Call me Glas! 28, she/he/they I do a lot of fan art, writing, and cutesy things... though the Marvel Rivals bug has bitten me and refuses to let go. Main blog is alashazam. Header image by one of my besties, @doodles-and-teacups!
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It's still a little ways off since I just hit 900 followers last night, but I'd love to start brainstorming a 1k follower special!
I'll probably come up with several ideas and put them in a poll, but I'm also open to suggestions! I wanna make it a thank you to YOU guys, especially since I never expected this much support when I started writing. I read every single comment, every tag, seriously. It makes my day every time. I can’t thank you guys enough.
Currently I've got a few ideas in my head, but feel free to add suggestions in the comments! I'm open to bigger groups for this, like when I half-joked with one of my friends about doing a Loki clone orgy. And it doesn't have to be smut, either! I just know a lot of you are here for that, so... 😉
Could you do a smut of president Loki and fem secretary reader?
Oh yeah... that can certainly be arranged ;)
Presidential Feast
President!Loki x Fem!Secretary!Reader
Description: Things are not all they appear to be in the office of the president's secretary. Though you work diligently at your desk, there is a certain someone who works even harder to get you to come undone completely from below.
A/N: I blacked out and when I woke up, there were two thousand words of Loki smut on my computer screen. Dunno how that happened. Fair warning, this is barely proofread. I'm just amazed I wrote this in one sitting LOL
Word Count: 2k
“...So, if there is any way I could speak to him directly…”
The saccharine smile wears at the corners of your lips. You’ve worn it for hours now, feigning pleasantries, signing papers, redirecting and avoiding pointless or dangerous questions from the press. You were excellent at keeping face, as it were, but even still…
This job was exhausting.
Maybe it was foolish of you to expect people to use their eyes. President Loki was clearly busy in his office, preoccupied as he leafed through stacks and stacks of backlogged paperwork. You could quite clearly see that through the door’s window. Apparently, most of your appointments, scheduled or otherwise, were incapable of seeing the commander in chief hard at work. Why else would they bother you ceaselessly for a chance to speak with him?
At least your superior had a soft spot for you. A new desk made from gorgeous stained mahogany sits before you, polished to almost a mirror-like shine. It feels sinful to rest your elbows upon it as you lean forward and prop your chin on your wrist.
Though, perhaps it’s not nearly so sinful as what happens beneath.
When the president had procured this desk for you, he ensured it was the best in all aspects. Naturally, this included a spacious, enclosed area for you to stretch your legs. The legroom truly was unparalleled and quite comfortable. If you wanted to, you could easily crouch down and fit underneath. After all, that’s exactly what Loki is doing right now.
While you explain for the billionth time today that the president is not available at present, gesturing to the clone that pantomimes reading documents the next room over, the real Loki kneels between your legs and bites softly at your inner thigh. His teeth drag bluntly over the sensitive skin before he sucks on it, marking you under the mini skirt he’s bunched up around your hips.
“He… he’s clearly quite busy--” You inhale sharply when his tongue laves over the dark bruises he’s created upon the canvas of your legs. The man standing in front of you eyes you curiously with an arched brow. Canines dig into your tongue to stifle the moan at the back of your throat. Loki’s breath is hot against your core through the fabric of your underwear. “--and I am not feeling terribly well. If you could just try again tomorrow--”
“I have been attempting to get a hold of him for three weeks now!” the man exclaims as his face grows red. “This policy needs his attention immediately!”
“Sir, if I might remind you, that is not how the American government works. You would be much better off addressing this with your representative in the House, and--ah-!”
With a hand over your mouth, you bite down on your index finger to muffle any further slip-ups. You can feel the smirk on Loki’s lips as they lead feather-light kisses closer and closer to your folds. Fingers curl into a white-knuckled fist as you grip the edge of your desk.
Thankfully, your current “client” is far too focused on his own agenda to pay attention to your strange behavior.
“That’s exactly why I’m here! I called and called, and I think they blocked my number--”
You barely hear what he’s saying even with his frantic gestures and waving his arms. The man is clearly quite animated about whatever it is he’s going on about. It’s hard to focus on that when your senses hone in on the dextrous fingers that hook in the waistband of your undergarments. It’s a bit difficult while you’re sitting down, but he manages to shimmy them down your hips without too much effort on your part.
Thankfully for you, this man seems more than content to ramble on about how important this proposal is and why it should be the first thing on the agenda. So much so that he begins pacing about the room as he talks.
And then Loki’s tongue flattens and paints a fat stripe through your folds. You’re so glad this guy is turned away from you when your eyes roll back and you clamp your hand over your mouth fully. That accursed, talented appendage zigzags and swirls, drawing patterns all along your slit but never quite high enough where you want it most. He drinks of your nectar, feasts on your essence. Your breath comes out in staggered gasps and your brows knit together.
“Are you even listening to me!?” the man practically shouts, startling you and pulling your attention away from the euphoria between your legs. “I swear, the government these days--!”
“Do you wish for me to deal with him, my dear?” you feel more than hear Loki’s words as he whispers them, his cheek pressed lazily against the plush of your thigh while his verdant green eyes gaze up at you. His lips glisten with your slick, and it makes your head spin with desire. It would be so tempting, so easy…
But you snap out of it and shake your head. No, you wish to do this yourself. It’s part of your job, after all, at least in a roundabout way. And if your intuition is correct, really all you’ll need to do is change your approach.
The real challenge is staying focused while Loki gets back to work lapping at your cunt.
“I understand your frustrations, sir,” you practically coo, removing your hand from your face and leaning forward. You bat your long, fake eyelashes up at him. His demeanor changes instantly and you see his shoulders relax. “I really am listening. You were just so passionate about it that I was taken aback.”
“You… yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just such a serious matter, and no one is listening…” he bemoans.
“Such a mischievous little devil,” Loki purrs quietly. Your legs tremble on either side of his head with the effort it takes to keep yourself composed. “You’re playing this poor man like a fiddle, aren’t you? What a cruel mistress…” The nearly inaudible chortle rumbles through his lips and onto your dripping core. It sends a shudder through your entire body and prickles your skin.
You make a show of licking your lips before pinching the bottom one between the tips of your canines. Loki is right--you have this man absolutely captivated.
“Here, sweetheart,” you begin, sliding a sticky note towards him. “I’m sorry there’s nothing more I can do today, but that’s my personal cell. Give me a call tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do for you, okay?” It’s almost sickening putting on a show like this, but it might as well be your calling with how easily he buys it. He’s cradling the piece of paper in his hands like it’s some sort of holy artifact as he thanks you profusely and finally makes his exit from your office.
As soon as the door closes behind him, in fact, you finally exhale the breath you were holding with an airy whimper.
“Mm,” Loki moans into your folds. He rewards you with a flick of his tongue at your clit that leaves you digging your nails into the wood. “What a perfect succubus you make. Tell me…” he begins, teasing a finger at your entrance. “Who did that number belong to? I know you wouldn’t dare give such a lowly creature your actual information.”
“It’s--” You keen and bite your lip when his long finger slowly curls into you. “It was your--fuck--” Loki smiles devilishly as your hips buck into his hand. “--your brother’s cell.” Your cheeks flush and you laugh breathlessly. “I imagine that will be quite… quite the conversation tomorrow…”
An almost evil laugh thrums in his chest. “Gods, but I do love that wonderfully deviant mind of yours,” he praises as he begins thrusting the digit in and out. Kitten licks flutter against your sensitive bud, and your toes curl in your heels.
“And I--” you huff, moving instead to grip the more comfortable arms of your office chair, “I need more of that deviant tongue of yours,” you joke breathily.
He slides a second finger into you and begins pressing against the soft, spongy spot, grinning wickedly when he feels your thighs tense around him. “Making demands of your president? How terribly daring of you.”
Words are beginning to fail you even before his lips encircle your clit. Your chest heaves as you whimper with every breath. He sucks on that pleasurable little bud, timing every curl of his fingers with a practiced swipe of his tongue. Ecstasy builds and bubbles in your core, and you try so desperately to contain the sounds that threaten to spill from your lips. Even if no one is here right now, someone could walk in at any moment. That thought shouldn’t thrill you nearly as much as it does, and you feel Loki chuckle as he suckles on your clit.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he purrs. “The thrill, the danger, chasing such forbidden pleasures…” A low whine sounds in your throat as he continues. “I wonder… what would you do if someone were to discover you like this, in the throes of pleasure?” He slows his fingers, instead thrusting with purpose as your walls quiver around them. “Would you stop me?” He knows your answer when you mewl and tighten around him, but he asks anyway. “Or would the desire only intensify as you ride my tongue and desperately chase your release?”
“Loki, fuck--!” You’re so close, so desperately close, hanging off of the precipice as the pleasure below waits to consume you.
But his fingers still inside you, and the flicks of his tongue that punctuated his words cease entirely. The edge was right there, but now you feel it slipping away from your grasp as a mournful wail rings from you.
“That is President Loki to you,” he corrects you before busying his mouth by biting and sucking at the skin of your thighs. “You will address me properly if you want to continue indulging in this… deviant tongue of mine.”
Your breathing is ragged. Your nails are threatening to rip off the padding of your armrests. “P… President…” Your eyes nearly roll back when his fingers drag slowly through your velvety walls. It’s more, but it’s not enough. Your body trembles. “President Loki, please.”
Immediately you feel his fingers thrusting vigorously in and out of your soaked core. Your moaning returns in full force, potential visitors be damned.
“That’s it. You sound so terribly pretty when you beg for me,” he praises. His tongue finds your clit and swirls feverishly about the bud, and you feel all of the pleasure that had begun to fade return tenfold as you grind shamelessly onto his face. It’s a fire roaring in your belly that licks its flames outwards to tingle at your fingers and toes. Loki moans his own appreciation as he slurps and swallows, smacking lewdly as he drinks up everything you give him. The vibrations push you over the edge as you let out a silent scream, mouth agape as your thighs clamp around his head and you buck wildly against his tongue.
Your body slumps in your chair as you stare, dazed, off at nothing in particular. Your chest heaves with the effort of catching your breath. The orchestrator of your undoing merely smirks, licking delicate stripes up your sensitive folds that make you twitch and whimper from the overstimulation.
“What a beautiful mess you make,” he regards you as his tongue collects your essence from his lips. Before you have the chance to reply, to right yourself, he snaps his fingers and vanishes from his place beneath you.
Well, he doesn’t vanish completely.
No, instead he takes the place of his clone, and when your bliss induced stupor finally allows you to glance over through the window into his office, you see him smiling wickedly and patting his face gingerly with a handkerchief. Perfectly composed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred while you try desperately to recollect yourself from a mind shattering orgasm.
I’m obsessed with your marvel rivals Frank X reader x Bucky fic! Whenever you open your requests for Marvel rivals again I hope you can write some more about them because I will not lie… it hasn’t left my mind since i read it 🤭 I don’t have a specific storyline in mind but anything you write will be fantastic! ❤️❤️
Ahhh thank you so much! Even if they're not my personal favorite characters, I think that might still be one of my favorites that I've written so far. Naturally, I'm more than happy to continue off of it!
Entertainment
Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader x The Punisher
Description: Fancy parties can be fun, but they're really not your style. Or Frank's... Or Bucky's... but at least the three of you are MORE than capable of making your own fun ;)
Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), brief and inappropriate use of Bucky's arm tentacles (sorry not sorry), vaginal sex, anal sex, rough sex, double penetration, squirting, PWP
A/N: You can treat this as a sequel to Stoicism and Gratuity, but it functions perfectly fine as a standalone! One day I'll write a Bucky fic without including the arm tentacles... one day... maybe...
Word Count: 4.1k
The Hellfire Gala was in full swing, but truth be told? Fancy balls were never really your style. The dresses are still constricting and stuffy no matter how stylish you make them. Conversations are laced with hidden agendas.
No. You preferred much more honest company.
Your dress, though still uncomfortable, somehow feels much more tolerable in the privacy of your hotel suite. Perhaps it’s the way it draws the eyes of the two men who had joined you in your escape from the dance floor. It could also be the exquisite wine that warms your body.
“Finally, a decent drink,” Frank grumbles while leaning against the bar counter.
Bucky snorts. “Much better than the shit you keep in your fridge, at least.” He steps closer until he’s on the other side of you and rests an elbow on what has to be an expensive slab of volcanic glass.
Sitting on one of the bar stools, a lilting giggle pulls from your lips as you swing one leg over the other. The slit of your dress exposes your thigh and the way your tights squeeze into the plush skin. Emma Frost had called your look “uninspired,” but you felt plenty inspired with the way Frank finds his eyes glued to that sliver of flesh.
“Uh-huh,” he responds, hardly paying any mind to Bucky’s quip. His tongue pokes absentmindedly into his cheek before he recollects himself and takes a long swig of wine.
The first time you had been alone with these two, things had been so uncertain. Nervous. But after that night in Frank’s apartment, you felt powerful in their presence. Like you were the only woman that mattered in the entire world. A sexual tension permanently accompanies the three of you every time you’re together.
Can anyone blame you for using it to your advantage?
You lean forward in your seat, arching your back and accentuating the curve of your ass in your tight-fitting dress. The feathered collar tickles your cheek when you turn to flash the Winter Soldier a coy little smile and bat your eyelashes. If it weren’t for the air conditioning keeping the temperature of the room perfectly cool, you might almost believe that the sweat beading on Bucky’s forehead was thanks to the perfectly tailored suit he wears. He clears his throat.
He’s still shy. How cute.
Frank harbors no such reservations with you anymore, especially after a few glasses of wine. He slides closer and places a broad hand at the small of your back. “Know what you’re doin’, sweetheart,” he mutters into your ear. His breath is hot, tinged with the bold and earthy smell of merlot. It paints goosebumps across your skin.
You smirk, angling your neck when his lips ghost along the column of your throat. “Whatever do you mean?” you airily feign innocence. It’s soon accompanied by a sigh as he grabs your waist and presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your shivering skin. Your playfulness earns you a few nips of his teeth.
“Dolled yourself up, lured the two of us up to your room…” His hand dips lower and squeezes your ass possessively. You bite your lip.
“I think I recall you two following me of your own accord,” you purr and lean into his touch.
Bucky finally slides closer. You can feel the heat of him even before he completes the sandwich of bodies. Tentative fingers trace ticklishly between your shoulder blades, threading through the feathered collar, before smoothing up the nape of your neck and tangling in your meticulously crafted up-do. A gentle tug urges your head back and you gasp. You glance over to him, painted eyelids hooded with desire.
“Don’t play coy, sweetheart,” he accuses, the corner of his lips turned up in the slightest amused smirk. His eyes don’t linger on your face for long. They follow the curve of your neck, trail the neckline of your dress until he hungrily eyes the cleavage that disappears beneath the glimmering fabric. “The way you were swaying your hips on the way up told an entirely different story.”
“So you’re saying my hips don’t lie…?” you quip with a barely contained grin.
He closes his eyes and sighs as his smile fades. “You and your fuckin’ jokes,” he laments in half jest. His grip in your hair tightens and draws a squeak from you. He brings his face closer to yours until his lips are but a whisper away. “Why don’t we put that mouth of yours to better use?”
A shuddery breath exhales from you. No complaints there. A delicious groan sounds in your throat that Bucky swallows eagerly when his lips meet yours. The clean smell of aftershave blends strangely yet enticingly with the alcohol that lingers on his breath. His lips slide easily, sensually, hungrily, tasting the sweetness of your lipgloss with the same tongue that parts your lips. You inhale sharply before your tongue meets and dances with his. It’s hazy and intoxicating. His bionic arm takes you by the waist and wrinkles the fabric of your dress in his feverish grip.
Frank’s free hand finds that damnable slit and slips beneath the skirt. Callused fingertips slide reverently over where your stockings meet your bare skin. His touch trails deeper, higher, finding your inner thigh and squeezing it roughly. The softness of you beneath his palm draws a growl from him that he muffles in the crook of your neck. Unfortunately, his nose crinkles in annoyance when the feathery adornments of your garment begin to draw the beginnings of a sneeze from him. He expresses his irritation by biting down hard at your clavicle.
“Ah, fuck!” you exclaim, breaking your kiss with Bucky to glare at the other man. “Frank, what the--”
“Take this damn thing off,” he commands gruffly. He tugs impatiently at the zipper at the back of your dress.
Bucky can’t help but chortle at Frank. His metallic fingers pull playfully at your dress. “Could just rip it off… save some time…”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” you snap. Your words lose some bite with just how breathy they are, but your finger pokes into the silky tie at his chest. Bucky smirks before leaning in and taking your bottom lip between his teeth. He sucks on it gently and starts kissing you again. The indignant fire in you wanes with a mewl and your fingers wrap around the tie to pull him closer.
Despite how tempting Bucky’s idea sounds, even The Punisher can respect that you probably spent an exorbitant amount of money on this. That doesn’t assuage his impatience. It just means the purr of the zipper stops above your ass and he yanks your dress down your shoulders and breasts. The fabric pools around your waist and you gasp into Bucky’s lips as the cool air pebbles your sensitive nipples. Large hands cup your breasts from behind and roughly mold the flesh. It leaves you squirming in your seat, uttering soft whimpers when those practiced fingers pinch and tug at the hardening peaks. Unimpeded, his lips and teeth find the skin of your neck again. You feel hypersensitive, the contrast of his body heat through the starchy, slightly scratchy suit against the softness of your bare back forming an exquisite torture.
“Can’t get enough of these tits,” he grumbles appreciatively. You can feel the way he smiles into your shoulder. “Can’t get enough of the sounds I get from you when I play with ‘em, either.”
You keen when he gives a particularly hard twist of your nipples. The growing bulge in his pants presses insistently against your ass, and you swear you feel it twitch impatiently in its confines when you moan.
Bucky breaks away, panting, admiring your kiss-bruised lips and the spittle that coats them. “Gotta taste more of you.” His eyes flicker over to Frank as he laps and sucks at your neck. “Get her up on the counter.”
Before you even get a say, you feel yourself being manhandled off of the stool. You let out a yelp as Frank loops his arms under yours and lifts you up with ease. Bucky leans down and wraps his arms around your hips, taking advantage of this position to kiss and nip at the valley of your breasts even as he swings you up and onto the obsidian counter slab. They’re as gentle as they can manage, but the shock of the cool stone on your back still draws a hiss through your teeth.
“Fuck this is cold,” you groan.
Bucky vaults over the counter, miraculously avoiding any of the glasses or bottles. He slots himself between your legs and hikes the skirt of your dress up and over your hips. “Let us warm you up then, sweetheart.” Blue eyes darken as he lifts up your leg and presses heated kisses to your inner thigh. A syrupy warmth melts through you with every press of his lips. Your breath comes out in shaky gasps.
A shadow darkens your field of view as Frank stoops over you. He claims your lips in a searing kiss. His hands are quick to busy themselves, fingers curling around your neck while the other palms and gropes at your breast. The cold is long forgotten as his tongue plunders your mouth, swiping over the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, and he draws your own tongue forth before sucking it between his lips. The stubble on his chin drags roughly yet pleasantly across your cheek. It leaves your head spinning.
Your hips jerk when Bucky’s teeth nip playfully into your skin. Whispered mewlings hum in your throat. His mouth travels closer, closer, inching towards the prize that already taunts him as the earthy sweet smell of your desire fills his nostrils. Still he teases you, sucking dark hickies into the plush of your thigh before easing the sting with long swipes of his tongue. Your legs tremble. In stark contrast to his hot tongue, the cold metal of his bionic arm squeezes your thigh before he’s spreading your legs wide open. Bucky groans when he sees the lacy panties you wear. They leave nothing to the imagination. Hell, they have an opening right at the crotch.
“Cheeky fucking minx,” Bucky chuckles. His breath fans across your dampened core and you lift your hips desperately towards him. He flattens his tongue and drags it languidly over your clothed pussy, drawing out a guttural groan that echoes in your throat. Somehow the lace barrier only adds to the sensation, the friction on your folds leaving you shivering with pleasure.
Frank’s hand leaves your breast and begins fumbling with his belt. The buckle clangs and clinks softly with his clumsy efforts. You reach a hand out to palm at his hardness, teasing him through his pants as he hisses sharply. A groan spills into his mouth as you anticipate feeling his hard, heavy cock.
It’s a wish that does not go ungranted for long. Finally he frees himself and you hastily take him in hand. He’s hot, thick, and throbbing, the pre-cum oozing from the tip spilling into your palm as you spread it over his length. Your touch is eager and nearly trembling with excitement.
“That’s it,” he purrs, voice gravelly with desire. “Keep on stroking it just like that. Can’t wait to fuck that pretty mouth.”
You feel your mouth water in anticipation. Your gaze darts down to the angry swollen head of his cock and you lick your lips. Fire pools in your belly. You want, no, need to take him into your mouth, to suck, to taste.
“Surprised you don’t wanna fuck her ass again, Castle,” Bucky taunts between swipes of his tongue. The vibration of his voice momentarily brings your attention back to him and sends trembling quakes of pleasure to your core.
“Who says I won’t?” he snorts, gritting his teeth as your grip slides the velvety skin of his shaft up and down. “I ain’t planning on going back downstairs tonight.”
“Mm,” Bucky moans, opening the slit in your panties to lap up the desire that coats your folds. The tip of his tongue flicks at your clit and you squirm. “I’ll take my time, then.” His thumbs spread you wider for him as his tongue delves deeper.
“Shit,” you curse, eyes rolling back. “Ah, Buck, yes…”
He smirks and pulls back slightly before swirling his tongue around the bud. Silvery fingers collect the essence that drools from your entrance. “You trust me, right?”
It almost feels silly for him to ask, but you indulge him. You roll your lips between your teeth and nod. “‘Course I do,” you reply breathlessly.
“Be a good girl and sit still for me then,” he commands you before his bionic arm begins to shift.
You wait with bated breath, but Frank doesn’t give you the pleasure of watching whatever it is that Bucky is about to try. The hand at your throat slides up and under your chin, tilting your head back. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he takes his cock in hand and strokes it just in front of your waiting mouth. He taps the mushroom head to your lips. Your brows worry together and you impatiently stick your tongue out, desperate to taste, to please. So eager. It brings him an almost sadistic satisfaction to see your confident and seductive persona turn into such a cock hungry, mewling mess. Teasing you further almost sounds more appealing than giving you exactly what you want. Almost.
Slowly, he slips the head past your spittle slickened lips, and your eyelids flutter closed as a satisfied groan rumbles from you. Your jaw slackens as he pushes further, deeper. Sweat and musk overwhelm your senses as you remember to breathe through your nostrils.
“That’s it… shit… take it all the way,” he huffs, smoothing his fingers up and down your neck and chest. He gives one of your tits a light slap just to watch it jiggle.
So preoccupied were you with Frank’s thick cock inching down your throat that you nearly missed what Bucky was continuing to do between your legs. Though, to be fair, it’s not exactly easy to miss the cold tentacle that prods at your entrance. Nor is it easy to miss the other tendrils that wrap around your thighs and spread them wide. You gasp around the cock in your mouth as you feel the strange metallic appendage thrusting in and out of your slit. It feels alien. It feels good. It writhes and wriggles, presses and prods. Even if it’s thinner than either of their cocks, it leaves no part of you unexplored. Better still when Bucky closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard.
“Mmfff--fugghhh--!” you blabber around the dick in your mouth. Spit bubbles at the corners of your lips. The intricate loops and knots of your hairdo are all but ruined as Frank’s fingers tangle into the complicated strands. Your nails dig into your palms as you fight back your gag reflex. Still he thrusts deeper, holding your head in place, groaning out broken moans as he sees and feels your throat bulging from the size of him. Smoky black lines streak down your face from the mascara that bleeds with your tears.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Bucky moans between loud slurps of his tongue.
“Woulda--” he pauses, finding words difficult as the vice grip of your throat breaks his voice. “--woulda done this a lot sooner if I knew you were so good at it.” His praise has you gushing around the tentacle that fucks your aching cunt.
They were so good to you, so rough yet so giving, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed to be filled--
Frank pulls out of you suddenly, gripping the base of his spit slickened cock and gasping for breath. You whimper at the absence of it in your mouth and he chuckles airily.
“Get her on the bed. Wanna fuck her proper this time,” he addresses Bucky, pulling the Winter Soldier out of his pussy drunken stupor.
“Proper…?” you whine softly while pouting, much to their amusement. “You boys should know by now I’m not a proper girl.”
You gasp when the tentacle slithers and withdraws from you, and soon Bucky is scooping you off of the counter into his arms. “This has nothing to do with that kind of proper, sweetheart.”
The round bed draped in mauve sheets looks like something straight out of a love hotel. If anything you’ve heard about Emma Frost is to be believed, though, perhaps the design choice really shouldn’t be all that surprising.
At least you can appreciate just how soft it is when they unceremoniously toss you onto it.
Honestly, though? You were much more interested in appreciating the view before you as both men hurriedly divest themselves of their formal attire. Perfectly sculpted planes of muscle, chest hair that leads your gaze down, down, following happy trails until you’re met with their achingly hard cocks.
Strange to think of all the things the three of you have done without seeing each other fully naked.
You lick your lips before putting on a show yourself, easing your gown over your hips and shimmying it down your legs. You kick off your heels before the dress follows suit, crumpling into a puddle of glimmering fabric on the hotel floor. The two men stride towards you, closing in on you like predators vying for the same prey. When you hook your thumbs into one of your stockings, Bucky stays your hand.
“Keep those on. For me?” His blue eyes, despite his lust blown pupils, are pleading. How could you say no?
Instead you busy your hands by lacing them in the shaggy brown locks that frame his face, pulling him down with you for a kiss. His bionic arm catches him, keeps him from falling on top of you, while his organic one slides down your side and hooks one of your legs up around his waist. His fingers dig into the spot where your stockings meet your thigh, groaning into your mouth when he feels the way the elastic squishes into your skin.
“So fucking perfect,” he mutters as he kisses the corner of your mouth. His lips travel lower, leaving love bites along your jaw before sucking at the spot just beneath your ear. It makes you shudder and you wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back up until you can feel his naked body against yours.
“Quit hoggin’ her all to yourself,” Frank chastises as he settles down on the bed next to the two of you. You let out a lilting giggle before reaching an arm out to him, drawing him in and cradling the back of his head to pull him into a kiss while Bucky is occupied with your neck. Not a single inch of the skin there is going to be unmarked by the end of the night, you realize.
Appreciative moans hum from your throat as you set your hands to exploring their broad, muscular frames. Fingertips squeeze into the biceps that flex as the two of them hover over you. Palms smooth over defined pectorals. These men were perfect. They were built to ruin you.
Frank rolls you on top of him, much to Bucky’s chagrin, but The Punisher doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your drooling cunt feels as he starts to grind it down on the length of his cock. Your thighs feel heavenly draped over his hips. And gods, you knew he was big--this wasn’t the first menage a trois the three of you had dallied in--but something about straddling him like this with his huge hands wrapped around your waist made you realize just how big of a man he really was. It doesn’t take long before you’re rocking your hips against him of your own volition, moaning like a whore while his hands slide up to cup and squeeze your breasts that he was so fond of.
Bucky doesn’t remain idle. It was practically inevitable that the three of you would find yourselves in a situation like this at the gala, so of course you came prepared. And of course he’s not surprised at all to find the small bottle of lube that you have stashed in one of the nightstands.
So while you busy yourself grinding on Frank’s cock, occasionally teasing the tip of it past your folds, Bucky gets to work spreading that lube on his fingertips. The sink of the mattress gives him away before he’s behind you, pressing doting kisses to the back of your neck even as his fingers ease their way into your back entrance. You still your movements, and Frank takes full advantage of this to line his cock up with your pussy before he’s guiding your hips back down onto him. You let out a long winded groan as your head lolls back onto Bucky’s shoulder.
Gods, but you had forgotten just how full these men made you feel.
He starts out with shallow thrusts. Don’t want to hurt you while Bucky is preparing you from the other end. But soon it’s clear that you’re more than ready, and his barely-there patience is already wearing thin again.
“So tight around me, fuck--” Frank curses, scrunching his brow as he begins bouncing you up and down on his dick. Your mouth falls agape in the shape of an “o” as he takes complete control, gripping your hips and fucking up into you. “Your holes were made for this cock, taking me so fucking well…”
Bucky kneels behind you and between Frank’s legs, fisting his cock with lube and gasping out quiet moans as he watches you get utterly ravaged. Only moments pass before he joins in on the fun, and Frank at least has the decency to slow his thrusts a little to allow him to slide slowly into your ass. Or at least, it would have been slower if Frank’s movements didn’t hammer you down onto Bucky’s cock with every piston of his hips.
Fuck, there it is.
You’re full to bursting, so full you could cry, and these men know just how you like it. There’s no alternating this time, no gentleness. Now that they’re both situated, they rut into you like animals. Bucky’s breath is hot and heaves across the skin of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist while he fucks into you. Frank grits his teeth as he times his thrusts with Bucky, his hands on your tits almost bruising as he gropes them and uses them for leverage. Desperate for something to hold onto, you lean back and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes!” you squeal between breathless cries. They hammer into you so perfectly, fuck you so exquisitely. You feel the orgasm building even before Bucky’s fingers sloppily circle at your clit from behind. And he can certainly feel the way you spasm and tighten around them both.
“Atta girl… fuck,” Bucky curses before biting your earlobe. His labored breaths puff against your ear and you can hear every moan and growl that pours from his throat. It’s the sweetest music, knowing it’s all just for you.
The swell of Frank’s impending release has his cockhead dragging deliciously along your walls, feeling every inch of his length and the cock in your ass. It’s all so much, too much, and your moans grow higher and higher in pitch. Each thrust leaves your head lolling limply, draws stars in your vision, breathes fire into your veins. Your thighs tremble and quiver around Frank’s legs.
And then Frank lifts his hips up, angles you ever so slightly, and every thrust now has you screaming. Their frenzied pace has your mind going blank and your every nerve sparking alive with a thousand volts of pleasure. You’re going to die on their cocks, and you can’t think of a better way to go.
It makes you impossibly tighter, and Bucky finds himself clamping his teeth down into the crook of your neck. The sudden pain coupled with the overwhelming pleasure snaps something within you and you can’t stop the tidal wave of pleasure that floods your very being, your very soul. You come with a staggered, broken, sobbing cry that has you squirting onto Frank’s abdomen. They watch you in awe, taking a moment to breathe, to feel and revere their goddess as she comes undone under their ministrations. It never gets old.
And, if they have anything to say about it, that’s only the first of many orgasms that they’re going to draw from you tonight. Hellfire Gala be damned.
if your request still open, can I request with Loki with fem reader?? Reader is also a magican/witch with star/celestial magic like channel power of the sun/moon or summon meteors(In Marvel comic I don't notice many or any characters who use this type of magic much, which differentiate her fron other magic users)
They have some bicker about magic and teasing while in battle, getting jealous with someone got too close with another and basically a tsundere to each other. Until other heroes started teasing them both then they start opening up their feelings. I hope this is not too much!
Okay, first of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long! My requests had originally filled up when I first got this ask, but I liked the idea of it so much that I wanted to go ahead and carry it over to the next batch I did. It also kinda turned more into a "rivals to lovers" sort of thing with more focus on them bickering, but I hope you still enjoy!
Vexing
Loki x Fem!CelestialWitch!Reader
Description: One has the powers of a god. The other has celestial power to rival that of the gods. Surely that won't affect anyone's fragile egos and bring about a rivalry that is definitely not a cover for underlying romantic tensions, right?
Warnings/Disclaimers: (Marvel) Rivals to lovers, mild (canon typical) violence, Loki gets a meteor chucked at him, Loki gets pinned to the ground, lots of name calling
A/N: I love putting Loki in Situations™. Also, I've been playing a LOT of Baldur's Gate 3 lately, so I feel like some Astarion crept into my Loki characterization. I think I have a soft spot for devilish, cocky guys with tragic/muddled pasts.
Word Count: 2.7k
It was business as usual on the front lines. Your team prepared themselves in a small yet intricately designed and gilded bedroom while awaiting the order to move. Of course, with it being his, Loki takes advantage of the downtime to lounge across the bed. Emerald eyes stare daggers into yours.
“Careless.”
“Insensible.”
“Infuriating.”
“Egotistical.”
“Irreverent!”
“...Cowardly.”
Loki gasps, hand over his heart, pausing this ridiculous, verbose exchange of insults that was all too common between the two of you.
“I am many things, you fool, but to call me cowardly--”
You sneer, victorious. Rare was it that words cut him so deep. Rarer still for only one to accomplish it. A snicker hisses through your teeth.
“What do you call that last battle, then? When you left me to die?” you accuse, fully aware of the exaggeration of your aforementioned situation. Command of celestial forces meant you were hardly ever in a position quite so dire or lethal.
He scoffs in disgust. “I call that trust in my allies. Duty called me elsewhere, and you handle yourself well enough.” He gives you a once-over from head to toe and back up again, crossing his arms. “Clearly you made it back unscathed. Mostly.”
“Excuses,” you retort. Still, his compliment doesn't escape you even under the veneer of irritation. “You were invisible the moment someone aimed a gun at you.”
“Well forgive me if I have a sense of self-preservation!” he snaps.
“Can you two lovebirds keep it down!?” Rocket butts in. Clawed fingertips massage at his own temples. “You're giving me a flarking headache!”
That’s the one and only thing that bothers you both more than each other. “We are not lovebirds!” you argue in unison.
The raccoon bristles at your combined exclamation, using his oversized gun to gesture wildly at both of you while he talks. “Yeah, right! Maybe if you idiots exchanged spit instead of insults, the rest of us could enjoy a bit of peace and quiet!”
You flinch away from the firearm and feel your face heat up in a frustrating cocktail of embarrassment and anger. One glance at Loki reveals a flushed face with teeth bared in a snarl. Still, you refuse to admit just how alike the two of you really are. After all, if you're so much alike, then you might as well have spent all this time hurling insults at a mirror.
“That you would even suggest such a thing is more potent an insult than anything either of us have conjured,” Loki bemoans. “I wouldn't dare taint my lips with the likes of this… this starry-eyed witch.”
“Take that back,” you snarl, embarrassment gone and replaced with the competitive fervor that comprises much of your rivalry. “You're just jealous that I wouldn't let you.”
“Pah!” he exclaims. “Projection is a terrible look on you, my dear.”
Power courses quietly through your veins. Under the guise of rolling your eyes and puffing out a sigh, the swift incantation goes miraculously unnoticed. You cross your arms wordlessly and stare at him. Your hip pops out. The silence draws an inquisitive, distrustful side-eye from Loki, but you simply watch and wait. It's only a matter of time now.
“Stop staring at me like that. It’s unsettling.” His lip curls as he sits upright on the mattress, crossing his legs. You catch the twitch of his eye as the seconds go by. “What is wrong with you!? I know I must be lovely to look at, but--”
A meteor crashes through the ceiling and into Loki and his pristine four-poster bed. Everyone except you scrambles away from the wreckage as stone and dust clatter and crunch from the impact. A high-pitched screech sounds from beneath the fiery rock. With a wave of your hand, the celestial matter crumbles into glittering stardust, leaving a slightly crushed and charred Loki crumpled atop the ruined emerald sheets.
“How…” He braces himself on one arm before his hand slips on the rubble dusted silk, leaving him to face plant right back onto the bed. “How dare you, you… you lunatic!?!” Embers glow at the fringe of his cloak and he yelps before frantically slapping it to put out the budding flames.
You don’t grace him with an answer. You simply giggle at his misfortune.
-----
Things like that were becoming the new normal between you two. In fact, you often spent more time in training and scrimmages sabotaging each other than you did fighting the enemy team. It was headache inducing for everyone involved.
One day, while the two of you were wholly consumed with your argument, three of your teammates huddled together to discuss strategy. Not strategy for the upcoming battle, mind you.
They needed a strategy to get the two of you to work with the rest of your team.
“I say we just use these flark-faces as meat shields,” Rocket suggests, irritation clear as day as his lips pull back over his sharp teeth. “Maybe the rest of us will survive longer.”
“I am Groot.” He closes his eyes solemnly and shakes his woody head.
“I know it’s messed up, Groot. But is it really more messed up than covering their asses!?” the raccoon argues.
“I am Groot,” the tree counters with a nod.
“A gentle touch!?” he exclaims. “Have you seen these idiots?” He gestures with a paw towards the two of you, still oblivious to the rest of the world as you shout obscenities back and forth. “They wouldn’t notice a flarking slap to the face unless it came from one of them!”
“He… may have a point,” Adam Warlock chimes in, bringing a fist to his chin pensively.
Rocket narrows his beady eyes at the golden man. “Who, me? Or mister sunshine and rainbows over here?”
“Dare I say both?” he responds hesitantly. When that only intensifies Rocket’s squinting, he continues. “Perhaps if one or both of them felt encouraged to perform their duties…”
“Yeah. Right. These are full grown adults, ya golden dunce. You can't just slap a gold star on their forehead and expect them to behave.”
“I am Groot.”
“I know you'd like a gold star, Groot. That's not the flarking point right now!”
“Just…” Adam interrupts, holding up a golden palm towards them. “Allow me, if you will.”
As expected, you and Loki are so caught up in the throes of your heated argument that you nearly jump out of your skin upon feeling a gentle finger tapping your shoulder from behind.
“By the stars, I--!” You clasp a hand over your heart in shock. But the tension fades upon seeing the newcomer’s face. “Oh, Adam. It’s just you.”
The golden man smiles warmly. “Forgive the interruption. I had hoped to discuss strategy with you before the upcoming battle.” He proffers a hand to you. “Would you care to join me?”
Loki cocks his head to the side and scoffs quite loudly. One hand finds his hip as he leans towards the so-called “perfect” being.
“Excuse me?” Loki was not about to be ignored. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering you were grown in a lab, but I always expected a bit more decorum from you.” The barbed words are accompanied by the curl of his lip and the furrowing of his perfectly trimmed brows.
You hadn’t even had the chance to accept Adam’s offer. You’re not even sure you were going to in the first place. But if this was to be your rival’s reaction to such an innocent gesture, far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of his irritation. Your eyes narrow, crinkling a bit in the corners as your lips pull into a cheshire grin.
“His manners are perfect, if you ask me. As is his taste. Clearly you’re not needed for this conversation, Loki Laufeyson.” You take a step forward, prodding a finger into the supple, silken fabrics he adorned himself in. Delicious adrenaline courses through your veins as you allow yourself to indulge in this daring cockiness. “Know when to step aside for your betters, hm?”
“That was not my intention--”
Loki ignores the golden man completely as he slaps your hand off of him. “My betters? Dare I remind you that it is I who was assigned the role of strategist on this team?” he hisses. “If anyone misunderstands their place here, it is you.”
His face is dangerously close to yours now, nearly spitting his words onto your skin. You glower at him, daring him to continue, to dig further down the grave he’s already begun for himself.
“You are a duelist. Yet you can’t even excel at that, can you? Face it. You are worthless on your own,” he jeers.
Tension snaps. Adam is long forgotten as your fists find their places at his collar, crumpling the expensive garment as you express your barely concealed rage behind the sharp exhale that hisses through your teeth. Suddenly you’re pushing him to the ground, pinning him beneath your body weight, practically snarling as your face hovers inches above his.
“I can duel just fine, you disgusting snake,” you snap. “But I’m happy to continue this little demonstration if you’re not yet convinced.”
“If the two of you could please just--”
“Leave them, Goldie. We tried,” Rocket interjects. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, they’ll kill each other, and then we’ll get new teammates!”
“I am Groot!” If trees could gasp, that would perhaps be the best way to describe the noise coming from their verdant companion.
Yet none of it matters. None of the others matter.
All you can hear is the frantic cadence of your own heartbeat.
And all you can feel is Loki pinned beneath you with his own heart pounding in his chest.
You press your forearm against his clavicle, just beneath his throat. A warning.
Loki has never excelled at heeding warnings.
“Well?” he sneers. “I am on the edge of my proverbial seat waiting for the rest of your… demonstration, my dear.” His tone is taunting, teasing even, with a face that is the picture of calm. Still, you know the organ caged in his ribs beats to an entirely different rhythm.
And yet still you stay your hand. For Loki is nothing if not deceptive, resourceful, clever. All the wonderful little compliments you daren’t feed his ego with by admitting them aloud.
“I vex you, don’t I?” he whispers with a coy smirk tugging at his irritating lips.
Your forearm inches higher, applying pressure to the base of his throat. It merely restricts the airflow rather than cutting it off completely, but clearly more than warnings were needed.
“Projection is a terrible look on you,” you retort with a tilt of your head.
He chokes out a laugh. “Ah, how wonderful it is to know my words have lingered this long in that pretty little head of yours.” He nearly had you with that. Nearly. But neither one of you missed the tail end of his attempted jab. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your current position suddenly feels much more compromising than before.
No. He’s toying with you. You have to stand your ground.
Fire with fire, then.
“I would never claim to have had a normal childhood,” you begin, perplexion twisting Loki’s features at your sudden change in topic, “but I do remember that the adults loved to talk about how boys would always tease the girls they liked.” Satisfaction bubbles within you as you watch the realization and resulting irritation dawn upon him. “Never believed it until now.”
The master of deception is quick to mask the way you so easily riled him up. “Childish nonsense.”
“Then why were you turning red a moment ago?” you ask with a snicker. You know it’s a lie, but you need to dig your claws in further, crawl deeper underneath his skin.
“Perhaps that is because of the brute on top of me that is trying to choke me!” he exclaims with no small effort.
You roll your eyes and withdraw your arm, but you’re quick to grab his wrists and pin them above his head. Can’t be too careful.
…Even if it means you’re practically straddling the object of your ire.
“There. Better?”
Though he does his best to hide it, the god of mischief does feel a blush burgeoning beneath the surface of his skin now. A celestial goddess sits atop him, loathe as he is to admit it. Or, at least, as close as any mortal being could get to godhood. Some part of him deep down finds you deserving of the title.
Truly, you were much closer to the mark than he would ever willingly admit. When he looks at you there is fascination and vexation in equal measure, yet above all there is respect. After all, only those who have earned his respect are worthy to be deemed a proper rival of the Asgardian god.
And when Adam had come to speak with you? Oh. He couldn’t care less about strategizing with the team. But the fact that you interacted so willingly, so amicably with a man with more goodness and light in his heart than Loki could ever hope to achieve across all lifetimes? It was unthinkable. Unbearable.
“Loki? Anybody home in there?” Your voice interrupts the turbulent flood of feelings miring any coherent thought in his mind. To his surprise, he thinks he detects a hint of concern in your tone.
“Simply plotting your demise in silence,” he finally replies in jest.
A laugh huffs through your nostrils. “I would have assumed that would be second nature for you by now.”
There’s a shift in the air. You’re not glaring at him anymore. Your grip remains firm in restraining him, but you’re careful not to cut off circulation.
Vexing, indeed.
His head thumps softly against the ground beneath you as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Perhaps it is difficult for you to imagine, but I think of things other than you throughout the day.”
“So you are thinking about me?” you retort with a cheeky grin. He winces. Damn. He walked into that one. But if there’s anyone who could meet your wit, surpass it even, it was him.
Fire with fire.
“And what if I am?” he counters boldly, his emerald gaze meeting yours unflinchingly.
Oh. Well… shit. You don’t have time to rein in the soft, surprised gasp that whispers through your slackened jaw. You blink several times, as though that might somehow blink this situation out of existence, and your eyes dart around everywhere but Loki’s face. What composure you had left was crumbling. You feel too close to him now, releasing your grip as you sit upright.
The two of you have exchanged countless banters, infinite contests of insults and prose, yet your actions now have spoken more clearly of your true feelings than anything he’s heard from your lips.
He shifts, and you let him, until he has propped himself up with you still straddling his lap. You feel confused, frozen, intrigued. When words continue to fail you, he speaks again.
“Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to admit that you plague my thoughts nearly every waking moment,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper as his hand delicately cups your chin. The pad of his thumb brushes gingerly over the plush of your parted lips. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible if you admitted the same of me.”
“You…” Your breath tickles his thumb. Words are difficult to come by when his admission has utterly stupefied you. Still, subtle glances speak clearly enough. Loki is nothing if not perceptive.
“Yes, me,” he replies cheekily. Fingers tug your chin closer as hooded eyes fixate upon your lips. “It’s always about me, after all.”
A quiet snort leaves you. “You’re right. You do vex me.” Still, you lean in until your lips are a hairsbreadth apart from his. There was an undeniable something between you. These sparks were not of your celestial doing, after all.
He chortles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. Delicate, soft lips press almost tenderly to yours for but a fleeting moment. “The feeling is mutual, my dear.”
Description: (Part 3 of this series, sequel to Dream and Sugar!) Adam's been gone for quite some time, and your coworker is tired of you moping about. Clearly, the answer is going on a date with the guy your coworker introduced you to. What could go wrong?
Warnings/Disclaimers: Angst. Date guy is a serious dick, name calling, shoving, etc. Adam causes property damage. Angst turns into fluff at the end though, I promise!
A/N: This one took a while (over a month??? damn my bad) because I'm actually developing a... *gasp*... plot! Also because I rewrote the cafe bit at least half a dozen times. But yes, things were getting so teeth-rottingly sweet in here that I had to throw in some conflict and angst to balance it all out. We will return to your regularly scheduled fluff in the next installment.
Word Count: 3.9k
When Peter Quill was greeted by the familiar albeit irritatingly perfect golden visage of Adam Warlock, he assumed it was for a lecture on his recklessness in their last little voyage. Adam doesn’t seem to visit him for much else. Not that he was antisocial, of course. The golden man was simply straight and to the point in almost everything he did.
That’s why it’s such a surprise when Adam mentions you.
“Wait, wait… sorry. I just gotta take this in,” he laughs jovially while spinning about in the cockpit seat. “The being made to be humanity’s best--no, beyond humanity’s best--is asking me for love advice?”
“Do not make me regret this,” Adam groans and pinches the bridge of his nose betwixt his fingers. “I do not know if such a thing exists for me. I only know that I… when I am with her, I feel… lighter? And yet there is an indescribable heaviness all the same. It is simultaneously the most wonderful thing I have ever felt and the most uncomfortable sensation I have ever experienced.”
Star-Lord digs his heel into the ground, bringing his spinning chair to a halt and slapping his hands on his knees. He quirks a brow at the perfect man. “You’re totally in love with her.”
“I have only met her twice,” he admits bashfully. “Is it not wrong to feel so strongly after so short a time?”
Star-Lord sighs, swiveling to the side and propping his feet up on the console. His eyes trail absentmindedly up to the ceiling and his lips purse to one side.
“Adam,” he starts, drawing the man’s milky white eyes to attention. There’s an undeniable seriousness in Quill’s voice. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned working with you, it’s that when you feel, you feel deeply. It’s kind of scary sometimes.”
“Scary…?” he echoes with trepidation.
“Not scary scary. Just… a lot, I guess. But if you’re really into this girl, and she’s into you, I mean…” He shrugs with his hands up in the air. “Might as well see what happens, right?”
“See… what happens…” he echoes, chewing pensively on his lower lip and staring down at his own shoes.
“Buddy, I'm pretty sure you could have anyone in the palm of your hand if you wanted. So, worst case scenario, there's bound to be someone else out there.”
Quill's reassurances do little to assuage Adam’s tumultuous thoughts.
“I… I do not want someone else,” he admits quietly. “I desire only her.”
-----
It had been weeks since you'd seen him last. Of course, you had gone months without seeing that perfect golden face of his before, but now, things were different. At first it felt like little more than chance, but after the conversation you shared last time, there was undeniably something more between you.
You felt even more ridiculous, being strung along by a guy who's visited you twice. If this was his idea of courting you, he was really going to have to step up his game… assuming he was courting you at all, of course. It was all so vague and new, and he was a superhero who traveled across galaxies to save people. You desperately wanted to believe what he said.
It just gets more and more difficult to cling to that hope with every day that passes by.
You were working the closing shift today, moping a bit while lazily wiping down the countertop. It was stupid to be acting like this and you knew it, but sometimes you just needed to be upset about it for a little while so it didn't bottle up inside you. Goodness knows you've done that before.
…The ensuing waterworks were never pretty.
“Did he ghost you again?” Your nosy coworker pipes up, nodding at your morose state. “Seriously… I mean, look at you. You've been wiping the same spot for the last five minutes.”
“I--well, I wouldn’t say he's ghosting me, but--”
He's not having any of it. “Girl, I couldn't get you to shut up about him for days after he showed up last time. He tells you he's into you and then goes radio silent?” He tuts. “That's like, the literal definition of ghosting.”
“He's…” You want to argue it. He's different? Busy? Familiar with spacecraft technology but apparently incapable of communicating digitally? Your shoulders slump, and you feel your eyes start to water. No, stop that. This isn't the time or place for a pity party.
“Yeah, that's what I thought. Girl, we have got to get you a hobby. Or another man. Maybe both while we're at it.”
You give him a snort, trying desperately to mask the budding tears even as you wipe your nose on the back of your arm. “You know I work too much for that. And I'm perfectly content being single.”
He claps his hands together. Pulling out his phone, he starts scrolling through his camera roll.
“There’s this guy I was seeing for a little bit--”
“Oh boy, sloppy seconds,” you interrupt sarcastically.
He rolls his eyes before giving you a pointed glare. “Babes, do you want my help or not?”
Truthfully, you're not sure if you do. It's not like anything would really change if Adam disappeared from your life for good. Though, when you roll your lips between your teeth and allow him to continue, he cocks his head with a bit of attitude and mistakes your silence for acquiescence.
“That’s what I thought. Anyway, he's bi, smokin’ hot, smart, loves kittens and puppies, the whole package…”
You admire the pictures he shows you, but something wasn’t adding up. Your eyes narrow. “What’s the catch? Why did you two split?”
“Because,” he says, putting a firm hand down on the counter you'd been continuously polishing, “he was practically married to his work. Smart college man wants to go big in the world of science. It wasn’t going to work.” He lifts his hand and points at you. “But you? You're basically the same, working all the time. It’s perfect.”
“So we'd be perfect because we'd never have time for each other…?” you challenge, resting a hand on your hip.
“Oh, he has time. It just wasn't enough for me. I'm very high maintenance.”
You snort at his self-dig, but finally you relent. “Fine. Set us up. I'll at least give him a chance.”
-----
Unsurprisingly, it was a bit difficult finding a time that worked well for the both of you. Surprisingly, this guy, Nate, seemed into you right from the first selfie. Not that you looked bad, of course, but you weren’t expecting the eagerness with which he responded. You got a lot of scientist jokes from him about being “the perfect specimen”. At least… you're pretty sure those are jokes.
It helps that he's hot.
In a sense, it worked out better for you, since it meant you had a few extra weeks to at least text each other before meeting. You had a few things in common that you were able to talk about, and he seemed responsive enough when you asked him questions about his work.
Your coworker wasn’t kidding, though. This guy really was attached to his work.
So much so, in fact, that the only way you found time to meet up with him was by offering to bring takeout to his apartment-turned-lab extension. Not the greatest of impressions, but you could admire his dedication at least. Love your job and you never work a day of your life, right? Wish you could say the same about being a barista.
Standing in front of the door to his apartment with a paper bag of your favorite local Chinese food, you hesitate with your fist prepared to knock on the paint-chipped wood. Something about this feels off. Well, no. A lot of things feel off, if you’re being honest. Maybe you’re just scared of new things. Maybe a part of you still wants to cling to the hope that Adam Warlock will show up again. Maybe this guy is secretly a serial killer, and you’re about to walk into your own demise--
Click!
The door opens before you and you jolt upright. Nate is greeted by your bug-eyed stare and your fist still held up in the air in front of you.
“Hello…?” he greets you with a chuckle. The deep timbre of his voice is quite lovely, but you can’t help but compare it to Adam’s and find it wanting. Come on now, really? Now? “Y/N, right? I saw you on the camera, so--”
“Sorry!” You interrupt him suddenly, eyeing your hand before quickly withdrawing it to your side. “I get nervous with these things. Hardly ever do dates. Never been good at them.” It’s only half of a lie, but it’s the quickest thing you can think of to excuse your awkwardness.
He chortles, a low, rumbling sound in his chest, and gestures around to his own apartment. “I’m not either, clearly. Most people actually leave their house.” A kind smile spreads across his face before he nods for you to come in. “Well, shall we?”
It’s about what you expected from a workaholic scientist. A little messy, with some papers strewn about, but the streaks through the thin layers of dust around the place tell a story of a much messier abode up until recently. The kitchen was barely a kitchen anymore with much of the counter space occupied by various containers and implements.
“I tried to clean up around here before you came over, I swear,” he says in jest as he leads you in. “I get to working and completely lose track of time.” He rubs the back of his neck and gives you a shy yet charming smile.
“No, no, I totally get that,” you reply, setting the bag down on one of the few unoccupied spots of the coffee table. When a moment of awkward silence follows, you decide to bait the conversation with something you know he'll have no trouble talking about. “Working on anything in particular before I got here?”
Hook, line, and sinker, his eyes brighten in an instant. “Yes! I've been studying light waves more intensely as of late.” He plops down onto the couch with a grunt as the cushion bounces him with the sudden weight. “Specifically reflections. What if there was a way to make light tangible?” With his hands on either side of his head, he makes explosion motions with his fingers. Cute. “Of course we have lasers. We have light that can be felt. But if there was a way to take light and turn it into something solid, we could go beyond holograms and--”
He goes on passionately for quite some time. With a tight-lipped yet polite smile, you nod and do your best to keep up. His enthusiasm is something you can appreciate at least. The way he leans familiarly towards you though? Not so much.
Seated next to him and idly nibbling on an egg roll, you were trying so hard not to zone out and focus on what he was saying that the sudden buzz and chime of your phone startles you firmly back into reality. It's not a long text at all. You're easily able to read it discreetly when the screen lights up. Wait… Why the hell was your coworker texting you now…?
<<Goldie inbound 😬 Sorry!!!>>
Goldie…? What on earth is he talking about?
Before you get the chance to grab your phone and respond properly, you're both surprised to hear a firm knocking against the door. Nate laughs nervously and cocks his head to the side. Clearly, he wasn't expecting an interruption. And judging by the way he presses his mouth into a flat line before chewing on the inside of his lip, he isn't happy about it either.
“Ha… wonder who that could be?” Nate speaks up while feigning a pleasant attitude. You reply with little more than a sympathetic smile and a shrug of your shoulders.
The knocking grows more insistent with his delay. The vein on Nate’s temple bulges. Quite frankly, the longer you remained in this situation, the more you felt the adrenaline building in your veins. Seems like your gut was right after all, albeit in a bit of a roundabout way.
“I have heard you speak. I know that this abode is occupied.”
Your eyes widen. Goldie, of course. That muffled voice is still recognizable. You'd know it anywhere. A strange mixture of frustration and hope bubbles within your chest. Still, this is what you’ve spent all this time waiting for, is it not?
Nate peers through the peephole and grimaces at what he sees. “Congratulations! You have ears! Now fuck off,” he spits back through the door. The sudden hostility from him is unexpected, and you find yourself reflexively flinching away.
“I cannot fulfill such a request,” the even-toned voice through the door responds.
“Wait!” you pipe in, nearly dropping your food and rushing to the door. “Adam, is that you?” Nate, ever the sharp one, seems to pick up on the almost expectant lilt in your voice. His frown deepens.
“Ah, Y/N… so you remember me still,” the golden man replies coldly, though there is an unmistakable melancholy in his voice. It stings to your core, and you feel your stomach drop. Another part of you begins to prickle with indignance. “Would my entrance be acceptable?”
“No,” Nate bites back. “I don't know who you are, but I certainly didn't invite you over.”
Panic washes over you. You can’t let Adam slip away from you again.
“Just--” you step in, holding your hands up in front of you. “Let me talk to him. I owe him that much.”
Oh, that was clearly the wrong answer. There's a nearly imperceptible twitch of his eye as he forces a smile. “You don't owe him shit. I'm not opening the door.”
Something about that makes you bristle even more than Adam’s earlier response. You square your shoulders and try to push past him.
“What do you know about what I do or don't owe him? I'm going out there.” Your voice is firm and you stand your ground, your irritated gaze boring into your date.
“Wow. I can’t believe this,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You came over here to see me, but the second another man shows up, you wanna talk to him instead? And here I thought you were different.”
“Y/N!?” Adam's voice sounds through the door again, but this time the concern is evident.
Oh, that is it. The tip of your forefinger stabs into his chest. Your lip curls. “Fuck. Off.”
“Ooh, scary. Fucking whore,” he replies with a snarl. He pushes you off of him and you stumble backwards into the wall with a thud.
“Y/N!” The golden man's voice bellows, and it's the only warning you both have before the door cracks in protest and flies open, the deadbolt little more than a memory as it clatters to the ground along with splinters of the frame. The door swings violently on its hinges before slamming into the wall just inches away from you and you yelp and scramble away.
And there he is, standing in all his golden glory. Except this is a side of him you've never seen before. Brows that scrunch at the bridge of his nose, perfect white teeth bared, hands balled up into fists. He lurches forward and grabs the collar of Nate's shirt before hoisting him up.
“How dare you touch her,” he growls between his teeth. Nate tries to scratch and grip Adam's forearm, but he seems completely unfazed. White-gold eyes turn into white-hot embers that threaten to burn through Nate's very soul.
“You fucking psycho!” he ekes out, gritting his teeth as the toes of his shoes scrape and scramble to find purchase on the floor. “What the hell is your problem!?”
“It would seem you are my problem,” he replies flatly despite the fiery anger that still blazes furiously in his gaze.
Your panicked stare flickers back and forth between Adam and Nate. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll never willingly talk to Nate again (and you’ll be having some choice words with your coworker about his taste in men), you don’t want Adam getting into serious trouble on your account. And, judging by the way Adam’s grip tightens, you know you need to step in before someone gets hurt. Your shaking fingers curl gently around Adam’s bicep.
“Adam… please.”
Even that simple touch softens him instantly. His facial muscles relax and he regards you instead with an expression of perplexion. That you would even consider such sympathy for a man prepared to physically assault you is not something he can understand. Still, Nate’s shirt falls from his grasp and he falls to the ground, gasping and clutching at where the collar had been digging into his neck.
“I will see you to safety before I leave,” he mutters. The way he keeps his emotional distance from you leaves an aching feeling in your throat. His gaze drifts away from you. “We should go.”
“I’ll… I’ll call the police!” Nate wheezes out from where he kneels. “I know people! You’ll regret that!”
Adam turns as he moves to leave the apartment and stares daggers into him. “You remain unharmed because she wills it.” There is pity in his gaze, the sort of look one gives to a creature so far beneath it that it cannot comprehend how powerless it is in comparison. “If I come to regret this decision, I will not be the one who suffers for it.”
In a miraculous moment of clarity, Nate makes what is perhaps the smartest decision of his entire life and lets his head droop. He balls his fists against the splinter laden carpet and grits his teeth, but he stays his words.
A warm hand rests between your shoulder blades. Warmth like the sun. Warmth that soothes the chill that has lingered in his absence. He guides you out of the apartment and the two of you walk beneath the ochre twilight.
Silence hangs heavy between you.
Once, twice, three times, you glance towards his golden face. His expression remains stoic and unflinching. You can’t bring yourself to speak. These moments are too fragile, fleeting, and one misstep might make him disappear again. Hell, you feel as though you’ve already screwed things up by going on a date with someone else. A deep, resounding ache tugs at your heart in your own disappointment with yourself.
The two of you find yourselves in that same park, though it’s remarkably greener than the last time. Trees bud with the beginnings of blossoms. Verdant blades of grass peek through thawing soil. The somber glow of the setting sun paints it all with an empty warmth.
“This should be far enough,” he finally speaks. He finds it difficult to look at you.
You can’t bear it any longer.
“Adam…” you begin, reaching a tentative hand towards him. You hesitate. Here he is, the man of your dreams, the one you’ve waited so long to see, and yet you fear he might disappear if you were to touch him.
“I ask you to be more careful in the future. That I was able to intervene this day is nothing short of a miracle.” The corner of his mouth twitches with a frown.
Still he refuses to look at you.
“Adam,” you repeat, urgency in your voice as you throw caution to the wind. The palm of your hand finds his cheek. “Look at me. Please.”
You see him flinch, not in response to your touch, but instead your words. Bronze lips part and pout softly.
But those white gold eyes do find yours. That pearlescent gaze swirls with a deep sadness, a longing. A shuddered breath tickles your wrist.
“It hurts,” he breathes. “Why does it hurt?”
You don’t have to ask to know what he means. Nor do you have an answer you feel would satisfy him. Words never feel like enough. Instead, your brow furrows, and the pad of your thumb draws a path along his cheekbone.
“You are safe, and that brings me joy,” he whispers. Tears bead at the corners of his eyes. “Yet when I learned why you were there, I felt only anger. Betrayal.” Misty eyes blink away the tears. “But now… I do not know what I feel.”
Your hand falls from his face, and you swear for a moment he seemed to chase the warmth of it. But he’s right. Even if today’s date was a begrudging one, you had done so knowing the feelings you had shared with the man before you now.
“I’m sorry.” You nearly choke on your own words as you force them past the lump in your throat. “I didn’t--” Gritting your teeth, you look away. Excuses are worth nothing. Still, frustration burns within your chest. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
You’d think you hit him physically with the way he recoils from your words. Of course he was coming back.
“Did our conversation before mean nothing to you?” he asks, his milky eyes going cold. “Do I mean nothing to you?” His words are reckless indulgence, and he knows it, but he can’t bring himself to stop them.
And you can’t stop the rage that burns within you.
“It meant everything to me!” you exclaim. Adam’s eyes widen at your outburst. “You… you left me! Without a word! For weeks!” Tears sting at your eyes. Your fingers curl into a fist as you beat it weakly against his chest. “You… you…”
Your words fade as you choke out a sob. Everything comes flooding back to you all at once, and the waterworks are unstoppable. Your stomach is in knots.
The anger washes away from him leaving only guilt behind. There was no protocol for this, no metaphorical manual for him to follow. Yet at the same time, how could he blame you for feeling abandoned?
“Y/N…”
“Just go,” you snap, pushing him away from you softly. More accurately, you push yourself off of him as he doesn’t budge.
You didn’t mean it. Not really. But you were angry, scared from your ordeal, and quite frankly overwhelmed by it all. It was easier to let your emotions win right now.
Frankly, Adam was of a similar mind in that matter.
For what else save emotions can explain why he takes you by the shoulders and leans in close? What rational thought might bring him to press soft, metallic lips to your own?
You squeak softly in surprise when he kisses you. Your lips are salty, wet with your tears, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He has to make you understand. You feel as much with the raw emotion he seems to emanate. When he pulls away you’re dazed, leaving a muddled fog over the anger that had just been boiling within you.
Worry knits at his brow as he looks down at you. The last thing he wants to do is overstep, and here he is kissing you without even asking first. “If you still want me to go, I--”
You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, shaking your head at him as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss you again. A gasp of pleasant surprise whispers against your lips before his mouth slants over yours. It’s all so sudden, maybe even a bit crazy, but the warmth of him fills you with such brilliance that no other place than his side feels right.
Needless to say, you weren’t letting him go anywhere any time soon.
Finally got around to cross posting all of my Marvel Rivals fics on AO3! So yes, if you see a flood of my works on there, it is in fact me posting them LOL
I have zero idea if this how to send requests lmao but how abt an iron man x healer!reader where they have a hard time aiming upwards to heal him (totally not me) and eventually he notices so he decides to make it easy for them and comes down to them personally :3 this happened to me a few games ago and it was adorable 😭😭
(Yes, this works perfectly fine for sending in requests!!)
As an Adam Warlock main, I'm spoiled by my auto-aiming, bouncing heals, so every time I play Invisible Woman I feel this in my bones.
Still
Iron Man x GN!Reader
Description: Things are looking dire, even with your team giving it their all, but thankfully there's one man that can turn the tide of battle... with your help and the help of Sue Storm, of course.
Warnings/Disclaimers: Mostly fluff! There's a bit of a battle and some brief descriptions of injury and pain (getting shot at but not piercing past armor/suits), but nothing too graphic I hope.
A/N: Originally I wasn't going to stray too far from the prompt, but for some reason I was itching to write at least a little bit of a battle scene. Trying to expand my horizons beyond fluff and smut and all that.
Word Count: 1.7k
It was your job. Your job! You had some of the most potent healing capabilities out of anyone you had seen in these battles you fought day after day. Under the right conditions, you alone could change the course of a fight. There was so much power crackling at your fingertips, so much potential to mend and soothe and reverse…
…That is, assuming you can aim those powers. Thankfully, you weren’t the only medic on the field, and they seemed to be taking care of your more mobile allies well enough. Doesn’t mean you don’t try.
You were incredible on the ground; of that, there was no doubt. Buildings could topple, crumble, crash around you, and lasers could be firing from all angles, but you would still persist, still heal, still fulfill your duty. Sweat could pour down your forehead and the salt would sting your eyes, and yet you would never falter once.
Still, nobody is perfect. When someone is that effective on the field, it only makes sense that they would become the focus of enemy fire, and eventually, something is bound to hit. You see Castle’s turret assembling in the distance and prepare for the worst.
“Punisher’s got a turret! Find cove-augh!” Your warning cuts off when several bullets embed themself into the shoulder of your suit, and you hiss at the sharp ache that echoes from the site of your new wounds. The durable material is strong enough to keep them from piercing the skin, but that doesn’t make the pain much better. When you try to roll your arm, to get back in the fight, a searing agony burns at the edge of your clavicle. There’s definitely a clicking sensation that wasn’t there before.
Heaving a breath, you duck behind a crumbling wall, clutching your arm. Healing energy courses through your fingertips and finds its way to your shoulder, and you tense and shudder, gritting your teeth as the injury reverses itself. It’s never been the most pleasant thing, but it works, and it’s fast, fast enough that it’s only seconds before you’re back in the fight.
Thankfully, it seems your callout didn’t go unheeded. The rest of your team peeks over cover, alternating their fire towards that damn turret, bringing a sigh of relief to your lips. If any stray shots graze them, you’re quick to wave your hand and reverse it in an instant from the safety of your hiding spot. Still, it’s difficult to find a proper opening as the fight heads towards a stalemate.
“We can’t stay like this forever!” you hear your co-healer, Sue Storm, stress from somewhere several feet away. “If they keep us pinned here, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of them collapse on us.”
She’s right. Slowly drilling damage into that turret won’t be effective enough if the rest of your enemies can take advantage and push forward. Your team needs something big, and fast.
Enter Tony Stark. Enter Iron Man.
If you were the pillar holding up your allies, he was the bulldozer tearing through the enemy. He was a force to be reckoned with in that suit. Nearly unstoppable.
“Just keep them off me. I’ve got this.”
That confident voice fills your heart with hope. The whirring of propulsion jets whizzes past you, whipping your hair into your face as you duck out of the way, but you do your best to follow him with starstruck eyes and a beaming smile.
It wasn't your best-kept secret, your crush on Tony. Adam Warlock nearly outed you once when he described you “having a certain glow” about you whenever you were near the charismatic philanthropist. Poor guy was absolutely blindsided when you nearly jumped on him to get him to shut up.
He zips about, dodging bullet after bullet. Sue keeps him shielded while you focus on healing your allies on the ground, occasionally throwing a few healing rays towards Iron Man that never quite seem to find purchase. Still, they're able to take the pressure off of Tony just long enough--
“MAXIMUM PULSE!”
Even behind the crumbling wall that covers you, the heat and blinding light hit you in an instant. It’s deafening. Sue withdraws her shields to cover your team as the shockwave blasts across the battlefield. Rubble clatters across the translucent barrier over your heads. Once the dust settles, everything falls silent save for the sounds of exasperated breaths and the telltale rumble of propulsion jets, but even that is muffled by the lingering ringing in your ears.
Finally, you venture a peek. The area is absolutely decimated thanks to Stark's weaponry. Punisher's turret is nothing but scraps, you think you see the remnants of a few of Hawkeye's experimental arrows, and a few pieces of one of Rocket’s beacons lie scattered about. The enemy team themselves are nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, the exact opposite is true of your team, and a quick once-over on the ground confirms that everyone is alive and accounted for.
Your smile only widens as relief washes over you.
“He did it!” you exclaim, allowing yourself a pump of your fist into the air. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from your chest, leaving you light as a feather, and you smile so wide that your cheeks start to hurt.
“We did it. I can't take all of the credit here.” Iron Man's voice suddenly behind you nearly has you leaping out of your skin. Damn tinnitus. “Even if I wouldn’t mind the praise of doing it all by myself,” he adds jokingly.
The rest of your team gather their bearings, groaning a bit as they stand but otherwise hale and whole, and before Sue goes to inspect them for any lingering injuries, she gives you a knowing smirk. “I'll take care of these guys. Why don't you give the star of the show a more… personal touch?”
Your eyes widen and she giggles behind her hand, refusing to elaborate further as she ushers the rest of them away and leaves the two of you alone. You clear your throat awkwardly.
He hovers in his suit in front of you when you turn to face him, heat creeping up your chest and face. The faceplate of his helmet retracts, and you’re greeted with that familiar, handsome mug that regards you warmly.
“Promise I’ll sit still this time,” he quips.
Ah, so your efforts had not gone unnoticed. You’re not sure whether to be touched or embarrassed by that. A nervous hand scratches at the back of your neck.
“Yeah, I…” you pause, tittering shyly as your eyes flicker up to his and then quickly back away. “You’re pretty fast. Hard to keep up with you sometimes.”
That earns you a chuckle, and he slowly lowers down to stand properly on the ground. Now that he’s standing still in front of you, you can see that he didn’t come out of the battle entirely unscathed. It’s nothing serious, thankfully, and there doesn’t seem to be any blood, but you venture a step closer, examining the dents and dings on his armor that could potentially be causing any internal damage underneath.
When he sees the power beginning to glow at your fingertips, he nods at your hands. “Would it be easier if I removed my armor, or--?”
“N-No, this is fine,” you respond quickly, giving him a feeble smile. “I can just reverse the damage, so it’s honestly easier if the site of the injury remains unchanged.”
He huffs out a quick laugh. “Got it. I won’t pretend to understand this magic stuff, and I certainly won’t question your expertise.”
Your smile grows a bit wider at that. “I appreciate it. Fair warning, this might hurt a little.”
Before he gets the chance to properly protest, the energy surges forth, and in that tiny bubble you reverse time as armor shifts back into place and flesh begins to lose its bruising. Tony’s eyes go wide and his lips press into a flat line, desperately trying not to let out anything more than a discontented grunt as he’s forced to relive the pain in reverse for a fleeting second. Such are the drawbacks when it comes to the nature of your powers, but no one can argue the effectiveness of it.
At least it distracts you from the closeness you two share, even if you’re not eager to break it.
“That should be good, but…” Your voice trails off as you admire the shining red metal, examining it for anything you might have missed. There are a few trivial scuffs here and there. Feeling slightly braver, you rest your palm directly against his armor and trace along the scrapes and chips that linger from the suit’s everyday use. “There you go. Good as new.”
You glance up at his face and blink in surprise when you find him watching you intently. Perhaps your eyes fail you, or you’ve been staring at crimson for too long, but you swear his face is ever so slightly flushed. The healing energy fades, and your fingertips rest gingerly against his plated chest.
“Fascinating,” he breathes. “Does that work on wrinkles, too?”
A snort leaves your nostrils. Shaking your head, you reply, “Probably not. At least, I’ve never tried, but my power works in real time. I’d have to be at it for days, weeks, months, even.”
“An excuse to spend more time with you? Perish the thought,” he jests, leaving you to part your lips softly agape in shock. You never realized that he enjoyed his time with you as well.
“Oh, and…” he adds, tapping a finger to his smirking lips, “You missed a spot.”
With your heart thumping in your chest, you decide to play it safe and take his words literally as your hand tentatively rises to meet his face. He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your fingers before taking your hand in his, guiding it away from his face and leaning forward to claim his real prize. His lips meet yours tenderly and for only a fleeting moment, but it’s enough to leave you stunned and speechless before him.
“There. Now I’m all better.”
Description: Sequel to Blooded Moon! When you're on the run, cursed to be a vampire and chased by the superheroes that want to save the city, Moon Knight finds you first. Maybe saving you isn't his best idea, but he'll be damned if he leaves you behind when you're this terrified. Being easy on the eyes also helps.
Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, angst, blood, blood-sucking, pretty vivid descriptions of the taste (I mean, it's a vampire reader, so what'd you expect?), hurt and comfort, tearing off clothes, shower sex, fucking against the wall, doggy style, fluff and smut
A/N: Oh hey, it me <3 Been working on this one for a while! Hopefully it's a good blend of freaky with sprinkles of comfort... reader did just drink blood for the first time, after all. Title was inspired by the song of the same name (by Grant) because I listened to it at least a dozen times while writing this LOL
Word Count: 3.7k
Blood trickles from the fresh puncture wounds in his neck. Your inhibitions begin to leave you when you dive in, lapping that liquid vitality, groaning with each swallow. You don't bite again, at least not yet, but you do suck, coaxing forth just a bit more blood from his veins that you gulp down eagerly. His hips buck up into you and he lets out a low moan, fingertips delving beneath the waistband of your pants and squeezing the bare skin of your hips.
You drink in the sweet tang of his blood, the salt of his sweat. He tastes divine, and the sounds you draw from his lips leave your thighs quivering with want. It isn't long before your hips meet his in their movements, undulating and grinding against him with hot exhales of breath fanning across his neck.
Impatient hands get to work, first at his red-stained cloak, quickly followed by his pauldrons, chest plate, and his bracers and gloves. Soon he's left in just his undershirt from the chest up, the fabric clinging to every curve and muscle of his delicious frame, and your hands roam across the expanse of dark grey fabric. He shudders under your touch but doesn't remain idle as he splays his hands across your bare back before pushing your shirt up. Goosebumps litter your skin in the wake of his movements.
“Mind if I…?” he murmurs, his voice rumbling just next to your ear. A flash of your tongue cleans the drop of blood that dared to attempt an escape from your lips before you smile, baring your sharp fangs. He curses under his breath. “That… shouldn’t be as hot it is.”
A dark chuckle thrums in your chest as you raise your arms above your head and help him divest you of your shirt.
“Shit.” His eyes roam hungrily over the skin exposed to him. It’s smooth and cool like polished marble. Lips, red and sticky with blood, press searing, messy kisses along your clavicle. When his bare hands find your breasts, you gasp at just how hot he feels.
You hadn’t really considered that you were cold until now. It was your new normal. Now, with feverish palms molding and squeezing your tits and a tongue like lava savoring the expanse of your neck… surely you were going to burst into flames. It eats you alive. You need more. You need to consume, to be consumed.
Fingernails sharpen into claws before you’re tearing apart the barrier keeping you from his chest. Marc’s eyes widen, but he makes no move to stop you, shrugging off the remaining shreds of fabric as they scatter to the floor. Locking your thighs tighter around his hips, you push him down to lie on his back, smiling coyly. You drink in the veritable feast of a man beneath you. Fingertips spread through coarse, thick hair as you brace yourself against his heaving chest. Thin, angry lines criss-cross his skin, beading with red rivulets, the aftermath of your hastiness. You catch one of them on the pad of your index finger before bringing it to your lips and darting your tongue out to taste it.
But then a wave of realization washes over you. This… this isn’t you. Blood crazed, seductive, feral. It felt like someone else had taken over you.
He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you stiffen atop him. A gentle, albeit searing, touch grazes your cheek. “Hey… you doin’ okay?”
Your eyes snap back down to meet his, greeting that chocolate gaze with a red-tinted, frenzied glance. Breath shudders forth from your chest. “I am… I…”
Your eyelids shut tight and you hold your head in your hands. Guilt shrouds over you like a thunderous cloud. You should be asking him that question. You owed him so much, and all you’ve done is take and take and take…
The hand at your cheek presses firmer, cupping your jaw while his thumb brushes soothingly over your cheekbone. “We don’t have to do this.”
“No, I want to, I just--give me a moment.” Peeking through barely open slits, you can see the concern etched upon the lines of his face. Despite the flush that decorates it, the desire that blackens his irises, there is a patience there that, whether or not you felt deserving of it, you had grown accustomed to.
Though he does give you a few moments of silence, he eventually speaks up. “I’m fine, if that’s what you’re worried about. Khonshu sure as hell isn’t happy about it, but I don’t need him butting in on this sort of thing anyway.”
It doesn’t quell the shame, the fear of the possibility that gnaws at your conscience. “...What if you turn?” you ask meekly.
He gazes up at you softly now, a pitying exhale breathing through his lips. “Pretty sure it has to be intentional. I’ll be fine,” he reassures you. It’s not like you could argue with him; after all, only one of you had long-term experience with these sorts of things. You had only just turned a month or so ago. “Besides, I don’t think Khonshu would let me go that easily.”
A sudden twinge and a wince as he turns his head away in pain confirms that, at least.
“Yeah…” he scoffs with a cock of his head, “I’ll be fine.”
You give him a tiny, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.” When he gives you a curious look, you add, “For complicating things, I mean. With Khonshu, Iron Man, all of it.” You lean into the hand that lingers at your cheek before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “I can’t imagine that drinking your blood will help the situation, either.”
“Stop that.”
You blink in surprise as the pad of his thumb tugs at your lip, swiping away the blood beginning to crust there. “What…?”
He sits back upright, holding your head between his palms. His touch still feels almost feverish to you, but there’s gentleness, comfort, and in this position, you can’t help but stare into his eyes and find the sincerity behind his gaze.
“You’re questioning if you’re worth the time, the effort. You don’t get to decide that.”
Your heart might as well be trapped in his fist with the way it clenches in your chest.
“I--”
“Stand up,” he commands.
Your body freezes for a moment, tender muscles only just revitalized feeling sore with the sudden tension. But he’s raising a brow, reaching down and pushing at your hips, and you don’t have time to think when you’re too busy collecting your bearings and keeping your balance. Were your legs really this wobbly before? You stagger to your feet like a newborn fawn.
“Let’s get you washed up,” he adds sternly, pointing with a nod of his head in the direction of his sleeping quarters. When you hesitate, he stands and sighs with a slump of his shoulders. “C’mon. You trust me, don’t you?”
What did trust have to do with it? Other than you being around him at all as a blood sucking vampire, or as someone who up until recently was a complete stranger, or how another member of his team wanted you wiped off the face of the earth, or--
“Hey. Snap out of it.” Despite his tone, his hand takes yours gingerly. Your eyes snap towards his, surprised to find him gazing warmly at you through cocoa irises. “We can explore whatever the fuck just happened later, but you clearly need a minute, and we both could stand to have a little less blood caked on us.”
-----
You remember how the faucet on your apartment’s shower used to squeak when turned. Of course, being in the Baxter building, the plumbing had no such problems here. Only the hiss of warm water sounds before the streams begin to drum against the porcelain floor.
It’s funny… only a few minutes prior, you were practically ripping each other’s clothes off. Now it’s an awkward fumble, grunts and oofs punctuated with occasional apologies, stumbling against the wall with pants legs tangled around your ankles. You bump your nose against his knee at one point and your eyes begin to water even as you snort out a laugh at your clumsiness.
“You know,” you start with an airy chortle, “I always thought being a vampire would lend a bit more grace to the afflicted.”
The water is almost too hot when you step into it, but there's comfort in the steam that coalesces about your body. Marc joins you soon after, and you can tell he's trying to give you space if you need it…
…even if his arousal still occasionally nudges your thigh or butt.
Who could blame the man when sanguine perfection stands before him?
You hear him grunt with discomfort as the water washes over his fresh cuts and bruises. Regardless, it isn't long before lavender hits your nostrils and you feel strong, firm hands at your shoulders.
“S'pose it's like piloting a new body,” he replies as he massages the soap into your tender skin. A contented hum rumbles in your throat and your head lolls lazily to one side. “You, uh… changed a bit once you tasted my blood.”
“Don't remind me,” you groan.
“No, not like that,” he chuckles. “I mean physically. You got stronger. Your… you seemed to perk up a bit.” His voice wavers. Did he sound embarrassed?
“I… what?”
Soap lathered hands make their way down your back. His thumbs press outside the ridges of your spine, mapping every dip and curve. Your cheek presses against the cool tile wall as his fingertips work miracles into your aching muscles, melting you like butter. Your back arches with the pleasant side benefit of pushing your ass out towards him, and you can feel him freeze for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovers.
“Pretty sure it was mainly the muscles, and it's nothing dramatic, but ah…” his touch dips lower, leaning forward with his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. Now his hands are at your hips and you feel the hesitation in his tensed fingers. “Seems like you got a bit of a lift in certain areas.”
Oh. You peek down at your chest, and it does seem a bit more shapely, but you had been a bit too distracted to notice earlier. Blood sucking, kissing, and all that.
“I guess it makes sense. Vampires in the stories are always supposed to be alluring, right?” you reason with a chuckle, though a smirk does tug at your lips. “How'd you notice the difference?”
“I, well… you see--” he stammers, and you feel his body stiffen.
“I'm teasing, Marc,” you reassure him with a lilting giggle. He relaxes only slightly, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “I… like knowing you look at me like that. Like this.” You turn in his hold, pressing your back to the tile and taking his hands in yours. He drinks in your nude form hungrily, openly, eyeing the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the fill of your hips. It sparks something in your chest before a warming flame flickers in your belly.
“I like you.”
His eyes flicker down to your lips, no longer painted red with his blood now that the water has washed it away. There’s that hesitation again, even if his eyes are halfway through fucking you already. Something holds him back. You lace your fingers together before bringing your joined hands above your head, forcing him to lean towards you to keep his balance. Water beads and drips from his messy brown locks onto your face, but you barely even notice it. All you can focus on is the way his gaze bores into you, eyes darkened with lust yet softened by tenderness. This was different from before, when everything had happened so fast. Taut strings of building tension had snapped, pooling desires had overflowed.
But this?
You study his rugged features, dropping one hand to press your fingertips and drag them languidly along the scratchy stubble of his jawline. Cupping his face, you can trace the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone while his eyes flutter closed. In this moment, you have all the time in the world.
“Well… good thing I like you, too,” he responds gruffly, untangling your fingers to brace himself against the wall. He leans over you properly, caging you with his palms flat on either side of your head, pinching his inner lip between his canines.
You let out a shuddery breath as your eyes devour every delicious detail of him, openly ogling every muscle. Your fingertips fall to his chest again, gentler this time, but still raking through that coarse chest hair and following it across his stomach as it trails all the way down, down…
You draw your index finger teasingly down his shaft. A sharp intake of breath hisses through his teeth as his brow knits together, and his cock twitches expectantly in response to your touch.
“I can tell.”
There's barely enough time for that cheeky smirk to spread across your face before he dives in, groaning and slanting his mouth over yours. Salt, sweat, the lingering taste of his blood accented by the somewhat metallic tang of the shower water, is all spoon fed to your palette when his tongue parts the seam of your lips. You gasp delightedly at his eagerness and wrap your fingers around him properly. In response, one hand shoots down to your thigh and digs into the plush flesh, hiking your leg up and pushing you firmly against the cold tile.
It's a mess of teeth and tongue, wet and warmth, hunger and affection. Your tongues dance, caress, fight, but he relents when you suck on the appendage, letting out a breathy groan and rutting into your hand.
Gently, avoiding breaking the skin, you kiss and suck, grazing your fangs across his skin as your lips trail along his jaw towards your prize. He surrenders willingly, almost excitedly, tilting his head to expose his neck to you. The animal in you begs you to bite down, to take in more of that liquid vitality, but you have to prove yourself worthy of his trust, worthy of his affection, worthy of this.
“You…” Another pleasured exhale interrupts him. “You don’t have to be gentle.” It’s so sincere it makes your chest ache, your lips trembling as they hover over his pulse point.
“Let me be,” you plead softly as your breath fans across his neck. “Let me prove that I can.”
His head turns and presses an awkward kiss to the soaked strands of your hair. “Alright. Can’t promise I will be, though.”
You snort out a sudden laugh at that before echoing his own sentiment. “You certainly don’t have to be gentle with me.”
It seems to spur him to action once more. Reaching down to replace your hand with his own, he strokes his cock and lines it up with your entrance. You’re more than ready, practically dripping even without the water that cascades down your bodies. Despite all of his talk, his reassurances, his patience, you can tell it’s all beginning to wear thin as his breathing grows more and more ragged when the tip nudges past your labia.
Your knee is practically pressed to your chest, folding you in half as he holds your perfect legs wide open. It takes effort, conscious thought, to breathe as you hug your arms around his shoulder and bury your face into his neck, but you’re rewarded with the delicious drag of his cockhead as it slides into you.
“Fuck…”
A single curse shouldn’t be so attractive, but the way his voice goes gravelly, breathy, the way he digs his fingers into your thigh just to keep himself composed, all because of you? You could live off of this high.
True to his word, it doesn’t take long before he’s snapping his hips against yours, fucking you into the tiles. You would be surprised, no, impressed by his stamina despite your earlier drink if it weren’t for the fact that you were preoccupied spilling moan after moan into the crook of his neck. He slides in and out of you so easily, curves just right, that you can’t help but wonder if his cock was somehow made for you. Every nerve ending is set alight with pleasure, the searing heat of his body branding you as you hold on for dear life and dig your nails into his back.
“M-Marc! Oh fuck-” you breathe into his skin. You taste the salty tang of his sweat against your lips as he pistons in and out of you in a heated frenzy.
Your moans are music to his ears. He cups your ass in his other hand before lifting you up completely, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing you against the wall. His pace never falters, and the slight change in angle leaves you keening out high-pitched cries and seeing stars. The muscles of your core tense as that wonderful pleasure starts to build. His hips clap against yours, and his pubic bone grinds deliciously against your clit with every thrust.
“That’s it--fuck, feels so good… shit…” he praises, grunting with effort when your velvety walls clench around him. “Perfect… so fucking perfect--”
You whine as a tingling sensation sparks across your body and spreads to your extremities. No one has ever fucked you so well, so thoroughly, and your heightened vampiric senses only seem to multiply the sensations tenfold. You feel every inch of him with every thrust, feel the way he fucks into you like his life depends on it, feel the press of his fingers as they squeeze into your flesh.
“Right there, yes!” you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall when he angles his thrusts ever so slightly to the side. You’re so close, so fucking close, your moans growing airier, whinier, desperate.
And then he’s setting you back down onto your feet, and you can’t believe he would have the audacity when you were this fucking close--!
But he’s breathing heavily, his heart racing, when that gruff voice commands, “Turn around.”
That alone almost makes up for it, sending shivers down your spine that morph into pleasured shudders that warm you to your core.
He pulls out of you and you’re quick to comply, turning and bracing your hands against the same wall that had been kind enough to support you so far. It’s mere seconds before his hands find your ass, cupping it possessively. Your back arches and you press impatiently against his achingly hard cock, still slick with your juices, peering over your shoulder and biting your lip. Your fang just barely pricks the plump flesh and draws forth a bead of blood that you instinctively lap up even if it’s your own.
“F-Fuck… needed this view.” His voice is like silk and gravel, breathless, airy, and rough. He wastes no more time in reentering you.
Oh gods.
If you thought he was perfect before, if you thought there was no way he could feel even better, you were criminally mistaken. It’s too sinful to be heaven and yet it’s pure euphoria as he fucks you hard and fast, the curve of his length dragging perfectly and hitting that spongy spot that leaves you whimpering and babbling for more. One hand darts between your legs and feverishly your fingertips circle your clit, timing it with his thrusts. Your ass and tits bounce with the force of his fucking, and he leans over you to capture one of your breasts in his hand as he pinches and squeezes at your supple skin. Hot breath puffs against your back.
“Can feel… you squeezing me… shit, come on--” he grunts.
All you can give in response are gasps and lilting cries as your moans grow higher and higher in pitch. Your cheek is smashed against the wall and your jaw hangs slack, drooling with pleasure. His cock hammers into you, fingers tug and twist at your nipple, and your own work desperately at your bud as you chase the wave that crests higher and higher within you. The closer you get, the more your moans sound like pleas for release. He doesn’t relent, even as his breathing grows more and more labored, the effort leaving his body even hotter against the permanent chill of your vampiric skin.
“Yes, yes, fu--hah… mm--mmh--fuck!” Your throat is hoarse from moaning and leaves your voice wispy and airy as you crest closer, closer, chasing the wave and riding it further and further--
It crashes, and you crash with it, slamming into you with a flurry of fiery, euphoric explosions as you spasm and convulse, crying out with your orgasm as your core tightens and your pussy grips his cock like a vice.
“Shit!” he curses, leaning back and gripping your hips with both hands as he slams into you, chasing his own release. You shudder as he fucks you through the aftershocks. Faster. Faster. It’s almost bruising, but you’re made of tougher stuff than most. Gargled moans bubble in your throat.
He finally stills in you with a guttural groan, emptying his load deep into you as he pants for breath. His grip on you finally loosens before he slumps forward, catching himself on the wall as the shower fills the silence with the gentle hiss of water. Your head is filled with a pleasant buzz, your mind hazy as you try to stagger yourself upright.
Before you can stand up fully, however, Marc’s arms wrap tightly around your waist as he hugs you to him. It’s a complete turnaround from how rough he had been just moments ago. Tender, loving, even. The hug turns into a sway, guiding the two of you back and forth softly. He buries his nose into the crook of your neck.
“You good?” he murmurs. His lips press gentle kisses along your shoulder.
Affection swells in your chest and you nuzzle into him with your cheek. How could you put it into words suitable enough? For the first time since your transformation, you felt whole again, accepted, trusted, cared for.
“I feel wonderful,” you beam, wrapping your arms around his. It’s good that you’re turned away from him in the shower, because you feel the happy tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
For the first time in months, in the arms of the man that saved your life in more ways than he could imagine, you were more than good.
You were home.
Current Planned Fics: (At least for this weekend!)
Iron Man x GN!Reader (Request)
Moon Knight x Fem!Reader Pt. 2
Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader Pt. 3
I have another Loki x Reader request in my inbox; I haven't forgotten you!! I just like to stagger requests between personal fics so I don't get burnt out, and at present it seems like I'm able to get two or three fics out a week.
Current Planned Fics: (At least for this weekend!)
Iron Man x GN!Reader (Request)
Moon Knight x Fem!Reader Pt. 2
Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader Pt. 3
I have another Loki x Reader request in my inbox; I haven't forgotten you!! I just like to stagger requests between personal fics so I don't get burnt out, and at present it seems like I'm able to get two or three fics out a week.
hii! i absolutely love your work and saw that requests were open ^^ i know that you’ve written smut for both adam and bucky (seperately) but… if i may be self-indulgent… do you have any ideas for a smut fic with adam and bucky TOGETHER with a fem! reader? 👀 if not, feel free to skip this request ^^
I will find a way to make almost any two characters work, even if it means there's barely any plot involved LOL (Plus, I see you in my notes all the time, so I HAD to make this work, and I had plenty of fun with it <3)
Ruin Me Tenderly
Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader x Bucky
Description: You enjoy going to the club to unwind and scope out your next prey. Little did you know, your bait was going to lure in not one, but two incredibly attractive men... and they're more than willing to share.
Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI!!! Public groping, moderate use of alcohol, tentacle bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, spitroasting, rough sex
A/N: There's plot if you squint...? Ah, who am I kidding, this is just straight up nasty times, but who doesn't love the cliche of getting so worked up on the dance floor that you have to rush home and fuck each other's brains out?
Word Count: 3.4k
The club was your sanctuary. Your temple. It’s where you go to boost your ego, to get free drinks, to be worshiped by men practically begging you for a chance. Sometimes, you even indulge them. After all, nothing relieves stress quite like a good drink and a good fuck.
The music selection here hardly ever disappoints. The bass thrums and vibrates through the core of your very being. Your hips sway back and forth in time with the music.
That is, as much as they can.
You were currently sandwiched between two gorgeous men who couldn’t keep their hands off of you. One of them looked to be made of pure gold, perfection incarnate, while the other was rocking just the perfect sort of bad boy look, tightly grabbing your waist with a silvery bionic arm as he followed your movements.
It had been like this all night; they had both been buying you drinks, stealing glances, offering winks. It made you feel powerful, commanding the attention of them like this. They clearly knew each other, coworkers or something, but that didn’t stop either of them from making advances toward you.
You certainly weren’t going to do anything to dismiss them.
Naturally, you encouraged it. The subtle arch of your back to accentuate your ass, the way you tease your tongue along the rim of your glass… even from across the bar, you had seen their eyes darkening.
And that’s how you find yourself where you are now, dancing and grinding beneath the neon lights with a pleasant buzz humming in your head. The three of you are surrounded by a sea of people, but none of that matters. In this moment, the three of you might as well be joined as one being.
The golden man, Adam, as you had come to learn, stands in front of you. He was by far the gentler of the two, resting his hands sensually on your hips as you brace your hands on his broad shoulders. The grizzled man with the silver arm is far less kind in his grip, fingers digging into your waist and bunching up the fabric of your minidress. His organic arm skims down your bare thigh in a way that sends shivers across your skin, and you can feel him growing hard as he grinds against your ass. You bite your lip when you feel his breath ghost across the shell of your ear.
“You like this?” he growls, a hint of whiskey on his breath. His hand creeps further inward on your thigh, his movements hidden behind Adam’s frame. Your breath hitches in your throat at his brazenness.
Adam’s milky white eyes are hooded when he sees the way Bucky begins to touch you, and he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. Even if he can’t hear his partner in crime over the sounds of the club, he can see the way you quiver in response. His hands trail up from your hips, barely touching the sides of your breasts before they find your face and cup it gingerly. You part your lips invitingly and he takes the bait, devouring you as a groan vibrates from him.
As if he weren’t being bold enough before, Bucky cups your sex and grinds his palm into your dampening panties. You gasp into Adam’s lips and throw one of your arms back, wrapping it behind Bucky’s neck to stabilize yourself against the double onslaught. When you break the kiss, Adam takes the opportunity to press hot kisses to the column of your throat, laving the skin with his tongue.
“Fuck, you two really get to the point, huh…?” you gasp out, not even sure if they would be able to hear your breathy voice over the pounding bass. Adam seems to pick up on it though, and you can feel the chortle that rumbles in his chest and the way he smiles against your skin.
“I hear no complaints from you, vixen,” Adam purrs, hovering over you and giving your breast a quick, discrete squeeze through the fabric of your dress. Your brows worry into a crease as your mouth hangs open in a moan lost in the sounds of the music. That doesn’t mean the three of you go completely unnoticed, though. You can feel eyes on you from all around. Adam senses it, too. “Though, perhaps we should take this somewhere more private?” he adds loudly enough that Bucky can hear.
Bucky gives a reluctant grunt but still nods, keeping a possessive arm around your waist even as he pulls away. “Fine. You got a place close by?”
-----
The walk back to your apartment has never felt so long. You stumble in your heels a few times, leaning into the men on either side of you, giggling and gasping as they kiss and paw at you impatiently. You’re pretty sure Bucky’s hand has been on your ass more times than it’s been at your waist at this point.
Adam is definitely the more patient one, even if not by much, as he leans on the wall of your complex’s hallway while you fumble with the keys to your apartment and Bucky attacks your neck with nips and kisses. You nearly fall through the door when you finally get it open, sputtering out tipsy giggles with a hand braced on the doorframe. Bucky wastes no more time, pushing you against the wall and claiming your lips in a ravenous kiss. The plush of your thigh molds to his silver fingers as he hikes your leg up.
“Try not to be too rough with her,” Adam warns in half jest while his eyes travel along your curves.
Seemingly in response, Bucky gropes at your breast and squeezes it forcefully in his palm. Your flesh gives so easily in his hands. It pulls a gasp from your throat that quickly turns into a low moan, swallowed in the kiss as he smirks against your lips.
“...Perhaps my worry is unfounded,” Adam secedes, adjusting himself in his black skinny jeans. You were a succubus, he decides, a temptress of undeniable allure. When Bucky starts trailing kisses along your jawline, nipping at your neck, and you tilt your head to gaze at Adam with pleading eyes, he knows he’s in trouble. Though, he was in trouble from the moment he first laid eyes on you. He dives in to claim your lips while Bucky grinds into you, keeping you pinned to the wall, and groans when your tongue meets his so eagerly.
Bucky starts shoving the skirt of your dress up, cupping your ass before giving it a quick spank. You squeal into Adam’s mouth, shuddering at the warmth of the sting that lingers there.
“I think she likes it rough,” Bucky growls into your neck. You can only whimper in response as Adam’s tongue writhes and dances with yours, fingers tangling into your hair as he holds your head in place. “Bet she’s a real freak in the sheets,” he teases before nipping at the shell of your ear.
Between kisses, you can’t help but utter a breathy laugh. “Are we…” you pause when Adam tries to reclaim your lips before settling on kissing the corner of your mouth, “...are we even going to make it to the sheets?”
Suddenly you hear the sound of metal plates shifting and whirring about, and the hand on your ass loses its shape to be replaced by a mass of slithering tentacles. Your eyes widen, but then they’re wrapping around your thigh, practically folding you in half against the wall while more of them tease along the crease of your hip. Perhaps you should be more concerned--something tells you this isn’t their usual purpose--but instead your breathing grows ragged and you feel heat pooling in your belly.
“I don’t need a bed to fuck you senseless, babe,” he growls darkly.
Adam presses sweet, insistent kisses to your cheek and jaw. “Do you mind at least releasing her from the wall so that I might join in properly?” he murmurs, words muffled in your skin.
“Didn’t know you were into tentacles, Warlock, but I suppose it wouldn’t be right to leave you out,” he quips with a smirk.
Adam scoffs and shakes his head. “That is not what I meant… but… noted.”
“Oh, I’d watch that,” you comment, biting your lip as you draw your fingertip along Adam’s jawline and drawing a shiver from him. Such a pretty boy.
You don’t get to ponder that thought for much longer before Bucky finally releases his hold on you… at least, with his organic arm. Eldritch tendrils snake around your other leg and your arms, and you yelp as they hoist you easily up into the air. You’re spread out in front of him, your dress hiked up around your waist, and your sexiest panties are soaked through on full display. He steps behind you as you remain suspended, pressing heated kisses to the crook of your neck and reaching around with his free hand to cup and squeeze your breast.
“Well…?” Bucky addresses Adam, eyeing him darkly over your shoulder. The tentacles at your thighs dip further in, sliding over your clothed slit as you whimper, before they’re tugging your panties to one side in silent invitation for the golden man.
Adam drops to his knees and, like a man starved, shoves his tongue into your folds and absolutely devours you. He laps greedily, drinking in your essence, moaning as his golden chin becomes even shinier coated in your juices.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” you mumble out, your head falling back against Bucky’s shoulder. His tongue wasn’t the most practiced, but it was deliberate, tracing back in the same patterns that make you moan the loudest until you’re bucking into his face.
Bucky’s stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin of your neck before his teeth are sinking into you, sucking dark marks into it before running his tongue soothingly over the bruised spots. His tentacles do more than hold you aloft, squirming underneath your dress, curling about your breasts, even occasionally whipping your ass. This wasn’t your first time with multiple partners, but it was the first time their appendages had been quite so versatile, stimulating you everywhere even if they weren’t directly touching or tongue-fucking you there. Pleasure sets your body aflame.
“You taste of divinity itself…” Adam hums, kissing your inner thighs as white gold eyes blink slowly up at you. He returns to the task at hand, this time closing his lips over your clit and sucking gently on the bud. You keen at the sensation, thighs quivering in the tentacles’ hold.
“How are you holding up, princess?” Bucky asks, his breath tickling your ear. You groan as your head lolls back, lust-drunk and smiling lazily with blown pupils that regard him with an unfocused gaze. That makes him chuckle. The tentacles slowly lower your upper half until you’re suspended horizontally with your face level with his crotch. “How do you feel about choking on my cock?” he continues as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
You lick your lips greedily, eyes flicking from the bulge in his pants back up to his face. “I’d be offended if you didn’t let me,” you purr.
He tilts his head to the side and huffs out a laugh, though you don’t miss the brief flicker of worry that crosses his face. “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”
His hand caresses your cheek gently, watching with hooded eyes when you nuzzle into his palm and gaze up at him so sweetly. You were begging for it, pleading with your eyes. Who was he to deny you? He withdraws his hand to unzip his pants, tugging them far enough down his hips for his cock to bob free, hard and hot and ready. Your head hangs upside down and you feel yourself drooling at the sight, parting your lips in anticipation.
Adam is still between your legs, slurping and sucking at your folds, before he pulls away with a lewd smack. “Before you are incapable of speech, do I have permission to mate with you like this?”
His formal speech nearly makes you giggle, but you stifle it as you lift your head up to look at him. Shimmering gold hair frames messily about his face that glistens with your slick. Would you let this golden picture of perfection fuck you? The answer was so obvious that the question barely felt worth asking.
“Please,” you beg. “Please fuck me.”
Those milky white eyes darken and he stands, massaging the soft skin of your thighs and exhaling a shuddered breath. With that sorted, you feel Bucky’s hand at your jaw, guiding your head backwards towards his achingly hard cock. Precum dribbles from the tip and you wish you could extend your neck far enough to collect it on your tongue. You don’t have to wait long though, and your lips part eagerly once more as he sinks the tip of his cock past them. A gravely groan rumbles in his chest when you close your lips around it, flicking your tongue along the sensitive slit. He tastes of salt and sweat, and you inhale deeply before he pushes more and more of his length into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth.
You hear the draw of a zipper and rustling of fabric a few moments before you feel the warmth of golden skin pressing between your thighs. Adam’s cock rests heavily against your mons, and you whimper around Bucky’s cock as your cunt drools in anticipation of being filled. Reverent hands delve beneath your dress, caressing the skin of your stomach and ribs tenderly while he grinds against you. Unlike his companion, Adam takes his time, savoring the image of you spread out between them like this, committing the feel of your skin to your memory. His golden hands stand out against the much more natural color of your flesh and even against the black and silver of Bucky’s arm tentacles.
Finally, he is satisfied with his sensory explorations of you. He guides his cock to your dripping cunt, groaning at just how wet you are, before he’s teasing the tip at your entrance. With your mouth full of dick, it’s difficult to tell Adam to hurry up, so you hope to get the message across by bucking your hips as much as you can in the tentacles’ grasp. Adam smirks at your eagerness, even though you can’t see it, but finally he obliges, pressing the head of his cock into you and exhaling a long, drawn out groan.
Their thrusts are shallow at first. Considerate, one might even say. Despite his dirty talk, you could tell from the concerned glances and requests of affirmation that Bucky truly didn’t want to hurt you. Your jaw strains to accommodate him in this position, curving against the flow of your mouth and throat, and he strokes your cheek affectionately with his thumb.
“Taking me so well…” he praises, easing a bit more of his cock into your mouth. “Tap the tentacles three times if it hurts too much, okay?”
You hum your affirmation before your tongue gets to work on his shaft, slithering it back and forth before flicking it along the underside of the head when he pulls out. Hollowing your cheeks out, you suck on him lewdly and coat him in saliva. He curses under his breath. You were way too good at this.
Meanwhile, your walls were practically sucking Adam in further and further. Sweat beads on his brow as he thrusts in deeper, finally sheathing himself to the hilt, and even his gentle hands can’t help but grip your hips tightly at the feeling of you clamping around him so deliciously.
“She is… truly a seductress,” he pants out. “I have never felt anything like… ah--”
Hot, velvety walls squeeze around him like a vice, wiping any sensible thought from his mind. With a series of whimpers and grunts, he starts fucking you properly. Being filled from both ends leaves your eyes rolling back into your head. Mewls and whines echo in your throat even as it begins to distend with Bucky’s length. Tears spill from your eyes at the stretch and cause your eye makeup to run in dark streaks down your face, but you’re in heaven.
“Yeah, keep sucking me. Just like that,” Bucky grunts out.
Bucky’s hand wraps loosely around your throat to feel it bulge every time he thrusts in. You’re so perfect, suppressing your gag reflex like a champ and slobbering so greedily around him. His tentacles reward you by coiling around your nipples under your dress, pinching and tugging at the stiffened peaks as your moans grow higher in pitch.
Adam, not to be outdone, reaches between your legs to collect your slick on his fingers before bringing them to your clit. You had cried out such a sweet song when he had sucked on it before, so he lavishes it with attention, circling and flicking his digits over the sensitive bud. Your thighs tremble and you squeeze even tighter around him, so he knows he’s doing something right.
So right, in fact, that you feel a roaring fire building in your loins. You were so used to being in control, so used to bringing men and women alike to their knees with just a glance, so to have all of that control lifted from you, to be suspended and fucked like this without lifting a finger? It was surprisingly intoxicating. Your mind is going blank, and you nearly forget to breathe out of your nose for a moment. You’re so stuffed full of cock, so thoroughly stimulated, and it was driving you closer and closer to that beautiful peak.
“I-I… she is gripping me so tightly. I fear I cannot last much longer. I--” He interrupts himself with a whiny, breathless moan. The air is filled with the sound of skin on skin, of your gargling and slurping, of their combined grunts and groans. It’s the last one that probably turns you on the most, that vocal confirmation of just how good you were, how perfectly your body was taking them.
You gasp around Bucky’s cock and your entire body tenses up for the inevitable. You wind up tighter and tighter, panting out guttural whines between his thrusts. Finally you snap with a cry, convulsing even with the tentacles that try to hold you still, sputtering while your walls flutter around the cock that hammers into them. Both men watch in awe as you come utterly undone between them, looking so beautiful and fucked out while that telltale glow washes over you. They’re not far behind; Adam thrusts faster and faster before crying out, quickly withdrawing from you and shooting ribbon after ribbon of cum onto your belly. Your throat receives no such treatment, and Bucky holds your head in place, his balls slapping against the bridge of your nose. He’s unapologetically rough in the throes of passion now, leaving you almost no time to breathe even through your nose. You come close to tapping on the tentacles, but then he’s cumming down your throat with an animalistic growl, stilling inside you as you swallow every drop. He’s breathing heavily, but clarity washes over him, and he quickly pulls his softening cock out of your throat. You gasp for air, coughing and heaving as you desperately beckon oxygen into your deprived lungs.
The three of you, whether it’s from exertion or deprivation, take a moment to catch your breath. Bucky finally lowers you down to the floor, steadying you with his organic arm even as his bionic one collects the tentacles back into it and slowly reforms into its original shape.
“We should probably get you cleaned up,” Bucky offers with a warm chortle.
Adam concurs. “I believe we should all get cleaned up.” He pauses, regarding you hesitantly. “That is, assuming you will allow us to stay long enough to do so?”
You’re an absolute mess with your dress crumpled around your waist, tangled hair, and running makeup. Still, you lick your lips and smirk at the two men in front of you.
“The shower’s big enough for the three of us… assuming you’re up for round two?” you offer with a sultry giggle. Each of your hands finds one of theirs, and you start dragging them towards the bathroom.
Their eyes widen and they exchange glances, but really… it would be stupid of them to say no.
