#I’m working on gif requests

[wasjustred]

ahhh iloveyourworkssomuch!! 💖 i'd like to request something along the lines of sugar mommy!larissa (maybe with smut, who knows *wink*) 'cause she's all i can think about these days... anyways, happy early new years!!!

Easy Does It - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa spoils you beyond comprehension. Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x f!Reader Warnings: Smut. A lot of it. (Cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on — all Reader receiving) Word Count: ~4.7k

Author’s Note: I hope this meets your expectations, anon! I originally intended to make Larissa way more domineering, but once I began writing it just didn’t feel like her——I tried to stay true to her character where I could. As always, feedback is welcome ﹠. appreciated! ♡ (un-beta-ed as per usual!) ╱ AO3

The arrangement you and Larissa have has been smoothly gliding along for about six months now: you meet for dinner every weekend, in a town about half an hour outside of Jericho. You wear an outfit she’s picked out for you, she pulls your seat out, you share conversation and good - expensive - food and drinks, and you end on the stoop of your apartment, leaning into the kiss she places on your cheek, with a weekly allowance in cash in your purse. It’s the perfect set-up, nothing you’d dare protest, but sometimes you honest to god wish she’d just break her own rules and rail you ‘till the bed breaks.

Tonight you meet her at The Aviary, draped in a black satin dress with a deep slit up the leg––one of her favorites. Larissa helps you into your seat as she usually does, but before she takes her own, she places a long velvet box on your empty appetizer plate.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” A small, proud smirk turns her lips, eyes sparkling. You run your fingers over the velvet and lift at the seam, features going slack with surprise when you realize what’s hidden inside: a collar necklace, glittering diamond-cut, softening into a single falling arc of gems which ebbs, finally, into a small, shining teardrop. Light from the restaurant’s fixtures seem drawn to it, gleaming to and fro in a scattered stream of reflection. Your gaze snaps back to hers almost immediately, heart pounding.

“Larissa, I–”

“Do you like it?”

“I– Of course I do, it’s– it’s so beautiful..” Your voice softens and tapers off as you return your attention to the box before you. It’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to you, but you stop short of admitting this. “Help me put it on?” 

Larissa’s smile grows as she gathers the box in her hands, lifting the necklace from its cushion. She moves to stand behind you and tenderly brushes your hair aside; her hands are as soft as anything, so gentle in the way they handle you, securing the piece around your neck. Your own hand raises to rest atop the new weight at your clavicle, and when she sets her palms along your shoulders and squeezes, you shift your hand up to capture hers.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” Larissa presses her lips to your cheek from behind before she retakes her seat, arching a brow in challenge. The answer is no, of course; this is how you work, special occasion or not. She always manages to keep you on your toes, though, far more thoughtful and intimate than any other ‘financeur’ you’ve ever humored in the past: Tennis bracelets set with gemstones which perfectly match your eyes, a new coffee bar set-up when you mentioned off-hand that Starbucks had discontinued your favorite drink, a signed first edition copy of your favorite book she ‘just so happened to come across’ while out of state. Much more than the simple, routine bank deposits and luxury brand pieces that were never quite you which you received from others. Larissa’s gifts have always been astoundingly personal.

You’ve never told her this, but you stopped dating altogether once your little dynamic began. How could anyone else compare? She makes you feel important without ever having to work for it ––– like you’re lovable, worthy, because you exist, and nothing more. You’re breaking  your own rules, being so enamored with her, but you refuse to dwell on it.

“No, you don’t…” You trail off as your food arrives, ducking your head in thanks as the waiter sets everything out before you. Any discussion of her gift to you ends there on Larissa’s own accord, swiftly and advantageously moving on to a new topic as soon as the waiter has left you. The rest of the night is spent sipping expensive wine and musing instead on all of the high-culture goings-on you never get to discuss with anyone else: Art, ballet, classical music. Larissa’s a delicious trove of knowledge and opinions and she impresses you with each turn of a new topic. You often find yourself wondering - not just tonight, but many nights whilst basking in her presence - why she’s chosen you. You can hold good conversation, of course, and have an appreciation for the finer things in life usually reserved for those older and/or wealthier than you, but what’s always been curious, what’s always given you pause, is that she never asks for anything else in return. You have no choice but to ask yourself what it is you possibly have to offer to a woman like her––but you almost always fall short of a satisfying answer.

She’s talking you both through an analysis of the most recent play she brought you to when you take one of her hands in your own, tracing the lines of her palm as you listen. Larissa stumbles over her words at first contact, a rare occurrence for her, and blushes pink at the sensation. When you glance up at her in question she quickly averts her gaze and carries on, moving to smooth her thumb over yours as you continue. You love her fingers: they’re long, delicate, awfully reminiscent of the Greek statues she enjoys waxing poetic about. It’s an instance in which you’re reminded art, very often, echoes us in a continuous cycle of give and take.

You don’t say a word when you notice her face darken another shade as you press a kiss to the inside of her wrist before moving on to dote upon her other hand.

She’s not once explicitly told you, but Larissa’s never expected you to take a physical liking to her. She set the rules she did early on for a reason, knowing she could live with looking and not touching, taking care of you and watching your face turn alight with each gift or special night out without ever ending the evening by your side. No sex necessary, no physical affection expected. But here you are, fawning over her, and she’s never been more conflicted.

To assuage the feeling, she convinces herself it’s the wine that’s made you this way––a good bottle will go a long way, thus your touch must be the product of inebriation, not genuine affection. You’ve both long since finished off your meals when Larissa pays the bill and drives you home as she normally does, to an apartment she partly finances (not fully, at your own insistence that there are some things you should take care of yourself) and walks you to your door, stooping to kiss your cheek. Routine. 

She is right about one thing, however, and that’s the potency of the house wine tonight. Not on your reasoning, but your self-control. You spent the car ride home admiring her profile in the passing streetlamps and traffic lights, studying the way each red light cast itself across her, how the passing headlights of opposing traffic bathed her in a cinematic glow you associated only, appropriately, with Vivien Leigh in A Streetcar Named Desire. Ghostlike, almost. Ethereal. And at that same wine’s behest, you lean further now into her goodnight kiss than you’d normally allow yourself.

It’s as she prepares to leave that you decide - anchored by the weight of the diamonds around your neck - that this is the night you’ll throw caution to the wind, fervently hoping it won’t backfire and end with her rejection and a ruined arrangement that you’d both worked to preserve over the past six months.

“Do you want to join me for a nightcap? I know we don’t usually, but.. I’d like you to. If you’d like to, of course. If you don’t that’s–––”

“Y/N,” she interrupts. You can hardly tell but her heart’s just about burst out of her chest. There’s an inner battle waging right on the precipice of her ribcage and your bright, hopeful eyes staring up at her aren’t making it any easier to parse out. Do you feel obligated somehow to pay her back for the necklace? She knows you know she’d never ask that of you, that your arrangement is not a traditional one, but has she unknowingly pushed the bounds all the same? Did you simply imbibe too much and don’t really have a clue what it is you’re saying?

Or, perhaps.. Most dangerously: Do you mean it?

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to… ‘pay me back’ for tonight. That was never my intention.”

She volleys her own inner turmoil dead straight in your direction and stares down at you with what might be, if you squint hard enough, a nervous expression.

You lean sideways against the door and cross your arms over yourself, appraising her. Does she really not want you? What the hell does she get out of this if she doesn’t? You just can’t wrap your head around it, and while you insisted to yourself you’d never outwardly question the bounds of your relationship and why they’ve settled where they are, you’ve put yourself at a crossroads.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She balks.

“What? Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Larissa’s expression is a mixture of incredulity and apprehension. You decide to bite the bullet then as she lingers uncertainly beneath the moonlight.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this. Am I not–– you think I’m pretty but you don’t want to touch me? You pay for my livelihood but you don’t want anything tangible in return?” You both purse your lips simultaneously and you’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire all of a sudden. “You confuse me, Larissa.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small cloud bursting forth as she sighs.

You fucked it, didn’t you? Fucked it right to hell, and now she’s never going to speak to you again.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” The air goes still.

…

It’s news to you. 

Larissa suddenly pushes forward and traps you against the front of your door, hands leveled at your waist. “I’ve always wanted you,” she grits out, her arms tensing at your sides. “I just didn’t want you to feel as though you had to. Return the sentiment, that is. You’re too precious for that.” Her voice is low and rough in your ear, strangled. You grab hold of her forearms to keep yourself upright when her tone shoots right through you, breathing heavily. You gradually lift your gaze, poring over every curve of hers as you do, and meet her eyes. They’ve nearly gone black with lust, and a subtle quiver in her lip tells you everything you need to know.

“Kiss me.”

Larissa groans, which is admittedly not the reaction you’d expected, and presses further into you, her nose brushing against your cheek.  You can feel the heat of her grow, ensnaring you in perfect contrast to the cool night air.

“You have to tell me you want it, darling. I need you to say it.” … Oh. A new wave of arousal surges through you as you turn your head ever so slightly, her lips hovering just out of reach. The shared breath between you has become fraught with possibility, with the overwhelming, unspent energy that’s been collecting over the last six months without either of you quite noticing. Of course this is what she needs: confirmation, not that you’re hers but that she’s yours, by choice and choice alone.

“I want you, Larissa. Please,” you whisper, squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground yourself. She says nothing in return, instead immediately closing the distance and engulfing you in a desperate, searing kiss. Your cheeks burn and it’s all you can do not to melt into her fully, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue slides against your bottom lip. This, this, you realize, is exactly what you’d imagined: Feeling her against you, wrapped up tightly in her arms, being drawn in and freed all at once, struggling to contain the desire you feel pulsing within yourself. It’s like Larissa’s split open your mind and picked through every thought there, coming away with only the most indecent imaginings and putting them to use as her hips pitch forward and her hands grasp achingly at the roundness of your thighs.

“Open the door,” she husks, suddenly ripping herself away and turning you at the waist to face the door. You fumble for your keys as she scores your neck and shoulders with hot, open-mouth kisses, running the tip of her tongue along the muscle that pulls taut there.

“F-fuck.” The chuckle she gives in response to your whimpering, shaking when you can’t fit the key into its slot, only weakens you further. Larissa must know her effect well as she wraps an arm around you to hold you upright, the other grabbing the key from you and swiftly unlocking the door in one go.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Laughter follows you both as you take the stairs one at a time, pausing every few to take her tongue in your mouth and run your hands along her front. You bypass the living room once you reach the landing - a feat in itself - and lead Larissa straight to your bedroom, kicking one heel off in the hall and the other at the threshold of your room. 

She stops you just before you reach the bed and holds you steady for a moment: “Hold on, I want to look at you..” You hair is mussed, curls losing their hold in the heat of your entanglement, chest heaving and red. Larissa steps forward to brush her thumb over your lips, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

She doesn’t find any.

“Christ, you’re a pretty thing,” she hums. The pad of her thumb pulls at your bottom lip and you acquiesce, tilting your chin up before taking her finger into your mouth, rolling your tongue against its tip, watching her with wide eyes that imply an innocence you don’t possess. A hiss escapes her when your teeth come down around her knuckle and she scowls, gripping your jaw with an intensity that rivets the surrounding atmosphere as she rips her hand away, smashing your lips together once more.

In the next second the backs of your knees are buckling against the edge of the mattress and you squeak; Larissa had slipped a hand over your sternum and shoved, launching you down hard into the bed. Wet heat urges your hips forward as she crawls over you, but her hands swiftly come down to force them back into the mattress, trapping you there.

“Patience, darling.” You scoff as she begins the journey down your body, placing lazy kisses to your lips, cheek, jaw, chest while her fingers deftly work to pull your dress from you. You lift your back so she can snake a hand around and drag the zipper down to its end at the top of your hips, wriggling free and moving to pull at her own dress–––but she grabs your wrists, pinning them above you with a devious smirk. 

“Ah, ah. Let me spoil you,” she murmurs into the crook of your neck, one hand traveling to cup the dampness between your legs. Electricity cracks against your spine at her touch; you’re sweltering and freezing all at once, watching her eyes rake over you with a hunger you’ve never seen on her before. Her fingers draw idle circles around your clit as she works her way down your body, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake where tongue meets flesh, nipping at the precipice of your hip bones, glancing up at you before she licks you through your panties. There’s no helping the whine you turn free when she all but purrs at the taste she gets of you from the soaked fabric.

“Larissa, please,” you huff, lifting your hips up to meet her mouth. She takes three steps then in quick succession: chuckles into the skin of your inner thigh; pulls your panties down and off of you; and presses a series of messy, teasing kisses to your bare sex. Your fingers clutch at the top of your duvet as she finally begins to devour you, breath hitching as her tongue circles your entrance and delves into you. In a moment of white hot desperation, you hook your legs around her, calves flexing against her back as you shudder into her touch. She’s ravenous, consuming you with long, uninterrupted strokes that ride on the flat of her tongue, lapping your slickness up and winding into you all at once. The coil is tight within you already, pulsing with every movement of her mouth. You’re almost worried it’ll be over before it scarcely has had the chance to start, but a quiet, bemused voice in the back of your mind ridicules you: Larissa is nothing if not generous.

“You taste divine,” she breathes, before returning her ministrations to your clit, sucking and popping with the filthiest fucking moan you’ve ever heard. The feeling of her tongue against that tight bundle of nerves prompts your eyes to roll back, eyelids fluttering, and imbues your hands with a mind of their own, working them swiftly into her hair and pulling her as close to your cunt as you can get her, hips lurching in an unsteady rhythm. You can feel her amusement at your desperation as distinctly as you feel her mouth, but it’s quickly forgotten when she slides two fingers into you with an ease that makes you lightheaded. The sound of your wetness is sinful, and you have to admit it only spurs you on.

“Fuck me, fuck me, pleasefuckme––” Larissa’s grinning against you as she pumps her fingers, curling into you with a startling accuracy that leaves you breathless and aching. You press your cheek to your shoulder in a feeble attempt to keep yourself above the threshold dividing pleasure and bliss, useless as she slips another finger into you and flicks her tongue against you, quickening her pace as she follows the mounting tone of your pleas. Every touch spreads a warmth through you impossible to ignore, stirring a frantic need beneath the surface of your skin.

“Cum for me, darling, cum for me, that’s right.” Larissa presses the heel of her hand into the space just below the swell of your stomach and the coil snaps suddenly, sharply, sucking all of the air out of you at the same time that you yelp and tense with equal force, clamping around her face as your orgasm tears through you. She continues to lap at you even as your hands push at her, holding fast to your thighs to keep her place. Your legs shake as she builds you up in the same breath that you’re coming down, a second orgasm already rearing its head.

“I can’t,” you keen, but Larissa shakes her head and unlatches briefly to disagree.

“Yes you can, Y/N––be a good girl for me.” It washes over you when she lowers her face again and wraps her lips around your clit, sucking with an unfazed firmness that shocks you to your center. You’re tingling over every limb, pacing your breaths to ride you through this second crest. “That’s it..” Larissa coos, running her hand over your leg comfortingly. You can hardly breathe as the shockwaves roll through you one after the other, and the darkness of the ceiling above you seems to double in size as you stare in a daze.

Your muscles melt into the mattress one by one, sinking deep as Larissa finally pulls her head away and crawls forward to kiss you; you can taste your slickness on her tongue, familiar and tangy. When you part, gasping for air, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and press your foreheads together, gazing up into her eyes with the softest look you can muster after so thoroughly falling apart in her hands.

“My turn?” She laughs loud and heartily at your doe-eyed demeanor. You’re itching to touch her, to taste her, and she knows it.

“Mmm, maybe.” Larissa shrugs and rises up from her position over you, sliding off to the side of the bed where you can’t reach her––and not for lack of trying. A whine catches in your throat when she shoots a withering look over her shoulder, patting the space beside her. “Help me with my dress, darling.”

You waste no time in flipping over onto your knees, shuffling over to her and grappling with the zipper of her dress. You flush when she laughs both at your inability to get it down in one swift motion and the frustrated little growl that bubbles up from your chest.

“Not funny,” you complain, gritting your teeth as she shifts and the zipper gives, revealing the smooth, snowy expanse of her back. Instilled with a renewed sense of hunger, you push the fabric away from both of her shoulders and continue the journey down and around to her breasts, thrilled she’s forgone a bra tonight as you palm the supple flesh there and roll her nipples between your fingers. The sigh she expels is a ragged one, her hands dwarfing yours whilst her head falls back against your shoulder. You revel in the sight of her lip caught between her teeth.

“I want to fuck you.” You just barely catch it in between her labored breaths and your own thunderous heartbeat, but you do, and you turn to glance at her curiously before her meaning hits you square in the face.

“But––”

She cuts you off. “I want to destroy you, Y/N. You can taste me later,” Larissa mutters, pivoting without another warning and capturing your lips again. You wouldn’t complain if it weren’t for the utter distress you felt to get your hands on her. She doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, however, as she slips out of her dress and climbs over you, guiding your hands to grip her ass. “Later, I promise.” She pulls back to appraise you, taking a rigorous inventory that she’ll commit to memory if it’s the last thing she does: Your flushed skin, the way you can’t keep still under her touch, the unmistakable shine of desire in your eyes.

“In th-the nightstand,” you stammer. Suddenly the realization that Larissa is here, in your bed, and you, at her mercy, is too much at once. You’re trembling with need and anticipation. She tilts her head at you, one second, two passing before she follows your guidance and pulls the drawer open, grinning wickedly at what she finds there.

“Harness?”

You nod vigorously, propping yourself up on your elbows and directing her through another drawer of your dresser. The slow, methodical way in which she fastens the leather around herself surely burns itself into your brain, and you can’t help the shameless moan that seeps out when she smooths an indulgent layer of lubricant along the silicone from base to tip, a delicious sight between her legs.

Larissa approaches with an emphasized swing to her hips, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips before she nudges you to scoot back into the middle of the bed, positioning herself above you with a hand on either side of your head. She dips her face down into the hollow of your throat. 

Her voice vibrates against you despite her hushed tone. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

Your brain short-circuits at her words, imperfect timing. God, she’s fucking hot.

She lifts her head again to catch your gaze and smirks, nibbling on the tip of your chin. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” you rasp, drawing your nails down the broad expanse of her back in anticipation.

The moment she slides into you is pure ecstasy: your toes curl and you haphazardly clamber for purchase upon her skin as she buries herself deep within you, stalling for a few moments to give you time to adjust. The way Larissa groans into the motion draws out an amusing - filthy - rumination about her being able to feel every stroke as with her own body, delighting in your wetness. She fills you seamlessly, snapping her hips against you before slowly drawing herself back, only to repeat the pattern and plunge into you as deeply as she’s able. It’s bruising and pleasurable all at once, how she brushes up against your walls and the ridges of the toy hit what your mind insists is every nerve-ending within you.

You rock together desperately, bodies moving as one as if you’d been doing this for centuries, mapping each other out and bringing each other to your peak. You savor the novel, tangled scent of sweat and arousal, a newly formed association with the sound of Larissa’s broken whimpers now frozen in your psyche.

A startled breath leaves you as Larissa abruptly anchors her weight to one side and pulls you on top of her, flipping your positions. Her arms wrap tight around you, looped at your back and around your shoulder as she fucks up into you at a crushing pace. You whine into the crook of her neck and realize you’re on the verge of tears, an overwhelming wave of pleasure and desperation wracking your body. Quiet grunts accompany her each thrust, slowing just so until it’s a steady pattern you can count to like clockwork, brutal and sharp at every buck of her hips. Your knees are aching, folded as they are, but the tight, coiling sensation within you overrides any and all discomfort, merely a quiet nagging in your brain; your focus is settled precisely on the angle of her cock and how her nails dig into your skin as you grind against each other. She’s close, too. You can feel it. It’s there in the shallowness of her breaths, in the urgency of her pelvis against yours, in the subtle arch of her back. You try to meet her where she’s at in your muddled state, pitching your hips backwards and down when she thrusts upwards––and you know it’s worked when she gasps and her hands scramble to lock together at the small of your back.

“Yes, that’s it darling. Just like that,” Larissa pants, using the leverage of her hold on you to help you fuck yourself. The only sounds permeating the room are that of your mingled breaths and her cock driving into you with a consistent, almost unforgiving rhythm. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, ohfuck––” 

“Y/N–––”

She tenses with you and cries out as your orgasms hit you both at once, ravaging you beyond reason. You’re hyper-aware of the way her breasts feel pressed against you, the way one of her hands flies up to bury itself in your hair as you ride her through your climax. Larissa’s hips stutter as she whines into your shoulder, sinking her teeth into you, and you marvel at the feeling of her muscles clenching around you, from the sinewy stretch of her arms to her thighs rested between your own.

Everything you’d hoped for. Fantasized about. Greedily deliberated again and again whilst watching her across the table in another fancy restaurant in another unfamiliar town.

Larissa is careful as she pulls out of you, slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tenderness there. You remain curled on top of her but she doesn’t complain, rather rubbing your back in long, languid movements and whispering affirmations in you ear, a sweet mixture of ‘breathe darling, I’ve got you’ and more headily, ‘you did so well for me, you’re so good, you took me so well’. When you allow yourself to fall to the side of her, she shimmies out of the harness and tosses it somewhere off the edge of the bed, ignoring its clatter as she wraps you up in her arms. You burrow yourself further into her warmth and sigh at the feeling, content.

“Now is it my turn?” you ask, voice low and raked over with exhaustion. The belly laugh she gives is worth all the weariness in the world. “You’re incorrigible!”

[renerosin]

KYLIAN MBAPPE via Brut [2024]

[ghosts-cyphera]

Okay hear me out… what if pornstar!ghost and reader were given the opportunity to do a mmf threesome but our boy ghostie gets a lil competitive🤭 he makes sure they both know no one can fuck her like he can😩

wouldn’t it be crazy if I already had a draft for this exact scenario with könig as the second man? that would be so silly, right?

[zer0pm]

Imagine taking the knife for Luis. In his rage, he takes on Krauser alongside Leon who beats them both with ease. The major leaves with The Amber and by the time Luis returns to your side, it was already too late.

“Luis, look out!”

The dark-haired man was roughly shoved so fast, he practically fell a bit of a ways from his original spot. He was still reeling in surprise at the suddenness of the action when he regained himself, but no amount of recovery could prepare him for the sight of your body falling over onto the cold, hard ground with an alarming thud.

You just laid there, unmoving with a large knife sticking out of your back. Your eyes were closed and blood trickled from the corner of your lips. You appeared lifeless. Luis couldn’t move. He couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to. It was only until you released a weak cough did he spring into action, rushing back on his feet.

Luis barely made two steps towards you before Leon’s strong hand stops him by the arm. He moved to shove him off but freezes when a set of military boots lands beside your limp form, the heavy soles creating an ominous echo off the rocky walls of the mines upon contact. The owner is a hulking man with a face riddled with scars and a domineering grin that matched the rest of his intimidating form.

“Not bad,” the large man says out of mild respect, kneeling beside you. He then glances over at Leon. “Faster reaction time than you ever had, rookie.”

Leon growls, his hardened expression filled with shock and recognition, “Major Krauser? Why!?”

“Recovering stolen goods. Speaking of which,” the major’s cold eyes meets Luis’ and extends a gloved hand. “The Amber, rat. Don’t want your friend taking anymore hits for you,” he presses against the handle. It was only a light touch but the slight movement caused you to involuntarily cry out on pain.

Krauser snarls, “Do you?”

Luis winced, red signals flaring off at his head to go to you. The only comfort he could find in this was that you were still alive, if only barely. However, the most powerful of his emotions was boiling inside him- pure, unadulterated rage. You’re hurt. This man is the cause. He must pay. Luis wanted to shoot Krauser then and there, but your well-being took priority over his need to sate his blistering anger. With a glare, the Spaniard reaches inside his pocket and wordlessly tosses a glass vial towards the major.

The latter catches the vial with ease, inspecting it under the mine’s dim light. Once confirming that the golden sample inside was the real deal, he pockets The Amber and returns his attention to Luis and Leon, looking back and forth between them before settling his stare down at you. Krauser observes your fallen state with such unnerving, lingering intrigue, it made Luis’ hands clench before the major returns his eyes towards him.

Krauser shakes his head, “Took it like a true soldier. What a waste.”

Without warning, the major pulls the knife out of your back. The sound that followed after the blade leaves your body was expected to be a bloodcurdling scream. Instead, the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dull grunt, your muscles merely tighten out of reflex before relaxing with a disconcerting sigh. Luis watches as the air leaves your lungs and no further responses came after.

He snaps. Luis pulls out his gun and starts firing.

What happened after came back to him in blurry segments. He remembers losing his gun and Krauser kicking him onto his back. He remembers Leon coming to his aid, the two blondes taking the fight to a grated platform. He remembers running over to you finally, filled with momentary relief that you were still breathing. He remembers your eyes opening slightly, the light within them barely dim with life before you lift your head to him. He remembers you talking weakly, your words hardly above a whisper that he would not register until much later. He remembers how you set your head back down, how helpless you looked before rage consumes him once more and he joins the men in battle. He remembers swinging at Krauser aimlessly, the latter not once flinching under his vehement blows. He remembers Krauser beating him into a bloody pulp without breaking a sweat but not once does Luis ever acknowledge the pain, too blinded by hate. It was only until the major left, forced to withdraw when Leon drew his gun and shot at him to no avail, did Luis remember himself.

When the fight is over, you are the first thing Luis searches for. He immediately spots you lying on the ground still and cold fear splashes over him. The man scrambles over to you, uncaring that every bruise and muscle was in agony with each purposeful movement. Once he reaches you, he gathers you in his arms, turning you over and calling out your name. You don’t respond.

He calls out again, louder this time and with heightened urgency. Nothing.

Realization wraps around his heart in an icy grip before he shakes your body, watching helplessly as your limp form merely moves with the motions.

“Por favor. Mi corazon, respóndeme.” Luis begs, choking between sobs that threatened to come out. “No me hagas esto.”

Again he is met with nothing. There is no doubt. You are gone.

An overwhelming sadness hits him like rain pouring heavily onto his bleeding heart. He felt like someone ripped his soul out of him. His grey eyes pool with tears that stream down his face as he hugs you tightly, cradling your bodies back and forth.

This is a terrible dream. It has to be. Just moments ago, you two were laughing beside one another. The air between you was warm and full of ease, playful banter bouncing back and forth. Luis was teasing you then, as he normally did, using his wit and charm to inspire blushes and smiles upon your face.

He adores your smile, especially the ones reserved for him. But he never told you that. He never told you a lot of things. And now he’ll never have the chance to. A new wave of sorrow and regret settles heavily within him and he sobs harder. After what feels like hours, the grieving man feels a warm hand on his back.

“C’mon, Luis.” Leon says with a heavy heart. “We have to go.”

Luis shakes his head, “No, not yet. I’m not ready.”

Those words visibly shattered the agent’s stony demeanor, blue eyes falling with a sadness that matched the sight before him- Luis holding onto you as tightly and as long as possible. Both men knew this will be the last moment with you Luis will ever have and that he’s simply trying to make it last. Leon wanted to let his friend grieve, he truly did. But the time to mourn has to be set aside for now.

“Luis,” Leon tries again, slowly, as if his next words could break his companion into a million pieces at any second. However, they needed to come out- they had a job to do. “Ashley needs us. She needs you.”

Something clicks within Luis upon hearing this. His mind flashing back to the last words you shared together.

“Luis… Help Ashley…”

“Calma. Don’t talk. We’re going to-”

“Listen. It’s up to you now... I believe in you, Luis… Save Ashley…. She needs you.”

I need you.

Luis wanted to say that you but you laid your head back down then, presumably to have lost consciousness and, so lost was he in his anger, he didn’t consider those to be your final moments. And you spent them telling him to save someone else. Because you believed in him. Despite all of the terrible things he did, the horrors and pain he caused whilst he worked for Los Illuminados, you saw and pointed out the good in him, bringing them to light. You were his light.

“She needs you.”

These were Leon’s words now, but Luis heard them in your voice. With a determined yet shaky breath, the man puts you down. He wipes the drying blood from your face, his warm hand lingering upon your cheek. A calm look rested upon your face, no longer twisted with struggle or pain. You looked peaceful and already you were turning cold against his skin.

His grey eyes, now seemingly void of emotion, lingers on you for a few more seconds before he regretfully withdraws his hand and rises to a stand. Without a second glance, he begins walking away, hopping back onto the metal platform and striding towards the mine shaft, creating distance between you two. Leon wordlessly trails behind but also mindful of giving Luis his space. As they reached the elevator, Luis finally spoke up.

“Come then. Let us rescue the Princess Dulcinea.”

It is the right thing to do. It is what he needs to do right now. It is also your last wish, one Luis intends to fulfill. There will be a time to grieve, there will be a time to mourn. But now was not that time. The memory of your last smile and last words are what is keeping him going with his gun tight in his hand.

I believe in you, Luis.

.

.

A/N: shout-out to @lilchickie for the angsty request. Making me break hearts on a weekend 😭. Hope y’all enjoyed this.

[outtherecreations]

Heyysyehehekssidj ok so I was obsessed with your Yakko fics and then I saw you accept requests for Bender from futurama!

So I was wondering if I could request a Bender x Reader where she’s a robot but she looks like a human and bender has feelings for her but doesn’t want to seem robosexual. Then planet express go to deliver something and she gets injured and people freak out and she’s just like I’m fine? And bender worries so much he confesses

Sorry for rambling I’ll go now

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts forever (oops). Well, since the new season is out, might as well post this now.

To Love a Human (that’s really a robot):

A high pitched roar could be heard from a box in Fry’s lap. Bender, Fry, and I stare at the box with wide eyes “So…what are we delivering again?” I ask nervously. “We’re not allowed to ask questions.” Leela sighs “Does it have to be in my lap?” Fry asks “That is a question. What did I just say?” Leela asks “But that’s a question!” Fry huffs.

“…Well, I’m captain. I can do what I want.” Leela says with a shrug. I giggle quietly, turning my attention to Fry “Sorry, but you were the last one on the ship. And the last one’s gotta be the one that’s in the most danger.” I state, Fry only sulks in his seat before the box rattles and shakes. Fry frowns nervously and grumbles to himself, I scoot away from him and a little closer to Bender.

I accidentally brush my elbow against him, “Watch it, Meatbag.” Bender says, glaring at me a little. I smile faintly and back off a little “Heh, sorry Bendy.” I snort, Bender looks away with his arms crossed. It’s always funny how he calls me Meatbag. The ship becomes quiet, the only sounds were the high pitched roars from the box. We yelp when the ship comes to an abrupt stop, “Leela! Ease up on the brakes, you’re just making it angrier.” Fry whispers.

The box shakes harshly and growls erupted from it, Bender and I move away from Fry. “Sorry, but it is too quiet in this ship. It’s distracting.” Leela sighs, the ship starts to move again “Wait, aren’t you always saying how us being to loud is distracting?” I ask, “Knock it off with the questions.” Leela huffs. I laugh a little, “I hope we’re almost there, Fry looks like he’s about to pee his pants.” I state, hoping to get a better response.

“We should be there in…3 hours.” Leela announces. Fry whimpers while Bender and I groan “Boo…” I sigh, Bender pulls out a beer and starts to chug it down. I look at him, he glances at me “Want one?” He asks “I want one.” Fry says “Shut it, you.” Bender says firmly. “Yeah, I’ll take beer. It’s been too long since I’ve had one anyway.” I state. Bender tosses me a beer and we both drink in sync. And funnily enough, burp in sync.

~Small Time Skip~

Fry lets out another nervous sigh, that’s all he had been doing that the past hour. “Lee, please tell me we’re almost there!” I groan. She hums, looking down at the map “Mm…it should be…” Leela gasps and quickly slams on the brakes. My eyes widen when the box goes flying out of Fry’s lap “Oh crap.” Bender says with wide eyes. The box opens, revealing a small white creature with pink eyes, “That’s what was making all that noise?” Leela gasps.

She stares at it in awe, “Wow…that doesn’t look scary at all. Fry was whining for nothing!” Bender groans “Looks can be deceiving.” I hum, elbowing Bender playfully. Leela slowly reaches for the creature “How can something so cute be so dangerous?” She coos.

The creature growls at her, sparking and glowing. “Whoa! I don’t think you should touch it Leela, he looks dangerous.” Fry says, frowning nervously. “How do you know it’s a he? It could be a she for all we know. Don’t assume pronouns, Fry.” I say with playful seriousness “Yeah!” Bender shouts, slapping Fry. “Owwww.” Fry whines.

I laugh, earning a grin from Bender. Fry rubs his cheek and rolls his eyes. “You two need to get a room.” I just giggle more while Bender starts to panic “What are you trying to say? Let me tell you, I like my women with a metal p-” “Alright! You don’t need to go into detail.” Fry says quickly. The creature continues to hiss at Leela. It’s eye twitches as it lets out a high pitched growl, “Um, Lee, I think French Fry is right…” I warn.

Fry, Bender, and I all watch carefully as Leela reaches towards the creature “I don’t know what you guys are freaking out about. This little creature is probably scared. Y/N, you’d be growling too if you were trapped in a box.” Leela says “Thank you for bringing up my claustrophobia…” I laugh weakly with a nervous grin. The creature’s growls only worsen the closer Leela’s hand gets.

Leela gently strokes the creature’s ear, it purrs for a moment. “See, look at that. It’s harmless.” She coos, she wraps her hands around the creature to pick it up-and it bite her. “Ow!” She yelps, dropping the creature. It yelps and growls, sparks start to surround it. “Oh crap.” Bender sighs, he and Fry back away slowly.

The sparks worsen, effecting the lights of the ship. “Um, maybe we should put it back in its box.” I suggest “I say with throw it out the wind-OW!” Fry yelps when the creature shocks him. Leela looks at the creature with a nervous pout as she back away too. “Ok…anyone want to get it back in its box?” She asks, we all share silent glances. “I nominate Bender.” Leela states seriously “WHAT?!” Bender shouts

“You’re a robot, the sparks won’t hurt you…that much.” Leela states, Bender crosses his arms “Why should I risk my shiny, metal *ss for your fleshy, squishy-” “I’ll do it.” I say, picking up the box. “Wait-Y/N, you can’t just-” “Too late I’m doing it.” I say confidently. Everyone shares a concern look, Leela and Fry back away a little “Be careful, Y/N. You don’t want to hurt it.” Leela whispers.

Bender scoffs at her, “I say hurt it before it hurts us. Don’t be stupid, Y/N, it’d really suck if you died. If you die, I’m killing the other two.” He states nonchalantly, Leela glares at him and Fry frowns nervously, everyone watches me-the whole ship was quiet. I lunge towards the creature, trapping it in the box. Fry and Bender cheer, the box starts to glow. I stare at the box with wide eyes. We go quiet again, Leela frowns nervously “Y/N, you might wanna-”

I shield my face from the bright explosion.

S Y S T E M S H U T T I N G D O W N…

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R E B O O T I N G…

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R E B O O T I N G…

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P O W E R I N G UP…

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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

S Y S T E M B A C K O N L I N E.

My eyes open, I look around the room. I lay on the floor, “I can’t believe it. She’s dead!” Fry says “That wasn’t my fault…it wasn’t!” Leela snaps with a panicked tone, Fry flinches “No one said it was your fault…” He says, trying to calm her “Well…I’m just making sure everyone knows it…” Leela sighs, looking down sadly. The creature is box in its box, and this time, it's taped shut.

Where’s-

Bender hovers over my body, his eyes were shut. “Look here, Y/N, I know I’ve never said it but you’re my favorite of all the Meatbags on this stinking crew. If things were different I would’ve definitely…” Bender sighs “Um, Bendy?” I mumble. “Great! Now that regret is gonna haunt me forever! I’m already hearing her ghostly voice! It’s still so sweet and innocent! That’s it, now I’m really killing the other two!” Bender shouts, backing away from me.

I sit up, “Guys.” I say. Bender tenses and slowly turns to me, he lets out some unintelligible noises before falling on his butt “You’re alive?” Leela asks in shock “Um, yeah…why wouldn’t I be?” I ask. “You were electrocuted then your eyes went black.” Leela says nervously “Are you a zombie now? If you are, you should think about going vegan.” Fry says, hiding behind Leela.

“Oh, I’m not a zombie. I didn’t die, I just short circuited.” I tell them. It’s quiet for a moment, “What?” I ask, breaking the silence “Short circuited?” Leela repeats. “Yeah.” I say, everyone just stares in shock “I am a robot after all. It’s not really that surprising.” I snort “Oh yeah it is!” Fry shouts. “If your a robot, why do you look so…fleshy?” Leela asks.

I look at my hand, pinching the fake skin, “I was a prototype for a new generation of humanoid robots Mom was working on, but she got super frustrated with one of her sons and set all her progress on fire. I was luckily able to get out before dying a fiery death.” I tell everyone, there's a pause. “Oh, that makes sense…” Leela says, staring at me blankly.

“So, you’re not going to eat us?” Fry asks carefully, “Ew, no. Humans taste disgusting, trust me, I know.” I snort “What?” Fry asks, blinking at my statement. Bender quickly stands up, “You-you-you mean all this time…-I thought you were a Meatbag like the rest of them!” Bender says, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me. “Well I’m not, Bendy.” I chuckle, Bender lets go of my shoulders.

Bender stares at me with wide eyes, “You mean I’m not a robose-” Bender pauses “A what?” I ask in confusion. Bender lets out a frustrated sound, "Go out with me!" He says firmly, I look at him in surprise before giggling "Yeah, ok." I say, Bender looks slightly taken aback. "Ok...good. Come on." He says, hooking his arm with mine and walking toward the exit of the ship, "Where are you two going? We haven't finished our delivery!" Leela calls "I'm not doing anything until I know what Y/N's shiny, metal *ss looks like!" Bender shouts, he pick me up and jumps out the ship.

[mci-writing]

Warmth (Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

Warnings: Obsessiveness (near the end), implied major character death, reanimated corpse (it’s Deku), necromancy, Deku is the equivalent of Frankenstein’s monster kinda, a little ooc, mentions of pain, descriptions of skin burning (not exactly but yeah idk how to explain it)

Kofi

Viridian irises glance over the form laid before them, a longing sigh passing through chapped lips and landing on deaf ears. Fingers, cold to the touch and tinted blue from lack of flowing blood and oxygen, slide across the small expanse of exposed (s/t) skin, the thumb stopping just under a closed left eye and softly, lovingly, tenderly rubbing the area. It leaves the warmest goosebumps, so warm it should ache, dulling once the contact is distanced.

Whispers of ‘patience’ sound through the air, chilling down to the bone and causing him to pull away out of instinct. The reactions of those around him tell him that they aren’t really there, but he can’t help his response after being told such for so long. For so achingly long.

“Deku-kun,” He feels himself straighten at the voice beside him, a hand setting itself at the small of his back. The thumb rubs small, circles in an attempt to soothe his worrying, “If you keep tugging at your lip like that, you’ll rip it off.”

He becomes self-aware of his habit after his companion points it out, cheeks warming as he quickly lets it go. He wets his lips with his tongue after, teeth grazing over the bottom one as they pop out. He’s unable to stop the awkward chuckle that follows or the way his eyes flit from those around him to the body on the table.

“I’m sure (L/n)-San wouldn’t mind reattaching it once they wake, Uraraka-San,” Todoroki stands near the door, his eyes never straining from beyond the frame as he speaks to them. It’s hard to miss his tense demeanor from where they’re placed, one of his fangs pointing past his lips.

Izuku feels himself sweat at that, a wobbly smile forming on his face as he brings his full attention back to the other members of their group. The best he can manage out is a small “T-Thanks, Todoroki-San” as his hand connects with (Y/n)’s and laces his fingers through theirs.

Silence fills the room again after that. Midoriya can hear his heart racing and feel (Y/n)’s faint pulse. They pump in tandem together, like always. Yet, it does nothing to ease his fears. He knows that spell they cast was powerful, but they’ve been out for a few days now. The only reassurances he’s received of them still being alive was the small noises they’d make as they rested, the way their hand tightly holds his each time he holds it, and the addictive burn he receives with each touch to their skin.

The book of necromancy did say that some spells would be harder to cast for users with less experience, but Midoriya didn’t realize that translated to needing to rest for so long to regain the little strength of power (Y/n) knew how to use. He would’ve tried harder to suggest something else for their escape.

“Oi, Deku!” The rough voice of his childhood friend wakes him from his thoughts, his thumb and forefinger making themselves known on his lips as they tightly squeeze from the small jump he makes. He’s being side-eyed by shades of crimson, but not many would catch the soft worry behind them, “Me n Shitty Hair’s got the ship waiting at the dock. Cargo truck’s outside.”

Emerald eyes meet the fiery shades, an understanding spoken between them that only their little bubble could process. Without a beat, Bakugou comes forward and lifts the end of the slab they're laying across and Todoroki is quick to grab the other end. They load it into the cargo truck's trunk, careful to ensure they're strapped down in the back before Todoroki hops out. Midoriya watches on, eyes longing for the warmth he’s just lost.

~~~~~

The car only holds four people, debatably three if you wanted to argue whether or not Midoriya could still be counted as human in his current form. He was undead, that much he could confirm from the way his body had been stitched together and the ice cold feeling of his skin when he wasn’t within a certain proximity of (Y/n). He was something like Frankenstein, but the context seemed less science fiction and more fantasy. He had no clue why he had been brought back to life, just that he had been. (Y/n) and Kacchan always avoided the question when he’d ask how he’d died.

That’s another thing, it’s always the three of them. Even now, only Kacchan and (Y/n) were going to board the boat with him. Kirishima was only here to take them there and back.

His gaze pans away from the passing scenery outside to the body pressed against his. His cheeks warm as bright a red as they possibly can at the proximity, yet he can’t force himself to move away from the burning sensation of their skin touching. It hurts in the nicest way possible, making him feel way more alive than he thought possible. It’s why he thought he had just woken from a long sleep instead of immediately thinking he’d come back to life, the warmth too comforting for him to question anything at the time. Both of his companions joked about it being out of character for him.

He takes in the low rise of their chest and the serene look of their face. It’s one of the very few times he hasn’t seen them worried out of their mind since being brought back to life. He’s tried not to keep count of their smiles, one of his favorite aspects about them. If with their lips held in a neutral shape, he’s fighting the urge to kiss them until they swell.

He feels himself warm more at the repeated thought of laying a kiss on their unconscious form. He should be ashamed, but he’s been wanting to be intimate with them for a while now. It’s gotten so bad he gets a little jealous when he catches them and Kacchan away from him, whispering between themselves in a bubble of their own that he feels he won’t fit in.

That thought sours his feelings a little, especially when he knows he could never take them from Kacchan and he could never take Kacchan from them. The idea of them moving forward without him, leaving him out, and further pushing him away from the picture he'd perfectly fit in before his current state, gives him a deep pit feeling in his chest that he doesn't enjoy dwelling on for too long.

But right here… Right now…? He could just give them a quick peck and pretend it didn’t happen. No one would know… Unless they woke up from it or something…

He weighs his options, emerald eyes measuring and tracing the outlines of your lips. He has vivid memories of the one time he managed to get a kiss from them, in the dead of night when the only witnesses aside from themselves were the twinkling constellations. He doesn't remember how long ago it was, but he can perfectly picture the sight of them shyly smiling, their face warm, and (e/c) eyes dilated like a super moon. Their lips fit perfectly against his, slated and locked like they were meant to be attached for eternity, and delectably soft like fresh baked goods straight from the oven. He'd press his lips against them as much as he possibly could, suffocate against them even.

The cons would be them waking and beating the shit out of him... Or Kacchan catching him and beating the shit out of him...

Midoriya leans forward, hand burning as he cups their cheek. He rubs his thumb against their skin as his lips finally meet theirs again. It feels like home, his lips feverishly sucking against the plump flesh like he'll never be able to do so again.

He pulls away once he realizes he's being too greedy, too desperate. He sucks in a deep breath, the butterflies rising to his chest as his heart pounds against his ribcage. He can feel the warm honeydew in his cheeks, worsening when his eyes dart up and meet a certain pair of crimson ones. They stare at one another for a moment, but Midoriya can't read what Bakugou is thinking at all. Bakugou sends him a small smile, or something close to it. His lips quirk upward on one side before he turns back to the road. Kirishima is talking about something, but he's obviously not paying attention.

"'Zuku?" The soft call of his name has him looking down, meeting the dazed stare of (Y/n). They're still relatively exhausted from their overuse of magic, a bit of light missing from their pupils. They press their cheek into his hand, the bags under their eyes heavy, "Are we... heading there?"

"We're going to the dock right now, (Y/n). Kacchan's in the front seat and Kirishima's driving us there," Midoriya informs them, voice low as to not cause them any discomfort. He knows they typically suffer from headaches after too much use of their necromancy abilities, "I'm sure you should be able to rest a bit longer-"

"No, no," They begin to sit up, getting a grip on his shoulder and using it to push themselves up. They let go and force themselves to sit up on their knees, getting in a position where they can easily look out the window, "I have to check that... we're not... Not being..."

Their voice trails off as they grab their head, another splintering headache racking their body from the sudden movement. Midoriya is quick to grab hold of them, leaning their body against his. Gravity lays them back across his lap, their face pressing into the fabric of his shirt while they close their eyes. Out of instinct, he presses his fingers against the nape of their neck, slowly sliding them upwards to press at various spots in the back of their head.

"No one's following us, (Y/n). We made sure of that..." He murmurs, pushing their hair out of their eyes. His hand eases down the side of their face, fingers hooking under their chin and pushing it up so they can see him better, "Get your rest."

"Izuku...," They stare at him for a moment, different emotions flashing through their (e/c) eyes. One of their hands reaches up for his cheek, the flesh feeling as if it'll catch on fire at any moment. They pull away too quickly for his liking, the same stricken look reaching their eyes like every other time they touch him and they're reminded of their afflictions. He's heard them apologize to him in the late hours before.

With little thought, he grabs their hand and presses it back to his flesh. He feels just a little closer to being human again at the touch. He nuzzles into their hold, keeping eye contact with them and watching the confliction beyond their irises. He doesn't care about the way his body screams to flinch away from the heat, pressing more into it as opposed to as opposed to running from it. He tightens his hold when he feels them try to tug away from him.

“Izuku, stop. You’re hurting yourself-,”

"No, it's okay," He responds too quickly, leaning into their touch. He presses his ear to their chest, listening to the steady beating of their heart and the movement of their breathing in their chest. The heat isn't as excruciating, simmering to an addictive warmth adjacent to bodies entangled in a hug. It crawls over his skin and wraps around him like a blanket, "Everything is okay..."

He never wants to leave from (Y/n)'s hold, (Y/n)'s warmth, ever again. He doesn't know how he could ever live without it, especially not now when the cold is even colder than before...

[hiddencircus]

(－_－) zzZ SHIHO HINOMORI LAYOUTS!

likes & reblogs are appreciated! | reblog if use <3

[thirstydiglett]

My WIPs

My requests

Shuggy obsession ruining my life

[rainymoodlet]

having to email my mom for financial support again more like

[farfromstrange]

I’ve got Chapter 4 AND 5 of Chaos Theory done because I had absolutely nothing to do the whole day. And I’m working on one of my Matt requests right now so I will post that tonight. And about Chaos Theory, you tell me if you want one, both or wait until tomorrow because they’re ready and in the drafts.

Edit: I’ve got a lot of time on my hands right now, so I need to work through these requests pretty fast because my last final will be soon and I need to focus on that next week. So the weekend is gonna be me just writing. Yay.

[agentbluefox]

S03.E07: Trouble on Wheels 

[monster42069]

Every time I see something suggesting it’s masculine/natural-to-masculinity to make sexuality violent and selfish, as someone who’s mostly been a praising and soft dominant personality with relationship/sexual dynamics tbfh….

[fandomhopping]

Y’Know what?! Screw it!

Help I need Snotlout angst fics! I do t care if you send them to me or write them! Just please… I need to eats!!!!

See this boy?! MAKE HIM SUFFER

[jayseishi]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑

Started: ✓ Not started: ✘

➥ overworked!reader ft. nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, itoshi rin ✓

➥ roomates with nagi seishiro, angst to fluff ✘

➥ enemies to lovers with itoshi sae, angst to fluff ✓

[possiblypeculiar]

x/x/x | x | x/x/x

[happyheidi]

psycho by red velvet!! it’s a long shot but i genuinely think it’s one of the best songs i’ve ever heard and I DONT LIKE KPOP!!!

SHE HATH SPOKEN

Psycho by Red Velvet it is