of his cock down your throat. The pain mixed with the pleasure of Katsukis tongue flicking your clit is enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head, the tears spilling from your eyes.

Just as Eijiro was about to cum, he pulls out with a groan "Not yet doll, I wanna cum inside you" Your heavy breaths slow down for a moment, but once again, the knot in your stomach tightens, making your breath hitch. Katsuki seemed to sense this too because he pulled away, smirking at your whine from being edged twice. He sits up to line his aching hard cock to your entrance "Been dreamin´ ´bout this pussy for the longest time" He groans while sheathing himself inside you, stretching your inside open. He´s big and with him inside you, it felt like being full to the brim. "ngh too big!"

He pulls back almost completely before slamming back in with a loud groan. "You can take it pretty girl" he sighs while fastening his pace. The sounds of your mewls, the skin slapping on skin and the squelching of your cunt sound pornographic. The view must be just as erotic because Shoto was sitting back, stroking his cock shamelessly at an agonizingly slow pace.

Izuku takes place at your front, easing his cock into your mouth. You moan around him, running your tongue along the protruding veins. "You´re taking us so well~" He coos sweetly, contrasting the rough pace of his cock down your throat. All you can do is moan in reply, satisfied by the twitch of his dick that sits heavy on your tongue.

Katsukis heavy balls slapping against your clit have you reaching your peak fast, and this time your allowed release. The vice grip of your gummy walls on his cock has him spurting his warm seed inside you, adding to the pleasure of your mind-blowing orgasm. Izuku isn´t too far off, thrusting a few more times before shooting his milky white cum down your throat. He watches with a hungry gaze as you swallow, sticking your tongue out to show you swallowed every last drop. "What a good girl"

When the high subsides, Katsuki pulls out his softening member from your sensitive pussy, giving it one last slap before pulling back. You´d barely regained your breath when Shoto pulled you up on your knees. "Think you can go again?" He asks while pressing lingering kisses on your neck, though you were so fucked out you could barely manage a coherent response.

He doesn´t wait, slipping his cock into your overstimulated cunt. The feeling makes you cry out in both pain and pleasure, but the way he was bouncing you on his cock was too good for you to use the safe word. A hard chest presses against your back, his rough hands resting on your waist. Eijiro nuzzles his face against the crook of your neck. "Can you take two?" He muses as if the mere thought was amusing to him. "Fuck please Eijiro, need you" You cry out, both from the pleasure of Shotos cock pounding into you, and the thought of taking Eijiro at the same time.

He obliges, pressing his tip against your other hole. Slowly he pushes in, splitting you open as you all but scream out. You´ve never felt so full in your life. The feeling of both of your holes being stretched open has your mind reeling in a hazy fucked-out daze. When Shoto and Eijiro move in sync, your breath disappears from your lungs, your mouth drops into an `o´ and your eyes cross from pleasure. The air is hot and heavy as both men fuck you, squishing you between them and leaving you breathless. Air is overrated anyway.

You´re soon reaching your second orgasm, the twitching of their cocks inside you meaning they wouldn´t last too long either. "M´ gonna cum" You manage to whine out. "We know doll" Shoto captures your lips into a kiss just as you reach your peak, your body shuddering violently while you clench around them. They follow after you, spilling their cum inside until it overflows and drips down your thighs.

"You did so good" "Such a good girl" They praise, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. They lay your hickey and sweat covered body down on the mattress. You huff tiredly "It felt good"

[grandline-fics]

Could you maybe do Ace and Shanks with getting caught and maybe some jealousy?

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Getting Caught with being jealous 

WARNINGS:  some suggestiveness, jealousy but mostly fluff(?)

CHARACTERS: Shanks

WORDS: 1,515

A/N: Hi there! Thank you for this request. I'm still not feeling great but wanted to write. I was only able to get something put together for Shanks for this request but hopefully I'll be able to put something for Ace out at another date. I decided to do it more that Shanks got caught being jealous as a little twist on the prompt and I hope you enjoyed what I came up with

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

You knew something was up, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it or really place why you knew but deep down, something inside you knew Shanks was up to something. He hadn't even done anything yet that you knew of but when you watched him return to the ship after a night of drinking at the bar your eyes immediately sharpened as you sensed the change. Despite the charming captain laughing and talking away to the others as they all drew closer to the Red Force you couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was simmering below the surface of his outward warmth. You nearly felt the need to pull your jacket tighter around you body even though it was a pleasant summer’s night. The only thing you could compare it to was the stories of people being able to sense a storm was imminent with no signs. You just knew Shanks was plotting something and when he looked up and smiled at you with a lazy wave your suspicion only grew that he’d drag you into it somehow as well. 

You greeted each of the drunken crew and mentally took note to ensure no one had gotten lost and the others hadn’t noticed. With a warm smile you watched them make their ways to their desired sleeping places for the night, whether they actually made it to their rooms or not was a separate matter entirely. On more than one occasion members of the Red Hair Pirates- yourself included- would wake after a fun night of drinking and find themselves in the strangest of places. When the last of the returning party disappeared you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see Shanks draw closer until he was behind you. You tried to fight a smile when you felt him nuzzle his head against your neck and wrap his arm around you loosely. “Not turning in Red?” 

“What? Go to a cold bed all on my own? Seems boring.” You could feel Shanks’ breath and lips tickle against you and instinctively twisted in his hold but made no real effort to move away, used to his antics. You were still suspicious however, and that feeling only grew when you could immediately tell Shanks wasn’t drunk. He’d had a drink or two you suspected but not what he normally would and given the state of the others, you felt worry begin to twist in your stomach. You were about to ask him what was wrong when he moved closer, his hand slowly dragging to settle on your hip while his lips trailed up to your ear. “Missed you tonight.”

“You know I’d have gone with you if I wasn’t on watch duty tonight. Speaking of I need to get back to it.” You tried to reassure your Captain and lover lightly but his actions and your suspicions that something was going on was throwing your mind in confusing circles and your focus began to slip once more when Shanks’ deep laugh rumbled in his chest and the vibrations carried through your frame.

“Watch duty’s just formality for us though. You mostly just sit back and relax because you know no one’d try anything with us.” Shanks spoke confidently, smirking against the shell of your ear before he started to kiss down your jaw and neck feeling your breathing hitch and body suppress the small shudder. “This is our territory. This is an Emperor’s ship. Only a fool would think they could compete…that they could take something from me.”

“Shanks ah-!” You were cut off when he unexpectedly switched the feather-light kisses against your skin to abruptly bite against your pulse point and soothe it immediately after with another kiss. Except compared to the others this one was drawn out just a little longer. You turned finally to fully face Shanks only to yelp when he wasted no time in lifting you to sit on the railing so he could stand between your legs and continue his desired path of trailing kisses along the column of your throat newly exposed to him. “What happened out there?”

“Like I said I missed you.” Shanks explained tilting his head back to look at you. While you didn’t doubt the desire in his eyes for you and while you weren’t telling him to stop you weren’t getting the full story and in order to get to the bottom of it all you had to be strong and firm. With a lot of restraint you placed one hand on Shanks’ wrist pausing him as his hand was beginning to snake under your shirt while the other lightly cupped under his chin to halt his attempt to finally claim your lips against his. As much as you hated stopping him, you couldn’t deny the amusement you felt seeing the all powerful Captain, and one of the four Emperor’s of the sea, Red Hair Shanks pout.

“Talk to me, love.” You requested softly, your words gentle and sweet but more compelling to Shanks than anything in the world. Anything you wished for was yours, he’d even give up his other arm if it meant you got what you wanted. Secretly he’d hoped you wouldn’t notice the tension in his body and twisting thoughts that had soured his mood but had gone to great lengths to hide but that’s what made you you. The perception you had for him was unparalleled. Shanks watched you lean in to place a tender peck on his lips. Your ability to play dirty and lower his guard was also unparalleled. “Please?”

“I overheard something in the bar.” Shanks began, the scowl growing on his face as he remembered. “Seems you’re very popular with the locals. One in particular is the eldest son of the town’s mayor.”

“Wait…” You began, a smile of pure disbelief growing on your face. “Shanks…were you jealous of some civilian having a crush on me?”

“I guess.”

“But you don’t get jealous. You’ve practically sat back and laughed when I’ve turned people down.” You lost count over the years of how many times people have tried to seduce you and Shanks only for them all to be let down firmly. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt jealous over Shanks’ admirers and this was a first for you, seeing your lover jealous. “What was so different this time compared to the others?”

“I guess because I could actually picture you with someone like that. Seeing you have that kind of life.”

“Married to a future mayor?” You asked letting your thumb rub a soothing circle against his hand still in your hold in the hopes it’d reassure him. “I can’t picture that.”

“Maybe not the person exactly, but the life you’d have. Safe, comfortable-”

“Boring.” You interjected with a soft smile. “I did the civilian thing before we met remember? Not for me so you can relax. You provide for me in ways those locals can only dream of Shanks. Promise I’m only yours.”

“Sure about that?” Shanks asked, his own effortless grin appearing and you could tell his worries had lifted thanks to your reassurances. Now the playfulness and confidence that you knew so well had returned to Shanks, allowing you to breathe easier. “He had a lot of coin and lives in a manor.”

“Oh well in that case, I’ll go introduce myself.” You joked, pretending to turn so you could leap off of the ship’s railing and head into town and see the desirable suitor and his manor for yourself. Instead you let out a yelp when Shanks had you lifted with ease and thrown over his broad shoulder and began striding across the deck to head to his and your private quarters. 

“Nah, I don’t think you will.” Shanks chuckled underneath you as he lightly kicked the door open, carrying you inside. Now in the lit room you caught sight of your reflection and your eyes widened.   In the short amount of time Shanks had been at work on the deck had already caused marks to show against your neck. 

“Shanks!” You lectured as he lightly tossed you onto the bed and joined you, leaning in close with his eyes gleaming with the same desire as before. “Look at my neck. What were you thinking?”

“Don’t be mad, love…the jealousy made me do it.” Shanks explained innocently with no sign of remorse in his eyes as he looked at his handiwork. If anything he looked proud and you shuddered when you caught that familiar feeling overcome you once more and your heart skipped when Shanks smirked at you. “In fact I think I’m feeling jealous again.”

As Shanks’ mouth finally moved to your lips and the feeling of his hand and body against you working in tandem with the dizzying kiss the only coherent thought you could muster was that of course Shanks would manage to make the fact he was caught being jealous work in his favour in the best way possible and you were not complaining in the slightest.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[artbyblastweave]

I've been reading through some of your old asks since I remembered you were where I heard about Worm, and recently you wrote about how "deconstructions" of the superhero genre are often uniformed and lazy pastiche from people who seem to have not bothered engaging seriously with the source material. (There's a great quote from Ursula Le Guin about writers and critics all too often disregarding genre fiction, hence why the literati alll thought Harry Potter was original back in the day)

But you made the point that big two comics have been dealing with most of the plot holes in the genre for decades, and cited a few specific examples. I'm by no means a new comer to comics but I've largely stayed away from big two, and so I'm wondering, if you are so inclined, if you could share what you consider "required reading" to help me get started?

It seems like a fascinating thing to read about, and I love tracing genre histories.

Yesterday I finally finished a long long rec-list for @worlds-smallest-creature, which was a mix of foundational texts and stuff I personally thought was neat. I'm going to pare down and amend the list to ten comics that are particularly useful for getting a feel of the Big-Two space; comics that, if you read them, will instantly make significant portions of the references and in-jokes much more legible. Note that this does not universally map to high quality, ( though it does for most of them) just utility for understanding the genre and the space as it stands:

Watchmen: By Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons. The big deconstructionist comic, most directly in conversation with the two-and-a-half generations of superheroes that had been published when it first came out in 1985. This is the comic all other superhero deconstructions have been chasing and it's tonally informed basically everything that's come after.

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns: Frank Miller and Klaus Janson. The other big deconstructionist superhero comic of the 1980s. While nothing in it is actually canon, it hugely (and arguably negatively) informed the writing of Batman as a dark-gritty-anti-hero and gave rise to the endemic "Batman vs Superman in a fight to the finish" thing; like Watchmen, it's also a rumination on what went unsaid politically in the Silver Age of Comics. Huge amounts of the Batman Mythos are either repudiating this or parroting this, for better or for worse.

Marvels: Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross's gorgeously painted retelling of the first 30 years of the history of the Marvel Universe from the perspective of a photojournalist, from the first appearance of superheroes in the 30s to roughly the start of the Bronze Age. In addition to being a comic about the existential horror of being a normal person living in a world with Big Two superhero dynamics, it's also an excellent primer of the major players and plot beats from the front half of Marvel's publication history.

JLA/Avengers by Kurt Busiek and George Perez: One of the last intercontinuity crossovers published by Marvel and DC before they started circling the wagons on their respective IP. A major thrust of the piece is the two teams reacting with horror to the business-as-usual of their counterparts universe, in a way that's meant to highlight the historical differences in writing trends between the two; it also contains basically Every Single Superhero Who'd Ever Been Published Up Until 2004, making it a pretty useful who's-who birdspotting guide of both settings.

Astro City by Kurt Busiek, Brent Anderson and Alex Ross: An anthology series set in a constructed pastiche Big-Two universe, following the lives of dozens to hundreds of characters as they make their way in the titular Astro City, the longstanding superhero capital of the world. Because the setting contains direct pastiches (and therefore commentary) on basically every significant Hero and general archetype who shows up in both Marvel and DC, and because every one-or-two issue vignette is usually in direct conversation with a specific trope or standing question raised by those characters and those settings, blowing through as much Astro City as you can will allow you to infer huge chunks of the decades-long history that it was written in conversation with- the type of characters who were published in each decade, the type of adventures they were going on in the 60s vs the 30s vs the 90s, and so on.

(Is this three things in a row by Kurt Busiek, you ask? Yes, because he's basically the on-call "thoughtfully root around in the guts of the architecture of Big Two Superhero Comics" guy.)

JLA (1997) By Grant Morrison and Howard Porter. This one was an ongoing, and it presents an interesting balancing act between being, essentially, a platonic example of the thing- no aggressive deconstruction, just a through and through superhero comic that balances accessibility to new readers, high-quality, high concept stories, deliberately enmeshing itself in remixed high-context deep-cuts from the silver-age, and having all sorts of odd little inscrutable asides that are the result of weird decisions being made in other books. Superman's blue and has lightning powers, roll with it. There's an Angel From The Actual Bible hanging around because they couldn't get the rights to Hawkman, roll with it. This thing is essentially training wheels for the reality that almost any big-two ongoing worth reading for any reason is doomed to be jerked around and informed by the larger editorial context at the time, which you might only know bits and pieces of going in; a sufficiently gripping comic will reel you in regardless.

Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont and a whole bunch of artists. Claremont's run from the 70s to the 90s was a development site of a huge number of enduring cape tropes- in particular a lot of the ones related to superpowered factionalism, dialing in on relatively specific and well-defined powersets applied to problems in a puzzle-logic kind of way, shoring up the "Mutant Metaphor" as a parallel to civil rights movements, and a lot of stuff related to bad futures and time travel. By virtue of the amount of time he spent in creative control of the book it coheres better than the average big two thing (though that's not necessarily the same thing as it being universally good.) To this day the genre is plastered in the thumbprints of Days of Future Past and The Dark Phoenix Saga, so those will both be useful context.

Ultimate Spider-Man by Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Bagley. A reboot and retelling of Spider-Man for a 21st century audience, which was so meteorically successful that the Ultimate Universe- a condensed, lean, and heavily politically barbed reboot of all of Marvel's major properties- was spun off from it. On top of being a very good comic, Bendis's background in crime fiction writing, decompressed style and ear for naturalistic dialogue became something of a house style at Marvel for a while and heavily influenced the space generally; the DNA of this one can be found all over the place. This remains probably the best self-contained Spider-Man run ever produced.

The Authority By Warren Ellis and Bryan Hitch. The premiere cool new superteam of the late 90s/early oughts; paradoxical revolutionary authoritarians willing to lay waste with abandon to all the evils of the world that normally go untouched or get off with a slap on the wrist. This book was extremely stylistically important in its embrace of a cinematic 'widescreen" pacing intended to make the comic feel like a breakneck blockbuster movie, and significant chunks of what was to come over the next decade ate its lunch stylistically. This team evolved out of Stormwatch, a Jim-lee 90s-antihero outing that Ellis took over with issue 37, hollowed out and wore like a skinsuit in order to write the same kind of genre commentary spec-fic story he liked to. Ellis's work on that run is useful context for The Authority, and a pretty good read, but not strictly necessary.

The Ultimates V1 and V2 By Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch. Millar was the guy who took over The Authority from Ellis after issue 12, and The Ultimates- the version of the Avengers created for the above-mentioned Ultimate Universe- was his attempt to create a superhero team with essentially the reverse characterization from The Authority. Where The Authority were quasi-left-anarchist mavericks willing to coup the president if that's where their fight against evil took them, The Ultimates were characterized as a gaggle of incompetent, jingoistic stooges who solved only slightly more problems than they personally created, backed Bush to the hilt with the illegal invasion of Iraq, and represented a massive escalation in an international superhuman arms race that was implied to be on course to end the world. Because of the book's massively uncharitable characterization of literally every member of the Avengers lineup with the exception of Thor, and because of Millar's deep-seated edgelord sensibilities, this book is regarded poorly by many. (I like it as satire.) However, it (and the rest of Ultimate Marvel) represent the single biggest aesthetic influence on basically every Superhero film of the 2000s onward and the MCU in particular- despite arguably being an aggressive attack on the enterprise the MCU would become.

I'll round the list out with Alias by Brian Michael Bendis and Michael Gaydos. This was Bendis's other keys-to-the-kingdom-granting outing at Marvel. A noire piece following Jessica "Jewel" Jones, a retired superheroine-turned-PI, as she roots around in the dirty laundry at the outer edge of the superhero community; similar to Astro City in how it uses "edge-case questions" about how superhero settings would work as the launchpad for sad (and frequently anticlimactic) little excursions about the Human Condition. The DNA of this one is also floating around in the space.

Happy Reading!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

A Little Longer

Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺

A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!

Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.

So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.

"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.

"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.

"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."

The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.

"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"

"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.

"But... We get to play by my rules."

At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.

"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.

"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."

You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.

"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."

You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?

"You're on, Morales."

It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.

He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.

But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.

Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.

"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."

You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.

6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?

For the average person watching football, you were right.

But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.

After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.

It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.

Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.

If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.

At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.

"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.

"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.

"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."

Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.

It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.

"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."

With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.

"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.

"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.

You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.

"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.

The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.

Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.

"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.

You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.

"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."

Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.

His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene

"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."

“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.

“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.

Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.

“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.

“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”

“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.

The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.

"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"

Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.

Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.

But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.

Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."

"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[sirensslament]

DRENCHED hamzahthefantastic x reader

summary!: you only wanted a peaceful bath to melt the stress away. Instead, Hamzah finds you, and suddenly, peace is the last thing on your mind. Water everywhere, slick skin, desperate mouths. He ruins you once, twice, and still isn’t satisfied. Neither are you.

Pairing: boyfriend!Hamzahthefantastic x female girlfriend!reader

Trope: established relationship

Genre: straight up porn, literally no plot at all (mature/18+)

Note: well! i made a whole new alt account for this, no one's EVER going to find my main account hehehe. this idea came to me during ovulation, and i was so horny to the point i had to write it. im an english major in uni so i swear my writing is decent, not saying that my writing is good here though... oh, also! if anyone stumbles across this god awful work, just know that my requests are open, and the people i write for are in the tags! #multifandom!!!

Word count: 3k+

warnings !: mdni. smut: protective sex (reader’s on birth control), bath sex, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, overstimulation (m&f) big!dickhamzah, hair-pulling (kinda), messy sex (they’re in a bathtub), dacryphillia (if you squint), creampie, oral fixation, rough sex, softdom!Hamzah

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The sweet, thick scent of vanilla clings to the steamy air, curling lazily around the bathroom like an invisible blanket. A soft, satisfied sound slips from your mouth as you sink deeper into the bath, the hot water wrapping around you like a slow, loving touch.

It sloshes gently against the tub, some spilling over the side, but you don't care, not when the heat is soaking into every sore, tired muscle. You close your eyes, your head resting against the cool marble edge, the world outside dissolving into nothing.

You smile to yourself, silently cursing and thanking Hamzah for convincing you to splurge on the jetted bathtub he wouldn’t shut up about. You'd never admit it out loud, gosh he’d be unbearable if you did.

The low thrum of the jets hums under you, sending tiny, delicious vibrations across your skin. Thick bubbles cling to your body, rising just below your collarbones, covering you like a secret. Your fingers trace lazy patterns across the water’s surface, the dim glow of the bathroom light making the whole room look like something out of a dream.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re alone, quiet, at peace.

Until the sharp jingle of keys cuts through the air, and you hear the front door swing open.

“Yo,” Hamzah’s voice calls out.

You don't answer, you just sink a little lower into the water, biting back a smile. Heavy footsteps pad down the hall, and then he’s there, leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe, a lazy smirk on his face.

“Well, well,” he says, eyes raking over the scene in front of him. “This what you get up to when I’m not around?"

You roll your eyes, not bothering to cover yourself. "Maybe if you weren't so slow, you'd be here too."

He laughs under his breath, pushing off the doorframe, his hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder, sweatpants slung low on his hips. The way he looks at you, cocky, amused, a little dark around the edges, makes the warm water feel suddenly too hot.

“You’re lucky I like you," he mutters, pulling his hoodie off one arm at a time. Your eyes fall to his hair, once grown into luscious curls, now cut to a bleached buzz. He was handsome nonetheless, so handsome even it made you want to jump his bones.

You raise a brow, pretending to be unimpressed even as your heart kicks up. "Oh yeah? Gonna make yourself useful or just stand there looking pretty?"

He grins, that slow, lazy and dangerous grin you know all too well, and drops the hoodie on the floor.

"Move over," he says, voice low, already stripping off his shirt without waiting for permission. "I'm not about to let you have all this fun by yourself."

You scoff, but you’re already shifting to the side, sending another ripple through the water. He steps closer, dropping his sweats in one motion, completely unapologetic.

You continuously eye his movements, like a predator would to its' prey. Just before he even has the thought to enter, you rise up slightly, not caring as the bubbles drip off your body, revealing your chest drowned in water.

"Boxer's off too, Hamzah." You say with a sickly sweet smile.

Hamzah pauses for a second, caught off guard by your tone and the sight of your bare breast, that wicked little smile playing on your lips. His gaze sharpens, something dark flickering behind his eyes. He shifts his weight, peeling the last piece of fabric off without breaking eye contact.

You hum approvingly, sinking back into the bath, letting the water kiss your skin as you pretend not to stare.

Without hesitation, he steps into the tub, water spilling a little more over the sides with the sudden movement. He settles behind you, legs bracketing your body, his chest pressing against your back. You feel every hard line of him, hot and solid even under the water.

His hands waste no time, they roam your thighs under the bubbles, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing up the slick line of your hips. You breathe in sharply when he dips his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"You act all cocky until you actually have to back it up," he murmurs, voice a gravelly tease against your skin.

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. "Please. You wouldn’t survive if I actually tried."

Hamzah chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling through your spine. "You keep running your mouth... might have to find another way to shut you up."

One hand slides up, cupping your jaw gently but firmly, tilting your head back until your neck is exposed fully to him. His mouth drags down your throat, slow and deliberate, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless.

Your body arches instinctively against his, seeking more contact, more heat. His other hand trails lower, under the water, the bubbles hiding the way his fingers glide along the inside of your thigh, creeping closer and closer, down to where you need him the most.

You shift, impatient, grinding back slightly against him, and you feel him, unmistakably hard against you.

He groans softly, a dangerous sound right against your ear.

“Yeah?” he mutters, one hand tightening slightly on your hip to keep you in place. “You want something?"

You answer by grinding back again, slower this time, just to spite him. He laughs under his breath, low, dark, promising.

"Say it," he growls into your ear, teeth scraping along the shell of it.

You're stubborn, biting your lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction, but when his fingers dip lower, just barely brushing against your drenched cunt, a whimper betrays you. You feel him smirk against your skin.

“I knew it,” he breathes.

Before you can retort, his mouth captures yours, messy, hungry, claiming, while his hand finally gives in, sliding exactly where you’ve been silently begging for it.

His hand dips beneath the bubbles, finding you with unrelenting precision.

His fingers brush lightly over your clit at first, barely there, just enough to make you twitch with need. You let out a soft, desperate sound, one that immediately has him grinning against your jaw.

"Patience," he mutters, but there's nothing patient about the way he finally presses down, slow, teasing circles that have you clenching around nothing, your legs parting wider in the water on instinct.

He drags one finger lower, sliding between your folds, feeling just how wet you already are for him, the bathwater doing nothing to hide the raw slickness that's all you. His breath catches a little, like even he wasn’t prepared for how ready you are.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he groans, voice dark and rough against your ear. “You want it that bad?"

You can only nod, too breathless to be cocky now. And Hamzah, always one to give you what you need, but never without a little cruelty, finally slips one thick finger inside.

The stretch makes you gasp, your back arching off his chest. He moves slow, deliberate, pulling out just a little before pressing back in, setting a lazy rhythm designed to drive you insane. The water rocks around you with each motion, bubbles clinging to your skin, framing the obscene scene unfolding beneath the surface.

"Fuck, you feel good," he hisses, pressing his forehead to the side of your head for a second, like he needs to catch his breath too.

You whimper when he curls his finger just right, grazing that sweet spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble.

“Yeah?” he breathes, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast under the water, thumb brushing teasing circles over your nipple. “Right there?”

You nod frantically, a broken sound falling from your lips.

He chuckles low against your ear, pure sin, and slips a second finger inside, stretching you wider. The burn is perfect, just enough to make your toes curl against the slippery floor of the tub.

His hand between your legs works faster now, fingers thrusting deep, then retreating, his palm grinding against your clit with every motion. Your whole body rocks with it, helpless against the delicious rhythm he’s setting.

“Come on,” he murmurs roughly, nipping at the side of your neck. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my fingers.”

You cry out when he hits that spot again and again, faster now, his thumb abandoning its slow circles to rub tight, desperate patterns over your clit, pushing you right to the edge.

The heat coils deep in your stomach, sharp and fast and impossible to fight. Your muscles tense, your nails digging into his thigh behind you as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you, hot and overwhelming.

You choke out his name, your body shuddering violently as you clamp down around his fingers, riding it out as he works you through every last pulse, every last desperate jolt of pleasure.

He groans softly, almost like he’s feeling it with you, his fingers slowing only when you’re too sensitive to take anymore. He pulls out gently, hands smoothing over your trembling thighs, your stomach, grounding you.

Your head drops back onto his shoulder, breathing hard, heart hammering against your ribs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and devastating. His arms wrap tight around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and you feel him, still rock hard against your lower back.

Hamzah presses a kiss to your temple, letting you catch your breath for just a second, before his hand slides lower again, teasing, promising more.

“Hope you’re not tired yet,” he whispers darkly. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. His hands slide down the slick planes of your body, fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively, as he shifts behind you.

The water rocks wildly with the movement, bubbles sloshing up and over the edges of the tub, but neither of you care.

He kisses your shoulder, your neck, slow and biting, and then he's tugging you up, coaxing you to climb out of his lap and sit perched at the edge of the tub.

“Come here,” he mutters, voice rough and low, so thick with need it makes your head spin.

You do as he says, breathless, letting your thighs fall open for him. The cold air hits your dripping core, and you shiver — but it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes darken when he sees you fully exposed like this, all flushed and wet and desperate.

He sinks lower into the water, grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you toward him until you’re practically sitting on his face.

Without warning, his mouth is on you, hot, hungry, absolutely filthy.

He licks a broad, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, groaning like he’s been starving for you. His buzzed hair scratches lightly against your thighs as you thread your fingers into it, gripping tight as you grind against his mouth, chasing every devastating flick of his tongue.

He doesn’t stop, not when your hips start to jerk, not when your thighs try to close around his head. He pulls you closer instead, growling low against your pussy like he’s furious you’re even trying to move away.

“Stay still,” he mutters against your folds, the vibration making your whole body jolt.

His tongue circles your clit lazily before he flattens it, dragging it over you again and again until you’re writhing above him, your moans spilling into the steamy air, reckless and loud.

Then without warning, he pulls back slightly and slaps your pussy with his palm, the wet, obscene sound echoing around the bathroom.

You yelp, more from shock than pain, the sting sharp and immediate, but then he soothes it with another slow, devastating lick.

“Fuck, look at you," he says, voice rough and breathless. “Fucking dripping all over me."

He slaps you again, rougher this time, and you cry out, hips bucking helplessly. The sensation sends a white-hot bolt of pleasure straight through you, and he watches you with that smug, fucked-out expression, loving every second of it.

"Messy little thing," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

Before you can even recover, he dives back in, his mouth ruthless now, sucking, licking, nipping, until you’re keening, thighs trembling violently around his head.

Your hands tangle desperately in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you pull, needing something, anything, to ground yourself. He groans when you tug, the noise vibrating against your clit, sending you hurtling straight over the edge.

You come again with a cry, thighs clamping around his head, body jerking uncontrollably, and Hamzah doesn’t stop. He laps at you through it, relentless, forcing another orgasm to build before the first one even finishes.

“Hamzah— I c-can’t—" you gasp, trying to squirm away.

"Yes, you can," he growls against you. "You’re gonna give me everything."

His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you wide open for him as he doubles down, fucking you with his tongue, messy and obscene.

It’s too much. The overstimulation burns, pleasure so sharp it borders on pain, and then you feel it snap, sudden and brutal.

You cry out as you squirt, body convulsing, the release soaking his mouth, his face, the water, absolutely drenching everything.

Hamzah pulls back just a fraction, looking up at you like you just gave him his favorite fucking gift.

"God damn," he breathes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but there’s still a slick, shiny mess smeared across his lips, his chin, his cheeks.

"You’re a fucking dream," he mutters, voice wrecked and reverent.

You’re still trembling when he rises from the water, towering over you, his cock flushed red and angry, leaking against his stomach.

Big.

Thick.

You swallow hard, mouth going dry at the sight.

He wraps a hand around himself lazily, giving one long stroke that has him hissing between his teeth.

"You think we're done?" he asks, voice a dangerous, amused rumble.

You shake your head weakly, dazed.

He grabs you by the hips, flipping you around so your chest presses against the cold marble edge of the tub, ass high in the air, still dripping.

You barely have a second to gasp before you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and then he’s pushing in, slow and unrelenting, stretching you wide.

You whimper, the burn delicious, overwhelming, as he sinks deeper and deeper until he's fully seated inside you, hips flush against your ass.

"So fucking tight," he growls, his hands sliding up your back, fisting in your wet hair and tugging your head back roughly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make you moan, make you feel owned.

He holds you there for a beat, savoring it, the messy, wet slap of his hips against your ass, the water splashing around you with every little movement.

And then he starts to move.

Hard.

Deep.

Relentless.

The bathtub rocks violently under you both, water splashing up onto the floor, your gasps and moans bouncing off the tiled walls.

Hamzah fucks you like he’s been waiting for this forever, desperate, greedy, like he can’t get deep enough, fast enough. Every thrust punches a cry from your throat, pleasure sparking bright and raw under your skin.

“Take it," he grunts, voice rough in your ear. “Take all of it."

And you do, you take every brutal inch, every rough, devastating snap of his hips, until you’re falling apart again, shattered and sobbing his name into the crook of your arm, your body wrung completely dry.

And still, still, he doesn’t stop.

If anything, your wrecked, trembling body only fuels him, his thrusts getting rougher, meaner, like he needs to chase that high again, needs to drag every last drop of pleasure out of you.

You can barely hold yourself up anymore, arms buckling against the edge of the tub, whimpering into the marble, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the sheer overwhelming feeling of it.

Hamzah leans down, mouth hot against your ear, voice a brutal rasp. "Don’t run baby, take it."

You sob out a broken, desperate sound, but nod anyway, surrendering everything to him.

He pulls out abruptly, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, your walls clenching around nothing, but before you can even think, he grabs you roughly under the arms and flips you onto your back with a wet slap against the marble edge.

Water spills everywhere, your hair clinging to your flushed face, bubbles clinging to your skin, and Hamzah looks down at you like he could eat you alive.

“You're so fucking messy," he mutters, almost in awe, eyes drinking you in, the way your body trembles, the way your thighs are slick and shiny with arousal and bathwater, the way you're staring up at him like he hung the damn moon.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before he’s lining himself up again, pushing into you with one brutal, perfect thrust.

You both moan, raw, guttural sounds that fill the steamy air, and you wrap your legs around his waist immediately, holding him there, locking him deep inside you.

Hamzah braces his hands on either side of your head, his forehead dropping down to yours, breathing hard against your lips.

He thrusts again, and again, deep, hard, slow, grinding his hips down against your clit every time he bottoms out, pulling soft, broken cries from your mouth.

"Fuck," he grits out, voice wrecked. "You're so fucking tight— gonna make me cum so fast—"

You can feel him throbbing inside you, thick and hard, the stretch just enough to make your mind go white.

Your body starts to tense again, that heat building deep in your stomach for the third time, but this time it’s sharp, brutal, overwhelming.

“Hamzah—” you gasp, nails raking down his back.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

He shifts his angle slightly, hips grinding harder, deeper, and that's all it takes.

You break apart with a sob, squirting again, the release sudden and violent, your body jerking under him uncontrollably as wetness gushes around his cock.

"Fuck," Hamzah growls, losing control completely.

The feeling of you tightening, pulsing, soaking him is too much, he thrusts once, twice more, before he slams his hips flush against you and cums hard, spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan, his whole body trembling from the force of it.

You both stay there for a second, bodies locked together, panting, shaking, completely wrecked.

The water is an absolute mess, bubbles everywhere, half of it splashed onto the floor, slick and soapy and deramged, but neither of you move.

Hamzah leans down, pressing his forehead to yours again, both of you still breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other’s chests.

Then, slowly, he captures your mouth in a kiss, messy, slow, desperate, all tongues and heavy breaths and soft, broken sounds.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, clinging to him, swallowing every groan, every sigh.

He pulls back after a long moment, resting his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you, brushing his nose lazily against yours.

"Fuck," he mutters, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "You’re gonna kill me one day."

You laugh weakly, still trying to catch your breath. "You’ll die happy."

He smirks, dropping another slow, wet kiss to your mouth, your jaw, your throat, trailing kisses everywhere like he can’t stand to be apart from you for even a second.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick and satisfied. "I will."

The two of you stay tangled together in the wreckage of the bath, the water lukewarm and the bathroom floor soaked, completely destroyed, and neither of you could care less.

a/n: damn. aint no one reading this shit.

[metalmonki]

Can I request a Eddie Diaz x reader you work together and maybe make it similar to the Maddie plot where you get kidnapped and really injured but he finds you

I hope this is what you were after! I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thanks for requesting it.

Through The Dark

Edmundo 'Eddie' Diaz X Reader

4.1k word count

Summary When your kidnapped from the 118 Eddie becomes a man with a mission and nothing will get in his way.

The day started like any other at the 118.

The sun was already beating down on the asphalt as Buck and Eddie moved around the fire truck, prepping equipment with the easy rhythm of long practice. Eddie was double-checking the hoses while Buck swung open compartments, tossing a football lightly between his hands during every free second.

Across the bay, Hen and Chimney leaned into the back of the ambulance, rattling through their stock. The familiar sound of supplies clinking together echoed off the walls: saline bags, bandages, splints. The station hummed with the usual lazy energy of a morning before the inevitable chaos hit.

But there was something… off.

It was Hen who noticed first, her hand freezing over the trauma kit.

"Hey," she said, turning to Chimney with a slight frown. "You seen Y/N?"

Chimney paused mid-count, brows furrowing. "No. I figured she was already here. Y/N’s usually first in."

Eddie, overhearing, called over his shoulder, "Maybe she’s just running late?"

Buck spun the football in his hands. "Late for Y/N?" he said. "Nah, that's like... against the laws of physics."

The team exchanged glances. A strange, unspoken tension crept into the air.

Hen wiped her hands on her cargo pants and grabbed her radio. "Y/N, you copy?" she said, pressing the button. Static answered.

"Maybe she’s in the showers?" Buck offered, already moving toward the living quarters. "I'll check."

The firehouse, usually alive with movement and banter, suddenly felt too big, too quiet. As Buck jogged down the hall, a gnawing sense of worry tightened in his chest.

Something wasn't right.

And they were about to find out just how wrong things really were.

Buck came jogging back into the bay, shaking his head. "Nothing. Showers are empty. Locker room too."

Hen pulled out her phone, scrolling quickly to Y/N’s contact. "I'm calling her," she said, pressing dial. They all stood still, waiting, listening — but no ringtone echoed through the station. No hurried footsteps. No laugh.

Just silence.

Eddie wiped his hands on a rag, but it didn’t help. His palms were already clammy. His heart hammered against his ribs in a way that had nothing to do with work.

Where are you, Y/N?

He knew he shouldn’t panic — not yet. But he couldn't help it. He had been in love with her since the day she showed up at the 118, nerves visible but determination stronger. And since then, he'd hidden it. Buried it under years of jokes, teasing, pretending he was just another teammate.

Now all that restraint was crumbling. Fast.

"I'm checking Bobby’s office," Eddie muttered, already moving.

Buck and Chim followed without hesitation, Hen right behind them.

Bobby looked up from behind his desk as they pushed in. "Something wrong?" he asked, concern already flickering across his face.

"Have you heard from Y/N today?" Eddie demanded, sharper than he intended. His fists clenched at his sides.

Bobby’s frown deepened. "No. I figured she was out back, doing equipment checks. She clocked in last night for the overnight. Why?"

Eddie felt his stomach drop. She had been here. Something had happened.

Buck glanced at him, unease written all over his face. "She wouldn't just leave without telling someone."

Hen crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "This isn’t right, Bobby. Y/N would never."

Bobby grabbed his radio, his whole posture shifting from casual to urgent. "Alright. No assumptions. Full sweep of the station first. If we don't find her, we escalate."

But Eddie wasn’t waiting. His mind was already spinning worst-case scenarios, panic clawing at his chest. He barely heard Bobby giving orders, barely registered Buck calling after him.

He had to find her. Because this wasn’t just about a missing teammate.

This was about the woman he loved — and he was terrified he might already be too late.

…

The search of the station turned up nothing. No signs of Y/N — no note, no discarded gear, no hint of where she might have gone.

Bobby ordered Buck and Eddie to check her apartment while he and the others coordinated with dispatch. It wasn’t standard protocol, but none of them cared. Y/N was family — and families didn't sit around and wait.

Buck drove, Eddie riding shotgun, his knee bouncing with restless energy the entire way. Neither of them spoke much. What was there to say?

When they pulled up outside her building, Eddie was already unbuckling, practically jumping out before Buck even fully parked.

"Maybe she overslept?" Buck offered weakly, jogging to keep up as Eddie charged up the front steps.

"Y/N doesn't oversleep," Eddie snapped, pounding on her door. "Y/N’s the one who wakes us up."

He knocked again, harder. "Y/N! It's Eddie and Buck! You in there?"

No answer.

Buck tried the doorknob — locked — then looked down. No packages, no keys, no sign she'd come back after her shift.

Eddie's stomach twisted painfully.

He was about to suggest they try the manager for a key when Buck’s phone buzzed. He yanked it out of his pocket.

"It’s Hen."

Buck answered on speaker. "Hen, tell me you found something."

"I did," she said quickly, breathless. "You need to get back here. Now."

Eddie stiffened. "What is it?" His voice was rough, desperate.

"I found Y/N’s radio." Hen’s words were grim. "Stuffed behind the lockers. Like someone was trying to hide it."

Buck cursed under his breath.

Eddie felt like the floor tilted beneath him. Y/N would never ditch her radio. It was her lifeline. She treated that thing like it was a part of her body.

"I’m grabbing it now," Hen said. "Get back here. Something’s wrong."

Buck was already moving before the call disconnected, sprinting back to the truck.

Eddie stayed frozen for a second longer, staring at Y/N’s door. Something had happened. Something bad.

And he was running out of time to save her.

Buck barely waited for Eddie to slam his door shut before peeling away from the curb, tires screeching against the asphalt. Eddie gripped the dashboard, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Neither of them spoke on the way back — didn’t need to. The air in the cab was thick with fear.

When they pulled into the station, Eddie was out before the truck fully stopped, sprinting through the bay doors.

Inside, it was a whole different scene.

Bobby was at the center of it all, his expression grim. Standing beside him, already in uniform and radiating authority, was Athena.

Eddie’s heart twisted tighter. If Bobby had called in Athena, this was no longer a missing teammate situation — this was an active investigation.

Athena spotted them and came over immediately. Her voice was calm but firm, the kind of calm that made Eddie even more nervous.

"Bobby filled me in," she said. "Hen found Y/N’s radio hidden behind the lockers. That’s enough for me to start a formal missing persons report."

"She wouldn’t leave without her radio," Eddie said hoarsely. He could hear the tremble in his own voice and hated it.

Athena’s gaze softened just slightly. "I know. Which means we treat this like foul play until we know otherwise."

Bobby stepped forward. "I’ve already locked down the station. No one in or out unless they’re part of the investigation. Dispatch is rerouting calls to the other houses."

Hen appeared beside them, holding a clear evidence bag with Y/N’s radio inside. The sight of it made Eddie’s stomach churn.

"There’s more," Hen said. "The clip on the radio is busted. Like someone ripped it off."

Athena nodded tightly. "Alright. First step — we canvas the station again, top to bottom. If Y/N left anything behind, a message, anything, we’ll find it."

"I want to help," Eddie said immediately, stepping closer, like he could physically force the universe to let him do something.

"You will," Athena promised. "But I need you sharp, Eddie. You, Buck, Hen, Chim — you know this station better than anyone. Look for anything out of place. Anything."

Eddie nodded, forcing himself to breathe.

Buck clapped a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "We'll find her," he said under his breath. "We have to."

Eddie didn’t trust himself to answer. Because in his gut, he already knew — this wasn’t going to be simple. Someone had taken Y/N.

And he was going to tear the city apart if he had to, just to bring her home.

The station, usually filled with chatter and movement, was dead silent except for the sound of footsteps and the low crackle of Athena’s radio as she coordinated with patrol units outside.

Eddie, Buck, Hen, and Chimney split up, each taking a section of the building.

Eddie’s heart was hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else. He moved methodically — locker rooms, rec room, the kitchen. Nothing looked out of place, but he knew better than to trust appearances.

He found himself drawn back toward the bunkroom, where they all slept on long shifts.

He pushed open the door carefully.

The beds were neatly made, just like always. Sunlight filtered through the blinds in dusty beams.

Eddie scanned the room, every instinct on edge.

And then — something.

Barely visible under the edge of Y/N’s bunk, tucked up near the wall — a scrap of dark fabric.

Eddie crouched, reaching for it carefully.

It was a piece of Y/N’s uniform shirt. Torn, like it had been caught on something. And just beside it — tiny scuff marks on the floor, like there had been a struggle, quickly hidden.

"Eddie!" Buck’s voice echoed from down the hall. "You find something?"

"Yeah," Eddie called back, voice tight.

Buck came running, and Eddie held up the torn fabric.

Buck’s face went pale. "That’s hers."

Eddie nodded grimly. "Someone grabbed her here."

He could barely get the words out. Rage and fear warred in his chest, almost choking him.

Buck looked around the bunkroom, his eyes narrowing. "If there was a fight, maybe she left something else behind. A clue. Something we missed."

Eddie crouched lower, studying the baseboards, the bedframe — anything.

That’s when he saw it — carved into the underside of the wooden bed slat, just barely scratched deep enough to be visible:

5A

Eddie stared at it, his mind racing.

"What is that?" Buck asked, crouching beside him.

"Room number?" Eddie guessed. "Locker? Storage?"

They both exchanged a look — knowing time was running out.

Without waiting for backup, Eddie bolted out of the bunkroom, Buck on his heels. They had a firehouse to tear apart — and a message from Y/N to decode.

And Eddie swore to himself — he wasn’t leaving without her.

Eddie didn’t stop moving as he charged back into the main bay, "5A" burning into his brain like a brand.

"Bobby!" he called, waving the others over.

Bobby, Athena, Hen, and Chim all converged immediately, tension crackling in the air.

"We found this," Eddie said, holding up the torn piece of Y/N’s uniform. "There were scuff marks near her bunk — and this—" he pointed to Buck, who pulled up a photo on his phone of the carving under the bed slat, "5A."

Athena leaned in, frowning hard. "5A? What's that mean?"

"I don't think it’s inside the station," Eddie said, breathing hard. "Y/N had seconds — if she could scratch that in, she must have known where she was being taken."

Bobby’s face was grim. "5A... it could be a vehicle. A plate number. A storage unit. An apartment."

Athena was already moving, radioing her team. "Start pulling street cam footage near the station. Look for anything suspicious around shift change. A van, a car, anything with a 5A on the plates."

"There's a side alley," Hen said suddenly, snapping her fingers. "By the maintenance exit. Cameras don’t reach it. If someone wanted to grab her without being seen..."

"They’d use that," Eddie finished, already sprinting toward the maintenance door.

They burst outside into the narrow alley. The sun beat down on the concrete, harsh and unrelenting.

It looked empty — no obvious signs of a struggle.

But Eddie’s instincts screamed at him to look closer.

Buck scanned the ground. "Wait—" he pointed. "Tire tracks. Fresh."

Athena crouched beside them, professional but clearly rattled. "Two sets. One small, one larger — like a truck or a van."

"And here," Eddie said, pointing to the brick wall. It was faint — almost nothing — but a set of scraped marks, like someone had been dragged, boots scraping desperately for purchase.

Buck swore under his breath.

Eddie turned a slow circle, trying to breathe through the rising panic. Y/N was gone. She was outside the station — taken.

But she hadn’t gone quietly. She’d fought. Left them clues. She believed they’d find her.

Eddie clenched his fists, every muscle in his body vibrating with rage and fear.

"We get that footage," Athena said, already dialing. "We pull traffic cams. Every feed in a five-block radius. We find that van."

"And when we do," Eddie said, voice low and shaking with the force of it, "we're bringing her home."

No one argued.

Because they all knew — nothing, nothing — would stop him.

Back inside the station, Athena coordinated with officers across the city, barking orders into her radio. Bobby paced like a caged animal. Hen and Chim ran through street cam feeds on a laptop, scrubbing footage frame by frame.

Eddie stood frozen in the middle of it all, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

It’s not enough. We’re too slow. She’s out there. Alone.

Buck noticed, stepping up beside him. "Hey. Breathe, man. Athena’s gonna find something."

But Eddie shook his head, frustration boiling over.

"I can’t just stand here!" he snapped. His voice echoed across the bay, making everyone glance up.

Athena shot him a sharp look — but Eddie didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just knowing Y/N was scared, hurting, maybe worse, while he stood here doing nothing.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pacing in a tight circle. Think, Diaz. THINK.

"5A." "5A." The number kept spinning in his head.

And then — like a fist to the gut — he remembered.

Weeks ago. Late-night conversation after a rough call. Y/N sitting across from him, laughing softly, looking tired but beautiful. Talking about how she hated her ex-boyfriend — the manipulative jerk she'd finally left for good.

"I used to live in Unit 5A of the building we were at," she had said, rolling her eyes. "Worst six months of my life."

Eddie froze, blood running cold.

"5A," he whispered.

Buck frowned. "What?"

"Her ex’s apartment," Eddie said hoarsely, turning to face him. "She lived there with him — Unit 5A."

Realization hit Buck like a freight train. "You think he took her?"

"I don’t think," Eddie growled. "I know."

Without waiting for permission, Eddie snatched the keys off the hook and headed for one of the station SUVs.

Buck was right behind him. "Let’s go."

Bobby started to call after them, but Athena caught his arm. "Let them," she said quietly. "They’re her best shot right now."

Buck drove while Eddie rattled off the address from memory — he'd made her laugh so hard that night mimicking her ex’s dramatic, whiny voice.

Now it felt like acid in his mouth.

As they weaved through traffic, Eddie’s hands shook in his lap, rage and terror fighting for dominance.

Hold on, Y/N, he thought fiercely. Hold on. I'm coming.

…

The city’s noise seemed miles away as Eddie and Buck raced toward the apartment building. Every second felt like an eternity. Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, and his hands trembled, his thoughts drowning in one singular focus: finding Y/N.

When they reached the building, Eddie was out of the SUV before it even stopped, running toward the front door with Buck on his heels.

They didn’t knock.

Eddie slammed his fist into the doorframe of the apartment before stepping inside, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

The man was on the couch, his scruffy face pale with panic as he scrambled to his feet. His hand reached toward his waistband.

"Where is she?" Eddie’s voice was a growl, low and dangerous. "Tell me where she is right now."

The man froze, eyes flicking nervously between Eddie and Buck. "I—I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, and in one fluid motion, he grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.

"Don’t lie to me," Eddie hissed. "She’s here. You took her."

Buck stepped up, placing a hand on Eddie’s arm. "Easy, man. Let’s just—"

"Shut up!" Eddie snapped, not looking at Buck. He wasn’t listening. He couldn’t, not with Y/N out there, alone, scared, hurt.

The man looked terrified but slowly backed up, hands raised in submission. "Okay, okay. She’s back there," he stammered, nodding toward a hallway at the back of the apartment. "I didn’t—didn’t. I just didn’t want her to leave”

Eddie didn’t wait for the rest of his confession. He was already pushing past him, running down the narrow hallway, his chest tight with fear.

When they reached the last room, the sight that met Eddie was enough to stop him cold.

Y/N was sitting against the wall, her legs drawn up to her chest. She looked so small. So fragile. Her clothes were torn and stained with blood. Her face was bruised, her lips cracked and swollen, one eye nearly swollen shut. Her arms were marked with deep red scratches and faint bruises. Every part of her seemed broken — physically, emotionally.

Eddie’s heart shattered at the sight of her, his whole body instinctively reaching for her. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice catching as he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands gently cupped her face, trembling with barely contained fear. "Oh, god, I thought—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused at first. But when she saw Eddie, a flicker of recognition passed through her, and her lips trembled as she whispered his name.

"Eddie..." She tried to speak, but her voice was weak, barely audible.

"Shh," Eddie breathed, gently pressing his forehead to hers. "You’re safe. We’re gonna get you out of here, I swear. I’m not leaving you."

She tried to push herself up, but the effort was too much. She collapsed back against the wall, exhaustion and pain too much for her to bear. "I—I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with pain. "I... I couldn’t... I fought... but—"

Eddie’s eyes were fierce, his grip tightening around her hand. "You did fight, Y/N. You’re here. You’re alive. You did everything you could, okay? You hear me?"

She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her battered cheek as she nodded weakly.

Buck appeared behind Eddie, stepping back into the room. "Athena’s on her way."

Eddie nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He pulled Y/N into his arms, careful of her bruised body, his heart breaking all over again at how fragile she felt in his hold.

"Hold on, Y/N," he whispered into her ear, his voice barely more than a hoarse breath. "We’re getting you out of here."

She leaned into him, but the pain was obvious in the way her body trembled. "Please," she whispered, barely audible. "Don’t leave me..."

Eddie held her tighter, desperate. "Never again. I’m not going anywhere without you."

Eddie carefully lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her close, and despite the pain she was in, she rested her head against his chest. Her breath was shallow, her body trembling from the shock, but Eddie held her like she was the most fragile thing in the world, moving quickly but gently.

Buck grabbed the man, now cowering on the floor, and yanked him up by the collar. "You’re not getting away with this," Buck growled, shoving the guy toward the front door. "The cops are on their way. They’ll deal with you."

Eddie didn’t look back. His focus was entirely on Y/N.

Her head rolled slightly to the side as she looked up at him, her gaze unfocused. "I didn’t think... I thought you wouldn’t find me... I didn’t know if I could hold on..."

"Hey," Eddie said softly, his voice breaking, a quiet desperation beneath his calm exterior. "You’re here. You’re alive. We found you." He started to walk out of the apartment, his heart a twisted knot of relief and guilt. She shouldn’t have gone through this. I should have protected her,

The moment they stepped outside, Buck turned to him. "We need to get her to the hospital, Eddie."

"I know," Eddie said, already heading for the SUV, his footsteps quick but careful as he moved through the dim hallway.

At the hospital, everything happened in a blur.

Nurses rushed to Y/N’s side, pulling her from Eddie’s arms and onto a gurney. The beeping of monitors, the urgency in their voices — all of it echoed in Eddie’s mind, muffled, as he stood frozen at the foot of the bed. His chest felt tight, like someone had shoved a weight into his lungs.

He watched them work on her — cleaning her cuts, bandaging the bruises, stabilizing her, but through it all, Eddie couldn’t shake the image of her battered, broken form sitting on the floor in that apartment. The pain she’d endured. The fear in her eyes when she first saw him.

The hospital staff finally left, giving them a moment of quiet. The room was dim, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Eddie took a seat beside her bed, his body tense but his hand gently brushing against her uninjured one.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "I’m so sorry. I should’ve—"

She turned her head slowly, eyes fluttering open. Her face was pale, but her lips curled into a weak, painful smile. "You found me," she murmured. "I knew you would."

Eddie’s throat tightened. He hated seeing her like this, hated knowing that she’d been through hell — and he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to stop it.

"I should’ve been there sooner," Eddie whispered, his hand gripping hers, as though holding on to her might make up for the time he lost.

"Hey," Y/N said softly, her voice barely audible. "You found me. That’s all that matters."

Eddie shook his head, a mixture of relief and guilt churning inside him. "It wasn’t enough, Y/N. You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve protected you—"

Y/N squeezed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her injuries. "Eddie, listen to me." Her voice was still shaky, but there was a determination in it that made his heart skip a beat. "You didn’t let me down. You never could. You kept looking for me, and that’s all that matters. You’re here. You saved me."

He stared at her for a long moment, his chest tight as he tried to swallow the emotions flooding him. Saved her. That was the word she used. But she had saved herself, too — she'd fought, she'd held on.

Eddie could feel it then — the crushing weight of everything he’d been keeping inside for so long. The way his heart seemed to crack open, pulling him closer to her, making him realize just how much she meant to him. He could never put it into words, not in this moment, but he knew.

He knew that he’d been in love with her for so long, it hurt.

Y/N slowly reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, her touch soft but grounding. "Eddie," she whispered, her voice still hoarse. "You don’t have to say anything. I’m here. You’re here. That’s enough."

Eddie nodded, his throat tight, his emotions threatening to spill over. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to hold her until this whole nightmare felt like it was finally over. But instead, he simply leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closing for a brief moment.

"I’m here," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "And I’m not going anywhere."

Hours passed, and Y/N was sedated, resting in a peaceful sleep under the watchful care of doctors and nurses. Eddie stayed by her side, not caring about the world outside the hospital room. Buck had stopped by, giving him a brief, understanding glance before leaving them alone.

But Eddie couldn’t leave. Not now. Not after everything she had been through.

And when she woke again, her hand reached out for him, her fingers trembling.

Eddie took her hand gently, pressing it to his lips. "I’m not leaving you," he promised again, and this time, he meant it in a way that felt deeper than before.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with exhaustion but trust. She smiled weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to."

And that was enough.

[otherone12]

Hi, I'm obsessed with the way you write your stories and I'd like to ask for a request, it's the first time I've done one but I love your stories. I'd like to ask you for one about basement gee x reader (the plot doesn't matter) but I'd like something smut (of course one where both are of legal age) but I'd like to see gerard as someone who is geeky and is in love (somewhat sickly) with the reader

I'm sorry if it's weird, and also English is not my first language so I'm sorry if the wording of the message is bad.

I’m Awkward, Not Dangerous!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

Hi!!! Omg, I'm glad you like my fics <3 !!! And also thanks for requesting!! I really loved the idea!! Well, I tried to make his nerdy side very visible, mainly by making him very weird in terms of social relationships and some geek references along in the story. Ngl, I had to write this one like three times, 'cause was never good enought, but I think it's nice now lol. I hope you like it! (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: It suppoused to be another day, but things turned a different when Gerard invite you to watch a movie in his basement, let's just say he REALLY likes you, and you discovered this in the creepy way possible. (I'm terrible at writing summaries)

- Word Count: 3.000

- Warnings: afab SMUT, awkward gerard.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

School sucks, our senior year was supposed to be a little funnier, right? Unfortunately, that's not what's happening, but it's infinitely better when they're with me.

Sometimes we spent entire periods outside the classroom, just chatting about anything and listening to our favorite bands, while we smoke behind the bleachers.

This was another one of those afternoons, where one less math lesson didn't make any difference, and it seemed much more interesting to hear Frank make jokes about someone's clothes. Followed by Mikey update us on the latest gigs in town, or Ray making insightful comments on every topic that comes up.

Sometimes, Gerard talks about the backstories of the heroes he created, so we spend hours thinking of outfits and some scenes that might be cool. Is really cute when he gets all excited talking about things he likes.

After a while, the conversation starts to wind down. Frank is scrolling through his phone, muttering something about needing to practice with his band. Mikey checks the time and mentions that his work shift was going to start. Ray says he has to study for some test he has tomorrow, and heads out first, leaving the rest of us behind with a lazy wave.

- Guess that’s it for me, folks. - Frank said, getting up - if I miss one more essay they'll look for another guitarist.

- I think I'll go too - Mikey stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his backpack, making his way to the video store - but I'll probably be home by 9pm… maybe later if Pete and I go drink something after the shift.

Within minutes, it’s just Gerard and I.

He’s sitting a little awkwardly, tucking strands of hair behind the ear, like he’s waiting for the right moment to say something. It’s sweet how shy he gets sometimes, especially when the others aren’t around to drown out the silence. There’s always something a little different about him when it’s just the two of us.

- So, uh…- He cleared his throat. - Do you... wanna come over? I was gonna watch that new horror movie I told you about. The really bad one with the cheesy practical effects…

His voice was low, and he blinked with his beautiful hazel eyes, pleading. After a few seconds, he gave a shy, hopeful smile.

- I mean, only if you’re not busy or anything…

- Nope, I’m totally free. - I smiled at him, excited to watch the movie with him.

The walk to Gerard’s house is filled with easy conversation. He talks about the movie, rambling about the director’s other films, his company was really nice, actually. Every now and then, my shoulder brushes his, and I swear I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Wasn’t something bothering, but it’s kinda… weird?

When we finally reach Gerard’s place, he fumbled with his keys at the front door, a little too eager.

- My parents aren’t home… - He said, being a bit surprised - Well, I'm gonna fix the things in my room in the basement… Can you wait a minute?

he scratched the back of his neck, apparently nervous, so I let out a smile in an attempt to comfort him. I understand that since we hadn't arranged it beforehand, he didn't have time to prepare or anything.

- Sure!

- I’ll be right back - Gerard rushed to his basement, and I stayed in the living room of Way’s house.

Looking around, I saw family pictures, some paints on the wall, books, a pretty carpet… It was a pretty house. Wasn’t long before Gerard returned from the basement, nodding and beckoning me to follow.

Wasn’t the first time I went to his basement, but I was never alone with him.

It’s cluttered but cozy, just like the other times: comics spread out on his bed, action figures on shelves, and posters of old movies plastered along the walls. His bed was covered with a batman sheet, and he gestures toward it with an awkward smile.

- Make yourself comfortable. - Again, he rushed away, going to the kitchen - I’ll grab drinks.

I sat down, noticing the little details scattered everywhere. He even has a stack of DVDs, just waiting to be watched. It’s easy to see how much of himself Gerard has poured into this space, and somehow, that makes it feel intimate.

He came back with two cans of soda, handing me one as he flops onto the bed beside me. His knee bumped into mine, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed play on the remote, the movie starting with a dramatic, over-the-top horror intro.

As the lights dim and the movie flickers to life, I notice Gerard sneaking a glance my way. It’s quick, like he’s checking to see if I’m still there or if I’ve evaporated into thin air. He shifted in his seat, awkwardly pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

I tried to focus on the screen, I really do, but out of nowhere, his hand brushes against mine. It was kind of an accidental touch, my heart raced, but I didn’t move it.

After some seconds of just the sound of the movie filling the room, Gerard cleaned his throat and took a deep breath, like he was trying to take courage to say something.

- Y’know… - I turned my attention to him - I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.

I Glance at him, and he’s looking at the TV like he’s afraid it might explode if he makes eye contact with me.

- Do what? - I asked, trying not to sound as jittery as I feel.

- Uh... spend time with just you. - He scratched the back of his neck, and his gaze moved from the tv to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I defaulted to my nervous habit, fiddling with my bracelet, twisting it around my wrist like it holds the answer to every awkward situation. Gerard noticed, of course, because apparently, he has a PhD in Me Studies.

- You don’t have to be nervous, sugar.

“Sugar”? He never called me that way before. But he kept talking, like it wasn’t a big deal. I did not protest, I actually kinda liked it.

- You always mess with that bracelet when you’re nervous. - He said like it was something obvious - It’s... kinda cute.

I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, only to realize: Gerard isn’t watching the movie. He’s watching me. And he’s terrible at being subtle about it.

Before I can process what’s happening, he slips his hand into mine, like a middle-schooler figuring out how to hold hands for the first time. His palm is warm, a little sweaty, okay, a lot of sweat, but weirdly... I didn’t mind.

It wasn't as if I didn't like him, maybe I really liked him too, I'd just never thought about it before. Back to the movie, my mind was filled with a million other things to think about, so I couldn't even focus on looking at the screen. My gaze traveled around the room, but something caught my eye: a small, familiar notebook lying half-tucked beneath a pile of DVDs on the coffee table really close to his bed.

The same notebook Gerard always carries with him at school, the one he’s always scribbling in during lunch or between classes. I couldn’t help myself to take advantage of Gerard's distraction, and I flipped it open. 

My eyes went wide and my heart skipped a beat when I saw what was inside that notebook. Pages and pages of photos of me. Some printed, others cut out from old Polaroids. All of them are candid shots, taken without my knowledge. There’s one of me smoking behind the bleachers, another of me laughing with Mikey, and several from school, walking to class, sitting at my desk, leaning against my locker.

Each one is accompanied by small, scribbled notes in Gerard’s messy handwriting. Things like “She looks so pretty here.” or “I wish this was just the two of us.” … Along with sketches of portraits, pieces of comics that meant something in our “relationship”. There were sketches of us together, drawn in different comic styles, one of us as Jedi, another as superheroes, and even one as cartoon vampires, all accompanied by little speech bubbles with inside jokes.

Every page flipped, I got even more shocked about the large amount of content he has there. Things from years ago, and the last things were from the last days.

- Hey... What are you looking at? - His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a note of panic creeping in.

I glance up to see Gerard frozen in place, his hazel eyes wide with fear as he notices the notebook in your hands.

- W-where did you…? - He mumbled, turning bright red, embarrassed - Uh... I can explain! Wait, no, I mean- don't freak out... It’s... okay, it looks bad, but it’s not that bad.

He let go from my hand and got up, rubbing his hands together nervously. he began to pant, and his countenance indicated that he was desperately looking for an excuse.

- Well, it is exactly what it looks like! - I yell, turning back to the notebook, still shocked, analyzing every page.

He turned around, rubbing one of his hands over his face in a messy motion. Before long, he began to walk around the room in circles, while his shaky voice continued to speak.

- Oh God, I’m gonna die. Yep. This is how I die. - he murmured to himself, before facing me again - Just bury me under these comics.

Before i could say anything, he blurts:

- Okay, look… it’s not like I’m a total creep, okay? I-I just... thought you looked cool... like, really cool, and, um - The words rushed out of his mouth, as if he had stopped thinking and was just throwing anything to ease the situation -… okay, I might have taken some pictures without asking… b-but it’s not like ‘weird’ weird! It’s... more... uh... admiration?

I couldn't hide my look of confusion. At the same time as I wanted to get out of there, I didn't want to. It was obviously strange, but at the same time it was adorable the way he noticed me. The things he wrote in that notebook said so much more than I could have imagined he felt. Not giving me time to think about what to say, he kept going.

- I thought, y'know, maybe if I... cataloged- no, wait, bad word… uh, recorded...? - He groans - I swear I sound less creepy in my head.

- Look, I was gonna tell you... - He insists, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. - I mean, not like this, obviously. 

He catched my confused expression and groans again.

-Ugh, you probably think I’m a total loser now.

The more he spoke, the less frightening the situation became and the cuter he seemed to me. So I stood up, in a failed attempt to calm him down, but the result was the complete opposite.

- Wait! Please don’t go. I-I know this is... a lot. But I promise I’m not some psycho. - He pauses, then adds, - Like, I’m awkward, not dangerous! 

I don't know where that feeling came from. Maybe it's always been there. I wanted to hug him, kiss him and tell him that it was fine, that I knew he wasn’t a psycho. 

 - Okay, okay! I know I’m weird, but... don’t leave me hanging here. Please. I really... like you. - the statement caught me off guard. it's not as if it wasn't obvious, but I wasn't prepared.  -  Like, more than I ever thought possible.

The way he looks at me, a perfect mix of nervous wreck and hopeful puppy is strangely endearing. Something about his awkward honesty makes it impossible to walk away. So I finally react, letting a grin escape from the corner of my lip. 

- You’re such a dork, Gee. - I chuckled, and his eyes opened wide.

- W-wait, does that mean…? - A confused happiness made Gerard freeze and look directly at me. 

-Yeah. - I approached him, smiling and rolling my eyes - I think I like you too, you idiot.

-Oh my God… - his hazel eyes glowed and a huge smile formed in his pink lips - this is like one of those rom-coms where the nerd actually wins?!

I shook my head, laughing at his words. He’s still red-faced and fumbling, but it’s clear now: he’s just a lovable, geeky mess who adores me in his own awkward way.

- No pressure or anything, but, uh... If we were in a romance movie, this would be the part where the two leads kiss.

I chuckled and my lips reached his. The warm sensation filled my body, the kiss was sloppy and desperate, felt like something he was holding for too long, something he couldn’t deal with anymore. His hands held my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He let out a soft moan and pulled back only to whisper:

- This feels like... you know... that scene in Return of the Jedi when-

- Gerard, - I interrupted, laughing. - Less Star Wars and more kissing, please.

- Right, yeah, sorry. - He turned bright red.

Gerard catched my lips again, deeper this time, with a bit more confidence. His hand slid to my waist, thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin, and his tongue explored my mouth, while he laid me down on his bed. His lips trailing down to my neck, scattering kisses that made my whole body buzz.

-You smell amazing. Like... that forest level in that one game. You know, the one where…

He trailed off, realizing how silly it sounded, but the look on his face was too earnest to be embarrassed.

- You are such a dork. - I laughed again, running my fingers through his messy hair. 

- Yeah, but I’m your dork, - he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone.

His touch was gentle but hungry, as if each kiss, each brush of his fingers, was an apology for all the moments he’d spent longing for this. 

When he slid his hands under my shirt, he paused, looking at me with wide, nervous eyes. 

- Is this... okay? - he asked, shyly. The insecurity in his tone of voice was adorable, no more so than the sparkle in his eyes as he saw me give him a nod, lifting my arms so he could pull the shirt over my head. His gaze lingered on me, admiration glowing in his eyes. - Wow... You’re so -

- Gerard.-  I touched his face, guiding him back down for another kiss. - You’re doing fine.

He smiled, clearly relieved, and kissed me again, this time more eagerly. His hands, still trembling slightly, found their way to the button of my jeans. He fumbled for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. 

Once my jeans were off, he took a moment to just look at me, his hands resting on my hips as if grounding himself. 

- I don’t want to mess this up -  he whispered. 

- You’re not messing anything up, Gee..- i calmed him, brushing a thumb over his flushed cheek - Just... keep going

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed me again, his hands moving with a little more certainty now, sliding beneath my bra to touch bare skin. I gasped, arching into his touch, and he let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

When he finally got out of his clothes, struggling with his belt in the process,

 -  Stupid thing… -  he muttered  flustered and I couldn't stop smiling. 

He was trying so hard, and there was something endearing about how eager yet unsure he was.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring the moment as his hands trailed down to my thighs, spreading them gently. His boxers were the last to go, and when I felt him against me, the heat between us became impossible to ignore.

- I’ve dreamed about this, - Gerard admitted breathlessly, kissing the side of my neck. - About you... For so long.

I felt my body react to him instinctively, desire building with every brush of his skin against mine. When he paused, hovering just at the edge, his eyes searched mine one last time.

- Is this okay? -  he whispered, his voice low and full of both need and vulnerability.

- Yes,-  I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. - I want this, Gee.

And then, with a slow, careful thrust, his cock was inside me. I gasped, gripping his hair as my body adjusted to the sensation. The burn was sweet and overwhelming.

He started moving, hesitant at first, like he was still learning how to sync with me. But every time I moaned his name, he seemed to gain a little more confidence, his rhythm becoming more certain, more desperate.

The heat between us grew, the room filled with soft gasps and whispered encouragement. His hands roamed my body, one settling on my waist, the other cradling my face as if I were something precious. As deeper he was coming I felt the tension coil in my stomach, tighter and tighter, until I was teetering right on the edge. 

- I’m close…

- Do it, sugar, - he panted, his voice thick with need. - Cum for me.

With a final thrust, the pleasure crashed over me like a wave. I clenched around him, clinging to him, nails digging into his back as I moaned his name, lost in the intensity of it.

Gerard groaned, his movements faltering as he reached his own release. The warmth of the ropes of his cum filling me up pushed me deeper into my own bliss, and we stayed like that, tangled together, catching our breath.

He pressed a lazy kiss to my shoulder, his body still trembling slightly. 

- Wow… -  he whispered, sounding both dazed and amazed. - That was... better than any dream I’ve ever had.

I laughed softly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. 

- Yeah. Way better.

___________________________________________

~ sooo, that's it! Let me know if you liked! :)

[cheriladycl01]

hiya could you maybe write a Fernando x Reader one shot, where something happens between the two of them they get into a fight and Fernando gives the reader the silent treatment refuses to talk to them. Goes on for a few days and finally the reader cracks and is really upset and cries in front of Nando reader thinks he doesn’t love her anymore etc.. and they make up in the end.. as much as I want it angsty I do love the fluff in the end

The Silent Treatment - Fernando x Reader

Plot: You and Fernando get into a rare fight. It’s a big one though and you say something you didn’t really mean making Fernando give you the pouty silent treatment …

You and Fernando were like salt and pepper and butter and bread. You rarely argued and always got alone, if you did argue you both had effortless communication skills meaning that whatever happened was resolved pretty quickly.

But after a not so good race weekend for Fernando that you couldn't attend because you were halfway across the world singing for a collab bran deal you were doing and a stressful weekend for you creating content for this brand deal you were exhausted when you got him straight from the plane Monday night.

"Hey" you smile tiredly at Fernando who is sat on the sofa. You're so sleepy you don't even notice his sour look.

"What is this?" he demands looking around the house and you look over to him confused at his raised voice.

"What?" you ask and he gestures to the house, you look around and you could tell it was a little disorganized and messy than it usually was but not dirty or unclean.

"Sorry honey, but we've both been extremely busy this weekend! I left only a few hours after you. You came back before me" you giggle thinking he wasn't actually mad, but the minute he stood up starting to do everything himself in an overly aggressive way had you at a stand still. Like a deer caught in headlights. He'd never acted like this before. It must have been a really bad weekend.

"Baby, why don't you sit down. We're both tired and I can just do it tomorrow while you are on the sim!" you exclaim coming closer to him to try and pull his arm away from the clothes hamper he was currently putting stuff into.

"God, why wasn't any of this done before you left?" he asks with almost a glare and you are in shock.

You and Fernando never expected anything from one another, whether it was Sex, Chores, Help... nothing was expected at all. So why was he demanding this should have been done by you before you left.

"I guess I was just busy" you explain.

"Busy more like lazy" he mutters, which was true sometimes you did have a tendency to have home days off where you didn't do any chores or shopping and would just laze about, but every needed those kind of days... right?

"Alright says Mr Crash on turn 1, maybe you should be focusing more on racing than bothering me about stupid little things and you might actually win again!" you say in the heat of the moment.

You regret it almost straight away blubbering after trying to back track what you said but it had already all come out.

"Nando, I- I didn't mean that I'm so so sorry!" you exclaim, but he just walks off going into the spare bedroom shutting and locking the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes as what you said really settles in. You start to make dinner for the both of you with scraps from the cupboards and whatever was in-date in the fridge. It ended up just a simple pasta and home made garlic bread.

"Nando?" you knock on the door to the guest bedroom hoping he might come out for some food. When he doesn't after a few minutes you sigh going back to the kitchen. You wrap up his food with some clingfilm, leaving it out on the plate to cool down while you go round the house doing all the bits that hadn't been done while you and Fernando hadn't been here.

They were just little bits, like the clothes and drying up and putting the blankets from the sofa away in their basket, hoovering and dusting the stairs. Small little jobs that weren't taking you long.

The more you thought about it, the worse you felt. You could have just done these jobs before you left it wouldn't have been difficult and it wouldn't have taken much time. You were just very stressed over the brand deal.

You went to bed feeling incredibly guilty. You tossed and turned the whole night not being able to sleep with your husband not cuddled up in the bed with you.

You woke up the next day, going straight to the shower trying to wash away all your emotions from the previous night ready to start on a clean slate with Fernando.

However, what you didn't expect was Fernando to be waiting outside the ensuite for you.

"Buenos Dias!" you smile at him, but he just brushes past you, ignoring your morning greeting to him.

And that's how it went for the rest of the day. He would just leave the house without saying anything, coming back sweaty and with his trainer. He would refuse to eat the food and drinks you made for him, making you have to double up whatever you made for lunch as your dinner so the food didn't go to waste.

You tried at ever opportune moment to try and talk to him but he kept on ignoring you. It was stressing you out, all of this silent treatment. Was he really being this petty.

But once it got to day 3 you'd had enough. You were practically pulling your hair out at the fact the he had said nothing. You were doubting yourself wondering if you were really that horrible of a person and that Fernando no longer loved you.

You were laying in bed when he came home, sobbing into the pillow that still faintly smelt like him despite him not having been in the bed for the last few days.

Fernando was shocked to not see you, for the last few days you'd practically been running yourself raw trying to get himself to talk whilst cleaning then house. You'd even cancelled a few job opportunities that had come your way, feeling as though even more distance between the pair of you would be awful.

Now Fernando was the one to feel bad, he knew he was being petty by not talking to you, and he agreed with himself that he over-reacted when it came to your arrival home. But at the same time what you said to him, really really fucking hurt.

He knocked on the door and your sobs turned into small hiccups as you attempted to calm your breathing down.

"Yeah?" you ask, but it sounds a little chocked up to Fernando who feels just awful.

"Mi Amore!" he says as he pushes open the door a little. You fully sit up on the bed, red puffy eyes and tear stains down your cheeks making him sigh.

He didn't mean to make you this upset.

"I'm sorry Nando, I really didn't mean it I just was so confused why you were so angry with me and then you called me lazy which I know i can be but you've never said it as more than a joke and ..." you ramble until he comes forward pulling you into a sweet and short kiss.

"I'm the one that should be sorry, I didn't mean to call you lazy. I was just exhausted after an awful weekend and it didn't help that you were absent for it... i just felt useless" he explains and you nod.

"Please can we go back to talking things out? I don't like it when you freeze me out! It feels awful. I thought ... you didn't love me anymore and were looking into a divorce" you almost whimper at the thought of Fernando cutting ties with you in such a legal fashion. You genuinely thought that would break your heart.

"I'd never leave you mi amore! You are without a doubt the best thing in my life!" he exclaims pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head.

"I love you so so much! I'll talk to you next time okay? I promise" he sighs kissing all over your face, knowing you'd both be working overtime for the next few weeks, apologizing to one another.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[tusk-rumours]

walking funny (part 2) ‧͙⁺* — sam winchester x reader

part 2 precedes part 1 so it definitely can be read first!

word count: 3.6k

summary: sam makes sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

warnings: nsfw 18+!!! completely porn with no plot whatsoever. roughdom! sam, oral f!receiving, bondage, tears, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, p in v, condescending dirty talk, gn! but some good girls here and there

a/n: so yes it has been two months since i posted part 1 and I'm finally getting around to this, which only exists because of daisys request literally from when i posted it so thank you for waiting, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this complete filth so i hope you enjoy @saltcxrcle <33

is putting in the writing from the first fic considered lazy? but I had to include that part. so. also this is the filthiest thing i have ever posted or even written. and i have my reasons for writing this instead of my other work. (I'm writing it slowly and i got horny motivated to write this from unknown rationale)

the chunk in italics is from part 1!! read part 1 here!

The door clicks shut with the force of your back shoved against it.

He’s on you again, fast, his tongue making contact first against your kiss-swollen lips, prying them open. His hands are so tight around your waist, squeezing your flesh. He’s feeling up and down your sides, all while his teeth are nipping at your lips, his tongue delving deep into your mouth.

The air between you is already hot, your body burning beneath his touch. You both practically stumbled through the hallways of the bunker to get to your room. Sam just had this feral look in his eyes the whole night, one that only you would notice. Hot and consuming when you glanced his way. You’d barely had time to be together the past two weeks, with you both being separated by state borders on a hunt. You knew that Sam was just aching to have you.

He groans a little against your open mouth, pushing you into the hardness of the door firmly. It’s when he starts making his way down your neck that your knees buckle, your fingers grasping around his biceps for stability, although your fingers can barely wrap around them.

His hands move fast as he’s pulling up your shirt, revealing the white bra he loves on you. It’s not overly special lingerie, but it’s one of his favourites, which never seems to falter, although you wear it often. It’s lacy, with a pretty cut on the edges.

He leans in and presses firm kisses to each exposed part of your boobs that are pushed together, licking at your cleavage. You whine, grasping onto his hair. It’s not even an overly sensitive part, and it’s just so good. Soon after, he’s biting the edge of your bra, dragging his mouth down your chest, your stomach, further.

Further until he’s hastily fiddling with the fastenings of your jeans. You lean your head back against the door with a little thud, your eyes closed and lips curving into a smile at the thought of what he’s gonna do to you.

He pulls them down fast, the rough texture of the denim burning against your skin a little. He’s gripping your hips hard, pushing your ass back into the solid door. His palms are firm and cutting, his mouth wasting no time finding its destination until his hot breath is against your cotton-covered pussy, gripping your thigh and chucking your leg over his shoulder.

He’s not soft about it. Most times he’ll get on his knees slowly, looking at you, whimpering with those big puppy dog eyes, begging to taste you. Usually you’d be pulling at his hair as he whines into your folds, licking at you desperately.

But now, now he licks at the fabric of your underwear firmly, making you hiss between your teeth. His thumbs digging into your hips is almost painful, but the way you can feel your pussy getting even wetter against his hot mouth overrides that.

“Fuck,” He breathes into your cunt. It’s the first thing either of you have said since stumbling in here.

His fingers fumble for your panties, tugging at them quickly until your pretty folds are bare for his gaze. Glistening and oh so wet.

The cry you let out is too loud to let out right at the door, but god, the feeling of his tongue delving straight into your pussy is too goddamn good.

Your hand immediately instinctively goes to his hair, needing something to hold, something to ground yourself with. But Sam bats it away.

“Don’t,” Is all he says. It cracks your heart a little, but you know it’s not mean. Never mean. He just wants to drive you insane.

You whine pathetically, your hands flailing for something to grab that’s not Sam, but you can only resort to clawing at the door and your own skin in your lust-filled haze, biting your lip hard. You shudder hard when his lips close around your clit, sucking hard. You can’t stop the way your teeth free your lip, and the moan that comes from it. His tongue is still moving as your sensitivity builds, that fluttering feeling coming close—

“Sammy, ‘m close,” You breathe. He knows, of course he does. You don’t have to tell him. But he just reinstates his tight hold, his tongue and lips moving faster, nose nudging your clit as his tongue slides deep, and you can’t hold back. You come with a loud cry, your knee that's holding you up buckling. There’s nail marks in your stomach where your hand gripped tight. You look down at Sam through your hair in your face, and fuck.

His mouth is still at your cunt, his face coated in your slick. Beautifully sinful.

“Bed,” He breathes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

He’s been biting you all over for fucking forever now.

You’re begging at this point.

“Please Sammy, just fuck me, wha—”

“Shh,” He hushes into your inner bicep, nipping hard. “Wait.”

He’s said ‘wait’ about seven times now.

He’s got you sprawled out on your back, his now bare body atop yours, doing nothing but biting and sucking and kissing everywhere between murmurs of possessiveness, obviously wanting to leave marks. His mouth is fierce and relentless, moving with serious intent. Your cunt is throbbing again, and you squirm, needing something more.

“Sammy—”

“Fine, fine. God,” He’s acting like he’s not enjoying every second of your pouty neediness and isn’t dying for something more either. He sits up a little, grabbing your hip and manhandling you, turning you onto your stomach. Your breath hitches at the position, and you feel Sams hands on your back, feeling up and down.

Then they move to your ass, squeezing it hard. You moan into where your cheek is smushed against the pillow, arching into his touch a little. He laughs, his forearm sliding underneath your hips, hoisting you up onto your knees, your ass up and bared to him.

Your breath catches, your mouth dry. You don’t have anything to say.

“So good, baby..” He muses, his free hand roaming along your arched back, down to your ass, to your slick folds. Two fingers immediately find your entrance, pushing in and stretching you. You cry out at the intrusion, drool already starting to pool onto the pillow. He pushes his fingers deep, motioning his fingers in ways to stretch you out good.

“Ah, that good honey? Sure feels good to me, pretty cunt around my fingers..” His absent-minded dirty talk makes you all the more aroused, your eyes fluttering. It’s not all that long before he’s got you pulsing hard around his fingers, your orgasm close. And that’s when he slips his fingers out. You whine, but you quickly shut up when you see what he’s presented before you as he leans close to your back.

Wet fingers, hovering right before your lips. You waste absolutely no time in leaning in and closing your lips around them, sucking feverishly.

“Dirty girl,” Sam murmurs, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. You just hum, your eyes shut in bliss as you suck, your tongue licking against the pads of his fingers.

Sam rights himself up again, and you feel the tip of his cock slide through your folds to your stretched entrance. Your mouth slackens a bit around his fingers as he slides into you, relentlessly pushing in one clean movement. Your teeth graze his knuckles a little, but with a slap to your ass and his tight grip on your hip you’re back at it, sucking eagerly.

“Good, baby. You good?” He takes your pleased hum and nod as a yes, then he’s retracting down to the tip, before stuffing you full again. He sets a fast pace, his hips slamming into your ass over and over again.

“Shit, such a fucking tight cunt… and tight mouth, look at you sucking away there, huh baby? Like sucking my fingers, yeah?”

You moan at his filthy mouth, feeling so good at the way he’s stuffing you so well, making you feel so full.

“s’ full,” You try to say, but it comes out as muffled, whiny blabber around his fingers.

“Full, huh? I’ll keep you full of me, baby. So full you’ll feel me there tomorrow,” The next thrust is deeper, harsher, and the next is the same. And the next. You feel your orgasm coming close, your drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down your chin and his knuckles, pooling onto the pillow.

You can’t even care, because you can feel him twitching, you can feel yourself fluttering, and—

“Oh, shit!” Sam says loudly, a heavy breath escaping his lungs as his hips slap your ass again, this time his warm cum accompanying it. You moan loud into the mess of spit, releasing all over his cock deliciously.

He leans in close, licking a bit of spit from the side of your mouth before he retracts his fingers from your mouth. You whine, bordering on tears at how much the loss of sucking on his fingers has on you. Sam notices.

“Aw, honey, need my fingers stuffing that mouth of yours so bad, hm?” He presses the pads of his fingers to your lips again, and you eagerly make to take them again, but he pulls them away, and you instinctively chase after them pathetically. Sam chuckles, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into your marked-up hip.

“Oh, baby,” His thumb prods your chin. “Don’t be so sad now. ‘s okay,” He ends his sentence a little gentler, because he’s always there to soothe you. It’s in his nature.

“My messy girl,” He chuckles once, taking in the way your face, hair and pillow are covered in your drool.

He carefully moves off of you, and you’re quick to follow, waiting for instruction.

“Up here, pretty baby,” He pats his lap as he sits against the headboard. You immediately scramble forward to straddle his thighs. Sam smiles, his fingers moving to some hair stuck on your forehead. You look a mess. A pretty, fucked out mess. Drool all over your cheeks and chin, your hair stuck to it. Undeniably one of his favourite looks of yours.

When he’d undressed earlier, he’d purposefully left his belt hanging over the bedpost. He’d given you a sneaky look when he did it, and you were just waiting for when it was gonna come into play. He slips it off the post now, looking up at the rail just above his head as he threads it through.

“Hold up your wrists.” His voice is rough yet still warm, and you oblige. You’ve never ridden him while restrained before.

You guys are no strangers to bondage; you have lots of fun tying each other up, even though it took a while for Sam to get comfortable with being restrained. But it’s you. He’ll tie every part of him up and make himself utterly defenceless for pleasure from you.

He binds your wrists to the bedposts carefully, threading it through the hole and looping them tight.

“That okay?” He asks, genuine eyes searching yours. A little pain for pleasure is good, but he never wants to really hurt you. Not when so many others do it so often.

“Mhm. Perfect,” You reply quietly, tugging on them just a bit to test them.

Sam smiles back at you, his expression falling back into a trance of pure lust as his hands roam down to steady your hips.

“Show me what you can do.” He’s giving you a bit of command here, but his gaze tells you that he’s expectant. Wants to watch you as you ride submissively.

He pats your hip as a signal to get started, and you rise up, aligning yourself with his cock. It’s already more difficult, not being able to steady your weight on Sams big shoulders. But Sam assists, and you’re sinking down onto his thick cock, filling you again.

His gaze burns through you, his eye-line tilted down to where you both connect. Watching the way he disappears into your cunt.

You throw your head back, moving and grinding your hips hard. You want to give him everything, please him. You know you’re not the one in control here, even if you are on top.

“So fucking good, baby. Keep going,”

You rock your hips a little harder, moving up and down with each glide. You rest your head on your arm, focusing hard on your work. You’ve got Sam panting hard, his eyes shut in ecstasy. You’re showing him what you can do, alright. You ride him hard, sweet and sultry in the way that he likes. You know damn well how to use your hips.

Your moans turn pornographically high pitched, mixing with Sams moans as you both climb close to release. You and Sam come together more often than not. It’s the best feeling in the world. So in tune with each other's bodies that neither of you really have to ask if the other’s close, and you usually come together. Like right now. Hitting a blissful high and coming back down together.

When you go to get off his length, his grip on your hips tugs you back down.

“Again, baby.”

“Sammy I don’t think I can—”

“Yes you can. C’mon, you’re my good girl, aren’t you? My pretty baby? Too talented for just one,”

God, the way he uses those sweet names. Of course he’s gonna get you with that.

“Oh, Sam,” You whine under your breath, a small whimper leaving your lips. The way he thrusts his hips up to you gets you moaning again.

You resume again, although it’s much more sensitive this time. You try hard, you really do, but holy shit, you’re vulnerable. And with the sensitivity and this orgasm taking longer to reach, you feel tears pricking at your eyes, and your efforts weaken, getting tired. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You want to get there so bad, and you just feel so weak.

He decides to grant you some mercy, getting a better grip on your hips as he starts to bounce you himself, muscles flexing. Your breath catches and you moan, your body going slack like a ragdoll in his lap, letting him drag you up and down his cock. The sensations are so overwhelming, yet so good, that you’re crying, hot tears dribbling down your cheeks, into your hair and already wet chin.

Sam’s efforts are much more effective, and you get that pulsing feeling again, squeezing his shaft tight, as blissful warmth tingles through your body, Sam’s release filling you up, his moans filling your ears. You pant into each other's breaths.

He leans in, kissing your wet cheeks, then your mouth.

“Oh, pretty darling. ‘m not done with you yet,”

“Don’t be, please—, but— ”

“One more. Okay?”

You let out a shaky breath and nod. Fuck. How have you had four orgasms and still want more? Want so much more? It’s not like Sam doesn’t satisfy you. Cause he does, a little too well. You’re just insatiably horny tonight. And so is he.

His fingers work at the belt, your wrists a little red as they’re freed. You roll them out, however, you don’t get such freedom for long as he rolls you both over onto your back, grabbing hold of your wrists in one hand.

He raises his brows in a silent question, holding your wrists up. Honestly, you can’t say no to being tied up again when you’re both like this.

“So good, baby. Letting me do whatever I want to you tonight, huh? Do anything to get fucked by me, won’t you?” He teases as he loops up the belt again tightly.

You nod dumbly. “Mhm, anything, Sammy, anything—”

He smiles, his fingers finding your clit. Your body has a shuddering reaction, the sensation equally sore and sensitive. You hiss, wanting more, but there’s pain in the pleasure, and you want his comfort, want to hold him close and pull him in for kisses. You pull against the belt, needing his closeness. Sam notices, of course, but he reads your body language better than a simple sentence. If you truly wanted out, he’d know.

So he proceeds to hook his hands underneath your knees, hoisting your legs up so your calves rest on either one of his shoulders. You're both so hot, your bodies slick with sweat from so much exertion, and you were already tired enough from riding him for so long, but neither of you are done yet.

His presence is heavy and lustful over you, his fingers pushing back the hair that sticks to your forehead as his hand dips down to angle his hardened cock. Both of you and the sheets are a mess of each other, your thighs and outside of your pussy slick from his saliva and when he came there.

"Sammy, I don't—" You whine, your hands squirming against the belt where they're tied in against the bedpost, wanting to grasp onto any part of him you can reach.

"Shh, c'mon, baby, I know. Just one more, yeah? I know you've got it." He coos, coaxing you over with a little tease of his tip to your clit, triggering your eyes to roll back.

"Sammy, I wanna— hold you, please," You beg, desperate whines leaving your lips.*

"Oh, baby," He says condescendingly, a devilish smirk playing on his reddened lips.

"I think your hands are just fine there. Look good wrapped around my belt, yeah? Or would you prefer it between your teeth?"

His thumb comes up to your bottom lip as he speaks, pushing against your parted lips teasingly. He swipes a bit of spit there down your chin, and with a grin, he pushes his cock into your already abused hole, yet still giving you that delicious stretch nonetheless.

He wastes no time in setting a bruising pace, a hand sliding up your arm and gripping the skin underneath the belt harshly as he thrusts in and out of you.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes again from how relentless he's being, tucking your head to the side into your arm as the hot tears slide down your already burning red cheeks. You sob, and Sam moves his other hand that dug into your knee to grip the side of your head.

"Aw, honey, can't take my cock anymore huh? Maybe I just gotta lower your dose," He teases. He knows if he was seriously hurting you or making you uncomfortable you'd tell him to stop, you both communicate and trust each other enough to know that.

His teasing words only make you moan even more, shaking your head rapidly.

"No, no! Sammy please—"

"My baby's so desperate, huh? I'll give you more, baby, c'mon,"

And then he's sliding his arm under your hips, lifting them at an angle and pounding into you deeper and so hard you cry harder, a mess of tears and sobs until you're shaking, your pussy fluttering hard as you feel him cum roughly, his dick twitching inside of you as warmth shoots onto your walls deliciously. He groans, loud, his pace not letting up as he continues to pound into you. Your high-pitched cries are obscene, but you can't help it, your orgasm crashing over you in pleasurable waves, so intense that your nails digging into his skin could almost draw blood.

"Sa— ah— mm—... Sam!" Your words are shaky and broken, your high still hitting you hard, and you're so so sensitive now, but he's still not letting up. Pushing you through the mattress so hard there has to be a dent forming.

Your tears are messy on your neck and chin now, the overstimulation piled on with everything else beforehand just too much. Your legs are trembling hard, and you’d feel bad for the way your knees keep knocking into his temples if you weren’t such a mess.

“I can’t, ah— no more, please—” You’d never thought there’d be a day where you’d wind up pleading Sam to stop, but with everything, and orgasm after orgasm, you just need a breather.

Sam immediately relents at that, his movements stopping, his softening cock still inside you, knowing that the slide out will be harsh.

“’Course, ‘m sorry baby. Too much?”

“Too much, t—“

He nods, giving you a moment before slipping out you slowly, gently lowering your legs down off his shoulders.

“You wanna call it a night? Or just take a break?” He says softly, his fingertips tracing your knee.

You take a long, deep breath. Five orgasms. A lot, but not even your record. You wipe your wet cheeks on your biceps, wiggling your wrists a little. And you know you haven’t had enough, your libido is insanely too high. You want it. You plan on taking his cock deep all night.

“Give me five minutes. And some water.”

taglist <3 : @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @mxilkyways @saltcxrcle @blossomingorchids

i love you tayla (my sexy exclusive proof reader) mention as always

[complete-clownery]

Hahaha okay rant about this amazing fanfic (you probably heard of this one already but still)

So whenever it comes to explaining and writing under my posts I just get lazy but I need to push through this cuz I need to talk

So the fanarts were made for the lmk fanfiction sunbreak, that a lot of you (probably mostly shadowpeach shippers) had read, and it is amazing, I read trough it as fast as my brain let me and as you can see it has pleasantly scratched my brain so much so that I even (attempted) to make fanart for it

Ngl if I wasn't a major pussy I would try to illustrate the whole thing or make covers for each chapter but Im unable to work on something more than 2 hours and I would want those to look good, but good looking art (if I don't mess up) takes 6 hours ughh--- annoying much---

Anyways I'm not good with literature but man is this fix a masterpiece *chefs kiss* its everything its amazing, I was unable to put it down once I started it

Okay i dont think I have the brain capacity to explain how much I worship the writer of this masterpiece @ladygreenfrisbee , so i'm just going to talk about the drawings a tad

So first picture with Red Son and MK its sort of like an au in the fic where the whole lbd plot is somehow nonexistent and after Macaque gets to his sisters domain they settle down and raise the kids together without much of an issue aside from assassinations keep happening and trying not to get in trouble with the heavens

Id like to think that Gongzhu still wouldn't let the court tailors to put any form of red or gold on MKs outfits and only allowed the yellow after when MK was old enough to declare that yellow was his favorite color, but even now she would insist on some form of purple and shadow motives to let others know who the mother is

We also got baby MK and toddler Red Son and sassy LIF and Mac

Third pic with the lion: I don't know what it was or why but I just love general Song so much--- he's a major dickhead but sgvshshsevkdididhr (actually I kinda love all the original characters in this one, from the generals to the old lady in the beginning of the book, (gosh I also wanna draw some scenes from those chapters I loved how Mac and she interacted hshsjsj))

so chapter 34 was probably my favorite so far I re read it about two more times cuz it was amazing to see Macaque being the schemer he is and try to piss of Song lol

Last picture: its a sketch/a wip or whatever (probably not going to finish it but im still putting it there cuz its somewhat decent looking)

Its the part where Wukong remembered of Macaque finally finding him and asking for him to come back to flower fruit mountain.

I tried to make Macaque look more unhinged on this one but since I didn't finish it I dont think its that noticable so fuck that but I also gave him a halo like the saints to symbolise his suffering and what not (thought it looked cool and fitting think whatever you want about it lol)

And that all ((((hollly mother))))

If you read this trough, thank you and congrats👏👏

[barleyo]

Girlfailure.

Older BF! Toji X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i hate toji sm, why did i write this :( anyways, to any of you who like this sick fucker, i hope this does him justice

Tags: pwp/some plot, age gap, cunnilingus, fingering, scumbag toji, overly cheesy pet names, etc.

Wordcount: 1.2k

When you came home for spring break, the only two things you could think of were one, how many hours would you have to work to afford the upcoming semester, and two, how badly did you just fail all of your midterms?

The answers to those questions became extremely clear as you crunched the numbers in your head. Sitting at eleven-fifty an hour for eight hours a day, five days a week, you'd just barely scrape by with tuition and textbooks. And as far as midterms went, shit, at least you tried. 

If you were more delusional, you'd say your professors had it out for you, but ever the realist, you knew you simply fucked yourself over this time. Hours of studying in the library, and for what? A fourty-two in calc and a fifty-point-something that your organic chem professor didn't even have the decency to round up? 

Stepping into your boyfriend's— was that what he was?— apartment, you felt the desperate craving for a square root curve on those exams, and dick. Always dick. 

All a financially irresponsible, deadbeat father of an older man could offer a "bright" girl like you was just that. Lots of it too, seeing as how you stuck by Toji. 

He was nice enough to invite you to stay at his place over spring break, for the purposes of having a warm cunt nearby at all hours, and to get you out of the shitty dorm room you stayed in any other night. 

"Oh, smart girl's back," Toji said, lazily murmuring at you from his couch. "Had a nice drive?"

You dropped your luggage at his door for him to bring to his bedroom later. His muscles weren't just for show, so you reckoned he could get off of his fine ass and put his thick arms to work. 

"No." Tired feet shuffled your body over, plopping you over his lap, face down. "Well, yeah, the drive was fine. I just don't feel like much of a smart girl."

He snorted indifferently, hardly registering your words as his greedy hand rested over your ass.

"Teacher's grading you too hard, or are y'just gettin' lazy on me?"

"Tch. Did you even graduate, asshole?" You pushed yourself up onto your elbows. "What do you know, anyways?"

Unimpressed, Toji yanked a bit of your hair. Gentle, but enough to force you to look at him. 

"Don't be a little shit. I did, and even if I didn't, it's the real-life stuff that matters. Bein' a book nerd never did anyone any good." He dropped your hair. "Street smarts and all that."

Street smarts. Jesus, what a joke. You cringed internally, remembering how the soon-to-be dropouts from last semester would claim that's what they had. All well and good to be street smart, you thought, seeing as the path you were going down would probably put you on the street. 

This was just the beginning. Whether you were overthinking or not, you were sure that if you didn't pull through for finals, you'd end up failing out. Maybe you were pretty enough to strip. Could be a back up plan, if only you could lose the "Freshman Fifteen" you quickly gained on campus, compliments of the stress eating and cheap, sugary energy drinks you found yourself addicted to. 

"I'm gonna fail out," you said suddenly, nibbling your bottom lip. "I don't know why I thought I could 'do' college. My dad was right."

Toji hated when you got like this. Not because he cared about your stress or ever-present anxiety. That's actually what he liked least about you, that and the fact that your college was forty, far minutes away. No, he hated having to deal with your self-doubt. No time to throw a pity party. No patience to reassure you.

That's the hard part about dating younger girls. He got older, and as he liked to think, wiser, but they stayed young and emotional. Such a drag. A real bummer for a thirty— okay, thirty-eight— year old man who was simply too old for this shit. 

If he wanted any, though, he knew he had to play the game. 

"C'mon, tootsie, it's not all bad. You're a smart one, yeah? And y'only got a couple months until you're done for a bit."

"Hmph."

Damn it. Women. Nothing he said would be good enough. At least there was something he could do that he knew would help. 

"Oh, I missed that baby. That's real good." You felt his warm breath fan over your thigh as his fingers plunged into you. 

Curl and twist, pump, pump, pump. That's all he could really do for you, you knew it. 

If you could ignore how well Toji made you feel, you would probably see what a bum he was. Living in a shitty apartment at his age, gambling and drinking as if money was no object, smoking enough to stain his couch with the smell of ash. Even knowing what his profession was couldn't quite deter you. 

In a life where everything was so dull, so predictable, you sort of liked the danger of a man like Toji. The risk. The wild ride that was his life. You weren't exactly Mary, Queen of Scots, but the old you would have a few questions about your current relationship with the destitute brokey that was glued to your cunt. 

The you now, through, was holding on for dear life, soaking up every second of slick, wet warmth that Toji could give you. Thick fingers prodded deep, curling against the tip of your cervix. Thick scent from a long gone cigarette lingered in the air. 

He was amused really. He would laugh, if he wasn't so desperate to be in your pussy again. Times like this, when he got a taste of you, made him wish he would go and visit you on campus. He wouldn't though, god knew he wouldn't. Every couple of months was good enough for him, lord forbid he use up his mileage to drive out of the city.

"Stop pushing me away," Toji mumbled, pulling your hand from his forehead. "Brat."

His tongue was sharp and purposeful. There were times when he would be messier, play with his food a little, but he was focused. Just not in the way you wanted him to be.

He set a rhythm for himself, a strict guideline. Every time you sucked in a deep breath, he pushed his tongue down harder against your clit. Every gasp was rewarded with a curl of his fingers. Each squirm was punished by a little nip. 

It worked, bringing you close to the edge, just to deny you. If you had it your way, his tongue would lather you and glide over your clit uninterrupted. Sadly, he was in charge, and as the bastard he was, he wanted things his way. That meant a bullying force behind each pump of his fingers, and a teasing swipe of his tongue to ease the brutality, just a bit.

There was no way he could hold you off forever, no matter how fun that sounded, so eventually, when you hands started to grip his hair too tightly, he gave a loud slurp to your pussy. 

If orgasms were money, you'd be a Vanderbilt, but they aren't. For the time being, you were happy enough just being Toji's girl. 

"Hey, To'?" Your messy hair and smudged mascara were a prize to him, a totem of his raw, sexual prowess. He hummed in response. "So, about my textbooks for next semester...?"

He sighed deeply, dragging from his well deserved post-fuck cig. 

"We'll see. Maybe if my parlay hits, doll."