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huggingkoalas · 3 months

Text

ride me it

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis riding a motorcycle should be similar to riding her face, right?

word count 1.8k

warnings smut, use of vibrators (using a literal motorcycle), mentions of ‘exhibitionist’ kink, mentions/use of ‘mommy’ kink, pet names, teasing, cursing, established relationship, bottom!reader, top!natasha

author’s note am i going absolutely feral over nat's motorcycle scenes in age of ultron and black widow? yessir :P + this fic is inspired by this tiktok edit of nat too <3

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“Will you teach me how to ride, Nat?” You asked, stopping your gentle scratches on her scalp.

Natasha, lying on the bed with her head on your lap, turned her attention from the movie playing on the television to you. Amused, she raised her eyebrows, her infamous smirk on her lips. “Are you talking about my face?”

You slapped her hard on the arm and shook your head in amusement. “I meant the motorcycle, you weirdo.”

“Ouch, that hurts.” Natasha hissed with a pout on her face.

Both you and Natasha knew she could handle physical pain since she was literally the Black Widow. Even if she didn’t have superpowers like Thor and the Hulk, she was still one of the most powerful women in the world. Fighting the desire to roll your eyes, you played along with her antics. You rubbed her arm, eyes twinkling in faux pity while mouthing ‘sorry’.

“I read the mission reports everyone sent from the Ultron Offensive mission. I had no idea you knew how to ride a motorcycle.” You remarked, continuing your featherlight strokes along her hair. You wish you were there that day. If you witnessed Natasha riding a motorcycle, skillfully navigating through traffic and avoiding danger, you’d be drooling right away.

“I guess it just never came up. I wouldn’t mind teaching you, though. It would be hot if you rode something other than my face.” Natasha teased.

“Nat!” Your cheeks turned bright red from her comment. “I-I mean, you’ll have to teach me the basics first, though. I don’t think I’m ready to drive one yet.”

The thought of driving a fast vehicle sent shivers down your spine. Despite feeling scared, you wanted to impress your girlfriend. Maybe if you tried something dangerous, like learning how to ride a motorcycle, she wouldn’t keep calling you a scaredy cat.

“I can teach you the basics now.” She replied, removing her head from your lap and sitting up.

“N-Now? You sure?” You hesitated. “I mean, sure, yeah, okay.”

You didn’t think she’d teach you how to ride a motorcycle now, but you weren’t complaining. Natasha intertwined your fingers with yours, dragging you to the garage quickly.

You could see the excitement in her eyes as she led you to the garage. The green in her eyes was brighter than usual, and you couldn’t help an endearing smile appearing on your face. Seeing this side of her made your heart melt. Sometimes, she reminded you of a puppy.

Your eyes adjusted to the amount of sunlight flittering through the ceiling-to-floor windows once you reached the garage. It was your first time here, and the spaciousness of the area amazed you. Numerous cars, including SUVs and Humvees, were lined neatly side-by-side. Your gaze immediately spotted the familiar black and red motorcycle you had read in her mission report.

“What’s its model again?” You asked, walking to the motorcycle and running your fingertips along the tank cover before resting your palm on the leather seat.

“It’s a Harley-Davidson LiveWire.” Natasha walked up behind you, resting her hands on your hips. “It’s brand new. The motorcycle from the mission got totalled, so Fury and Stark had to buy me another one.”

“Yeah, I know. I had to deal with financial reports afterwards. It’s... really expensive.” You turned your head to look up at her, leaning up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Only the best motorcycle for the best woman in the world.”

“Enough compliments or I’m bringing you to my room and showing you how much you’re the best woman all night.” Natasha husked, her teeth tugging at your earlobe. Her hot breath whispered in your ear, making you weak to your knees.

She released herself from behind you, her famous smirk on her face as she noticed your flustered state. “Alright, get on the motorcycle.” She said, her voice an octave lower than usual. You looked at Natasha, and she was looking at you with darkened eyes.

You both knew what that tone meant. It was the tone she would use on you when you were writhing on her sheets, moaning her name over and over again as she brought you to multiple orgasms. Both of you knew what the tone did to you. You’d willingly get on your knees and do anything she asked if she used that sultry voice again.

Clearing your throat to brush your mind off the filthy thoughts your brain had come up with, you inquired. “Won’t it tip over if I get on it?”

Natasha lets out a short laugh as you shoot her a nervous look. There’s a mixture of amusement and something else entirely in her green eyes. You're not sure. She’s making you even more nervous than you already are.

“See that little stick on the side propping up the bike?” With a nod of your head, she points to the black pedal holding the vehicle up. “That’s a kickstand. The bike doesn’t magically defy gravity, and it certainly doesn’t fly.”

You wanted to wipe the smug grin off Natasha’s face. Normally you’d make a snarky remark now, but instead, you let her off with a shrug.

“I promise to catch you if, for some reason, the kickstand doesn’t do its job, detka (baby).” The use of the pet name relaxes you a bit, and you nod your head.

“Fine, I trust you. Is there... A specific way to get on it?” You asked.

“Just mount it, lyubov’ (love). It’s the same as riding on my face.” Natasha replied in a teasing tone. Your head snaps towards her, and your cheeks warm. Her arms are crossed, and her biceps are clearly visible as she wears a black sleeveless sweater. You know you won’t survive the rest of the lesson if she acts (and looks) like this.

You grab the handles and slowly swing one leg over the seat. Your feet barely touch the ground, and you’re tiptoeing while sitting on the vehicle.

“I think the motorcycle is too tall for me.” You looked at her with a frown.

Natasha expertly climbs onto the bike behind you. “Shortie.” She taunts.

“Careful!” You exclaimed, holding onto the handlebars as the bike tilted left and right due to her movement.

You shift in your seat, getting used to the weird position. The motorcycle seemed larger between your thighs. Furthermore, there were a bunch of pedals, levers, and buttons. You were familiar with what the side mirrors do, but you were not sure what everything else does.

Your heart pounded in your ears. The seat slope caused Natasha's body to press up against you. You shudder slightly as you feel her breasts press up against your back. You tried to make yourself comfortable, but her breath against the back of your neck sent a small shiver down to your core.

“You’re so tense, detka (baby). Do I make you nervous?” She rests her chin on your shoulder, her hands running down your arms to take your hand in hers while you hold the handlebar.

“You’re sleeping on the couch if you don’t shut up right now, Nat.” You replied, gritting your teeth. As much as you liked her relentless teasing, the heightened adrenaline and fear in your body spiked your anxiousness.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, lyubov’ (love). Let’s start the lesson then.” Natasha said, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

She turned the key in the ignition on. The rumbling of the motor startled you as the engine started to thrum softly beneath you.

“I’ll put it on neutral since you’re not driving.” She added.

You nodded your head. You had a license to drive a car, so you knew some driving language. But even though you had experience driving a car, you knew that riding a motorcycle was something completely different. You could feel your heart racing and your grip on the handlebars trembling slightly.

“The lever above the left handle is the clutch lever. The one on the right is the lever for the front brake.” Natasha continued, showing and explaining the parts and their functions.

You couldn't concentrate. The vibration of the engine below you and the slight vibration of the seat had your attention instead. You pursed your lips and nodded as you pretended to understand what she was teaching you.

Closing your eyes for a moment, your breath caught in your throat as Natasha’s lips touch the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Are you listening to me?” She murmured against your skin.

You pursed your lips and speak shakily. “Y-Yes.”

Natasha smirked as she watched your face, she could clearly see that your mind was somewhere else entirely, exactly where she wanted it to be. “I can make you feel even better...”

“This is the throttle handle that gasses the motor.“ She taps a finger on the right handle. She slowly turns the handle towards you, her wrist applying pressure, and the engine revs louder.

“Shit, Nat-” You gasp out loud, the vibrations beneath you getting stronger the more she turns the handle. You feel even more wetness gathering in your panties.

“Nat,” You whimpered with desperation. “Please, I..I-”

You arch your body against her and throw your head back against her shoulder, enjoying the vibrations from the seat. Natasha almost moans at the sight of you aching for her. She gently pulls your shirt off, throwing it behind her. The cold air sends goosebumps down your arm and her left hand rests on your thigh, squeezing and kneading your clothed thigh.

“Shh... Quiet. You don’t want someone to walk on us like this, do you?” She warns you.

Your lungs are struggling for air as you gasp. Shame and desire course through your veins at the thought of someone catching the both of you in this position. You bite your bottom lip, biting it hard you think it might bleed.

“Want me to go faster?” She asks in a sultry voice. Without waiting for your response, she twists the handle down quickly, the seat pulsating quickly and louder.

Your torso jolts forward and you can’t stop the moan that leaves the back of your throat. Your panties and pants are sticking to you uncomfortably as the leather seat vibrates harshly against your folds. You’re rutting down onto the seat desperately, aching for release.

“I-I’m close, Nat, don’t stop, please-” You somehow manage to plead through the haze.

You moan loudly as she revs the engine loudly once more, and you scream ‘mommy’ as you orgasm, stars blinding your eyes as your body shakes with bliss. Your arousal sticks to your thighs and pools onto the leather seat below you as you come down from your high.

Natasha switches off the ignition once you finish tumbling over the edge. The vibration and the sounds from the motorcycle quiet down, and all you can hear is your increased heartbeat and the silence of the garage. You feel your legs and body twitch slightly from the orgasm.

You turned your head towards her, seeing a shit-eating grin on her face. “Wow, ‘Mommy’, huh? That’s a first.” She teased, licking her lips. “I’ll have so much fun cleaning the bike later.”

You groaned, hiding your face in her neck. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

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#lumi’s fics!#marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #smut #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [6.7k] just smut, really. soft, sweet eddie, who finally gets a chance to take you home. a friends with benefits situation.

Eddie Munson was a really good kisser. He was really good at eating you out too. He had nice hands, big, heavy, with guitar string scars that felt rough and lovely on your bare skin. He liked it when you tugged his curls, he liked it even better when you got a little loud.

He fucking loved it when you told him what to do.

You weren’t sure how your situation with the boy started, but it had been a few months now.. He went from a pretty face you knew in school, to a friend of Steve’s, introduced to you at a party. Then there was a rolled joint offered to you in the woods behind school, shoulders bumping, eyes interested, laughter exchanged.

Knowing eyes gazing over the other by the lockers, the offer of a ride home one day when it rained and didn’t stop. It went from there, more looks, heated and heavy, a hand on a knee, fingers that brushed back hair.

And then you were on his lap, dress gathered in one of Eddie’s hands as he held it out of his way so he could watch the way his cock slid in and out of you. He was noisy, encouraging you to do the same with low, rough moans and teeth that nipped at your jaw, your neck.

That was it, an addiction that needed to be fed, kisses that you couldn’t really go without for more than a day or two and after the last bell rang, you found his van in the school parking lot. Eddie could never make it further than past the old sports fields, pulling over somewhere private so he could get his hands on you, needy and greedy and all consuming.

It’s where you found yourself now, parked behind the old building that used to house the soccer teams changing rooms, hidden from view from the school, its students, the main roads. You were comfy in Eddie’s lap, a familiar weight on his thighs, your skirt already rucked up around your hips.

His lips were that maddening touch of soft, slow, fast, deep, lazy, needy, teeth, tongue, fuck, god.

It turned heated fast, the same way it always did and it was fine, it was good. It always was. It didn’t matter if Eddie had you in his lap for five hours or five minutes, the boy always made you come. He had a way of making it creep up on you, hard and fast, eyes rolling, white flashes of heat rippling through your body and then there were stars. Stars everywhere.

The boy kissed constellations onto your lips, dripping gold dust over your skin.

He had his hands under your skirt, palms squeezing at the flesh of your ass, kneading each cheek in a way that made your skin prickle with heat ‘cause he was spreading you over his thighs and it that made you feel real fucking dirty.

You were breathless, hands in his curls, pulling him closer, eyes fluttering at the way he sucked another bruise you couldn’t explain onto your neck.

You felt close enough to fall apart without him even touching you, underwear still on, lace slick and wet already, but Jesus Christ, he hadn’t put his hands on you yet. Not really. You were a livewire, body electric, the air around you both buzzing.

It wouldn’t last long when you were both like this, pent up from not seeing each other for five days, school and homework and jobs and hellfire meetings keeping you apart. And well, a five minute fuck wasn’t going to do. No, not anymore.

So you pushed at his chest, firm enough that his head fell back onto the headrest and Eddie’s hair was a mess and his brown eyes were wide. He was staring, chest heaving, palms still squeezing at the curve of your ass, fingers grazing over the lace edges of your underwear.

"Slow down," you tell him, voice a whisper.

You were sure you heard him whine, a pretty noise that got stuck at the back of his throat. You plucked the chain that lay there, shiny against his collar bones, and you twisted it between your fingers. It was sinful the way you used it to pull him a little closer again, nose brushing against the bridge of his own, lips hovering just out of reach.

He could’ve moved him he wanted to, surged forward and took control, kissed the commands right off your lips. But he didn’t.

“You can have me all night, if you want."

He whined, whimpered. You heard it that time.

"Be a little soft about it, huh? Nice and slow, for me, please?"

And then Eddie was nodding, eyes turning to burnt caramel, hooded and staring at you. His jaw was slack, lips parted and glossy from your kisses and suddenly his hands were skimming over your thighs, climbing up to hold at your waist instead. He touched you a little softer, sweeter than before and it made your stomach twist.

Fingers tucked your hair behind your ear, his heavy gaze taking in every feature, like he’d suddenly been told he could have you forever, like he wanted to commit you to memory in case you changed your mind.

Then he was kissing you again, slower like you asked, like he’d never kissed you before. Sweet and soft, his mouth a gentle push against your own and you so desperately wanted to lick into him, to tug on his pretty hair and make him grunt into you but that’s not what you asked for.

So you let Eddie set the pace, sighed into him, wriggled in his lap when he sucked the curve of your bottom lip between his own, and god were you going to regret this?

He tasted sweet, like the blue raspberry jolly rancher you’d seen Lucas hand him in the hallway, a little smoky underneath it, entirely like Eddie. He took his time with you, did as you asked him and the way he slowly curled his tongue around yours made your legs tingle, your heart skip a beat before racing a little faster than before.

His hand found your face, curving at your jaw, his thumb on your chin and he tap, tap, tapped at it until you let Eddie drag your mouth open a little more, whining when it resulted in him licking into you a little deeper.

He pulled away quicker than you would’ve liked, smiling all pretty at you when you gazed at him wide eyed. But then Eddie was nodding at the passenger seat, giving your ass a cute little smack.

“C’mon, sweetheart, seat belt on.”

You let his chain fall from your fingers, unsure you understood. But Eddie was surprisingly strong, wide hands clutching at your waist to lift you back over the console, dropping you a little clumsily onto the seat next to him.

“Eddie?” your voice was soft, a little worried, like maybe you’d crossed a line you weren’t sure the boy had.

But he was starting the engine, the van rumbling underneath you and then he was gazing over at you, bottom lip sucked between his teeth and god, he looked sinful, he looked like he wanted to eat you up. You’d let him, without hesitation.

“You said I could have you all night, yeah?” Eddie prompted, big eyes shining earnestly, his voice so sincere, like he couldn’t quite believe you’d told him such a thing. “Did you mean it?”

You nodded, suddenly shy and then Eddie was smiling, that wide, slow stretch of his lips that made you feel so many things. The van started moving, the boy tsked and nodded to your belt again, which you quickly pulled across your lap.

“Okay,” he nodded too, final in his decision. “Let’s go back to mine then, sweetheart.”

—————

You hadn’t been to Eddie’s before, not really. You knew which trailer was his, had seen in across from Max’s when you dropped her off with Steve, waved shyly and with warm cheeks when you saw the curly headed boy out of the front window.

You knew enough to realise his uncle Wayne was out, the older man’s car gone from the grassy makeshift drive. The park was quiet when Eddie parked up, making a noise of protest when you went to open the door for yourself. So you sat still, smiled hidden between pressed lips as you watched him bounce around the front of the van.

He opened your door with a shy grin, bright eyes and a hand that was ready to clasp your own. Eddie helped you down, wet grass brushing your ankles and it felt like a storm was coming with the way the air was buzzing.

Maybe it was just you and Eddie. Maybe it was just anticipation.

He opened the door to the trailer for you too, unusually quiet as his fingertips found the small of your back, guiding you inside the small house that was much cosier than you expected. It smelled a little smoky, like coffee and boyish cologne.

And then Eddie was rocking on the balls of his feet, fidgeting and pulling at a curl as he watched you take in his home.

“D’you, uh, want a drink or-?”

You turned, smiling soft like you wanted to show him you weren’t judging anything about the trailer. How could you? It was all Eddie.

“Do I not get to see your room, Munson?”

Eddie looked like he had all the air punched out of his lungs. The curl he’d pulled to brush against his mouth sprung back, his hands dropping to his sides as his eyes went wide.

He cleared his throat, nodding, giving a little bow and a wave of his arm, showing you down the narrow hallway. It was sweet, you thought, the way he was acting. Like he hadn’t been balls deep inside you countless times, as if he didn’t know the exact way you liked his fingers on your clit.

So you grinned at him, walked down the hall with your hands clasped coyly behind your back and you knew he was watching you, he always was. You could feel his eyes on you, a familiar burn that tickled your skin.

Eddie’s room was exactly like him, dark and warm, a little messy, littered with music posters, guitars on the walls, amps piled in the corner. His bed was unmade, pillows squint and sheets rumbled but they looked surprisingly fresh, the smell of laundry detergent, cologne and little smoke taking up space in the air.

You knew you’d asked for slow, for soft, for the boy to take his time with you. But suddenly you didn’t know what to do now you had Eddie all alone, all to yourself. Maybe for the whole night. The thought made you swallow hard and you were overcome, overwhelmed with how the boy was surrounding you without even touching you.

You never usually get Eddie for more than half an hour, a full sixty minutes at most, if you decided you could afford to be a little late for work that day. You never got to pull more than his belt off of him, jeans shucked down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. Likewise, you were confined to shirts and pulled up skirts, underwear hanging off one ankle or pushed to the side, Eddie’s fingers quick and concise against you.

So you huffed out a little laugh, nervous, but Eddie was smiling down at you and you liked the way the pulse in his neck jumped when you grabbed his hands and pushed him backwards to his bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he let you nudge him down to sit, playing pretend with you, as if he couldn’t easily overpower you if he wanted.

He leaned back, weight spread on the palms of his hands as he looked up at you, silver chain and big, brown eyes shining in the low light that came through the crack of his closed curtains.

“What’re you up to, trouble?”

You shrugged, playing coy, lips twisted into a pretty smile you tried to hide but then your hands were toying with the buttons on your shirt, your cardigan long lost to the floor of Eddie’s van. But the boy was enraptured, gaze trained on the way your fingers were popping each button, trailing downdowndown, until the soft material hung open and your lilac bra was on show.

It wasn’t anything fancy, soft cotton triangles with ring straps and god, you knew for a fact that your light green underwear certainly didn’t match. But looking at Eddie, you had the realisation that he probably would care, no, not at all. ‘Cause his eyes were wide and his lips were parted, sitting the most still you’d ever seen him.

There wasn’t any music, just the quiet sounds of the town outside, the hum of a generator, the chirp of some birds nearby in a tear, the wind rushing softly over the metal roof. Eddie’s soft breathing, a little choked noise he caught in the back of his throat when you let your shirt slip off your shoulders, let it pool at your feet.

You toed off your shoes, eyes on Eddie’s the whole time and you wondered if this is what he imagined, what he thought about because all of sudden you were only in your skirt and bra and it was the most bare skin he’d seen on you.

Was your tummy too soft? Were your boobs too small? Did he see the scar on your bicep from when you fell over when you were five?

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathed out, eyes trailing over every inch of you. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You flushed, cheeks and chest warm under his gaze but you didn’t stop, didn’t want to. Your fingers hooked into the band of your skirt, teased along the edges of it and you grinned when Eddie swore again, under his breath, hands fisting the comforter in a way that made your own breath hitch.

“Yeah?” you asked, blinking prettily, looking at the boy from under your lashes, fingers still slipped underneath the waist of your skirt. “Y’think so?”

You were playing up, you knew that, Eddie knew that. Neither of you cared though, because Eddie was grinning, nodding as he let out a low whistle.

“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

You lit up at his words, cheeks rosy, lip tucked between your teeth to hide your grin but Eddie was still smiling enough for both of you. You rewarded him by putting on a little show, body turned to the side so you could pop your ass out a little, arch your back real nice and slide your skirt down your hips all slow.

You didn’t let go of the material until you smoothed it down your thighs, letting it fall to the floor once it reached your knees and you were bent over for him. Nice and slow, you eased back up, almost scared to look at the boy who’d been hidden behind the mess of your hair as you eased your skirt off. But when you stood back up, pushed your hair back and pressed your thumb nervously to your lips, you saw how the boy looked a little wild.

A little wrecked.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed, sitting up to catch your hands in his, coaxing you to stand between his knees. He licked his lips, smoothed his palms over the dip in your waist and drew a line up your stomach with the tip of his nose. “Look at you.”

He certainly was, taking his time to gaze over every part of you, hands following suit, fingers trailing across the soft curve of your stomach, snapping the lace edge of your underwear against your hip. He pressed a kiss to your sternum, an open mouthed and lazy drag of his mouth over the swell of your breast.

“Y’wanna tell me what you want? Hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of the boy so close, all this new bare skin for him to explore. His hands were so big, wide and warm and rough, scratching lovely at your waist, over the tops of your thighs, his mouth trailing down until his tongue licked at the edge of your underwear, flicking a little dirty at the cute little bow there.

“Eddie,” you didn’t mean to whine, not already. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, disappointingly still covered by his shirt but you felt a little unsteady, dizzy. “Told you what I wanted.”

You felt rather than saw his smile, pressed to your tummy and you let out a sharp gasp when his hands spun you, catching you when you turned, facing the other way so his nose was pressed to the curve of your spine.

You suddenly felt a lot more naked than before.

He tutted, close enough to you that you felt his lips move against you, his curls tickling the curve of your ass, his hands keeping you between his knees.

“Wanna hear it again, sweet thing,” a kiss, on the dimple of your lower back, another on the lace edge of your underwear. You squirmed. “That alright?”

You let out the breath you’d been holding, hands making fists by your sides and uncurling your hands again and again, at a loss with what to do with them because you’d never not been facing Eddie, tucked into his lap, able to watch him gasp and curse for you, fingers tangled in his hair.

He seemed to notice this, caught your hands in his own and soothed this thumb over your palms.

“This okay?” he asked you and the boy peered up to see your head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving. You nodded and he smiled. “Yeah, baby? Lemme hear you?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” you murmured. “S’good.”

He rewarded you with a kiss to your hand, planted where his thumb was and then his mouth was trailing along your arm, lips pressed to the sensitive skin inside the crook of your elbow and he didn’t stop until his teeth were catching on the clasp of your bra.

He fingered the band, ghosted a touch over the metal hooks and you were gasping, nodding again so he didn’t have to ask permission and the flimsy fabric was soon joining the rest of your clothes on Eddie Munson’s bedroom floor.

Fuck.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed, “my sweet little thing, huh?”

Your heart stuttered over the possessive remark, your thighs rubbing together because you were still standing facing away from the boy and he wasn’t touching you where you wanted him to.

You couldn’t see what he was doing, couldn’t guess his next move and when you groaned and tried to spin back around, Eddie ah ah ah’d and gave your hip a little tap.

“You’ve not answered my question,” he tried to sound scolding, but he was sweet enough to kiss the spot he’d given you a little smack. “Gonna tell me what you want? Comin’ into my bedroom and givin’ me a little show? Then you can’t even tell me what you want me to do with you?”

He traced a line down your spine, tucked his index finger into the edge of your underwear, rings cold against your skin and he pulled the elastic back until it snapped back against you. You jumped, whimpered, pushed your ass further into his wide hands.

“C’mon now trouble, what did you tell me in the van, huh? You were so bossy then, what happened to that girl? Got you all fucked out already?” Eddie laughed, not meanly, but unkind enough to make your toes curl. “Hardly touched you, sweetheart, Christ.”

You loved and hated the way the boy could run his mouth, in and out of the bedroom. He could have you wet with just his mouth at your ear, spinning tales of exactly what he was going to do with you when he got you alone, sneaking away from your locker before anyone else had a chance to spot you both. Eddie was loud, brash, too confident, dramatic to boot. He was dirty, unashamed, hot with it, teasing.

You loved it.

But the boy couldn’t fucking handle it when you gave it back to him.

“Eddie.”

Another cooing noise, almost sympathetic, but you knew him better than that. “Yeah, baby?”

“Want you to take care of me,” your voice was sticky soft, sweet like honey, just as easy to get stuck in. “Can you do that? Please?”

You heard his breath hitch, a hard swallow, a wrecked sigh he tried to hide.

“Want you to take your time with me,” your hands found his, small on top of large, but you were the one taking control. You smoothed them up your hips, along the ridges of your ribs until both rough hands were cupping at your tits and you were lowering yourself into his lap. “Be nice to me, slow and sweet, baby.”

He was already hard against you, the length of him sitting stiff between your ass cheeks and you knew for a fact he’d been that way since the van. He’d admit it to you too, completely unashamedly letting you know the effect you had on him.

Eddie liked to take your hand in his, cup his hard dick through his jeans and whisper to you, asking you if you knew what you did to him.

So you stole his move, brought your joined hands to the heat of your lace covered cunt and leant back into his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder so he could watch. His eyes were dark, almost black, hooded and staring through the line of his lashes.

“Fuck.”

You nodded as if you were agreeing with him, coaxing one of his fingers to draw a line up the length of your folds, gathering enough slick under the lace that it stuck to you, showing off every outline of you for Eddie to see.

“Eddie,” you couldn’t manage more than a whisper, but your lips found his ear under his messy curls easily, your head thrown back onto his shoulder. “Feel that? You’ve got me so wet.”

“Fucking, Christ, sweetheart.” He moaned, loud and wanting, his other hand grabbing a little roughly at your thigh, hooking it over his knee so he could spread you wider for him. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You pouted. “That’s no good to me.”

He huffed out a laugh, fingers kneading into the soft of your thigh as he kept you open for him. You let go of his other hand, happy to lay slack against him, propped up by his solid chest, arms holding you in as he touched and touched and touched.

“Like this?” He whispered, his finger tracing up and down, up and down through your folds, bumping against your clit on every pass. He was impossibly slow with it, gentle and soft, a maddening tease that had you pushing the tips of your toes into his carpet so you could try and chase the friction of his touch. “Slow like this, sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes clenched shut, mewling and then his middle and index finger were swiping over your bottom lip, tapping until you opened.

“Suck,” he told you. “Good girl, hmm?”

If your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he didn’t see from the way he sat behind you. But you did as you were asked - no, told - laving your tongue under his fingers, enjoying the slight weight of them in your mouth, the cool silver of his rings at your lips, whining when he took them away from you, slicker than before.

But then his hand was down the front of your underwear and his fingers were sliding through you. You keened, squeaked at the sudden touch and tried to clamp your thighs around his wrist but Eddie was shushing you, soft noises in your ear as his other hand held your thigh, spreading you back open for him.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Eddie quietened you, “y’okay? I’ve got you, can I touch you, baby? Yeah? Gonna squeeze that pretty cunt around my fingers?”

You were nodding frantically, hips thrust out to him in offering, desperate to feel a little more full than you were.

“Eddie, please.”

He was the same boy as always, running his mouth, talking to you dirty, hands knowing every inch of you. He was just slower with it, softer, like you’d asked. It turned him into something you’d never seen before, this quieter version of himself. Just as cocky, just as eager to please, but Jesus fucking Christ, his touch was making you dizzy and the way he was whispering to you all soft made you want to cry.

He was bordering on mean with it, a little condescending, hands petting at you to try and get you to settle.

“Baby, c’mon, sit nice,” he tsked, grinning at the way you were wriggling on his lap. If the grind of your ass against his hard dick was doing anything to him, he did well not to show it. “I know, I know, just a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

And then his palm was running flat down the front of you, spreading your folds so the heel of his palm could grind against your clit as he slipped two fingers into you. It was all so easy with you wet you were, the slick sounds of your cunt almost as embarrassing as the ones falling from your mouth.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured low, lips against your ear. Your head was thrown back, laying against his shoulders and at his words, you cried out and pressed your face into his curls. You couldn’t do anything but let him fuck his fingers into you, a slow, wet drag in and out, in and out, in and out. “That’s it, sweet little thing, look at you.”

But then it wasn’t deep enough, it wasn’t fast enough and Eddie was still wearing far too many clothes, and suddenly, you were starting to regret everything you’d asked of the boy.

Your hands reached up, finding his curls, fingers twisting in the soft strands as your nails scratched against his scalp and you rugged, moaning for more.

Eddie stopped. Let go of your thigh and slid his hand out from your underwear, dragging wet and warmth up your tummy as he did so. You whined and you heard him laugh, a soft huff into your neck before he kissed your shoulder and patted your hip to make you stand up.

You climbed from his lap, a little unsteady on your feet because the maddening push and pull of his fingers had made you dizzy, white spots floating in your vision and you turned to him with a pout.

“Eddie, what the fu-”

But then he was pulling off his shirt, hands gripping the back of his collar to rip it over his head and it joined your clothes on his floor. He popped the button of his jeans but didn’t do much else, groaning slightly at the small relief it brought him as he palmed his hard cock through his boxers.

“On the bed, baby,” he nodded to the space beside him, a pile of pillows that probably smelled like him and when you let yourself crawl into them, you found out you were right. “Good girl.”

He laughed when your fingers curled into fists, an honest to god visceral reaction to his words.

Then he was moving over you, kneeling between your spread legs and crowding into you. It was a familiar sight, if not for the fact that you were horizontal this time. Nose to nose with the boy, lips within reach, big, brown eyes staring hotly back at you.

So you did what you always done, pushed your hands greedily into his hair and arched up to him, tugging a little when he didn’t comply and suddenly it felt like a fucking month had passed since Eddie had kissed you.

You whined, and you couldn’t deny you sounded like a brat. “Eddie!”

His hands wrapped around your wrists, gently pulling your fingers from his curls. He tutted, tried to look disappointed but he was hiding his smile by biting at his lip and then, fuck, he gathered both of your hands in one of his and pinned them to the pillow above your head.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed softly, “you said you wanted me to take my time with you.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, so close to where you wanted him. “Nice and slow, is that not what you said?”

You whimpered, turned your head to chase his lips with your own but he was pulling back just slightly. His hold on you was strong enough that you could pull away, couldn’t get close enough and the realisation made you moan out.

“C’mon pretty girl, that’s what you asked for, right? For me to take my time?” Another kiss, under the line of your jaw this time, his lips parted and wet and warm. “Can’t do that if you’re gonna yank at my hair, hmm? Like a dirty little thing? Can’t have that.”

A kiss again, anywhere but your lips, his mouth trailing over your throat, a sweet peck pressed to your chin. You wanted to cry, eyes glassy, overwhelmed at all the soft, lovely touches he was giving you, all whilst he had you pinned and pressed down underneath him.

“Baby,” Eddie tutted, eyes on yours, watching the way wetness brimmed at your lash line, threatening to spill over when you gave him a watery smile. “Baby, too much? Y’alright?”

You could feel the way his hand around your wrist let up, slackening just a little but you were crying out, a babble of noise that had him raising his brows and you were nodding furiously.

“M’good, Eddie, so good,” you could hardly catch a breath. What the fuck had he done to you? “Want this, want you.”

That seemed to appease him, his hand pushing yours back down into the pillows and he smiled, all lovely just for you, dimple showing. “Yeah? You do? Oh, good girl, what d’you want, huh?”

Another fucking kiss, the cutest little peck, right by the corner of your lips. He knew what you wanted, he was just being a dick about it.

“A kiss,” you huffed, shivering when his chest dragged across yours, the hang of his chain coke against your tits, a moan bubbling in your throat when he deliberately let it graze and catch against a peaked nipple.

“That’s all?” Eddie asked you, “better make it a good one for my girl then.”

His girl.

You didn’t have time to process that before he was on you, free hand curving around your jaw, thumb on your chin to tug at your mouth, licking into you almost immediately. It was like he’d went too long without it too, like not kissing you was the worst thing imaginable because it had been at least half an hour since he had his mouth on yours and well, that just wouldn’t fucking do.

He kissed you like he missed you, like someone was going to take you away from him, mouth and hands greedy on you, tongue curling around yours. His lips were always soft, so impossibly soft and every stroke of his tongue over yours made you whine, hands flexing in his hold because holy shit, you wanted to grab and scratch and pull at him for making you feel so damn good.

You were gasping against him when he pulled away, eyes still glassy, lips swollen and rosy and Eddie’s hand was getting greedy, trailing down your sides to hook into your underwear, pulling at them until they slid down your hips.

His nose nudged yours to grab your attention, unable to help himself when you pressed another, quick, sweet kiss to your still parted lips.

“You listening’ sweetheart?”

You nodded, blinking up at him.

“There’s my girl,” Eddie cooed, “good, ‘cause I need you to keep your hands up here for me, ‘kay?”

You whined, ready to argue back but then Eddie was pulling off lace from around your ankles and kissing his way down your naked body, hands bracketing your hips, curls tickling your stomach.

You clenched down on nothing.

He was eye level with your cunt, eyes shining, lips smirking as he pushed at your thighs, spreading you out in front of him, grinning when you wiggled against his palms.

“Nuhuh,” he told you, “let me see you, yeah?”

He’d never done this before, was never able to, with the logistics of a quickie in the front of his van. Sure, you’d gone down on him before, a much easier task over the console, his dick heavy on the flat of your tongue and Eddie always promised you that next time, he’d return the favour, get you spread out in back but, well.

Next time would come and you’d be too pent up and he’d be too impatient and before you both knew it you’d be sinking down on his cock in the driver's seat of the van, bouncing up and down whilst Eddie could only watch, fucked out in minutes at the sight of you.

So this? Eddie blowing warm air over your already hot cunt? This was new.

“So pretty,” he told you, voice awed. “Can I taste you baby? Would you like that?”

You couldn’t do anything but whimper, moans catching in your throat until they came out like needy little gasps and it took everything you had to follow Eddie’s orders and keep your hands to yourself. You fisted them in his pillow, gripped on tight because his lips were ghosting over your folds, butterfly kisses pressed to the outside of you, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips like he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he groaned, hips rutting into the bed as he palmed at your ass, tugging you down the bed so he could settle himself closer to you. “Could just eat you up, pretty girl.”

His tongue was swiping through you before you could answer, before you could beg. And despite the way he was grinding himself down into the bed, Eddie took his time with you, licked through your folds real slow with the flat of his tongue, pushing the soft of it over your clit at the end.

He kept you spread wide, hands on the inside of your thighs, fingers splayed over you, thumbs pulling gently at your folds so he could push you open for him. His nose hit your clit when his tongue dipped inside of you, and fucking hell, Eddie was moaning almost as loud as you were, his lips wet with you, getting himself messy as he sucked and kissed his way across your cunt.

“Can’t get enough of you,” the boy groaned into your thigh, kissing the soft skin there too, a reminder of how fucking sweet he was. “Christ, sweetheart, look at you, so pretty, all fucked out, huh? Look at those eyes, fucking hell.”

He was babbling, talking sweet in between licks, dirty flicks of his tongue that had your stomach clenching, your chest heaving. You were pushed onto your elbows to watch, a move that Eddie had given you in trouble for because your hands were still twisted in his sheets, kept to yourself.

Your eyes were glassy, tears pooling at the corners, kissing your lashes that couldn’t stop fluttering at every kiss he gave you clit, every soft suck. You were sure you looked a mess, wrecked, ruined. Hair a riot, cheeks blooming with heat, lips still swollen and slick from his kisses and when Eddie slid one finger, two fingers back inside of you, you fell back with a wail.

You were close, so close already, the thickness of his digits dragging in and out of your cunt was enough to throw you onto the edge but then the boy smiled against your stomach and dipped his head back down. His lips wrapped around your clit and suckled, soft and gentle, enough to keep you hanging.

“Can feel you,” Eddie whispered, placing soft, quick kisses around your folds, across your tummy, one on your hip bone, followed by a scrape of his teeth. “Can feel you gettin’ tight around me, sweetheart. S’fucking hot, so fuckin’ hot.”

The boy sounded as wrecked as you felt, his voice shot, lips slick with you as you looked back down the length of your stretched out frame, eyes rolling at the sight of him between your thighs. He was watching you, brown eyes dark and hooded as he held your gaze and licked back over your clit.

“Oh, fucking hell,” you moaned, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”

“That’s it baby,” he encouraged, wrist twisting, fingers moving in and out of you a little faster. His rings weren’t cold anymore, but you could feel the hard nudge of them against your cunt, the feeling making you clench down. “Christ, that’s it, yeah, you gonna come for me?”

You couldn’t help it, not anymore.

You grabbed at Eddie’s hair as your back arched, pushing your hips further into him, his fingers reaching places inside of you that had you seeing fucking stars. You tugged at his curls, unable to stop yourself but Eddie groaned at your toughness, letting you pull him into you, his hips rutting against the bed as he hooked his digits up and rubbed, tongue circling around your clit relentlessly at the same time.

You broke, shattered, fell apart, cried out. Your eyes clenched shut, your body curling in on itself as you clamped your thighs around Eddie’s poor head, his mouth still sucking and kissing over you as you came.

And then you were whimpering, patting at the mess of curls you’d created on his head, trying to shimmy away from the overstimulation and Eddie took pity, dragging himself up your bottom, laying kisses on your damp skin as he went.

He was grinning when he reached your face, kissing your neck to let you catch your breath, looking entirely proud of himself. You shined at the drag of his denim jeans over the inside of your thighs, laughed weakly when Eddie snorted at your shivers.

Then he was pushing himself up on his elbows to hover over you, a palm smoothing back the hair that was clinging to your forehead. He looked down at you with eyes that were shining, so full of affection and fondness and something that it made your heart ache, made fresh tears spring to the corners of your eyes again and you huffed out a watery sigh.

“That good, huh?“ Eddie asked smugly, smiling when you nodded, still a little dazed. He thumbed at your mouth, squished at the soft of your cheeks with his fingers and rubbed his nose against yours. “Gimme a kiss, sweetheart.“

You obliged happily, humming a pretty sound against his lips when Eddie kissed you soft and sweet, his mouth a gentle slide over your own.

“Love your little noises,” he whispered, kissing you between words. “Sound so fucking cute when you’re coming for me.”

Your body burned at his words, another ache creeping across your cunt and despite the way he’d made you fall apart, you wanted nothing more than Eddie to be buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Eds,” you whispered, hand palming at the front of his jeans, groaning when you felt him straining against the denim, the hardest he’d ever been. “Let me help you.”

But he took your hand in his, kissed your palm before you could feel the sting of rejection and he was crowding you back into his pillows, curls falling in a curtain on either sideed of you, lips back on your neck.

“Give yourself a second, sweetheart,” he mumbled. “You said it yourself, I’ve got you all night.”

PART TWO

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic

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longwuzhere · 11 months

Text

Some cool Easter eggs I caught watching My Adventures with Superman that I want to show to people so they can be in on it with comic book readers pt2

Episode 1 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 3 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 5 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 6 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 7 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here and here

Episode 8 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 9 of My Adventure with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 10 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

(SPOILERS obviously):

An obvious one, but a classic, the "up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Superman!" line reference. This one never gets old.

Jimmy next name drops Flamebird. in the comics Nightwing and Flamebird were Kryptonian superheroes adopting their names from a species of Kryptonian birds. This is where Dick Grayson gets his Nightwing identity from. The page here is from Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #17 (1986) drawn by Curt Swan and Karl Kesel.

At the climatic battle of part 2 of Adventures of a Normal Man, we see Leslie Willis become blue and look more like her traditional Livewire look. Her first appearance was in Superman the Animated Series, season 2 episode 5 "Livewire" where she was voiced by Lori Petty, a.k.a. Tank Girl. In the show Leslie was a shock jock radio DJ slinging hot takes live on air knocking down Superman a peg or two

Obviously MAwS took Leslie in a whole different direction, design choice, and occupation change, but I am excited to see what happens next for her.

Before we see Clark battle Leslie we see this guy. White hair, wears orange and black, its Slade Wilson a.k.a. Deathstroke. This fool here in like 20 to 25 years will have his life spiral out of control and get his ass kicked by a bunch of colorfully dressed teenagers.

Deathstroke makes his first appearance in New Teen Titans #2 (1980) (W: Marv Wolfman and George Perez, P: George Perez, I: Romeo Tanghal, C: Adrienne Roy, L: Ben Oda) where he is hired by H.I.V.E. to kill the Teen Titans. In the comics he's a major piece of shit, but a damn good assassin.

After the fight we see Supes clean up and he picks up a billboard that reads Amazotech.

This is a good reference to Professor Anthony Ivo, a mad scientist of the DC Universe who built the Amazo robot who could adapt and replicate any power that the Justice League has and weaknesses. Both Ivo and the Amazo robot make their first appearances here in Brave and the Bold #30 (1960) with the cover art done by Mike Sekowsky and Murphy Anderson.

At the end of the episode Slade name drops Task Force X better known as the Suicide Squad. The name "Suicide Squad" is from the Brave and the Bold #25 where it was the name of Rick Flag's unit in the military. The Suicide Squad pop culture knows first debuted in Legends #3 (1987) as seen below (W: John Ostrander and Len Wein, P: John Byrne, I: Karl Kesel, C: Tom Ziuko, L: Steve Haynie).

The team at this time was composed of Rick Flag, Bronze Tiger, Captain Boomerang, Deadshot, Enchantress, and Blockbuster. The team members have changed out with each new Task Force X/Suicide Squad iteration.

Behind Slade, here is Amanda Waller, the most fearsome woman in the DC universe. She's ruthless, politically powerful, and will not hesitate to blow up anyone in the Suicide Squad if they screw up. She makes her first appearance in Legends #1 (1987) same comic series in the previous picture. Very excited to see where My Adventures with Superman goes with this cuz you don't see Superman interact with Deathstroke or Suicide Squad all the often.

Link to Episode 1 of My Adventures of Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 3 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 5 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 6 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 7 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here and here

Link to Episode 8 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 9 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 10 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

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another-lost-mc · 10 months

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I come to share an idea with you in case luck is on my side and you interested to expand it-

I can't stop thinking about the MC who has a crush on Lucifer but somehow ends up moaning his name while making out with Mephisto 🤔🫢 (I don't think MC and Mephisto have a romantic relationship yet, maybe it's more like ons or something similar???)

To be honest, your name somehow popped to my mind when I thought of this idea 😆 Maybe because I read your smut fic too much lol—

Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you have a fantastic day 🤍

give me time, I'll change your mind

pairing: mephistopheles x gn!reader

content: nsfw. smut. friends (frenemies?) with benefits. jealousy, teasing, cursing, degradation, slut-shaming. reader has unresolved feelings for lucifer (one-sided).

word count: 1.3k

Groans and whimpered curses spill effortlessly from your lips as long, dexterous fingers graze the spot inside you that makes you tremble. Your body feels like a livewire, overwhelmed by the barest touch of leather against your bare skin and little nips of teeth against your throat. He nudges your head back for better access and you tip your head back with a sigh. It feels so good and your mind is lost in a blissful daze of his creation.

You don't realize something is wrong until there's a sharp intake of breath, and the gloved hand stretching you open suddenly grows still. Mephisto lifts his head from where he was trailing kisses along the curve of your neck, and he narrows his eyes angrily at you.

"I'm knuckle-deep inside your greedy little hole and you can't remember my name, pet?"

Your mouth falls open in mortification when you realize what you've done.

This isn't the first time you've gone to him for relief. He accepted your casual physical arrangement and you both agreed discretion was best. He obliged when you were in the mood, even though more often lately he was the one that initiated first.

He was always careful about coming up with flimsy excuses for you to stay behind after class and help him with the school paper. He fucked you across any available surface in the newspaper club office—bent over the arm of the sofa, against the door, flat on your back against his desk. He was generous with his attention without asking why you chose him, and maybe that was his mistake.

What would you tell him if he did? That he was a handsome distraction, someone to satisfy your needs while you tried to unravel your complicated feelings for the Avatar of Pride?

"I'm sorry, I—I don't know why..."

You're a terrible liar, and he doesn't fall for your blubbering excuses. His expression is cold, calculating, and he's piecing together the little secrets you've kept from him all this time.

"How many others do you turn to for a quick fuck because you can't have your precious Lucifer?" He practically spits his name like a curse as he pulls his fingers from your body with an obscene squelch. He continues stoking around your entrance lazily, taunting you so you don't forget that you were nearly begging for him to fuck your brains out—until you ruined it, that is.

His tongue is sharp and his words drip with scorn. He's trying to hurt you for hurting him. "Tell me, little human. Was I the only one willing to touch you? Was I your last resort, pet? Lucky me." He chuckles but it's a bitter sound, and he bares his fangs when his lips curl into a cold smile.

You're rendered speechless, mouth opening and closing uselessly when you struggle to think of something to say.

How could you be so stupid?

Stray tears trickle from the corner of your eyes when you blink. You can't even imagine how pathetic you must look in his eyes: your lips quivering pitifully as more tears threaten to fall, your legs spread wide on the desk where he stands between them, your pants and underwear tugged down to your ankles from earlier when he was too eager to undress you properly.

He startles you when his fingers press against your entrance and slide back in effortlessly. He adds another and begins stretching you again around his fingers, but it's different now than it was before. His movements are faster now, roughened by his frustration and some primal instinct to claim you. He had you first. Perhaps he just needs to remind you of what you can have with him instead of whatever fantasy you've imagined with Lucifer, that pompous prick—he doesn't deserve you.

Desire pools deep in your belly and you bite your lip to stifle your moans as he strokes you in all the right places. It feels wrong to enjoy this when you insulted him so cruelly. You feel guilty because you still want him—no one's ever touched you the way he has. You have a feeling that he knows that too, even if you won't admit it.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth; he licks at a stray tear clinging to your cheek before he pulls away. "Don't worry, pet. I'll still take care of you, even if no one else will."

There's a soft zip and a metallic clink as he undoes his belt with his free hand. Once he frees his cock, he moves lightning quick—his fingers slip from your body so he can grip your waist with both his hands. He drags you forward until the only thing keeping you from falling off the edge of the desk is his hips pressed against yours.

You barely manage to grip the edge of the desk to brace yourself before he thrusts inside you with one deep stroke. He gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch, panting lightly while he watches you squirm on his cock. His hair falls carelessly over his face and sticks to the light sheen of sweat trickling down his temples.

It feels like the calm before the storm: he looks fierce but determined. "Let's see if you can still moan his name by the time I'm done with you," he sneers, groaning deep in his chest when he pulls back, teasing your entrance with the fat tip of his cock. He slams back inside, fucking you like he's trying to tear you asunder with the rough, punishing pace of his thrusts. His filthy praise about how well you take him and how perfect you feel around his cock puts you back together again.

The desk rattles underneath you and the desperate, feral noises you're both making can probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn't stop until you come on his cock with a broken cry. He fucks you through your release and hisses when you clench around him, and he finally grunts as he empties himself into you.

After he catches his breath, he groans quietly as his softening cock slips from your body. He tucks himself away, fastening his belt while he stares at the tantalizing sight of his cum trickling from your hole. Usually he fetches a damp cloth for you to clean yourself with, but he doesn't do that tonight. He helps you off the desk and slides your clothes back into place. His hands are surprisingly gentle and you realize he's not trying to mock you—there's something possessive in his gaze instead. Your underwear and pants are sticky from the mess he's made of you, and he can already see little wet spots forming where it soaks into the fabric.

By the time he leads you outside where his chauffeur is waiting, it's as if nothing unusual happened between you tonight. His car pulls up at the House of Lamentation to drop you off, and like all the times before, watches to make sure you make it inside safely. You feel the weight of his gaze on your back until you close the door behind you.

The others must be busy because no one comes to your room to bother you, and you're grateful that you don't have to make excuses for your wrinkled appearance and musky smell. You take a warm bath before bed to soothe the dull ache between your legs. The lingering scent of his sweat and cologne on your skin has faded by the time you put on your pajamas, and you leave your D.D.D. on your desk so you're not tempted to call him. You toss and turn, mind racing with memories of what happened tonight and the fleeting sense of uncertainty and anticipation about what to expect when you see him tomorrow.

Eventually you fall into a restless sleep, but the crimson eyes you normally dream about are murky-green instead.

read more: mephistopheles masterlist | obey me! masterlist

#obey me #obey me mephistopheles #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me mephisto x reader #mephistopheles x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #mephistopheles smut #obey me mephisto x mc #mephistopheles x mc #obey me mephisto x you #mephistopheles x you #obey me fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

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munsoninthedark86 · 1 year

Text

Burnin’ For You(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smuttiness, rough sex, Eddie being a little dom, unprotected sex, creampie finish, mentions of smoking weed.

word count: 1.3k

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

It’s sweltering hot outside. As a matter of fact, it’s even hotter inside. You can feel your brain practically melting, or maybe that was the weed. Or it might be a combination of the weed and the Black Sabbath album playing in the background. You’re lying on Eddie’s bed, a fan is blowing in your general direction. Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, playing his guitar along to the album. He mutters a few song lyrics here and there, but he’s mostly just trying to cool off. You’re both unsure of what to do at this point. The sun is just starting to set and you could make your way to somewhere cooler, but you’re both too stoned to even drive anywhere.

“Hey, whatcha thinking about?” Eddie asks as he turns to look at you. You raise your head slightly from the cozy pillow.

“Not thinking. Too hot to think,” you whine softly, and Eddie smirks.

He removes the guitar strap and he brings his precious guitar to its faithful resting spot. You wouldn’t even dare touch the thing. You know that guitar means everything to Eddie.

When he looks back at you, his eyes widen. You look so damn beautiful on his bed like this. You’re just in a t-shirt and some panties. Not that he’s never seen you like this, but it’s always such a pleasant surprise for him. You wink playfully before sitting up, and he watches as you stretch.

“I’ve got an idea of what we can do,” you purr softly. Eddie sits down on the bed again, and he can sense that sexual tension building in the air.

“Oh? And here I thought it was too hot to think,” Eddie teases. One of his hands soothes up your ankle to your thigh.

“Well, it might be a little too hot for this then,” you say as you bite your lip. He chuckles ever so softly before leaning in to kiss you.

You feel those fucking rings on your hot body, and it makes your heart race like nothing else. Eddie was the only one to make you feel this way. He only had to touch you, and you felt like you were jolted alive by a livewire. You let out the most pitiful moan when he begins playing with your pussy through your panties.

“This wet already? Baby, why didn’t you say something?” He muses as he continues to rub your swollen clit through those cotton panties that are just stuck to your wet lips.

“Didn’t wanna bother you, Eddie. You were so concentrated,”

Once again, he kisses you. This time, he’s pushing you back against the mattress and he’s unbuckling his belt. It’s a process to get himself undressed as he continues to kiss you. You taste so good. Like that cherry chapstick you always wear and the faintest trace of weed. He doesn’t even remember what kind of strain the two of you were smoking. He just remembers how it made you so good and high that you took off your clothes.

But now, he’s going to peel off those soaked panties. And when he does, he shoves them into his pocket. He wants to keep those so badly. The nights that you aren’t here, those panties will definitely come in handy.

“You can always bother me for this, princess. You know I won’t let you down,”

The next kiss is frantic and hungry. His tongue slips into your mouth, and his hand hurries to push his pants down past his ass. It’s all he needs to be able to slide into you with ease. He loves that he can just fuck you like this. Just quick and easy, ready to pound you into the mattress until you’re crying that you can’t take it anymore.

He reaches between the both of you to guide his thick cock to your folds. You’re so fucking wet, and just for him. Only for him. You’ve never been wet for anyone else. Not in the way you’re wet for Eddie. He smirks when he feels you quivering, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer to push the head of his cock into your tight hole.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie grunts. “How the fuck are you this damn tight every time?” His eyes roll back in his head as he bottoms out. It’s so fucking warm and tight. How is he supposed to last?

You let out a soft giggle, and Eddie swears he’s died and gone to heaven. You’re perfect. Everything about you really excites him. He’s always had a thing for you, but it has become even more apparent in the last year. You feel him twitching deep inside of you, and you let your hands soothe down his back.

“How am I supposed to fucking last in your tight cunt, baby? Fucking temptress.” Eddie grunts as he tries to thrust into you, but your walls squeeze him too good.

“I thought you’ve been practicing.” You ask, and he blushes.

“With my fucking hand? Baby, it’s really not the same at all. You make me wanna blow my load so fucking quick.”

Your hands cup his ass and you pull him even deeper. You don’t care that he cums quickly, because Eddie has a short refractory period. He can get so hard so quickly. Even after he paints your insides white with his hot cum. When your nails dig into the meat of his ass cheeks, he knows he needs to fuck you so good.

“You think you’re in charge, baby? Just because you’ve got the tightest cunt I’ve ever had, it doesn’t mean you get to call the shots.” He warns, his tone a little more gruff now. You let out another giggle, and he thrusts into you even deeper.

Your mouth falls open, surprised at his brutal move. His eyes are alight with the lust and love for you. His hips begin snapping at this new pace. Fast and desperate, and he can’t help the whines that fall from his lips. If he’s going to cum quick, he’d rather have done it while fucking you so hard.

His rings feel so good on your body again, and then your wrists are pinned to the mattress. You whine at the lack of being able to touch him, but he shushes you with a kiss. Sloppy and wet, and a string of saliva connects the two of you when Eddie pulls away.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Eddie cries out, his balls getting so tight. He’s so fucking close, but he’s tempted to make you cum.

His hand trails down your abdomen once more, pulling on your perked nipples and then his thumb comes to bully your aching clit. The sounds of your wet skin slapping together fills the room, and it’s almost louder than the metal album you have playing presently.

“Eddie,” you whine. You feel yourself getting so close to the edge. “Please, baby. Lemme cum,”

“That’s what I like to hear, princess.” He doesn’t stop his pace.

A few more swipes of his thumb on your clit, and you feel that coil in your stomach snap. Your vision cuts to static as Eddie pounds into you through every single wave of white hot pleasure. You cry out his name, one hand coming to tangle into his messy mane of hair.

“Can’t hold on any longer, princess.” Eddie groans. He lets go of both your wrists and you pull him into you even deeper.

His hips snap into you a little more sloppy until you feel that familiar warmth filling you up. He grunts with every single shot of his cum, and you moan along with him. It feels so good to be filled with his cum. You’re so damn happy you decided to get on birth control. Even if it was only just for Eddie to feel as good as you do.

He’s panting as he comes down from his high. Everything is so sticky and warm inside of you. He loves that he can finish inside of you. It’s such a messy treat for him.

“Damn,” you breathe out. “It’s hotter here than it was in the first place.”

“You were right, it’s too hot to think.” Eddie mumbles, and he begins rutting into you once more. Maybe one more round couldn’t hurt…could it?

#munsoninthedark.writes #Eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things season 4

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twola · 11 months

Note

If you're comfy with it: high honor!Arthur comforting an F!reader's shame and insecurities in regards to being badly scarred in some way? I'm talking large patches with burns, scars, whip marks, what have you; enough to make someone jump if they saw her beneath her clothes. Esp bc she feels weak for already being smaller than most of the camp. Ty if you do this!!

Getting back to writing, it was great to bang this one out (teehee). Working on clearing up my request queue, along with a renewed vigor for writing my longfic, Devil’s Backbone.

Painted Ribbons

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur’s new lover refuses to bare herself to him, and he’s dying to know why.

taglist: @pinkiemme, @mykneeshurt, @bimbo-dollz

Arthur’s gaze lingers, for longer than is socially appropriate, at the swing of your skirts as you carry the overflowing tub of dirty laundry on your hip toward where the other women have set up for the day.

His thoughts drift to the night prior, where his hands dove up those skirts, eliciting soft mewls from your throat like music to his ears. He might have to pull you away from that damned laundry pile to do it again. His blood pulses through his veins like a livewire at the thought of it.

As if you could hear the conversation he was having with himself in his mind, you look up and make eye contact with him, a small, shy smile gracing your face before your eyes bat back down toward the laundry.

You’re a pretty little thing - short in stature, shy, and quiet - except when he has two fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. He has no idea how this started - he had been admiring you from afar, enamored by the way your nose scrunches up when you think, or how your pretty little eyes seem to always be looking down, lined with dark lashes that bat innocently when you look up. But whiskey - whiskey was your downfall, as many a poor girl, a night when you had partaken enough to shed your shyness and approach him, threading your arms around his neck as he eagerly pulled you into his lap. The meeting of your lips - well, that was his downfall. He had hummed into your mouth as he pushed his tongue against your lips and the moan that bubbled up from your chest - he knew he was a goner.

Was that only a week ago?

Was it only two days ago that he took you out into the woods a short distance from camp and kissed you until you were both breathlessly clinging to each other?

Surely, this all must be some strange dream - last night must have been a strange dream, where you snuck into his tent in the middle of the night and crawled into his cot. He must have been unconscious when you allowed him to draw your skirts up and touch your knees, trail his fingers up your thighs, cup your core in his big warm hands, drown out your sigh with a kiss of his own.

Sliding a leg of your bloomers to the side, fingers working through the thatch of hair and brushing against the seam of your body, wet already, ready for him.

The slide of his index finger into your cunt went straight to his cock. God, what it would feel like to press another part of him inside you, to cleave you, to fully make you his. The thought alone was enough to sustain him as he worked his finger inside you, thrusting into your wetness enough to press his middle finger inside as well. Pleasing you, working you, giving to you, until you shudder beneath him, back arching up, your perfect little cunt clenching around his fingers, and it's everything he is not to come in his pants then and there.

Arthur shakes his head slightly from his seat near the small campfire, blinking back into the present. It surely couldn’t have been a dream. Could it?

But no, because you look up again, catching his eyes, and flush slightly, smiling like you can’t help it.

Definitely not a dream.

To his delight, you’ve snuck into his tent again late at night, clad in a shirt over a simple petticoat skirt, barefoot and giggling softly as you climb into his cot, into his waiting arms.

After several moments of bodies tessellating and the shedding of a skirt into a heap on the ground next to the cot, Arthur grunts and settles you next to him, hand creeping up your stomach over your shirt.

You shake your head, swatting his hand away as he reaches toward the buttons of your blouse.

“C’mon now, little darlin’, let me-”

He is cut off as your other hand sneaks into his open trousers, wrapping your little fingers around his cock, and pumping it heartily. His protest is forgotten quickly as he thrusts his hips forward nigh uncontrollably. He quickly works his pants down his thighs, kicking them off and climbing further up the cot as you scoot backward upon it, bare-legged and your shirttails hanging between them, hiding your cunt from his view.

But when you lie down completely, smiling up at him while spreading your legs, he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. He drops the request to strip you down and strokes his shaft as he leans over you.

“Y’wanna do this now?”

You respond by sitting up on your elbows and chasing his mouth, pressing your lips against his as he smiles into the kiss. He presses his hips forward, running the head of his cock up and down your slit, covering it in your wetness.

“Oh - oh,” You moan, and he shushes you quietly as he presses the first inch of him through the tight ring of muscle at your core, gritting his teeth against his own moan as your tight, wet warmth welcomes him in.

By the time he’s slid completely within the sheath of your cunt, you’re a gasping, quivering mess beneath him, a silent whine erupting from you as he pulls his hips back to begin thrusting. The cot beneath you creaks as he settles into a rhythm, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he fucks you.

Your hands ball up his shirt, fingernails digging into his back as you turn your head into his neck and moan into his skin, your cunt clutching around him and your little frame shuddering as you come.

God, it's so good.

Arthur groans, jerking himself from your warmth, stroking his length twice before his hot spend splatters on your inner thigh, causing you to mewl aloud for a moment before you have the wherewithal to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound within his tent.

He collapses to the side of you, breathless, the cot creaking more as he lies on the very edge of it.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that in camp.” You laugh into his ear as he breathes heavily.

Arthur places a hand on his chest as he turns his head toward you, throwing his other arm around your frame and dragging you bodily against him.

“Have any plans for tomorrow night?”

He’s spirited you away in the lull of activity right after supper - where Grimshaw and Pearson weren’t going to be missing your labor after you’ve washed dishes, and where Dutch was unlikely to send him out on something without advance notice.

The town just a few miles from camp isn’t much to talk about - but a hotel with clean sheets and blessed walls it did have. He’s paid up at the desk and all but dragged you up the stairs, you yelp in amusement when he pulls you against the door and leans down to capture your lips as he slides the key into the lock, pressing his hips against you for a moment before opening the door.

You back in, smiling, breathless, and he’s barely latched the door behind him before letting his gunbelt clatter to the hardwood floor, kicking off his boots and shedding his jacket to crumble in heaps on that floor. You giggle lightly as you kick your shoes off as he gets close enough to encircle your waist with his large hands, pulling you into another searing kiss for a long moment before pulling back.

“C’mon, this big ol’ bed ain’t gonna break in itself.”

You smile, moving to untie your skirts, the layers of cotton hitting the floor, and shimmy your bloomers down over your hips, letting them pile with your skirts. You reach toward him, bare from the waist down, and he acquiesces to your grabbing at his clothing, quickly unbuttoning his shirt as he shrugs his suspenders down and pushes his pants to fall to the floor.

He reaches for your shirt, and you scoot backward, onto the bed, just out of reach.

Arthur frowns, reaching toward you again, and your smile immediately falls, moving further back on the bed.

As if he were approaching a skittish deer, he sits on the bed next to you and reaches toward your hips, very clearly staying away from your shirt.

“Why won’t you let me look ‘atcha?” Arthur asks, his hands around your hips edging on gentle as compared to lustful.

“Ain’t nothing you wanna see.” You grit out, your hands fisting in your shirttails, unable to make eye contact with him.

“Course I wanna see all of you, you’re the prettiest little thin’ I’ve ever set my eyes on.”

You breathe out heavily as he reaches for the first button. He pauses, not reaching any further. Instead, he leans over and places his lips on your forehead, in an attempt to comfort you.

When he pulls away, you look up at him, let out another shuddering breath, and pull his hands toward your buttons, allowing him to continue. You look at your lap as he unbuttons your shirt, baring your breasts to him, and put up no struggle as he pulls the sleeves of your shirt down your arms, bare to him for the first time.

“Sweetheart, what is it? I ain’t seeing nothin’ that doesn’t make me want you more.” Arthur leans in and cups one of your small breasts in his large hand, thumb grazing your nipple and you shiver in response.

“M’ back.” You whisper, continuing to avoid eye contact with him.

His hand moves up from your breast, up your shoulder, rounding that long curve, and down your back.

You close your eyes and are unable to stop the tears that slide down your cheeks as you feel his fingers pass over the raised ridges of your skin. He pauses, and you can’t hold back the sob that boils up from your throat.

Arthur immediately draws you into his embrace, pulling you to him, settling you in his lap, drawing your head into the curve of his neck.

“M… my daddy,” You sob into his skin, “He was a right asshole… H-he ain’t never forgive me for my momma dyin’ giving birth to m-me.”

He pats the back of your head, his other arm swinging wide across your waist, his bare skin against yours, fully against the stripes of scarring painted across your back.

“Used me as his personal whippin’ p-post. I ran away when I was old enough to.” You clutch at your arms, trying to make himself smaller in his embrace.

“ m’sorry, sweetheart.” Arthur rumbles out, his hand moving down from the back of your head to your upper back, rubbing in circles gently as you shiver in his arms.

“But some scars ain’t gonna change the fact that I think you’re the prettiest girl this side of the Lanaheechee.” He presses his lips against the crown of your head.

“Cause you haven’t seen ‘em yet. Ugly. The last man I was on my back for threw me outta the room after seein’ me.”

“Well, he’s a goddamn fool then.” Arthur snaps back, letting go of you as you pull away, your watery eyes finally making contact with his. You sigh and turn around in the bed.

Arthur frowns. Your back is absolutely covered in scarred-over lashes, pink and raised, from your shoulder blades down the curve of your spine to the dimples above your hips. Your shoulders shudder as you try to stifle a sob.

You feel his breath against your back first, then, his impossibly soft lips kissing down your spine, against the raised and pinkened lash marks that litter your skin. You gasp as he catches you off guard - instead of recoiling, he’s leaning in, instead of pushing you away, he’s pulling you closer.

You shiver, turning immediately toward him and surging against his lips, pulling him downward as you lay back on the mattress.

He slots himself between your hips, pulling back from your lips to look down at you. He brushes a lock of your hair from your forehead.

“Now I don’t want you hidin’ from me no more. Got it?”

You roll your hips against his, relief and desire palpable between you.

“Got it.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr #red dead smut #arthur morgan x reader #tumblr prompt #twolafic

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captain-hawks · 4 months

Note

congrats on the milestone !! so exciting !! ૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა can i request manjiro sano + leather + magenta ? & congrats again !! ♡

(ahhhh thank you so much!!!!!!)

manjiro sano x f!reader

c: 18+ ONLY, smut, timeskip mikey, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, car sex, semi-public sex, hair pulling kink (m!receiving), praise kink, flirting with a traffic violation or two

“So what do you think?”

Mikey glances over at you from the driver’s seat of his new car, flexing his fingers over the gear lever. Beside him, the sunset’s bright bloom of colors filters in through the tinted windows, leaving the edges of his dark hair outlined in a vibrant flare of magenta.

You shrug and respond in a teasing voice, “Feels safer riding around on four wheels, but…the bike does look sexier.”

He raises his eyebrows, eyes alight with a familiar look of mischief as he revs the engine at a stop light and repeats, “Safer?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his arm, but he catches your wrist before you can pull it away, brushing a chaste kiss against the back of your hand. You suppress the urge to shiver, though judging by the way you can feel him grin against your skin, you’ve done a poor job at it.

“I mean, statistically speaking...”

Mikey playfully bites at one of your knuckles, and you retaliate by freeing your hand and tugging on his hair.

“Well now you’re about to make this much less safe,” he warns you, voice dropping an octave.

Letting your fingers trace the hinge of his jaw before primly placing your hand back into your lap, you tease, “What, did that hurt?”

An amused sound leaves his mouth, and he places his hand atop your bare thigh. “You know exactly what that does.”

Fingertips dancing along the hem of your skirt, he slowly begins to slide his hand beneath the thin material, climbing even higher up your leg. Eyes widening a fraction, you glance over at him, but his expression remains neutral as he stares at the road ahead, left hand curled around the steering wheel.

“Mikey.”

“Hmm?” Nonplussed, he skims a finger over the soft cotton of your underwear, dragging it along the soft, plush heat between your thighs.

“This feels a little—” you inhale sharply as he plucks at the elastic, letting it snap back against your skin. “Backward.”

He grins, car slowing to a stop at another light. “I only need one hand to drive.”

Any remaining argument dies on your lips, replaced by a choked out whimper when he hooks a finger in your panties and tugs them aside, dragging a finger through your damp folds. A jolt of pleasure trails up your spine, and you subconsciously spread your legs wider for him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as you relax into the seat.

“Someone’s going to see,” you breathe out, though you’re not sure if you could ask him to stop at this point, your entire body taut like a livewire made of tension and need as he slowly teases your plump clit.

“The windows are tinted for a reason.” He slides a finger into your tight cunt, groaning as you whine and rock your hips into his touch. “Fuck, baby. You’re soaked.”

The car rumbles down the road, and Mikey smoothly takes the next turn, the steering wheel sliding along his palm as he plunges a second finger into your drenched hole. Your pussy greedily takes him in, entrance fluttering around the welcome stretch of both digits as he breaches your sensitive, saturated walls. Biting your lower lip, you let your head fall back against the headrest, the scent of new leather crawling up your nose as you inhale deeply.

“What if I make a mess?” you ask him, your short skirt already bunched up from the way you’re now shamelessly trying to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“I’m not worried about that,” he calmly responds, your cunt wetly squelching in time with his repeated thrusts.

You could let him keep coasting, your legs spread wide as he finger fucks you till you’re squirting all over his brand new leather seats, his eyes calmly on the road in front of him all the while.

But you’re all in on this now, and you’re feeling a little greedy as you watch Mikey reach down and adjust himself in his jeans at a red light—

“Find somewhere quiet to pull over, Manjiro,” you whisper, though his name comes out as more of a broken moan than anything else as he teases your engorged clit.

Mikey needs no further instruction, the car engine revving louder as he leans his foot heavier on the gas, the car eventually slowing to a stop in a deserted parking lot behind a shopping center a few minutes later. Throwing the car into park, he hardly has time to push his seat back before you’re climbing into his lap, your mouths a wet tangle of tongues and lips and teeth as he grasps the back of your head and kisses you hard.

He groans as you start grinding against his erection, chasing the pleasure that shudders through you and panting into his mouth. Your fingers fumble with the zipper of his jeans, sticky arousal dripping down your thighs as you finally wrap your fingers around his hard, flushed cock.

It’s a tight squeeze—straddling Mikey’s lap in the driver’s seat, your movements limited to the confines of the narrow car’s interior. But as you lower your slick pussy down onto his thick, throbbing length, you can’t be bothered to care about the way the steering wheel presses into your back or the way your knee is crammed against the door.

Every other thought in your mind goes quiet, rendered inconsequential in comparison to the hungry look in Mikey’s eyes and the rough, wrecked tone of his voice as he rasps, “You feel so fucking good.”

His thumbs press firmly into your hip bones as he grasps your waist, murmuring a filthy cascade of praise as you moan for him, riding his cock hard enough to shake the car. Mikey’s mouth moves against yours in a messy kiss as he meets your desperation in kind, hips snapping upward as his cock punches even deeper into your slick cunt.

One of your hands releases its grip on the front of Mikey’s shirt, fingers sliding up the back of his neck and threading into his silky black hair. You can feel the way he tenses under your touch, cunt pulsing around his shaft in satisfaction at the groan that leaves him when you tug at the strands. Mikey’s grip on your hips tightens, and he quickens the pace of his thrusts, pounding up into you.

“Come for me,” he pants, the wanton tenor of his voice dripping down your nervous system with the consistency of warm honey.

Your field of vision goes white as pleasure explodes within you, the coil in your chest unfurling like a whip under the shuddering force of your orgasm. Mikey fucks you through it, cock sliding in and out of you as you moan into his mouth, your walls spasming and contracting frantically around his length.

And then he’s throwing his head back, the tendons in his neck straining while he lifts himself out of the seat and comes with a shout, cock lodged to the hilt in your soaked, velvety walls. Hot cum fills your cunt, spurting deep inside of you as your slick hole milks every last drop from him.

You’re both quiet for a few moments afterward, save for the sound of your tired, heavy breathing, neither of you in a rush to move as his cock softens inside of you.

Eventually, Mikey begins to gently caress your cheek and murmurs, “...So now what do you think?”

Lifting your head up from where it’s resting against his shoulder, you glance past him, a thoughtful look on your face. “I think we still need to test out the back seat.”

#manjiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #mikey sano #mikey tokyo revengers #dee writes

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

Text

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

Top Gun Gang

The Bet (Dagger Squad x reader)

Ice Cold (Kazansky!reader)

Treading Water (Toddler!Rooster & Maverick)

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (Rooster & Maverick as Family)

Maybe (Hondo & Maverick as close friends)

Another Year, Another Chance (Rooster x Hangman)

Look Down, They Know You're Lying (Part One) (Rooster x Hangman)

Drabbles:

Aftermath (Dagger Squad x Reader)

Juice (Hangman x Bob)

Last Days (Maverick x Iceman)

Meeting the Master (Rooster x Hangman)

Sweet Sunsets (Vampire!Coyote x Reader)

HCs:

Dagger Squad Ugly Christmas Sweaters HC

Phoenix & Rooster HC

Random Detail HC for Each Dagger

Fics:

Old Friends

Poor Timing

Ready When You Are

Fight Through the Pain (Part 1, Part 2)

I'll Come Back

Livewire (Part 1)

Hold My Hand

Time (Part 1)

Come Home (Part 1)

Happy Birthday, Rooster!

A Ghost From the Past (Part One) (Rooster x Reader)

A Ghost From the Past (Part Two) (Rooster x Reader)

Mayday, Mayday (Rooster x Reader)

My Fault (Rooster x Reader)

Secret Santa (Rooster x Reader)

Drabbles:

A Very Dangerous Game

One Last Time Around

..... More Coming Soon!

HC:

Rooster x sick!reader HC

Fics:

At Long Last

Worth the Wait (Part 1)

Adrenaline

Too Much

Zipper (Part One) (Hangman x Reader)

Zipper (Part Two) (Hangman x Reader)

No Words (Extended Edition) (Hangman x Reader Soulmate AU)

Make Me Forget (Hangman x Reader)

I'll Be Home for Christmas (Hangman x Reader)

In Your Time of Need (Hangman x Reader)

No One Deserves This (Hangman x Reader)

Last Kiss (Hangman x Reader)

Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Hangman x Reader Soulmate AU)

Jake's Destiny (Hangman x Stripper!Reader series)

Drabbles:

I Won't Say I'm in Love

Never Lost

HCs:

Hangman x Platonic!reader Headcanons

..... More Coming Soon!

Fics:

Waiting for Someone

A Mistake

I Thought I Lost You

The Accident (Part One) (Bob x Reader)

The Accident (Part Two) (Bob x Reader)

From the One Who Loves You (Bob x Reader)

No Laughing Matter (Bob x Reader)

In Another Life (Miles Miller x Reader; Bob x Reader - soulmate AU where Miles and Bob are the same soul)

Drabbles:

Perfect

Forgotten

Brighter than the Sun (former Hangman x Reader; current Bob x Reader)

She's Imperfect But She Tries

..... More Coming Soon!

Fics:

Out of the Closet

Drabbles:

Beach Waves and Babes

..... More Coming Soon!

Fics:

Bravery

..... More Coming Soon!

GIFs:

Great Balls of Fire (Rooster Dancing) Great Balls of Fire (Bob)

Bob Doesn't Drink

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softguarnere · 9 months

Note

Hi! Your writing is amazing! Could you write something Joe Toye x reader or George Luz x reader?

The Rest of the World Falls Away

George Luz x reader

A/N: This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real veterans! I feel like I don't have as many fics for Luz as I do for Joe, so I decided to go with him. Thanks for the request, Anon, and I hope you like this! 💕🕊️ Warnings: mentions of war

The airfield is buzzing with energy, like a livewire. Uniformed men dart around in every direction, trying to find all their supplies, trying to get in line for a mohawk, trying to get the grease smeared on their face just right. And trying to find their friends to say goodbyes that hopefully won’t be goodbyes – merely see you later-s or good luck-s.

There seems to be an endless list of things to do, and at the same time, nothing you can do but watch and wait. Standing with your fellow nurses off to the side in front of the tents, you observe the scene around you, trying hard not to think about how some of these men that you’ve gotten to know will not be coming back from this jump. Instead, you keep your eyes focused on the sky.

It’s brilliant, as the British men walking around would say. Warm sunlight lights the area, spilling golden paint over the scene, giving it an angelic look. Even the palest and most nervous of the men regain some of their natural color standing in it, coming back to life. Artists will paint this someday, making them all look strong and shining, like paintings of the Greeks and Trojans preparing for war. Hopefully the artists will get the lighting right.

“Everything ready to go?” Sarah, one of the upper echelon of the nurses, asks for the hundredth time, just to give herself and everyone else something to do. When all of you nod in response, she pushes a sigh through her nose. “Well, nothing to do but wait then.”

You wring your hands as you watch the men. Men with whole lives ahead of them. Men with families back home worrying about them. Men with girlfriends . . .

As if on cue, one of the paratroopers approaches then. He strides forward purposefully, and even beneath all the paint on his face and his mused-up hair, you would recognize him anywhere – especially when he gets close enough to flash you a smile.

“Oh!” One of the other nurses pats your shoulder. The gesture says it all: there’s excitement and jealousy that your beau has sought you out before the Big Jump, but also sympathy because of the risk . . .

The rest of the nurses are probably expecting a show. The last thing you want is for these next few minutes to be a spectacle, though, something that they can replay in their minds whenever they need a bit of drama, or something they can claim as their own years down the road when they need a good story to tell. No, this belongs to you. And to George.

And to no one else, you decide as you step forward to meet him. Gently, you ghost your hand over his elbow, steering him away from the gaggle of nurses, back behind the tents, to a more private area. It’s not like you expect something to happen – there’s no time for anything that anyone would love to gossip about – but if you can be selfish this once, claiming a few moments for yourself, then now is the perfect time.

Once the two of you are away from prying eyes, George takes your hands in his. He holds them, and you squeeze his in turn. You stare at your joined hands, neither speaking; there’s too much to be said, with everything that’s about to happen. It is strange, though, to see George at a loss for words. Who would have thought it possible?

Finally, George shakes his head. “Can’t believe it’s finally here. The Big Jump.”

“I can’t believe we’re getting split up,” you say. “Two years. We’ve seen each other almost every day since Toccoa . . .”

A cruel twist of fate, surely. It had been easy to imagine that you would be one of the nurses chosen to travel to France and establish an aid station. But instead, you’ll be here, in England, waiting.

George runs one of his thumbs along the side of your finger. “Gives me all the excuse I need to get the job done and get out of there.”

You’re long past the point of feeling embarrassed whenever you realize how much George likes you, and how much you like him in return. Still, your heart flutters inside your chest like a butterfly beating its wings against a glass jar; it could soar to new heights if you would let it.

Now seems like the perfect time. You hate slipping one of your hands out of George’s, but you use it to reach into the pocket of your apron and take hold of a small piece of paper. Then you press it into George’s free hand.

“Here,” you say, pressing your token of affection into his hand. “To remember me by.”

The picture had come in a letter from home a few weeks before. It’s the small photograph that had been taken on the day of your graduation from high school. A few years old now, it still looks like you, nevertheless.

George smiles down at it. With care, he stows it away in his jacket pocket, right over his heart. He pats it. “That way you can make the jump with me,” he explains.

Before either of you can say another word, that fateful call echoes across the airfield – the men are being told to get ready to board the planes.

No! That can’t be right! There has to be more time. You have so many things to say, you just need a little more time to figure out how to word them –

“Hey.” George takes your chin in his hands, bringing you to focus on him. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Beneath his face paint, his eyes look determined. Your own feel wide as saucers.

“Okay,” you agree. Not caring about the grease coating his face, you surge forward and kiss him. For just a moment, the rest of the world falls away. Away from prying eyes, you try to convey everything you want to say in this one kiss: how much he means to you, how you hope he’ll make it back . . . With the sudden rush of activity on the airfield, kissing George is like standing, unbothered, in the eye of a hurricane, safe from the storm.

The kiss breaks and the storm sweeps the two of you up in it. You’ve got to go, both of you. There are duties to be performed. Duties that the outcome of history, the fate of the world, depend upon.

“I love you,” you whisper. It’s only the second time you’ve admitted it.

“I love you, too,” he whispers back. “Will you wait for me?”

“Of course.”

He kisses your hand then, like a gentleman in a novel, as he departs. A smile flashes from beneath his face paint, and then he’s walking away, to the rest of his company, to the planes, to his fate. But every few feet, he glances over his shoulder at you.

There’s probably something that you should be doing. But with all the preparation that you and the other nurses took part in this morning, you doubt there’s anything to keep you distracted. Collecting yourself, you break away from your spot and begin walking back to the tent. As you walk, over all the commotion, you hear a familiar voice that hasn’t quite faded into the distance yet yell, “Hi-ho, Silver!” followed by other men laughing, cheering, and returning the call.

You smile despite yourself. If George is still joking, then everything is going to be okay.

#george luz #george luz x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #my writing

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lolahasmoxie · 7 months

Text

For a Little While (e.m. x reader)

PAIRING: Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

WORD: 1.6k

WARNING: Some angst, no happy ending, fluff, feelings

I've been in a mood recently. This popped into my head today, and I'm rolling with the angst. A second part will be coming.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Eddie remembers the day his friend Robin told him he simply had to meet her new neighbor. It's seared into his permanent memory.

Initially, he felt that it was a setup, and he told her in no uncertain terms he wasn't ready to meet her neighbor and that he could smell this thinly veiled setup for what it was.

Robin nodded and reassured him that while yes she was his type, her neighbor was cool and someone Eddie would genuinely enjoy talking to. So in late July, while Corroded Coffin took a little break before putting the finishing touches on their latest album, Eddie ventured to Brooklyn and a small rooftop terrace where an overeager Robin introduced Eddie to you.

Eddie could have started preparing ten years ago, and it still wouldn't have readied him for you. It felt like he'd known you for a lifetime, several even, if you believed in that sort of thing. You were smart, funny, and what his uncle would have called a real livewire. When Robin told you that they were almost out of the dessert you made, Eddie found himself bounding down the stairs to help you bring more.

The two of you sat and talked until the wee hours of the morning, and when the sun began rising over the city, Eddie walked you back to your front door with a promise to see you later.

He was in town for a week and spent as much of it as possible with you. He went out of his way to make you laugh, the sound intoxicating him to the point where he would do anything to hear it again. He was blown away by your music knowledge, a byproduct of working at a record store to earn money through college. Eddie couldn't help but flirt, and it shocked him when you seemed to flirt back.

The last night he was in town, Eddie was in a small bar with Robin and a few other friends, you included, before he headed to the airport for a red eye that would take him back to the city of angels. He was sitting in a booth beside you, where the feel of your thigh right next to his made his skin tingle and his blood boil. All night, glances and lingering touches made Eddie feel like he was back in high school again. His bravado returned when he asked you to follow him outside when his cab arrived. Robin watched the whole scene with a smug smile on her face.

Once outside, you asked Eddie if everything was okay but were silenced when two of the softest lips you'd ever felt pressed against yours. Eddie's ring-laden hand reached to cup your cheek, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone as your hands eventually found purchase in his hair. When he pulled back, he tried to read your face for a reaction. He was prepared for you to run around inside or yell at him; he was not ready for a punch to his shoulder.

"Asshole, you kiss me like that right before you head across the country? You wasted so much time!" When Eddie climbs into the backseat of the cab, he's holding your phone number and wearing a stupid grin that reaches ear to ear, counting down the minutes until he can call you.

You talk almost every single day. Sometimes, the conversations are short; sometimes, you talk for hours. He spends the in-between wondering how you're doing and if your job treats you okay. And at night, when it's just him, he wonders what your body would feel like under him. Does your skin feel as soft as it looks? What would you taste like under his tongue?

In December, when he travels back to Brooklyn for the holidays, he takes a taxi straight to your apartment. You greet him with open arms and a warm smile, and that night, he discovers the answers to the questions he's spent months asking himself.

This goes on for almost a year. He comes to see you when he can, spending as much time in your company as possible before he has to leave again. One spring evening, as you're wrapped in each other's arms, he poses the possibility of more. You kiss him gently while shaking your head no.

"I like what we have," you counter, turning your body to sit in his naked lap. When you lean in to kiss him, Eddie decides he can accept that as an answer for now.

When July comes around, he comes out for a whole month. Corroded Coffin begins their tour prep on August 1st for their first international tour. The plans were to travel for a year, but if the ticket sales were good, it could extend the time. He was excited, thrilled to see the world he had been aching to see. But then he would think of being unable to see you, and it made him want to walk away from the whole thing.

Since you had a whole month together, Eddie let you plan out things to do. There were trips to museums and galleries and day trips out of the city. Nights were spent with friends at boozy dive bars that led to whiskey-flavored kisses which led to even longer nights, bringing each other to ecstasy again and again.

It was three days before he had to leave. You'd spent the day with Robin and Vicki before returning to yours for a homemade dinner. After you'd finished, you had asked Eddie if there was anything special he wanted to do the following day. While you rambled, Eddie wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood from his seat. You stopped talking when you felt him take your hand in his, letting him lead you to your bedroom.

You both had yet to talk about what would happen once Eddie was on the road. You gave it no thought as he laid you on your bed and devoured you like a last meal. You let him love you like he would never get a chance to do so again.

The hour is late, just after midnight. He's sitting on your stoop smoking a cigarette. He left you sleeping, no doubt exhausted. He's shirtless and wearing pajama pants, the summer breeze chilling him slightly. It always surprises him how quiet your street is at night, like there's no one else in the world.

He turns when he hears the turn of your doorknob. He takes a long drag as you take a seat next to him. You're wearing a sleeveless black maxi dress, the hem fluttering around your ankles. He looks straight ahead as you rest your head on his shoulder.

"It's nice out," you say. Eddie hums in agreement. He feels your gaze on him, and after he puts out his cigarette, he turns to face you. You raise an eyebrow, your silent signal for him to tell you what is on his mind.

"Come with us," he says quietly. You sigh before lacing your fingers into his hand.

"I can't"

"You said before you could do your job anywhere," he says, trying not to sound like a petulant child. You take his hand, kissing the tattooed knuckles before squeezing it tight.

"The last guy did a number on me," you say quietly, not looking at Eddie. He's looking at you, though. He remembers you telling him about this guy, the one you had dated after college. His brown eyes watch every emotion you try to hide dance across your face. "I don't think I'm ready to be loved the way you want to love me."

"That only gives us two days, then," he counters. You chuckle lightly. as you place your head back on his shoulder.

"So pessimistic. But that is one way of looking at it," you reply as Eddie lays his head on top of yours.

"How do you see it?" he asks. You lift your head and look Eddie in the eye. You breathe deeply, trying to commit as much as possible to memory. The warmth of his skin, the smell of his cigarettes, the way the moon makes his eyes seem to glow.

"We have two whole days together to do whatever the hell we want," you say confidently, and Eddie can't help but lean in and kiss you. This time, you're the one who stands first. You don't say a word; simply reach out a hand to him, an invitation. Eddie accepts, letting you lead him back to your bed, where you spend the next two days soaking in each other.

Eddie sits quietly on the plane, inwardly thrilled that he was granted a window seat. He reaches into his carry-on for his book, a parting gift from you, when he finds it. It's an envelope with your handwriting clear as day. He waits until they're at cruising altitude before he opens it.

When the woman beside him asks if he's alright, he plays it off as allergies. She knows better; he knows that she does. He rereads your words, telling him to enjoy everything on tour. That if he happens to meet someone, you won't be mad. It's the ending he reads over and over again.

"I hope that if we're ever lucky enough to meet again, I'll be ready to be loved by you. Until then, I wish you all the happiness your heart and hand can hold. Go knock 'em dead, rockstar."

Eddie sighs, placing the letter back in its envelope. He shoves the book back in his bag and reaches for the notebook and pen, which are always nearby. It's littered with DND ideas, song lyrics, and thoughts. He opens a blank page and clicks his pen as he conjures up an image of you in his mind's eye.

He begins to write.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader

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revasserium · 9 months

Note

Hiii!! Your "The Trick and The Trade" fic featuring Azul was so beautiful it makes me want to cry T.T I saw requests were open? Wondering if I could ask for another Azul x Reader with the prompt "Shooting Star" this time?

PS: If it's alright with you, can we make this fluffy? Hehehe

Thank youuuuu!! ✨❤️

request are open! pls send one in :)

70. shooting star

azul ashengrotto; 1,788 words, fluff; gn!reader; a human and a mer-person fall in love -- it's a tale as old as time

"we are not figuratively, but literally made of stardust." - neil degrasse tyson

he has known since the day he was born the shape of the water around him, the shade of the sea, the taste of an ocean as it rests at the tip of his tongue. it has always been blue and blue and blue, and deep and deep and deep. salt and brine and sand like the forgotten dust of long-gone stars.

the first time he stumbles across the shipwreck, moored at the bottom of his deep, blue, saltine ocean, he lingers over the glittering metal, runs his fingers across the broken mast, marvels at the rust that shatters like snowflakes beneath his touch. he twists and tugs at the ruined sails till his curiosity sits sated in the pit of his stomach.

he meets you in a forgotten grotto, at the end of a stretch of forgotten beach, nestled against an island that, while has not yet been forgotten, seems to be well on it’s way as well. he finds you lying limp, your body half submerged in the shallows.

ah, a shipwreck, he thinks. and then, oh… a survivor.

then, you cough, you sputter, you hack up what he’s sure is a quarter of the ocean before shaking your head and pushing yourself up and he is still there, his body a livewire mess of tangled tentacles. he presses himself into a shape that you’re more familiar with, the lessening of his eight limbs down to just two is always strange but… necessary.

at least for first impressions. and they’re ever so important.

“h-hello.”

he nearly swears at himself for being so hesitant.

you swipe the back of your hand over your lips, blinking blearily at him through salt-caked lashes.

“y-you… i — where…?”

you’re disoriented, but of course you are. azul clears his throat and tries again.

“i — i’m glad you’re alright. you were… i found you passed out and… and thought to come and check on you.” good, he thinks, that sounded good. convincing.

you regard him with a curious look before your eyes rove over the rest of him and… a grin twists your lips.

“you… missed a spot.”

azul whips around to find a single tentacle, still trailing in the sand behind him, the crystalline water lapping at his smooth, rubbery skin.

“damnit! i thought i’d gotten them all this time — !”

but the sound of your laughter shatters his frustration, his embarrassment. it renders him speechless and holds him still. for a moment, he is taken by it, the warmth and fullness of the sound as you collapse into your own laughter, falling back against the soft, wet sand, your sea-pruned hands clutching at your stomach.

“i — it’s not — i just — !” azul stutters, heat clawing up his neck and cheeks as he forcibly finishes his transformation, wiping his hands absently down his back to make doubly sure, but you only smile, dabbing at the edge of your eyes as your laughter fades into giggles.

“s-sorry — i didn’t mean to — i just… you did a very good job,” but something in your voice still makes his stomach twist and azul has to take three deep breaths to stave off the very real urge to dive back into the water, to disappear back into the comforting depths of the ocean and never return.

“i — it’s harder than it looks,” he says, stiffly.

you nod, all solemn seriousness now, though there’s still a twinkle in each of your eyes that so, so reminds him of the evening stars.

this is how you meet. and this, he thinks, is how he falls in love.

you’re the child of sailors, adventurers, people who have always lived their lives on the sea. and azul is nothing if not hungry for knowledge. the pair of you trade stories like secrets and laughter like currency.

you tell him of all the places you been, all the miracles you’ve seen. and in turn, he tells you of the creatures of deep, all the monsters and their dreams.

the first time he kisses you, he catches both of you off guard.

“oh — s-sorry —” he says, but his next words are cut off as you jerk him back towards you, your teeth clacking painfully against his, but he doesn’t care. he wouldn’t have cared if you’d made him bleed. he would’ve wanted it, leaned in like he is now, tugging you closer just to revel in the sting.

you kiss him so hard he feels dizzy, so hard he can’t breathe. so hard he finds himself wondering if there’s ever been anything else but your lips and this feeling and falling in too deep.

it’s a strange feeling, yearning for air.

but he finds himself gasping, still, as you finally pull free.

“that…” you gulp down a much needed breath as he does the same, “i’ve… wanted to do that for a while…”

azul shudders to think himself anything close to feline, but if he were, he thinks he might have purred.

“you… you have?” he tries not to sound too pleased, adjusting his glasses.

“y-yeah — isn’t that strange?”

“no!” he says, too fast, and then immediately, turning away to clear his throat, “i just meant — i — i don’t think it’s strange.”

“no? does that… does that mean you felt the same?” there’s a teasing lilt to your voice that makes his whole body shake with shivers. he crinkles his nose and takes a deep breath and grasps at the tendrils of composure trickling from his gasp as he chews on his lips.

“i — well i did kiss you first, didn’t i?” and he nearly curses himself again for sounding like a petulant child.

“hm… i guess you did. but… you tried to say sorry.”

“that was — i didn’t mean —” azul groans, burying his face in his hands as he fights the urge to curl in on himself. and he would have, had he been under water and with full use of his tentacles. but he’s not, so he can’t, and he doesn’t.

but you laugh, and all is right again. you laugh and nudge him with your shoulder and he nudges you back, pulling his hands away from his face to watch you.

the setting sun and gathering clouds conspire to paint the horizon rosy.

“i know… i just like…” you shrug, letting your voice trail off as the sky darkens and the last lingering dregs of day are swallowed up by the lapping waves.

azul hums, for once reveling in the darkness that surrounds you, in gentle lull of a sleepy sea as it kisses and kisses and kisses the shore. not for the first time, he thinks of you. always you.

“you just like…?” he asks, his voice quiet now, a hushed, whispered thing.

and this time, when he glances over, he catches you ducking your head, and even like this, in the evening gloam just before moonrise, when the world is rendered monochrome by the ubiquitous glow of the sky and lack of direct light, he can see your cheeks darken.

“you.” you say, final and distinct and so, so sure. you glance at him, but he is staring back at you, slack-jawed.

“i… just like you,” you say, and azul wonders if this is what it feels like to fly.

he’s never thought all that much about flying before, not when he’s had swimming all his life, but… ever since he met you, he thinks he might like to try.

“well,” he muses, purposefully drawing out the word, “i think i… i just might —”

“look! a shooting star!”

your voice slices through the velvet night, pointing eagerly at the far horizon. azul whips around, just quick enough to catch the tail of star as it streaks across the sky.

“whoa…”

he’s never seen one before. he’s never spent so much time on the surface before he met you. and now that he has — he wonders if he can ever go back to living in the thickness of the sea.

the sky might be blue and big and heavy too, but it’s so different from the sea.

so much less salt, and so much more air.

“make a wish!” you say, clasping your fingers and closing your eyes. and azul remembers the strange human tradition you’d told him about of wishing on falling stars. at the time, he’d asked you if any of them have ever come true. to which you’d only shrugged and laughed and said does it matter? it’s the wishing part that counts!

and he hadn’t understood then, but watching you now, watching you with your eyes closed under the hazy curtain of a just drawn night, your fingers laced over one another as you wish on a fallen star, he thinks he might be starting to understand.

so he smiles, folds his fingers together and closes his eyes as well.

after a moment of quiet, he opens them to find you watching him.

“what did you wish for?” you ask.

azul blushes, and he’s sure that you can see it on his pale skin, even in the waxing light of the rising moon. he finds his heart in his chest like treasure tucked in the stomach of a sunken ship, his body a wreck of splinters and well-worn memories but he knows that he is no less precious. you’d taught him that.

“i thought that if i told, the wish won’t come true?”

you smile, you nod, you turn your eyes back to the glittering night sky.

he leans back to follow your gaze.

once, he’d wondered about the shape of air, the shade of the ever-bright sky, the taste of sunlight at the tip of his tongue. but now he’s kissed you, and he knows —

“fine then.” you say, as you pull him in to ghost your lips over his. he melts against you, fingers tugging you closer by the base of your neck, his mouth spelling hunger and honey as he moans against you.

“kiss me again,” he whispers when you pull apart.

you nod, breathless.

once, he’d wondered about the world above. but now, he’s kissed you and he knows — the air is sweet and sharp enough to sting, the sky is bright and blue and biting too. and that the sunlight — oh, the sunlight — it tastes like you, and you, and you.

#azul ashengrotto #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #twst fluff #azul scenarios #twst azul #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland fluff #azul ashengrotto fluff #floofy floof floof #uHM LOL didn't expect my first mention of tentacles in fic to be like this LMFAO #in the MOST FUCKING FLUFF/HEARTWARMING FIC POSSIBLE HA.#also hot take but shy stuttering azul is SUPERIOR no i will take no comments at this time #its been a while since ive played twst... maybe i should go back.

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dameronscopilot · 1 year

Text

savor

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader

summary: Watching Rooster eat an orange really shouldn't be this attractive. And yet—

word count: 700+

content: fluff, kissing

SENSORY DRABBLES SERIES -> prompt: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw + citrus + sage

“Did you bring an orange to a barbeque?”

The tart, fragrant scent of the citrus fruit hangs in the air as you turn to Rooster, watching with interest as he tears away the skin, leaving a mess on the surface of the picnic table.

“Yep,” he replies, not bothering to look up as he fights with a particularly stubborn piece of the peel.

He brings the orange to his lips, and a trickle of heat spreads in your chest at the sight of him using his teeth to rip it off. You look away, pointedly staring off in the direction of the setting sun, watching as its golden orange rays filter lazily through the leaves of the tall trees bordering the edges of the backyard.

You can hear the sound of Hangman’s laughter over by the grill, heckling Bob as he stands guard over the small army of burgers sizzling atop the grates. Phoenix punches him in the arm, dragging him over to where Fanboy and Coyote are waiting to get a game of horseshoes going.

A warm breeze licks its way through the yard, and you’re a moment too late in reaching out to rescue your paper plate from taking flight. But Rooster saves it, momentarily pausing in his orange-peeling endeavor to place his half-empty can of soda on top of it to hold it down.

You make the mistake of glancing at him again, transfixed as he finally frees a slice of the citrus and bites into it. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and you try to avert your gaze, only to sweep back over his form as he has the goddamn audacity to moan.

He catches you looking this time, and you’re almost certain that he’s being purposefully messy, biting into two thick slices at once. Orange juice drips from his lips and onto his shirt, dotting the soft, heathered, sage green material in an array of wet spots.

When he’d strolled in earlier, you were embarrassed to find that you couldn’t help but notice how well the color looked against his sun-kissed skin. And yet now, as Rooster grins at you, wiping the remaining juice off of his lips with the back of his hand, all you can think about is getting him out of that goddamn shirt.

“Want some?” he asks, winking as he proffers you a slice.

You nod slowly, and he scoots closer across the bench you’re both seated on, eyes locked on yours as he places it in your mouth. His hand lightly lingers along the side of your jaw as you chew, the tangy flavor dancing like a livewire across your heightened senses.

His gaze drifts lower, to the small dribble of juice left beaded on your lower lip, and he slowly swipes it away with the pad of his thumb. Your breath hitches in your throat.

Reaching over to where the rest of the orange is sitting on the picnic table, you take another slice, but instead of biting down, you leave it resting between your lips. A huff leaves Rooster’s mouth, and he doesn’t hesitate to lean in, steadying himself with a hand pressed against the top of your left thigh as he uses his teeth to take the slice from you, lips briefly brushing over yours.

His mouth is there and gone between one breath and the next, but the contact is enough to leave your heart thundering in your chest, fingers flexing almost painfully against the splintering wood of the bench.

Rooster looks like he’s about to say something, but then Hangman shouts both of your names, waving a horseshoe in the air and beckoning you both to join.

—

Later, when stars have begun to dot the sky and everyone’s gathered around the glow of the crackling campfire, Rooster finds you alone in the quiet darkness of the kitchen, startling you as you’re reaching up to grab marshmallows off of the shelf.

His body is warm when it presses against your back, his fingers drifting over yours to tug the bag from your grip. You turn, only to find yourself caged in against the counter.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Hey.”

And then Rooster’s cupping your face in both hands.

His nose is brushing against yours.

His mustache is tickling your skin.

And he's kissing you.

He's kissing you.

—and you can still taste the orange on his lips.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» BRADLEY BRADSHAW MASTERLIST

#dameronscopilot 2k #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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loaksky · 1 year

Text

— 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

the lowdown — the one where lo’ak makes a grave mistake.

the who — lo’ak x fem human!reader

the word count — 516

the tags & warnings — language, TW! main character death, mentions of blood & fatal wounds, please tread cautiously! content under the cut! :)

the notes — based off of this request! i've never written a mc death before, i have no idea what inclined me to do so this time around i—

The blood won’t stop gushing.

It was an accident. Pure adrenaline coursing through his veins as you tried to get close without tipping off the rest. He’d acted out of sheer self-preservation, couldn’t risk being captured by the enemy.

But you’re no enemy. You’re his ________, all his.

You were one of three kids who’d been trapped on Pandora, too young to survive the journey back to earth. So you stayed, even after you'd grown into yourself and was offered the option to go back home.

But Pandora was your home, Lo'ak was your home.

That planet will kill you, your parents warned you time and time again through a tiny screen in the lab that Norm and Max were heading.

You hadn’t relented, too tied to the people, to the beauty of the sprawling forests, the glowing waters, the mighty creatures. Your life was an oasis, living in proximity to the Sully’s and their clan.

So when they started closing in, the sky people, using you and the other two as bait to lure them out, you knew there wasn’t much time left.

They’d been hot on your heels until you cut through the brush, took the hit of the unforgiving trees, branches gnarled. Lo’ak had been so close, waiting for your call, waiting for any sign of you, but they’d hear you. Capture you to use you as collateral.

You know Lo’ak, know your friend so well that he’d go with them to make sure you were safe.

“Fuck, wait, stay with me.”

Hands are icy to the touch, but hot, alive like a livewire underneath the skin as his huge palms close over your grasp on the hilt of the dagger.

“Jesus,” you hoarse, gaze glazing as you stare at the blade lodged deep within your navel with hiccuping breaths. “Good shot.”

Your laugh is breathy, like one too many will drain you, but Lo’ak is in no mood to laugh. He’s too busy taking note of your rapidly paling face under the oxygen mask.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he cries out. “I could’ve– I wouldn’t have–“

“They’re close, Lo’ak,” you hoarse. “If I called, they’d know. I couldn’t lead them to you.”

Your hands are loosening and Lo’ak’s face shades with alarm.

“Wait, no, no!” he calls out.

Your bloody palm comes up to touch his cheek, thumb brushing his bottom lip.

“Be quiet,” you whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Stop, ________,” he shudders. “Don’t–”

“Leave me, Lo’ak,” you murmur, eyes unfocused. “Be brave.”

His hands are trembling as he brushes your hair from your face.

“You-You remember when we were little?” he chokes. “I asked you if we’d always be friends?”

Your smile is weak, fingertip brushing the tear that brims his waterline.

“You could…you could kill someone, and I’d–“ You cough and the inside of your mask is smattered with vermillion. “I’d still…”

Your last breath shudders through your tiny frame until you go slack.

You’d still be his friend.

Of course you would.

He could almost hear your taunting voice, sweet and teasing.

“How well has that aged?”

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longwuzhere · 9 months

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Some cool Easter eggs I caught watching My Adventures with Superman that I want to show to people so they can be in on it with comic book readers

Episode 1 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 2 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 3 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 5 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 6 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 7 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here and here

Episode 9 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Episode 10 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Apologies for the late posts, A LOT happened like Arleen Sorkin's passing and Kamen Rider Geats ending. So I needed to take a break, but I am back. SPOILERS if you havent seen episode 8 obviously.

We start things off with the captured villains letting out of their prison. We got Silver Banshee, Roundhouse, Heatwave, Livewire, and then eventually we seen Ivo/Parasite and Mist who luckily escaped and is trying to get his friend and sister back. I talked more about in their respective episodes so if you want to read up more about them click on their names.

Task Force X/Suicide Squad is known for exploding the heads of their prisoners teammates if they fuck up a mission (you might have seen it in the live action movies, animated movies, or even read the comics) and MAwS solution to not have it be so gory is to use shock collars.

Cut to Clark who developed super hearing and has not slept for a few days and is on caffeine so he can help the people of Metropolis. The idea of Superman 24/7 has been thrown around in the comics for a while usually saying no Clark deserves a break. He needs to be Clark and not Superman when he can get the chance. If you want to check out the comics that does it I recommend reading Superman #296 to 299 (1979), Who Took the Super out of Superman by writers,Cary Bates, Elliot S. Maggins, penciler, Curt Swan, inker, Bob Oskner, colorist, Carl Gafford, and letterer Ben Oda.

We see in the hologram projector/data sphere thing that Lois took from the League of Lois Lane's displaying Overman wrecking the city. I talked more about him here

We then see Perry asking Lois to help out with Vicki Vale who is asked to be a guest writer on the Daily Planet, we later see in the ep that she's got ulterior motives for this. I talked a bit about her here. In the comics Vicki is usually a journalist for the Gotham Gazette and is sometimes in a relationship with Bruce Wayne. Her comic counterpart is usually very ethical when it comes to journalism much like Lois Lane, but here in MAwS, she's very conniving. Never meet your heroes sometimes I guess, huh MAwS Lois?

Lois talks about the things Vicki wrote for the Gazette and name drops Queen Industries. If you know your DC universe, that is the last name of Oliver Queen aka Green Arrow.

Oliver Queen and Roy Harper aka Speedy, make their first appearance in More Fun Comics #73 (1941) co-created by Mort Weisinger and George Papp who did the panel here. Robin Hood was an obvious inspiration for Oliver in terms of design but also his ethics in a sense. Despite the wealth, Oliver would be left wing and fight for the people arguably more so than Bruce Wayne. You can see in the panel that Oliver doesn't have his signature goatee you'll see that happen later when Neal Adams pencils Ollie in the Brave and the Bold #85 (1969)

who also redesigned Ollies costume too. Check out Green Lantern/Green Arrow series to see Oliver's liberal stances on what was going on in the world in the early 1980s. Nowadays, Oliver's been redesigned to to wear a hood instead of the Robin Hood cap, but he's still the left wing hero that we adore

Fantastic cover to the 80 years of Green Arrow hardcover book by Jim Lee, Scott Williams, and Alex Sinclair.

The Falcones get a mention as one of the stories Vicki Vale wrote about. The Falcones make their first appearance in Batman #405 (1987) created by Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli in the Batman Year One storyline.

The man with the pipe in the second panel, by Frank Miller, David Mazzucchelli, Richmond Lewis, and Todd Klein, is the head of the head of the Falcones, Gotham's biggest mob family, Carmine "the Roman" Falcone. He and his family gets expanded explored in Batman: The Long Halloween. Both it and Batman Year One are fantastic reads, highly recommended.

The Gotham Gazette, and in a roundabout way, Gotham, gets a name drop from Perry White. The paper make its first appearance in Batman #4 (1940) and Vicki Vale is employed by them as the photojournalist.

Perry asks Lois and Jimmy to help Vicki out with a story about smearing Superman and they decide to interview people. First up is Captain Immonen who Clark saved in episode 3. The captain's last name is a reference to...

comic book artist, Stuart Immonen. He's worked on various Superman-related titles like Action Comics or the Adventures of Superman.

Probably the Superman book I enjoyed his work in, and highly recommend checking out for everyone who reads this is, Superman: Secret Identity (cover art here by Stuart Immonen) with writer Kurt Busiek about a teen who happens to be named Clark Kent in his world where there are no superheroes, only in the comic books, but somehow slowly develops powers on his own. Very cool non-canon story that is a fresh take on the Superman mythology.

The next interviewee I have to assume based on the credits at the end of the episode is, Mrs. Quietly who is a reference to...

comic book artist, Frank Quitely. You may know his name on the New X-Men with Grant Morrison, but in terms of Superman, he was the penciler for All-Star Superman (cover by Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant)...

the comic series that got an animated movie adaptation and will be the inspiration for the upcoming Superman: Legacy live action movie. The book has Superman dying thanks to Luthor and has Clark live out his final days saving the world and the future in a sense one last time. It's a great read! And speaking of Grant Morrison...

Grant Morrison got their reference through the name of a pawn shop in Metropolis.

Grant Morrison, fantastic writer, has worked on a lot of comics. As mentioned before Morrison worked with Frank Quitely on New X-Men but in terms of Superman, is best known for writing All-Star Superman with Quitely. Both have also worked on Batman and Robin together and equally great series if you want to see Dick Grayson as Batman try to wrangle in Damian Wayne as Robin.

We see Lex Luthor Alex here as the final interviewee who says Superman is a menace for ruining his job and destroyed the building he worked in. Will he lose his hair and go into business? I don't know, but when Alex gets a confirmed last name, most likely Luthor, I'll take more about him.

Later in the episode we seen screen names, LoriLemaris59 and Bibbo87 streaming videos of Superman getting his but handed to him by Task Force X. Both names are references to characters in the Superman comics.

Lori Lemaris first appeared in Superman #129 (1959) by Bill Finger, Wayne Boring, and Stan Kaye. She and Clark met in college where she posed as a wheelchair-using student and both took interest in each other, however when they're out on dates, Lori would cut the date short because of her mermaid nature. Clark tried to propose to her, but she turned him down because both are from two different worlds and it wouldn't work out. She also knew Clark was Superman because her people could read minds but she's totally cool with keeping it a secret for him. Jimmy, in MAwS, mentioned mermaids, but I did not want to point it out until we get a Lori Lemaris reference in and lo and behold it came true! The other name is a reference to Bibbo Bibbowski one of the supporting cast for Superman.

Bibbo Bibbowski makes his first appearance in the Adventures of Superman #428 (1987) by Marv Wolfman, Jerry Ordway, Tom Ziuko, and John Costanza. Superman arrives at the Ace O' Club's bar asking for information on Perry White's son, Jerry who was kidnapped. Bibbo, thinking Superman is just some guy in a costume punches Superman, gets his hand busted, and finds a new respect for him.

As mentioned before Task Force X is out to capture Superman as he and Mist try to save his sister and friend, but it turns out they are more than willing get revenge on Superman for their freedom. Even though in this universe they are Task Force X, a majority of the team is made up of Superman villains so in a sense you can make an argument that this is a Superman Revenge Squad. The first use of the team name is from the silver age, in Superman #94 (1961) where the squad was a group of aliens. The Superman villains teaming up together to get revenge on Superman first appeared in the Adventures of Superman #543 (1997). Parasite (Rudy Jones), who was part of that team, shares names with a Superman villain in MAwS here.

I think someone on the MAwS team is a fan of the X-Men arcade game cuz Livewire flies the same way Magneto does in that game.

Again very sorry for the delay in this, but if you made it this far down, be sure to check out my other posts about the easter eggs in My Adventures with Superman: