Please excuse the basicness of this masterlist, I've been on here for 11 years and I still don't know how to use Tumblr lmao.
Bruce Wayne
Prayer For You (Bruce x Reader Smut Fic) FINISHED
“I’m all grown up.” You said, spreading your arms in a little flourish. “I guess you are, too.”
(One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Epilogue)
Adrian Chase
Stop Talking (Adrian Chase x Reader Smut, Oral, doggy, public sex, slightly sub!adrian and slightly dom!reader, degradation kink and praise kink)
“Shutup.” You blubbered, your face screwed up in a pleasure filled grimace. “Stop talking.”
Peter Parker
Hypothetically Yes, Theoretically Forever (Andrew!Peter x Black!Reader Smut Fic) FINISHED
You were living in a young adult novel. You were absolutely sure of it. One of those 2000’s ones with the lily white protagonist that gets made into a movie. The proof of this was how fucking fine your next door neighbor was.
(One, Two, Three, Four, Five)
Stephen Strange
I'll Be Your Pillow Verse (Stephen x Reader Drabble/Oneshot Smut Thing)
(Prequel) Trash Magic
(One) I'll Be Your Pillow
(Two) Shades of Blue
(Three) Young and Beautiful
(Four) Dark Paradise
(Five) Let Me Put On A Show For You, Tiger
(Six) Gray Or Blue
(Seven) Once Upon A Dream
(Eight) I Heard Love Is Blind
(Nine) The Sound of Our Love Song
(Ten) Lucky Ones
Bucky Barnes
Wilson Family Reunion (Bucky x Black!Reader Smut, Smut, Oral, Doggy, Blows, Semi-Public Sex)
You're a Wilson cousin and Sam just so happens to bring Bucky to the family reunion fish fry.
Thor Odinson
Miss Honey (Thor x Black!Teacher!Reader)
In which your favorite student’s uncle is the God of Thunder.
(One) Parent-Teacher Conference
(Two) Do the Cooking By the Book
Namor
can i drink from your water? (Namor x black!reader, smut, oral, more stuff, slightly dark namor, yummy)
"Don't go into the water alone, child."
"Come to me."
2. "Wouldn’t you like that? To be worshiped by a God?”
3. “You have his eyes, his smile, his ears and he’s blessed you with his wings, isn’t that special?”
Kang the Conqueror
(I guess I'll see you) Next Lifetime (F!Reader x Kang Smut, size kink, breeding kink, multiple Kangs, multiple yous, doggy, oral f receiving)
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw
Parings: Bradley "Rooster" Brashaw"/f!Reader
Tastes Like the 4th of July
“You used to call me Rooster,” He reminded you, as if you had forgotten, “Remember why?”
“Because you’re a massive dick.” You quipped, licking your hand and dabbing it with salt.
Rooster chuckled, his eyes on you as his tongue flicked out against the back of his hand. “Close.”
Malt Liquor On Your Breath My, My
“You shouldn’t drink and drive, Bradley.”
“Punish me then, darlin’.”
I Love You But I Don't Know Why
“I’m sorry.” Rooster muttered, placing his other hand on your cheek.
“You apologize a lot.” You whispered in the space between you. “What’s it for this time?”
Cindy Sinclair with the Curly Hair Series
Pairings: Steve Harrington/Reader, Eddie Munson/Reader, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson/Reader Smutty as all get out!
In which you're Cindy Sinclair back in Hawkins for the summer and still a total babe.
What lovergirl limits her options to one man when she can have two?
A love story told through 80's love songs.
(One) Lovergirl
(Two) Girls Like Me
(Three) Angel Eyes
(Four) Control
(Five) Part Time Lover
(Six) Jessie's Girl
(Seven) Kiss
(Eight) If It Isn't Love
Blue or Sea-Foam Green
Pairings: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x f!Reader
When those eyes were on you, on the rare occasion when you had his undivided attention; There was nothing like it.
raspberry, tangerine honey (i taste me on you)
Pairings: Tangerine x f!Reader
“Boo.” You muttered, looking between the twins. “He sent you?”
summary. how maddy and bishop would connect after the final episode; a set of headcanon.
ft. madeline "maddy" perez x bishop
: a/n. i knew they were buzzy from the very beginning.
⊱ MADDY would be quick to notice that bishop harbored some kind of feelings/attraction toward her ever since he drove kitty & her back to cassie’s house after the alamo incident.
⊱ BISHOP knows that she knows, but he’d just continue staring blankly at her as maddy sized him up– her mind working quickly in assessing this new bit of information. plotting, marking, connecting. bishop lets her.
❧ —— “wait,” she’d say, stopping bishop from pulling away from cassie’s driveway that night. “where will you go?”
“i have a place. not too far out from here.”
“okay,” maddy nodded, carefully storing away cryptic pieces of the former right-hand man’s life. “but how would i reach you?”
bishop would stare right into her dark eyes. lifeless to her intense pair. they’ll have these staring matches often in the near future, though right now, bishop opted to give an answer instead of his usual silence.
“i’ll reach you,” he’d say.
“well, that’s not fair,” she quickly countered. “i need to know how to reach you too.”
“why?”
kitty– still cold and shocked– would mutely watch their interaction from the side, pressing down the needy urge to flee inside for comfort after everything she went through that night, but she couldn't exactly sprint without her boss in tow.
thankfully, maddy just cocked her head to the side, shrugging at the man in the car. “just because.” —— ☙
⊱ they ended up becoming business partners of some sort. MADDY would text him first, asking for a meet-up to discuss finances since their worlds are heavily intertwined and always would be, anyway.
⊱ MADDY would ask for these “strategic meet-ups” a lot and BISHOP would be in his car before he could even text her back with a short “Alright.”
⊱ people genuinely think BISHOP is maddy’s bodyguard with the way he would always be glued to her like a second shadow.
⊱ would ask him to come over for “advice” because … her business affects his business and vice versa, obviously.
⊱ “the metal strap-on is definitely more eye-catching. bee, what d’you think?”
she’d earn an immediate “yeah.” from him, even though he wouldn’t spare a glance at the barely clothed models sprawled over cassie’s bed.
⊱ MADDY would shove two different gag balls in front of his face & he’d just stare at her smirking face all unimpressed, knowing she was trying (failing) to tick him off.
❧ —— “which one, bee?”
“neither.”
she’d snort. “you’re no fun.” —— ☙
⊱ deep down, BISHOP never minded that maddy “drags”– as Q’s disrespectful ass would say– him around because the other option would entail him just coming over unannounced like a fool to a house brimming with women. worse: he’d be a fucking creep.
❧ —— “i think snowflake misses you.”
maddy would glance up from her phone, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “yeah?”
“yeah,” he’d confirm. so unaffected.
“did he say that he misses ‘the pretty lady with the designer fits and great hair’?”
he’d hum. the edge of his mouth quirking up the tiniest bit and maddy would smile at his reaction.
“word by word,” he’d say. —— ☙
⊱ would call BISHOP for pretty much everything.
⊱ need a new toy for the girls’ content? bishop. forgot the bikini set she'd order three weeks ago? bishop, since he’s heading this way anyway. lunch for the entire house? bishop knows a great place where they went once & she’ll tell him order it from them.
⊱ drunk out of her mind? god have mercy, BISHOP’s her speed dial.
⊱ MADDY would wake up up in bishop’s neat bed more times than she’ll ever admit. an advil, water, and a sandwich already perched on the side table.
⊱ BISHOP wouldn’t be there.
⊱ he’d hang with snowflake in his living room as MADDY makes her way to the massive couch, toppling down beside him.
⊱ BISHOP would look away from the TV. ten seconds later, he'd still be watching maddy– disheveled with mascara running down her eyes, perplexingly gorgeous– trying to massage out her headache.
❧ —— “you good?” he’d ask.
she’d hum back in response, and he’d slowly return to his TV, LOST blaring over the wide flat screen, as she watched him in return.
“you’re never there when i wake up,” she’d point out. blunt, matter-of-factly.
he’d slowly swivel his head back toward her. his left hand still mindlessly combing through snowflake’s impeccable fur. it would prove contagious, and soon maddy would be busy petting the poodle’s round head.
“i never sleep in my bedroom when you’re here,” he’d simply answer.
maddy’s eyebrows would furrow as she continue scratching snowflake behind the ears. “why?”
“that’d be inappropriate.” he’d gaze right at her. “impudent.”
“well, you should,” she’d tell him. “it’s fucking freezing at night in a bed that big.”
his dull eyes would track over her face in earnest. “i can turn the heater up.”
maddy would grin, eyes now on snowflake who had began yelling out his excited little barks.
“that’s stupid,” she’d comment. “i prefer human warmth. i might get hypothermia, you know.”
“you won’t.” and there’d be a note of fondness threaded through his monotone voice. “but alright, maddy perez.” —— ☙
“Really feel the pottery in your hands. Feel the clay as you shape it.”
The sound of the teacher is drowned out, your attention on Mark and literally, only Mark.
Your nipples are pebbled, charcoal pencil between your teeth as you watch the muscles of his forearms flex with each movement of his hands. His wet, messy hands that shape clay so sensually. God, your palms are already sweaty.
You’ve long abandoned your art project, your incomplete drawing remaining just that. Incomplete.
And you feel your belly dip inward when you watch his middle and ring finger push into the centre of where the hole of whatever pot he’s making. And you nearly moan when he shifts his position, his arm reaching into the pot to shape the inside.
You feel like a pervert. A creep. A weirdo.
Like if Mark didn’t know you, he’d move to walk on the side of the street furthest from you, because your thighs are pressing together with each gentle circle he makes to the outside of the pot, middle finger pressing into the malleable clay to form patterns.
And you cover your lips with your fingers, dragging them down your chin as you try to grab a hold of yourself.
Mark glances towards you, a snort falling from his lips before he motions to your mouth, and your brows knit. Before reaching into your pencil case, pulling out a compact mirror and you grimace.
Charcoal smeared like a fucking goatee.
You rifle through your bag, pulling out a small package of tissues before you wipe at your face, checking your reflection to make sure you’re getting all of it.
“Young lady,” the teacher’s voice breaks your concentration and she looks down at you, “less vanity, more drawing.” And she plucks the compact from your hand, before continuing to walk between the aisles of students.
Looking between their different projects and you feel the back of your neck burn with embarrassment as well as annoyance.
“Dirty old bitch.”
𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒
“You weren’t there to stop me from making an ass of myself, you dildo.” You hiss, watching as William continues to clean away the barely perceptible streaks of charcoal from your chin.
“I told you to take welding.” He huffs. “Only way you can make an ass of yourself there is if you lose a finger.”
You glance towards your reflection in the bathroom mirror, only satisfied once you’ve reapplied your lip liner, as well as your gloss.
And William steps out of the bathroom first, before backtracking, turns to you. And he presses his palm against your mouth, smearing your lip combo across your face.
“Oh no. Guess we’ll have to stay here for a while longer. Shucks.” William sighs, dramatic and you seethe. “You asshole. What’s so—”
You poke your head out of the bathroom, your eyes widening.
“She’s literally never even acknowledged his existence unless he’s validating one of her stupid opinions!” You hiss. “The fuck does she want with him?”
Your hisses are whispered and William shrugs, wiping at your lips before reaching into your pocket, pulling out your lip combo.
“I don’t know but it’s probably just—”
“William, she’s touching his arm. Oh, God, the world is spinning and I’m smelling pennies.” You groan, leaning back against the cool frame of the door and your hand moves to clutch at your heart over your shirt.
“Someone took my bitch, Willy.” You whimper, bringing your fist up to your mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as you bite down on your knuckles.
“I’m gonna end up on Channel 5, I just know it.”
William watches Amber and Mark, seeing the way Mark smiles. All sweet and bubbly, watching the way Amber laughs and the hand on Mark’s shoulder gives a nice, lingering squeeze.
“No, no one’s taking your bitch. I promise. Look at me.” William reassures, before his hands move to cradle your face, forcing you to look at him.
“Look. At. Me.” He takes a breath. “That is your man. You’ve listened to Seance Dog lore for fucking hours. No one deserves to ride that… Awkward, socially anxious… Permanently stressed… nerdy pony more than you.”
“Amber doesn’t have shit on you. So what if she’s pretty, and smart and she always smells like the Bahamas. Or actually like... More specifically a daiquiri I had when I was eight and my family went there for vacation. But listen to me."
William forces you to look deep into his eyes.
"She does not have shit on you."
And you glance back at Amber and Mark, your spirit crumbling like a cookie when you see the way she pats his chest, her hand lingering and sliding just a bit to ghost over his abs as she passes him. And you nearly throw up.
"William, is this what Beyoncé felt like?"
"Yes." William answers immediately. "But this is your Lemonade moment. Babe, look at me."
And William sighs, his tone almost sympathetic as he whispers to you, "We be all night."
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆
"Don't be an asshole. Get me a job here." Mark whines, brows knitted into a furrowing frown as he watches you weave between customerw and aisles, continuing to restock various shelves of comic books and paraphernalia.
"No, you're like, one of the biggest customers. Every time you buy a comic book, that's a dollar added to my end of year bonus." You cross your arm over one another, ignoring Mark as he trails behind you, plopping down in the chair near the register and he continues to nurse his Slurpee.
"What are you even gonna use the money for? My mom buys your groceries." Mark huffs and you whistle.
"Wow. First of all. The money my parents send me goes into my college fund, and secondly, your mom forcefully buys my shit. And thirdly, I pay her back." You defend.
"How?"
"I do her hair, I mow your lawn, I wash her car in jean shorts and a backwards baseball cap, not to mention, when she works from home, I'm her assistant."
And Mark scoffs. "You just bring her snacks and take her calls."
"Because her own son doesn't even wanna feed his loving mother."
Mark can barely muster a response, his jaw going slack at your retort and it takes him a few moments to recuperate. "How dare y—"
"I dare easily."
Mark rolls his eyes, pink lips wrapping around his straw once again as he watches you interact with customers. You've got the sweetest smile, pointing out which comic franchise each aisle is dedicated to. And his eyes fall to where your palms are braced on the glass counter, limited edition comics displayed underneath and he watches the way your manicured nails tap at the glass absentmindedly.
You've got pretty hands.
Nice fingers, well kept and the softest palms, and you always know how to accessorize without looking tacky.
And he clears his throat.
"You got that limited edition Seance Dog yet?"
"Yeah, but can you afford it?"
And Mark scoffs. "How much?"
"110." You raise a brow in amusement when you watch Mark swallow heavy, his Adam's apple bobbing. Before he purses his lips. "And you can't hold it for me?" And you shake your head, lips tugged downwards into a mock sympathy expression.
"You know, I can buy it for you. But then I need a favour." You lean forward, elbows braced on the counter and Mark's pretty sure his ears stop working because all he can focus on, is how that pretty pendant dangles from your neck, right above your cleavage. You're giving him the minimal view down your shirt, and he's acting like a damn dog.
"Uh huh?" He squeaks out.
"Everytime I change my sheets, I want you to put the fitted sheet on my mattress." You cross your arms over your chest. "No matter where you are, what you're doing, who you're with."
"Deal!"
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🌼🪻୧₊˚⑅⋆
"You spent... A hundred and ten dollars... On a picture book?" Debbie deadpans, eyes narrowing at you from behind cucumber slices, her hand in yours as you continue to file at her nails. She rests back in the recliner, her legs stretched out, foam separaters between her toes as she allows herself to be pampered.
"It's a Seance Dog comic." You hum. "It's got like... Extra panels as to how he became like... Seance Dog. I don't know why, but Mark seems to like it."
And she lets out a breath.
"What even—" "He's an anthropomorphic dog. And he's kinda based on Doctor Strange. Like, costume wise."
"Who?"
"It's a Marvel character. He's like, a wizard."
"Then why's he called 'doctor'?"
"Because he's a doctor."
"Then why is he still a wizard?"
"Because he's a surgeon and a wizard."
"Do his parents know he's running around in a cape?"
"I think his parents are dead, Miss Debbie."
And she winces. "Died of shame?"
"No..." You snort. "They don't really... Go into much detail about that. Or they do, I don't know. I'm not very into Marvel."
And Debbie lets out a quiet sigh, toes flexing and she lifts one of the slices from her eyes, glancing towards where you're busy with her nails.
"Could we try an almond shape? A little bit longer." You note the way it's hard for her to meet your gaze and you gasp.
"Miss Deborah, you dirty dog." You snicker. "Gel build?"
And she nods her head. "The nude pink."
"Can I expect Mark sleep—"
"Without a doubt."
"God—" Mark pants. "Are you just randomly helping people put up water towers?"
"No." Nolan hums, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Mark steady the metallic storage item. "However, these people needed help and you were in the area."
"You were too."
"Who's the hero and who's the rookie?"
And Mark huffs, arms crossed over his chest before his phone buzzes in his suit and Mark fishes the device out of his pocket.
Number 1⭐: 'your mom's gonna get her 🐱 ate'.
He stares at the text, his expression faltering before he stares at Nolan, his lips pressing into a thin line that slowly morphs into a grimace. The longer he stares at his father, the more his expression crumples.
And the more his expression crumples, the wider Nolan grins, already having a mild idea of what the text read.
"You know, you ought to marry a girl like that." Nolan hums. "Smart, funny, likeable."
"She's a massive dick." Mark huffs, sliding his phone back into his pocket before he crosses his arms over his chest. Lips tugged into a disgruntled frown.
"That falls under 'funny', son." Nolan states.
"Well, that's too bad. I've already got a girl I like. Her name's Amber and—"
"Can Amber fight, Mark?"
The question is abrupt and Mark's brows knit in confusion.
"Huh? I— I don't— I'm not sure."
"Cause Amber's gonna need to." Nolan states. "At some point... in the near future."
"Why would Amber need to know how to fight?"
"Because, Mark, one day, she'll need to." And he coughs. "One day soon."
"Soon?!"
"Well... Soon by Viltrumite standards."
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆
Mark spends yet another night in your company, his shoulder against yours as you both stare up at your ceiling. Phones on charge, the lights shut off and the only other light being the slivers of moonlight that creep through your curtains.
"You know, you never told me your hero name." You state softly, your voice just as quiet as the raindrops that patter down onto the grass outside, pelting against your window and Mark hums quietly.
His hair's damp from his shower, his broad shoulders stretching yet another of your shirts although this time, it's an 'I Heart GILFS' T-shirt.
"Invincible."
There's a quiet silence between you and Mark glances towards you, only to see you already looking at him. Your expression is blank, unreadable and he can't fight the laughter that bubbles from his lips when you turn your back to him.
Pulling the covers up to your chin.
"Oh come on, it's not bad!" Mark giggles, a muscular arm wrapping around your waist and he pulls you towards him.
And the room gets quiet for a wholenew reason.
The warmth of his body is intense, the way his breath fans across your neck and the way his fingertips press into the softness of your belly.
And he dips his head, lips ghosting over your jaw as he cranes to meet your gaze.
He's grinning, dimples in his cheeks and shadows playing on his features.
Tags: [mlw]🌼[mdni]🌼[fluff]🌼[crack]🌼[friends to lovers]🌼[childhood best friends]🌼[slowburn]🌼[mutual pining]🌼[sprinkles of angst]🌼[eventual smut]🌼[multi-chapter]🌼[semi canon]🌼[fixing his life; one fic at a time]🌼[panty sniffing]🌼[masturbation]🌼[healthy family dynamics🩷]
Things I did to prepare for this fic:
1. i looked at friends-to-lovers on pinterest for 12 minutes.
2. i installed microsoft word.
3. i cleared 83mb to reinstall microsoft word
4. i created many, many, many banners, dividers and it was very hard to settle on an aesthetic, as well as titles.
5. i cleared space because microsoft word didn't wanna open.
6. i rued bill gates for a solid 8 minutes.
7. half of that 8 minutes was spent hating james patterson.
8. fuck you, james.
9. i had 2 drafts of the prologue.
10. i created a spotify playlist dedicated to making mark happy.
a/n: get ready, bitches. i have no idea how this ends but goddammit, i need to step up.
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼 masterlist 🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆
⋆⭒˚.⋆🌼 prologue
⋆⭒˚.⋆🌼 chapter 1
⋆⭒˚.⋆🌼 chapter 2
⋆⭒˚.⋆🌼 chapter 3
complete but unposted⋆⭒˚.⋆🌼 chapter 4
⋆⭒˚.⋆🌼 chapter 5
There'll be more chapters. I just make thingies in 5 because it's easy to manage for me. Same as there'll be more tags as the fic progresses.
Also, comment if you wanna be in the taglist for this one.
Tags: [mlw][aged up][mdni][friends][little bit of crack][missionary][loss of v-card][tiny tags][bickering][breeding kink if you narrow your eyes][porn with plot]
"I've watched enough porn to know how to do it, dumbass."
"Yeah? And I don't trust you near my coochie. You crushed a Pepsi can with your finger today."
"Don't say 'coochie'."
"What then? Pussy?" You scoff.
"Vagina."
And you lower the Cosmopolitan magazine, your expression bored and upper lip curled in distaste as you watch Mark, reclined on his bed as he absentmindedly tosses a paper ball into the air, catching it with ease, only to throw it back up.
The motion is repetitive, boring to watch but you can't deny the appeal of watching that little muscle in his forearm twitch beneath his skin.
"I'll call my genitalia whatever I want, thank you very much. And you shouldn't mimic porn." You state. "A lot of that stuff isn't real and pardon me, but I want an actual orgasm when I lose my virginity."
Mark let's out a snort of laughter, perching up and resting his weight in his elbows, the edge of his sweater raising the tiniest bit and you catch a peek of a neat, dark little happy trail that disappears beneath the fabric of his clothing.
"I can guarantee an orgasm." Mark boasts. "I'll bet anything."
"If I don't cum, I want you to grow a full bush and then, wear cycling shorts for a week."
Your wager has Mark's lips pursing, chocolate pools moving towards the ceiling as he weighs his options. "Oddly specific but okay." Mark shrugs. "And if you cum, anytime I learn a sex trick, I get to try it on you. Unless you get into a relationship but," he snorts, "let's be realistic."
The insult has you flinging the magazine across the bedroom, hitting Mark in the face with the spine and he winces, although, you know it's more out of habit than from actual feeling.
"It's so weird." He mumbles. "I don't feel your abuse anymore."
Mark's grin is cocky.
"Oh, Marky," you coo, lifting yourself from his desk chair and you cradle his face in your hands, an action that's so familiarly condescending but Mark can't help but lean into your warm palms, "you're only unaffected by the physical abuse. I can still hurt you self-esteem."
Mark's eyes narrow at you. "Try it." There's a challenge in his voice that you just can't ignore. Especially when he's looking at you like that. Brown eyes trained intensely on you, black strands tousled ever so slightly from the long day he's had.
"You have feminine hands." And you swear, the way his expression falls is an aphrodisiac in of itself before you straighten up.
"It's easy to hurt your ego, Marky." You hum. "Heroes get a lot of hate if they do something wrong. But lucky for you, you have years of experience."
"Yeah," Mark hums, "no one's a bigger dick than you."
"It's so weird that you're losing your virginity on your parents' anniversary." You hum quietly, carefully traveling along the sides of Mark's bedroom, attaching the LED light strips along the cornish.
"Don't make it weird." Mark grumbles, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy robe as he towel dries his hair, messy strands poking in every direction and he watches you with amusement. "Their anniversary is like, the only time when they travel far enough that I can't hear them. So.... It's the only night I can do it."
"They probably don't want you to hear them fucking." You hum, almost absentmindedly and when Mark gags, you let out a laugh and your foot slips from the backrest of his desk chair, and you slip.
But instead of meeting the carpeted floor in an unceremonious crash, you instead crash into Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around your midsection and your knees tucked up. And he dips his head low, head tilted.
"You okay?"
And if your pussy didn't have a heartbeat before, it does now. The way he looks down at you, his expression so soft, brows creased in concern and his lips. So soft and inviting, the scent of mint lingering in the air and you nod your head.
"Mhm," you mutter quietly, "I'm okay."
Mark sets you on your feet, before examining where you had stuck the lights and he nods his head, a grin cocking at his lips.
"Yeah, this is a mood setter."
"Can I open my eyes now?" Mark grumbles, arms folded over his chest but his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones and you let out a hum.
"Go ahead." You mumble and he allows his eyes to open and drink in the sight of you.
Freshly showered, steam still rising from your skin and in his T-shirt. The faded Batman shirt ends just below your crotch, your ankle socks aren't even matching and your hair's tied into a bun that looks so half-assed.
You look nervous. Eyes lowered to the carpet and Mark reaches forward, large hands bracketing your hips and his thumbs brush over the trimming of your panties. And he pulls you to stand between his thighs, his head tips back and his chin comes up to rest on your sternum as he stares up at you.
"We don't have—" "I want to." You interrupt him, your hands raising to rest on either side of his neck, thumbs brushing along his jawline. "I want to." You repeat quietly, looking down at Mark.
The plan is to lose your virginities before the gap year is over. Because you'd both much rather make a mistake with each other than with strangers.
"Move your hand."
Mark lets out a snicker of laughter, your thighs tossed over his and his tip notched at your entrance, and he can barely think.
Not when he knows how tightly you felt around his fingers, sucking him in with such a neediness, not when he saw the way your brows knitted into the prettiest little pinched expression when his tongue lapped against your clit just right.
"I looked at the logistics of it and it's not gonna fit."
You state, and those pretty brown eyes roll at your words, before Mark slaps your hand away, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he taps it against your clit. Just to watch the way your stomach caves in with an unsteady breath.
"It'll fit." Mark reassures. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."
And you let out a laugh, your body slumped against the mattress and you snort.
"No you're n—nahh..."
Mark watches the way your head tips back when he pushes his tip past the ring of muscle, and he watches the way your eyes shut, brows knitting into a pinch.
"You little... Fuck.."
You breathe out, your expression a little pouty frown and Mark moves a strand of hair out of your face, leaning forward and as he presses a kiss to your forehead, he pushes another inch inside.
And as you gasp, his lips press against yours, and Mark swallows each moan and groan of pain, his forearm supporting his weight while his other hand grips your hip, thumb brushing over the protruding bone of your hip and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
"You're so warm..." Mark murmurs into the kiss, but he keeps his hips still, slotted between your thighs and he feels your gummy walls pulsing around him, trying to get used to the intrusion. And Mark lifts his head, kissing the apples of your cheeks.
"So I'm big, huh?"
He teases and watching as your pained expression gives way to an annoyed expression, eyes bored and brows furrowed.
"Just fuck me already."
You grumble.
And Mark pulls out, until just the rosy tip of his cock is poked into your sopping cunt, before he slowly pushes back into you.
The stretch burns, and you can feel the way your nails dig into your palms and you take a deep breath. His hips are pressed against yours, and you can feel that painful pinch behind your navel.
"Are you inside yet?" You question, peeking up at Mark through your lashes, enough to watch the way that dorkish grin spread across his face as he readjusts his position, leaning forward and shifting himself to rest more comfortably.
"Ha-ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes, his voice just a tad breathy and his hands move, thumbs moving your pussy lips out of the way, spreading them so he can see the pinkish flesh that swallows him whole.
"Mark!" You hiss, swatting away his hands, and covering your folds from his view. "What are you doing?"
"They do it in porn!" He defends, moving his hands to rest on your hips instead as his hips slowly begin to roll against you, the soft strands of his happy trail tickles your neglected and swollen clit, and you take a shaky breath.
"Those people are ass naked." You deadpan. "You've never even seen my feet."
With one hand, Mark shifts the covers and lets out a bark of laughter at the sight of your socks, still on your feet. And he reaches back for your ankle, lifting your leg and he places a soft kiss on the inside of your foot, causing your walls to flutter around him.
His kiss is warm through the cotton, a lingering show of affection as his hips thrust, cock nudging your insides to his shape. And he lowers your foot.
"Put your foot on my chest. I wanna try something." Mark hums quietly, resting your sock covered foot on his chest. And you let out a snort.
"My pussy isn't a skate park. You can't try things you've never done." You huff, but you comply, keeping your foot against his brawny chest, even as Mark shifts you into position, straddling your one thigh and resting your foot on his chest.
And when he moves, your foot slides off his chest, instead, resting beside him. And a snicker slips past your lips at the frustrated expression on his face.
"Please participate." Mark grumbles, moving your foot, and resting your leg over his shoulder, ignoring the way a laugh ruptures from your lips.
Kiss-swollen and pouty lips curling into a wicked grin.
"Bro said 'please par—'... Shit..."
Your eyes roll back in your head when the divot of Mark's tip presses against your cervix, pressing a sloppy, slick kiss against the plug as he grinds into you, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw.
Mark isn't even fucking you anymore.
He's slowly rutting into you, pressing adorning kisses to the side of your face, sucking marks into the supple skin of your neck while he slowly fucks an orgasm out of you.
Kissing you deeply, his hand grasping the fat of your hip while the other massages the plumpness of your thigh, pressing a warm kiss against your calf before going back to swallowing your honeyed moans.
"... shit, you're gonna make me come..." You breathe out, your nails dragging lines down the expanse of his muscular and slightly damp back, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious concoction that has Mark burying his face into your neck.
Inhaling the scent of you.
"Mhm.... 's okay, baby, come for me..."
His voice is husky, a low timbre that makes your stomach knot and you whine when you feel that wave of ecstasy crash over you, waves breaking on the jagged rocks of your being and you're lashes flutter, tears brimming on your lower lashline because you're just so... Full.
Mark perches up, wiping the teardrops from your cheeks and he looks down at your hazy and flushed expression. His gaze lingering on your lips, wet and rosy, and before he even registers, your hand is on his face.
"Stop making such heavy eye contact." You whine. "You're gonna make me catch feelings."
And a laugh tumbles from his lips.
"You know, I have your entire future in my hands right now." Mark states quietly and when you hum, quietly mumbling a 'how do you mean', he simply presses a kiss against your pulse.
"I could fuck a baby into you right now." Mark breathes out.
I’m very sad to report that Sims 3 and 4 creator CmarNYC passed away in October 2023. For 15 years, Simmers benefited from Cmar’s long-honed computing skills as she created much-loved modders’ and players’ tools, including the Sims 3 and 4 MorphMakers and Skininators, the TS4 SimRipper, the Sims 3 XCAS core mod, and many CAS sliders. She was also a contributor to S4PE, which likely was used by creators you rely on. Without Cmar’s work, the Sims franchise would have had a much less rich array of mods and custom content. She will be greatly missed.
As well as Sims, Cmar loved cats, and donations are suggested to the ASPCA, the TinyKittens Society, or an animal-related charity near you.
Twice. He'd only laid eyes on your fine ass twice. Fuck was he doing thinking about you when you barely spared him a glance. You knew who he was. You knew what he did and you wanted no parts.
But he couldn't stand it. He needed to see you, to know you.
So what if he lingered in the liquor store aisles a little longer than usual even though he knew he got the same shit every time. And if he looked at you on the other side of said aisle more than he did the snacks in front of him, who was gonna say shit?
He got so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed you moved closer to his side of the aisle until the sweet scent of vanilla flooded his nose.
" 'xcuse me." You mumbled timidly as his frame took up most of what space the aisle had. His gaze lingered on you a little bit longer than what was considered appropriate.
God, he was so fine. Your thoughts betrayed your need to get the fuck out of here the moment he stepped in the store. You just wanted a peek that's all. You didn't expect to want to be near him so damn much.
"Shit, my bad, baby." Fontaine took a step back, as you squeezed between him and the bags of chips, your ass brushing the front of his sweatpants. Your scent lingered and it took everything in him not to sniff it all up like a weirdo.
His low tone sent a shiver down your spine and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you approached the register and set your things on the counter.
"That it for you?" The cashier asked. You began to nod until you felt him behind you. He tossed up a pack of gum and a bottle of liquor.
Your head whipped around in confusion as Fontaine was already counting the cash. "Whatchu doin'?"
"Don't worry bout it." He tried and failed to fight the smirk tugging on his lips as he handed the cashier enough cash to cover you and his stuff. "Just stick around f'me. Wanna talk to you."
And if you followed him outside and into his Pontiac, it was nobody's business.
His car rumbled to a stop in a scarce parking lot and after rolling a blunt and lighting it up, he spoke up. "You know me?"
"Yeah." You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched him take a drag from the blunt and blow the smoke out the car window. "What did I do?"
"Nothin'." He chuckled, his grills gleaming with his smile. A moan so quiet he barely heard it, slipped from your lips as you slumped in your seat.
Another beat of silence as the smell of weed flooded your senses. "What you got me all the way out here for?"
"Wanted to see you...up close." His eyes rack over your body, making you squirm. You were wet for sure. Shit, who wouldn't be. "Got somethin' on ya mind?"
Just a shake of your head in response. "You?"
"You don't wanna know.."
"Try me."
So what if you ended up sprawled out in the back of his car, listening to your ankles as his head sank between the folds of your sopping pussy. Bass boosted R&B flooding the speakers and vibrating the seat as his thumb rubbed tight circles of your clit.
His beard was nice and wet with your two orgasms as he worked you towards a third.
"Fuuuuck, Fontaine!" Your head dropped against leather seats as he hummed against your cunt.
"Go on, say that shit.." His lips wrapped around your clit as his fingers fucked you into oblivion.
"'m gonna cum daddy! Fuck!" Your legs slipped from the shaky grip of your hands and landed on his shoulders where he kneaded the soft flesh in his free hand.
"Mmmhmm." All control left your body as your orgasm crashed into you and gushed across his face.
His mouth never left you as your whines died on your tongue and you returned to Earth as intended. When he did emerge from your thighs, you couldn't help but giggle at the mess you made on his features.
welcome to hawkins’ number one diner! where the staff don’t wanna be there and the linecook is a grumpy metal head who likes to argue with his boss and ignore everyone else. but the new waitress can’t hack the rude customers and the regulars can be a little… much.
serving up indiana heatwaves, slow burns, walk in freezer breakdowns, late night talks, shared shakes and food as a love language. order extra spice for $4.
a linecook!au with eddie munson and shy fem!reader.
Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...
A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!
Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.
Wc: 2.8k
"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"
"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."
"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.
It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.
Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"
You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"
The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"
"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."
"What language?"
"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"
Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.
".....Please stay and help me."
"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."
"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.
It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.
After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.
"What're you doing?"
However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.
Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.
"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."
"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"
"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."
The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"
You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."
Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."
Huh? "Excuse me?"
"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."
Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"
"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.
For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.
The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.
"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"
Huh? "What?"
"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."
His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.
Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.
"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."
"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."
He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."
"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!
You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"
Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.
"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."
It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"
He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.
He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."
Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.
Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??
"Túmbate."
He captures your attention. "What?"
"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."
Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"
"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."
You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."
"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."
His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."
His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.
"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."
He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."
Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.
His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.
Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.
He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."
You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!
With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.
"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.
"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"
He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."
"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"
"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.
"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."
He hums. "Lyla."
"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.
"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"
"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"
"...."
"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.
Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"
"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."
"Can you please give us the co—"
"Already gave it to Jess."
"Then what was the point—"
"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."
To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"
"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"
"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"
"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"
It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"
"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.
"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."
