#adam warlock fic
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A-Z NSFW Headcanons | Adam Warlock
Pairing▹ Adam Warlock x f. reader
This fic contains ▹ smut (title says enough), GOTG Vol. 3 spoilers!, lightly beta'ed writing
Word Count ▹ 1.8k
Notes ▹ No one asked but here are some sexy headcanons for my new fave mcu himbo. Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed! 😊
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Adam’s main priority is making sure that you are always taken care of, especially during sex. He’d make sure your skin was free of cum and he’d clean it off with a warm rag or his mouth. Then, he’d massage and kiss the areas that were more sore before cuddling you in his strong arms.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His favorite body part on himself is his hands. He loves how they shape your face while he’s caressing your face before kissing you. Adam has learned to be quite talented with his hands. From holding your waist while deeply kissing you to squeezing your breasts and lightly flicking your nipples until you’re whining. When his fingers found the sweet spot in your pussy, it was over for you. Seeing you coat his fingers with your wetness always drove him insane.
Adam’s favorite body part on you is your eyes. The first time he gazed into yours, he knew he was madly in love with you. He loved the way they glimmered before pressing his lips against yours. What really turned him on was how you would bat your eyelashes and stare at him with doe eyes while sucking his cock. The same goes when he’s pounding you into the mattress and your eyes start to roll to the back of your head before reaching that blissful finish.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
As mentioned previously, Adam gets pretty aroused just from seeing you gush all over his fingers. After the first time you came from being fingered, he was really curious about the dripping fluid. He’d wiggle his fingers around, playing with your cum in fascination before sticking his middle finger into his mouth. It was the hottest thing you have ever seen.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Adam is an innocent character, so he is naturally curious about a lot of things. For example, he has wondered what it’s like having multiple partners. Adam was shy about wanting to bring a third or even more partners in the bedroom. You immediately reassured him that he has nothing to be nervous about because it was something you have wanted to experiment with even before meeting Adam.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Well, considering that he prematurely hatched from his cocoon, he isn’t experienced at all. And it’s not like he had much time with his mother to have learned about sex. Regardless, he learned everything just from dating you. As someone who was very eager to please, Adam caught on pretty fast.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Adam is clearly strong so he can easily pick you up and fuck you while he stands. The way he ruthlessly bounces you up and down his cock causes you to see stars. Adam likes how the position allows you to be really close. He’ll grip your hips while you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your foreheads against one another. You’ve also experimented with a standing 69, a position you both are growing more fond of.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Adam has his fair share of goofy and serious moments. He used to be very serious while fucking you, mainly because he was adamant about making sure he was doing it right. Along the way, you helped him relax more and he’d crack a joke or two. Sometimes, Adam would get tongue-tied because of how overwhelmed he was with pleasure, causing you to giggle and kiss him on the nose.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
When he was created, it wasn’t in The High Evolutionary’s intentions to give him hair. Therefore, he’s free of any body or facial hair. At least he has a silky head of hair that often gets tossed during battles and more so during sex.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
It’s no exaggeration that Adam is head over heels in love with you. Even when he is deep inside you, Adam will never turn down an opportunity to show any signs of affection for you. He could have your legs propped over his shoulders and he’ll still lean down to kiss you tenderly.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Adam is the type to hump the pillow to get off. Before you started dating, he found you grinding against your pillow and the sounds that came from your lips were music to his ears. That same night, he tried it himself and, well, he was well rested the next day. He only does this when you are away on a mission and misses you.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Adam LOVES being praised. He will do anything to make you happy and hearing the positive feedback from you makes him giddy and full of love. When you tell him he is fucking you so so good, it is the perfect motivation for him to continue doing what he’s doing.
He also may or may not have a Mommy kink.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Honestly, y’all will fuck anywhere and make it work. However, Rocket has made it clear to both of you not to fuck on the spaceship. Has it stopped you from sneaking to the back of the ship for a quickie? Absolutely not. But what Rocket won’t know won’t piss him off, right?
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Watching you kicking ass on the battlefield is enough to get him riled up. Adam knows that violence isn’t always the answer, but he finds it sexy when you are covered in the sweat and blood of the enemies (or just anyone that pisses you off).
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Adam would not want to do anything that would hurt you. He has hurt the guardians in the past and he did not like the consequences that came with it. So anything along the lines of choking or slapping you is not for him. He’ll playfully smack your ass, but he’ll never do anything more than a little love tap.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves receiving just as much as he loves giving. Hence why 69 is one of his favorite positions with you. Adam loves flicking his tongue along your slit, tasting your wetness which makes his cock strain in his pants. Just that alone will have your legs shaking and you’re pushing his face closer to your pussy.
When he’s on the receiving end, Adam is a whimpering mess. For a man as strong and powerful as he is, he can easily crumble the moment your lips wrap around the tip of his cock. He’s groaning your name, tangling his fingers in your hair, and begging you to suck him harder and faster.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It depends on the mood. Adam can read your body language like the back of his hand so he’ll know when to be rougher and when to be softer. He tries not to be too rough because he doesn’t want to hurt you.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Adam quite enjoys quickies. Fucking you right before a mission is a perfect mood-setter for him and he feels less nervous about heading into it. He’ll have a bit more bounce to his step and the other guardians will be side-eyeing each other as to what has got into Adam.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)
Adam typically is down for anything in the bedroom and has tried things that none of your past partners ever wanted to think about. He asks a lot of questions about certain things before deciding if it’s something he wants to try, not so much out of nervousness but out of pure interest.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Again, he’s basically a god so Adam can last a couple of rounds.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He doesn’t have any toys himself, but he has come across your hidden collection of toys. You showed him how each one works by putting on a show for him. After the visual demonstration, Adam will often ask to use the vibrator while he’s pounding you from behind. He also likes fucking you while you wear your butt plug with gems that match the one on his forehead.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
At first, you were the one who did all the teasing, mainly because Adam wasn’t experienced in that field. You loved whispering dirty things in his ear while he was training and the moment he’d get distracted, you’d run away giggling like a little girl.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Oh, he is very loud! Adam is a delicious mix between a moaner and a grunter. The way his accent sounds while moaning your name is a sound that will forever alter your brain chemistry. But the sounds he makes while cumming are your absolute favorite and you are lucky to be the reason he makes those beautiful noises.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Ever since Rocket introduced him to music, Adam has been making playlists nonstop. He made a mixtape for you to confess his feelings for you. And of course, he made a sex playlist for you. His favorite song to fuck you to is "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
The High Evolutionary created Adam with the intent of making him the “perfect man”, so he is a substantial size.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Adam isn’t really needy. Over time, he’s gained more self-control so he doesn’t crave sex as much as he did after the first time with you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Adam doesn’t fall asleep that easily. His ever-growing soundtrack tends to keep you both up even after many rounds. The sound of his voice singing some 70s love songs will put you to sleep before he does. He always makes sure to kiss your face before he succumbs to slumber.
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#adam warlock#will poulter#guardians of the galaxy volume 3#gotg vol 3#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock x you#adam warlock smut#adam warlock headcanons#adam warlock fic#adam warlock fanfiction#adam warlock imagine#will poulter x reader#will poulter x you#will poulter smut#will poulter imagine#will poulter fic
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for the adam warlock thots:
i cannot see this sweet himbo as anything but a soft dom and i will FIGHT someone on that
@tom-whore-dleston and i are right behind you screaming in agreement bestie, because yes yes!! this man is the type of softdom that aims to please, to give his girl the most earth shattering orgasm and then ANOTHER!
warnings: eighteen+ content, face riding, over stimulation, adam being a bit subby, written on my phone so hella quick and dirty and full of mistakes probably.
When you’re not rocking against his tongue the way he wants—your clit brushing against his nose allowing his tongue to push inside your heat just enough to have your breath catching in the back of your throat—his fingers dig into the muscle of your butt cheeks guiding your hips to move.
To fuck his face the way he had asked you to when he had pulled you into bed with him. With his mouth at your breast bone leaving marks, his hardness rutting up against you.
The sweet look in his eyes, the way he had mumbled it into your skin, followed by his fingers moving down your side and between your thighs. Hooking a finger in the crotch of your shorts to run two fingers through your pussy.
“You’re so wet. Please,” he groaned.
His eyes begging, his lips moving in a plea.
Denying him would be torture.
And when he brings you to that edge, that burning pleasured heat that makes your thighs shake against the side of his head and your fingers thread themselves in his golden hair; a sob rakes through your body when he doesn’t stop after you’ve come down.
His lips wrap around your sensitive clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against the nerve—your fingers digging into his scalp as your body tries to move away from the intensity of his mouth—as he swallows down your juices and looks for more.
“Adam,” your voice is breathless. Your plea holds no ground.
Falls onto deaf ears as his eyes look up to you, his brows bowed in that way that lets you know he wants more of something. More of you. That he’s willing to beg for again—a craving he has yet to relieve.
When he releases your clit you whine. Run your hand along his cheek as his teeth sink into your inner thigh.
“You can give me another,” his tongue runs along the indent of his teeth left in your skin. “And another, and another.” His tongue moves to your pussy again. Pressing a light kiss at your mound before he spreads you and finds your clit again.
The whimpered “please” muffled and vibrated against you—Adam’s arms coming up to wrap around your thighs as your body starts to twitch—enough to have that ache building back up in your body.
#adam warlock smut#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock blurb#adam warlock x you#will poulter smut#adam warlock imagine#adam warlock x y/n#adam warlock fic
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You looked left, then looked right before then hobbling down the hallway, safely making it to the dimly kitchen of your apartment without so much as a peep but just when you thought you were in the clear. The lights turn on and in the doorway, you could clearly see the disappointment upon Adam’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest.
‘Fuck.’ You hissed under your breath.
‘Shouldn’t you be in bed, resting.’ You grimaced, knowing you’ve tested his patience one too many times with your constant escapades that were birthed from your boredom of being bed bound.
To provide a little bit of context: The most recent mission you and the guardians had partaken in turned out well enough to be considered a success…had you weren’t then later on ambushed by what you had originally thought was the corpse of your slain enemy; leaving you in a state of injury and on bed rest until all sustaining wounds were properly healed over.
During this, Adam had appointed himself your caregiver and would often catch you in the act of attempting one of your many grandiose plans of retrieving a snack from the fridge when your hunger could no longer be ignored or your comfort plushie, before ushering your back to your room and getting what it was that you needed for you. Oftentimes you’d think to yourself that Adam was doing this out of a sense of guilt in not being able to react fast enough but he -as much as the rest of you- couldn’t have known that amongst the dead there would be one still clinging to their last embers of life whilst scheming the ultimate revenge plot.
‘This is the fourth time this week.’ Adam began his chastising.
‘I know…’ you muttered.
‘Your wounds will never properly heal at the rate that you’re going.’ He continues and it feels as though you’ve heard this same rant more then you’d like, but then again you guessed it was kind of your own fault for not actively doing your part in allowing your wounds the time to heal; Even now you felt them scream at you in agreement from beneath the thick gauze as they throbbed in anguish, causing you to wince and bite down your groans of pain as to not alert Adam.
However Adam was more observant then you or anyone gave him credit for and had saw the way your hand instinctually reached for your heavily bandaged side and how the muscles in your face contorts into one of pain and discomfort. His posture relaxed, arms limp at his side, as his face softened; All he wanted to do was make sure your healing went accordingly but he failed to take into account of how restless you’d become from the inactivity, which had lead to your current situation becoming a common occurrence.
‘Your wounds are flaring up again.’ Adam said softly as he made his way to your uninjured side. ‘Let me help you back into bed at the very least.’ You mulled it over but ultimately decided that you should stop making Adam’s job as your caretaker harder then it should be and actually allow your wounds their time to heal because what you were doing wasn’t helping anyone and it certainly wasn’t helping your healing process, only proving in hindering it even more then necessary.
‘Fine.’ You said, accepting that you were loosing this battle, allowing Adam to escort you back to your room and helping you find a comfortable position without irritating your wounds even further then you already have. Before Adam left your room, you find yourself calling out to him. ‘Adam.’ The golden boy looks over his shoulder, ‘I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass. I know you were just trying to help and all I’ve been doing is make it harder on the both of us. I just wanted to say thank you for putting up with me.’
‘You could never be trouble for me.’ Adam admits. ‘I find your inability to stay situated an admirable trait as it only tells me that you have a restless spirit that won’t go quietly into the night. So don’t apologise for I’ll always be here whenever you should need me.’ He finishes with a soft smile before closing the door behind him and you found yourself smiling when drifting to sleep.
#adam warlock x y/n#adam warlock imagines#adam warlock imagine#adam warlock x you#adam warlock fluff#adam warlock fic#adam warlock x reader#mcu imagines#mcu fic#mcu x reader#mcu x y/n#mcu x you#mcu imagine#marvel imagine#marvel fic#marvel fanfic#marvel imagines#marvel x y/n#marvel x you#marvel x reader
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so uhm.. adam warlock content? anyone want any? send in requests.. did we miss me?
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Adam Warlock x OC
Part 1
Word Count: 1.556
Warnings: Adam being cute, fluff, slight angst
POV Seraphina
I've known Pete for a relatively long time and even though I said goodbye to the Guardians, I missed them all very much.
After Gamora left us and Thanos was finally defeated, my help was requested by my brother who I hadn't seen in a long time.
So I also left the Guardians, even though it was very difficult for me at the time. They were all very dear to me and I promised them that I would come back as soon as I was needed or my help was no longer needed by my brother.
x
I slowly steered my spaceship to the well-known landing site that was kept free for me.
Pete had enlightened me about what had happened and I was glad that Rocket was fine now. After all, we were good friends and often exchanged ideas about technical things and what could be improved.
My ship finally landed and for a moment I just sat and let it all sink in. I considered this small planet and it's inhabitants to be home, even though my native home was actually light years away.
Here on this planet was my real family, friends who meant a lot to me. A smile graced my lips and I turned everything off to leave the ship.
Pete had just notified me of everything like he had done all along while I was gone so no one knew I was actually coming back. He had told me about the destruction of the city and I really wanted to help.
With steady steps, I made my way to meet the Guardians and tell them of my return.
POV Adam
Almost helpless, I watched the many people who tried to rebuild their city and did everything to help them.
After I pulled Peter out of space and rescued him, a lot of people seemed to trust me more and give me another chance as well. Still, I couldn't deny that I felt kind of alone. Everyone had someone they knew or got along with.
I didn't really know anyone.
Mantis assured me that I would find my place but I wasn't so sure. My mother often spoke of a person who formed our other side. To which one belonged and which gave one the feeling of safety and security.
Did I also have such a person?
I continued to stroll through one of the streets and only looked up when I heard a bright laugh. My gaze fell on Peter who seemed to be hugging an unknown woman. The two knew each other well and began to talk quickly.
I stared at them both rooted to the spot and began to study the young woman further. Her blond hair was long and gently swept behind her as she walked further away with Peter. She had a beautiful smile that made me feel warm even though that smile wasn't even aimed at me.
The two disappeared around a corner and for a brief moment I caught a glimpse of her face. If there were angels then I was convinced that she had to be one.
"Hey Adam! Come on! Pete has news for us! Hurry up, come on!", Mantis suddenly called out to me, who had stepped into my line of sight without me noticing.
How long did I stand there, just like that?
A little unsteadily I walked behind Mantis who also had Drax with her and was talking excitedly. However, my thoughts were still with the beautiful woman and her almost golden-blonde hair, which is why I didn't listen to her.
Together we entered a small bar that surprisingly survived the attack and was considered as our regular meet-up place.
"Listen up everyone! I have great news for you! Our dear Seraphina is finally back and will stay!", Peter's voice sounded. Everyone started cheering and even Nebula seemed to react positively to this news as a barely noticeable smile crept onto her face.
Confused, I looked around the small bar and waited for a more detailed explanation until a person stepped into the bar behind Peter. It was none other than the woman with the charming smile I had seen before.
So I stood a little apart and just watched how everyone hugged the young woman named Seraphina and were probably very happy about her arrival. At that moment, I really wished I could hug her like that and be near her too.
I watched almost longingly as she began to talk to the others and shared her story with them. Music started playing and Peter handed out drinks to everyone and although a happy mood ensued I just felt all the more left out.
Why would she want to talk to me too?
However, I couldn't take my eyes off Seraphina. She was pulling me in like some kind of magnet and I just couldn't resist the pull. Every now and then she brushed back one of her blond strands and I wondered if her hair really felt as soft as it looked. Her soft smile never left her lips and I secretly hoped that she would smile at me too.
"You can also talk to her Adam", Peter's voice suddenly sounded next to me and I looked over at him almost startled. He had a huge grin on his face and I got the feeling he had something in mind some kind of plan maybe.
"Instead of just staring at her, you know?", he continued and that's when I realized he must have been watching me without my noticing.
"I'm good... yeah. I'm just looking", I said quickly then looked back across the bar hoping he would leave me alone.
"Kinda creepy you know? Just staring and doing nothing", he said, leaning against the bar wall.
"I'm not staring!", I tried to explain to him again and crossed my arms uncertainly.
How was it that he could see through me like that?
"Whatever you say buddy. But talking to her won't hurt you y'know", he said taking a sip of the blue drink he'd been holding the whole time. With a huff I took one last glance at Seraphina and her smiling face, "I think I'm going outside for a bit."
Without Peter being able to say anything else, I almost bolted out of the bar and quickly inhaled the cool air from outside. I sneaked a peek through the bar window again hoping to see Seraphina but Rocket and Drax had apparently started a drinking contest and a large crowd had gathered in front of the window.
Almost furiously I kicked a stone away from the path in front of me and clenched my hands into fists. Now there was no way I could just go back after Peter caught me like that.
I wish it was that easy, but what if she just doesn't like me? What if all she sees in me is this monster that wanted to hurt her friends?
At that thought, a pain almost ran through my body and I put my hand on my chest. Shaking my head I walked on and admitted defeat. Countless feelings rolled through my body and I just couldn't place any of them.
"Hey! Wait!", a voice suddenly called from behind me and abruptly I turned just to look into Seraphina's blue eyes. She stopped in front of me and smiled softly at me.
"You're Adam, aren't you?", she asked me and I could only nod as she almost took my breath away.
"I'm Seraphina and I wanted to introduce myself again personally. I've heard a lot about you", she said and fear immediately went through my body like a bolt of lightning.
What had the others said about me? Did they also say that I was actually responsible for Rocket's injuries? In the end, I simply attacked the Guardians.
"Heard... from me?", I asked almost swallowing hard and stood as stiff as a statue in front of the young woman.
"You saved Pete and I'm very grateful for that!", she quickly explained to me and gave me an even bigger smile than before. Without warning she took one of my hands in hers and immediately that warmth flowed back into me. My heart started beating like crazy and I really hoped she wouldn't notice.
"The past is the past and all that matters is the here and now. You can decide who you are and what you do Adam. We're all here to help you", she said softly then let go of my hand.
I immediately missed her soft hands and their warm touch on my skin.
"I'd better let you go, it's already very late. See you tomorrow!", she said quickly and then went in the other direction past the bar. As if in a trance, I stood on the street and watched after her until her shape was no longer visible.
Her words echoed in my head and slowly a smile crept onto my lips as I had to look down. My hand was still tingling and I turned around as well.
For Seraphina, I wanted to be as good as possible. I wanted to protect her and make her proud, show her that I understood her words. I desperately wanted to feel more of her warmth and give in to this urge for her.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Feel free to comment your thoughts or prompts ✨
#fanfiction#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock#adam warlock x oc#guardians of the galaxy#guardians of the galaxy 3#peter quill#mantis#fluff#adam warlock fluff#angst#adam warlock imagine#adam warlock fic#marvel#marvel fic#mcu#mcu fanfiction#adam warlock imagines#will poulter#will poulter fic
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More Than a Mission - Chapter 2
I'm thinking a chapter per day Adam and the Princess get to know each other(?), plus some extras for intro + ending
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A handmaid helped Adam to his room, but his main focus was finding the Princess and getting to know her. In order to find the rock, of course.
He wandered to the library, as the handmaid had told him where to find the "important" parts of the palace. Perhaps he could find a book on how to "woo" a princess.
The library was magnificent, much more extravagant than he had ever seen. The light grey shelves reached the lofty ceilings, and the furniture looked quite comfortable. Fireplaces were scattered throughout, and Adam thought he may spend hours running his fingers along the spines. He walked slowly up each row of shelves, in awe of the simple beauty that surrounded him. He was lost, until he heard a voice behind him.
"Might I help you?"
He whipped around, startled, and upon realizing it was the Princess who had caught his attention, he threw himself to the ground.
"Your grace," he began, "my most sincere apologies. I was simply interested in the selection."
The Princess scoffed. "Please, there's no need for formality between us. You're another suitor who thinks he is worthy of my hand, and just like the others, you will fail. But let us entertain the thought of this working out, hm?"
Adam was surprised. Clearly she had reserved herself to the idea that he was unsuitable for her. He felt a deep desire to prove her wrong. She practically floated around the shelves, like she had memorized a specific path. He followed behind her, unsure.
"This one is my favorite," she pulled a dark brown, leatherbound book from its place, holding it out for Adam to see. "It was written by an Asgardian explorer. He documented nine planets, wrote about them in great detail, and even drew their lands. It's beautiful. You should read it."
And with that, she shoved the book into his hands, and disappeared around one of the corners.
Adam found himself lingering in his spot before finding an armchair by a warm, crackling fire. He began gently flipping through the pages of the book, his fingers tracing the lines of the drawings and his mind clinging onto every word he read. He had been to many planets, many lands. But these seemed special, and he didn't know if it was because they really were special, or if it was just because the Princess liked them so much.
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Adam saw her round a corner, and he quickened his pace to catch up.
"Princess!" He called, perhaps a bit too loudly. She turned to face him as he approached. "Thank you, these places seem beautiful. I think my favorite was Asgard."
"Really?" She asked, and Adam could swear he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips. "My favorite is Misgard. It seems so diverse!" Adam nodded.
"I have a friend from Midgard! I've never seen it myself, but his stories make it seem lovely. Have you been?" He asked her. A look of sadness and longing overtook her features, and in that moment, Adam wanted nothing more than to see the wistful hope that masked her face.
"No, I haven't been!" She snapped. Adam was taken aback, but if there was one thing he learned from the Guardians, it was that anger stemmed from deeper feelings. He gazed at her no differently, but paused to choose his next words carefully.
"I could take you, if you wanted," he said gently. "I've seen many lands, many worlds. You and I, we could travel to Midgard and explore the lands, the creatures, and the people."
It was the Princess's turn to pause. "Would you care to walk with me?" she finally asked.
Adam agreed, and walked beside her as they found the nearest exit and out into the gardens.
The Princess took a deep breath. "I would quite enjoy visiting Midgard with you," she began.
"What's stopping us, then?" Adam asked eagerly and held out his arm for her to take. He felt her fingertips gently guide his arm back down to his side.
"It is forbidden for the people of Bangdat to travel," she told him. "Especially the royal family."
"But why?"
"Long ago, my father was visiting Fleuridine on business. But he was attacked, as well as all of his guards. Ever since then, he has forbidden travel for our citizens. It's nice that he wants to look out for us, but," she took a breath. "It doesn't change the fact that I would like to see the wonders of the universe."
Adam paused his steps and she did as well, turning to face him. He gently tucked a pale blue flower behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment.
"Princess, I can assure you that you would be safe with me; I would protect your life with my own," he told her. He expected an agreement to his travel plan. He did not get what he expected.
Instead, she brushed past him, muttering "I have to go", and left him standing in the frigid air by himself.
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So...Adam feels like he might have a shot at love despite it being fake, but how can he have a shot when the Princess seems to despise the idea of being anything more than royal acquaintances?
#fanfic#writing#female reader#princess reader#princess!reader#fem!reader#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock fic#adam warlock#adam warlock fanfiction#adam warlock fluff#gotg vol 3#gotg3#gotg fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#mcu#will poulter x reader#will poulter
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Not Like Quill
PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader
WC: 2.5k (longer than I intended, oof!)
SUMMARY: after your half-brother and half-sister leave, you’re left to fill in Peter’s shoes on the Guardian team. Unfortunately, Rocket can only see the faults where you lack the qualities that his best friend has. Luckily, though, a certain golden boy is always there to cheer you up.
WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, fluff, angst if you squint.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: so this is my first official one shot AND first time writing for GOTG (hopefully I did a good job.) I saw GOTG3 in the theaters almost a week ago and WOW, was I surprised by Adam!! (I make it a point to not watch trailers to avoid spoilers.) I liked Will in The Dawn Treader but I haven’t seen any of his other movies since they’re not genres I usually watch, but I have been SLEEPING on this man!! I’m now obsessed with Gally (I’ve never even seen TMR but I’ve now read a ton of FFs) and, of course, Adam. So, here’s a one-shot :)
I know that Peter gave Rocket his Zune but in this scenario he gave it to you, his other half-sister. You do have powers but they’re not really mentioned here; if anyone is interested I can make a sequel/prequel.
Part 0 , Part 2
The repairs to Knowhere were going well— or at least as well as could be expected with leaders who bickered as much as the remaining Guardians. Peter and Mantis had left the planet a few weeks ago, leaving everyone quite sad at their departure. But, there were things to do so those that remained moved on as best they could in order help out. You, however, as Peter’s half-sister, had been hit harder by their departures than the others. Mantis and Peter were the only family you had, especially since the group had killed your father (not that he’d been a good one, of course.) Sure, the other Guardians had become like family to you over the years, but they weren’t blood— but this is also the only reason why you decided to stay instead of going off on your own like your siblings.
To make matters worse, the only physical reminder that you had of your brother was his Zune, which he’d left to you since you’d always stolen it anyway. Almost every day since his departure you could be found with the Zune clipped to your belt with at least one— and often both— earbuds plugged in to drown out the world. You busied yourself with helping the rest of the population repair their homes, enjoying the physical work as it tired you out too much to think about your missing family. When you weren’t working, you were training, which is how you (more officially) met one of the newest members of the Guardians, Adam. It hadn’t been the best first meeting, but that was a story for another time.
You were grateful to him for saving your brother so after he apologized for almost killing you, you forgave him pretty easily. Since you wanted to fill up your free time as much as possible, you offered to help train him because although he had powers, he’d barely been a match for the Guardians during the initial fight. You became close because of this and you found that you enjoyed his myriad of questions. You made sure to always be patient when answering him since you knew that the other Guardians were either too busy or would snap at him.
However, that was about the only good thing that had happened to you since the defeat of the High Evolutionary. The only time you really saw Rocket, Groot, Drax or Nebula was when you helped out around the headquarters or went on a mission, and even that wasn’t the same as it used to be. Rocket was a very different leader than Peter; he was, well, smarter, so that was good, but he had yet to acquire any sort of nurturing or encouraging attitude. When they trained as a team to get used to each other (as they had also added Kraglin and Viola to the group), Rocket would veer towards critical rather than critiquing.
“No, on your left, you idiot! Your other left!”
“You call that aim? Blurp could hit the target better than you!”
And, lastly, “that’s not how Quill would do it!”
Ouch. That one was always aimed at you, for anything Rocket could criticize you for. It didn’t have to just be training; sometimes he took it to ridiculous levels, either for the music you selected or the food you cooked. Anything you did, he compared you to your brother. And of course, you loved Peter; along with the other Guardians, he had saved you and Mantis from Ego and for that alone you would love him, but he had left you terribly big shoes to fill and you weren’t even the leader. You tried to hide how much Rocket’s words affected you— usually by keeping your Zune close at hand to drown him out, but they did get you down.
Even worse was his nickname for you. Although it had once been endearing, “little Quill” now felt like more of an insult— as if he knew you could never measure up to Peter. You never confronted him about this since you knew Rocket had a barbed tongue, but after being abandoned by your siblings, his words seemed to hit you harder than before. So, you kept your distance from him as best you could and tolerated it when you couldn’t.
On this particular day, you had decided to make chocolate chip cookies, which Peter had taught you to make on the first ‘Christmas’ that you’d been with the Guardians. You were really missing your brother so you plugged in your earbuds and started on the familiar recipe. In this instance, the kitchen that you were using was communal, so it was no surprise that someone else walked in on you as you baked. You didn’t notice at first, too lost in the music of Bohemian Rhapsody.
Adam had come into the kitchen after following the sweet scent that had caught his attention. He smiled a little at the sight of you standing at the counter, elbow-deep in. . . something. It was golden in color, although lighter than his skin, and flecked with black. He waved to get your attention but as usual, you were oblivious to your surroundings (and you were a fighter?) so he made his way over to you and tapped you on the shoulder.
Feeling the presence of another person, you turned around to see who it was— if it was anyone worth talking to— and when you saw that it was the (literal) golden boy, you sent him a smile and pulled one earbud out of your ear. “Hey, Adam.”
“Hi,” he replied you, still a little uncertain with less formal greetings. “What are you making? It smells really good.”
“Chocolate chip cookies,” you said. “Peter taught me how to make them. Do you want to try some?”
He looked at what was in the bowl curiously. “What does it taste like?”
“It’s sweet. If you liked the smell I’m sure you’d like the taste. Watch,” you instructed. Then you carefully picked up a small bit that had a chocolate chip in it before you at it. You closed your eyes and hummed at the delicious flavor.
Adam copied your action carefully, even going so far as to close his eyes and make the same sound— and then he repeated it more genuinely as he realized how good it was. You grinned at his reaction. “You like it, huh?” When he nodded, you added, “want to help? I’m almost at the fun part!”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where we make the cookies— this is just the batter,” you explained.
After you both washed your hands, you showed him how to form the batter into matching spheres and line them up on the baking tray. As you worked, you talked about the music you were listening to and even transferred your spare earbud to him so Adam could listen as well. Bohemian Rhapsody had become Starless by the band King Crimson. . . and of their better-known members, Adam Belew. You couldn’t help but find it amusing that Adam had the same name, and that one of the lines was “sundown dazzling day/gold through my eyes.”
As he finished forming one of the last cookies, Adam glanced up to see the hint of laughter in your expression. Although he didn’t know what was funny, he smiled back at you. For some reason that he didn’t understand, he was happy that you were happy; it was an emotion that you didn’t really seem to show that often, so the rare chance that he got to see it only made it more special. Your grin widened at you leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially: “now comes the fun part!”
He frowned with confusion. “I thought making the. . . cookies was the fun part,” he said slowly, trying out the new word.
“Sort of, but everyone knows the fun part is licking the bowl!” you exclaimed happily. “Like this.” You scraped some of the remaining batter together until it was big enough to eat before you popped it into your mouth. Together you made quick work of the remaining batter and then you put the bowl in the sink. You’d started the oven earlier, so it was ready for the tray.
After setting the timer, you made a face. “Now it’s time for the worst part: doing the dishes. Peter hated doing them so much that we usually just put them in the contamination chamber and chucked them out to space,” you explained with a giggle. “If anyone asked why we had to buy so many new dishes we just said that Peter was really clumsy.” You finished the story with a wistful look, remembering all the fun that you and your siblings had had before the Snap had ruined everything.
Adam wasn’t sure if doing the dishes was really that bad, but the happiness that had been present while making the cookies had slipped off your face, so he figured that it must be an arduous task. Wanting to spare you the discomfort, he offered: “I can do them, if you want. You did most of the work anyway.”
His suggestion pulled you back to the present and you shook your head. “You don’t have to. Since this is your first time having cookies you can just enjoy them. Next time you have to help,” you added playfully, covering up your sadness as you always did with humor— you learned that from your brother, after all.
The golden boy allowed a small smile at that, although he’d picked up on your habit. “I can wash and you can dry?”
You agreed, and soon the task was done. While you waited for the cookies to be finished you answered a few more of Adam’s questions. You found his curiosity refreshing after spending so much time with smart-ass, know-it-all teammates that wouldn’t know how to ask question if it slapped them in their face. (And yes, you did love your teammates— that’s why you could call them out on their stubbornness.)
The cookies were done about fifteen minutes later and you took them out to cool for another ten before you took one for yourself and one for Adam. You sat down next to him and bit into the warm dessert, closing your eyes again to enjoy it. As much as you liked the batter, the finished cookie was definitely better. Adam seemed to agree as he made the same sound of enjoyment from before, causing you to open your eyes and grin at him. “Good, huh?”
“Definitely,” he agreed, and he was finished with his cookie before you were done with yours.
You saw him eye the tray greedily, which caused you to laugh. “Go ahead, you can have another one.”
As he did so, the other members of the Guardians entered the room, apparently drawn by the same scent that Adam had smelled. Kraglin took his with a nod of thanks, stuffing one in his mouth as he left the room. Viola took one as curiously as Adam had, seeing as she’d never had a cookie either.
“You can take some to the other kids,” you told her— you’d made a double batch since they were pretty popular, so there was plenty. She thanked you as well and took some extra for her friends.
Then, it was Rocket’s turn. After the rest of his reactions to whatever you did, you found yourself holding your breath as you waited for his opinion. It only took a moment before he pronounced: “not bad, Little Quill.” You perked up at that, eyes wide with hope that you had finally done something right— something that Peter couldn’t do better than you. But Rocket wasn’t done: “not like Quill’s, though.”
You slumped in your chair as he took a few extra, oblivious to the effect his words had on you— but Adam noticed. “I think hers are better than Peter’s,” he spoke up quietly.
“Sure, blondie. You ain’t never tried Quill’s though, so ya don’t have a comparison.”
“I don’t need to,” he insisted, glancing over at you. “I know they’re better.”
Rocket scoffed with disbelief but didn’t bother arguing the point (he knew he was right, anyway), and left the room without so much as a thank you. Adam glanced over at your defeated posture; you’d been so confident and happy moments before the other Guardians had come in, but now you seemed to shrink into yourself, as if Rocket’s careless words had physically hurt you. Normally your recovery time after such an incident would be fast so no one else could pick up on your feelings, but this was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back— if you couldn’t do cookies right, what hope did you have for anything else?
You suddenly felt a warm hand settle on top yours, which had been resting on the counter. You looked up sharply, surprised by the touch— you hadn’t been so much as hugged since Peter and Mantis had left. Adam’s expression was sympathetic, but there was a hint of anger in his golden eyes. “You’re not like Quill,” he said.
Unfortunately, you mistook his words after being so used to Rocket’s insults and looked away. You’d expected this sort of thing from him, not from Adam, and the blow hit you harder than anything Rocket had ever said. “I know,” you snapped, taking your hand away from his. “Thanks for the reminder.”
He gave you a confused look since he wasn’t sure what chord he’d struck to cause your reaction. It dawned on him quickly how his words could have been interpreted and he gently took your hand again as he repeated more firmly: “you’re not like Quill. You’re. . . there isn’t anything to compare. You’re not your brother— Rocket shouldn’t expect the same things from you that he did for Peter.” He hesitated for only moment before he added, “I can. . . talk to him, if you want.”
As he’d spoken, you realized you’d made a mistake and your initial thoughts had been right: Adam wouldn’t use your brother against you. You felt guilty for jumping to conclusions and gave him an apologetic look. Then, his words really sank in; a statement about how special your uniqueness was from someone whose society was literally carbon copies made your face heat up at the impact of his sentiment. You found that you couldn’t look him in the eyes and lowered your gaze to your still-connected hands. “I— thank you,” you said softly. “I just wish Rocket would see that. You don’t have to talk to him— I should be able to do that myself; I’ve been his teammate for longer, after all. But. . . I really appreciate it.”
His expression softened as he squeezed your hand, which inexplicably made your stomach roll nauseously (but in a good way, like when Peter would do loop-the-loops with Milano’s pod.) “Anytime, Little Quill.”
And just like that, “little Quill” went right back to being an endearing nickname.
#adam warlock#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock x y/n#adam warlock x you#will poulter x reader#will poulter#marvel x reader#will poulter imagine#gotg imagine#gotg v3#guardians of the galaxy#adam warlock imagine#mcu fic#mcu x reader#adam warlock fluff#adam warlock fanfiction
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𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as abuse, gore, blood, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your marriage is marred in misery with no escape in sight... until he shows up at your door. (Part of the Illuminate AU)
Characters: Adam Warlock
Note: I hope ya'll like this one. I know it's a new and not so popular character.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The bin crashes down into the shrapnel of plastic and trash littered across the kitchen tile. Shane kicks an empty yogurt cup as you stare down in futility as the mess. If he didn't insist on the cheap bags, they would tear so easily but you're not stupid enough to say so.
"I work all fucking day and come home and you want me to take out the goddamn trash! Now look!"
You gulp, batting your eyes at him, paralysed in fear. You can't make your body move. You should grab a new bag and clean it all up, insist that he go sit down and you'll do the work. He doesn't give you a chance for all that as he lunges at you.
You step back on your heel with a squeak, caught around your neck as he spins and swings you around with him. He hooks a foot around yours, bringing you easily to your feet, bending you over the stinking potato skins as your arms shake. You fight to keep him from mashing your face into the garbage.
"And where's dinner? What am I supposed to eat? Maybe you should swallow this all up and you'll realise the sort of bullshit I gotta come home to," he snarls, "stupid fucking bitch."
“I’m s-sorry,” you croak, throat scraping as you try to swallow a sob, “I’ll… I’ll clean this up–”
“Damn right you will,” he barks and jerks you as he rips his grip from your neck, “useless…”
He kicks a plastic tray at you before he stomps off, leaving you to stare at the mess. You sit back on your heels, quivering, and exhale slowly. You shift and reach behind you, opening the cupboard under the sink to retrieve a new bag.
You peel it open and gather up the garbage, piece by piece, focusing on the task as you ignore the odor and the occasional moisture that smears on your hand. As you get it tied up, you stand, choking on your tears as they spill out unstemmed.
You sneak out the back door and carry the bag around the side of the house. You keep your chin down, hoping your neighbours don’t witness your despair. You come up to the gray bin and lift the lid, shoving the bag inside and letting it close with a thunk.
You grab the handles and wheel it away from the siding, the large container rattling as you force it along the uneven grass and onto the walkway. The wheels bounce on the cracks in the pavement and you stop to pull open the white picket fence, paint flaking away beneath your touch.
You continue on and guide the bin to the curb, letting it rest there as you sniffle and try to shake away the last of your weeping. You can’t go back inside like this. If he sees you crying, it will only make him angrier.
You look across the street at the other houses; they’re all nicer than the rundown rental you share with Shane. Where the leaves are strewn in a layered carpet across the mulch of your lawn, the others have the autumnal canopy neatly raked into piles. When you asked for him to grab the rake, his answer was especially bruising. So you’ll see if you can’t get to it tomorrow.
You sigh and turn on your heel, squeaking as you nearly collide with another. You didn’t hear or see the man approach. There was no shadow in his approach, no footsteps scuffing to warn you. You press yourself to the bin as you look up at him. Your chest compresses under some unseen force as the air is forced from your lungs.
You try to apologise for your carelessness but your lips can only form the singular stutter, ‘s-sorry’ as your voice is trapped in your breathless throat. You stare at the man. It’s almost as if he had been waiting for you to turn around.
The leather jacket, the patch sewn on the left-side of his chest, the cool confidence of his posture, they all assure you of who he is. Of the danger he carries with him. You blink up dumb, waving in front of your chest as you try to eke out a single noise, pleading with him not to be angry.
His pale blue eyes twinkle as his smiles, a soft crinkle beside his eyes as the dimming night limns his long face. If Shane saw you standing here with this man, of any, he would lose his mind. You have to get back inside. You have to get away from this stranger.
“No sorry,” he says, his voice rocky but not unkind, “I am in your way.”
He slowly steps aside, retreating as he goes to rest his hand on the post of the white picket gate. He waits expectantly, waving you within as his smooth, deliberate movements fill you with dread. There is a carelessness in him which betrays fearlessness. You will never know what it’s like to not be hounded by inexorable dread. It both irks you and scares you.
You make yourself move. You cross the sidewalk and enter through the open gate, as he looms over you. His gaze is hot on you, clinging and suffocating. Your heart hammers with adrenaline. If there is anyone you fear more than Shane, it is these men and their black leather shadows.
“Have a good night,” he says as he pulls the gate shut between you, “I hope whatever makes you sad does not keep you awake…”
You can breathe again. You gulp in air and fold your hands in front of you. You turn to the man and nearly gasp. There’s something eerie in how he lurks, in how he is both draped in shadow but shines among it.
“Good night,” is all you can get out.
“No moon,” he says as he draws his hand away from the wooden post, “it will be a good night for rest.”
He puts his hands in the deep pockets of his leather jacket. His breath fogs around him, billowing over his shoulders as he strides through it. You watch his silhouette as he departs, his footsteps make no noise and the night seems to close in around him until you can see him no longer.
You shudder and hug yourself as you back up. You turn, fighting a tugging that tries to keep you outside. You head back between the house and the fence as a chill creeps up your spine.
Your stomach pits as a sudden desolation overwhelms you. You feel hollow and heavy, as if you could collapse right there. You can’t, you have to make dinner. You won’t get much sleep if Shane goes hungry.
🌑
Shane leaves at the usual time. His shifts at the factory are your only escape. They don’t always feel like that as you spend the hours worrying about his return. About what mistake he’ll find when he gets home. So your time is spent still keeping him happy, though you’ve never managed that.
Along with the endless list of chores come those thoughts. Those regrets and questions of how it ended up like this. On when he started to hate you. On when you decided to accept that.
You pull on one of his flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. You dig out some gardening gloves from the shed and take the rake with you as you put your mind to clearing the lawn. The autumnal air is crisp but fresh. It’s almost refreshing.
You come out to the front of the house, starting at the walkway, clearing it of the leaves, brushing them onto the grass. From there, you drag the teeth of the rake away, pushing the growing pile towards the corner of the fence.
Sweat beads on your forehead and dampens beneath the layers of clothing. You huff out a thick hot breath into the cold air. The briskness sneaks down the back of your collar and chills you.
“The winter is close,” the statement startles you from your work.
You plant the rake and grip the handle, facing the figure outside the fence. It’s the same man. Your lips part but you can’t say a word.
“Can you feel it?” He asks.
Your jaw chatters. His eyes fall to your lips as you try to hide it. He steps forward and sets his hands on the points of the fence, leaning in.
“It’s colder when you are alone…” he says.
You furrow your brows and shake your head, “I am not…”
You look back at the house and he chuckles. You turn back to him and bring your other hand to the wooden rake handle. He considers the leaves on the ground with interest. He pushes himself straight. He seems taller than before.
“Are you not?” He asks cryptically. “This is a lot of work for only one.”
You shrug, unsure how to answer.
“I can help.”
Your mouth is dry and your tongue is sticky. You make yourself talk.
“I don’t know you…”
“Adam,” he says pointedly, “my name is Adam. Tell me your name, then we will know each other.”
You speak before you think. As if you didn’t have a choice. Even if reluctance needles at the back of your mind, knowing that Shane would not want you to speak to this man, your name tumbles out as if you owe it to the stranger. Adam.
“Beautiful,” he remarks as he nears the fence, reaching over to the clasp, “let me help.”
“N-no,” you drag the rake with you and catch the gate as he lifts the latch, “please–”
“You must rest,” he shows his palm in a strange gesture, sweeping it in front of you, “you are dizzy and feel unwell. You need to sit down.”
Silver stars speckle in your vision and you feel the world shift under your feet. You look down and clutch the rake tight, feeling as if you might fall over. You let go of the fence and take a step back as you touch your forehead.
“I am… lightheaded,” you admit, confused at how suddenly it come upon you.
He pushes the gate inward and enters. He shuts it with a gentle metal clink and grips the rake above your hand. You recoil, letting him have it as your limbs grow heavy. He leans the tool against the fence and turns to you again.
“Please,” he puts a hand on your arm, the contact filling your head with smoke, “sit down, bunny.” He ushers you to the front steps and helps you sit there. He braces your shoulders and bends over you, “you will not move until I bid.”
You look at him, confused but comforted by his touch. You nod. He pulls his hands away, caressing your cheek before he stands straight. You shiver and hug yourself.
He lingers as his zipper cuts in the air. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders and swings it around you, the smell of leather surrounding you. He tugs it snug around you and retreats. You can’t help put pull it tighter as another scent tickles your nose; him.
His boots mulch across the leaves and grass and he grabs the rake. He resumes your work, easily heaping up the clutter, the steady scrape of the tines easing you. You look up and watch him. He is unbothered by the cold despite the thin cotton of his black tee shirt. His muscles tauten beneath the fabric as he works.
You feel sleepy as the pale sky blurs around his stark figure. You’re hypnotised by his steady motions, his easy strength. A strand of his golden hair falls forward as he focuses on the ground, gathering up the leaves with diligent care. Your lashes cling to each other and your eyelids itch.
You hug the jacket closer and dip your nose behind the collar. The weight of fatigue settles over you and coaxes your eyes shut. The rake continues to scrape in your ears even as you sink down into oblivion.
🌒
You wake to blackness. Dark lines trim the corners of the room as slowly your vision lifts to a dull gray. The night stares in through the windows, frosted with the slow creep of winter. The wind howls and rattles the pane in the frame. The cold looms outside like a spectre but does not enter.
You are warmer. Too warm. Your body heat enshrines you beneath the quilt pulled to your chin. Despite your want to escape from the stolid cocoon, you do not move. A languid weight keeps you at peace despite your discomfort.
You’ve never felt like this, so calm. There’s a dull tapping at your skull that tells you to worry, to be afraid, but it’s quickly smothered and forgotten. Why should you be? You are home and safe in bed.
You let your eyes close and hum. You just want to sleep, to slip away and never wake up. You drift, mind skewing as if you’re floating on a tide. Then it swells and crashes over you with the dark growl that seeps in through the wall.
Your breath hitches and your lashes snap open. Your ears itch as you listen, trying to hear through the plaster. There are soft, muted murmurs but nothing discernible. You quiver as you hang in the limbo; do you stay or get up?
Slowly, you bring your hands up and pull the quilt away from your face, peeling it with effort past your chest. Cool air sweeps over you, urging you to nestle back beneath the patchwork. You hear it again, like a beast it grits deep through the air, gravelly and harsh.
Sitting up is difficult. That same dizziness blurs your mind. You squeeze your eyelids shut and bid away the echoing auras. When you look again, the world is steady. You stand without reaching for the lamp. You wade through the darkness like quicksand, each step impeded by unseen bounds.
At the door, you wait, hand on the knob, brass cold to the touch. You inhale and taste the air wafting in around the frame. It’s sharp and frigid.
You turn the knob and lift the door on its hinges. You peek down the hall, it’s dark but for the orange flicker glowing from down the hall. That house, the place you call home, the walls you could etch from memory, is suddenly strange and sinister.
You let go of the door and tiptoe out, the voices drawing you in. The conversation garbled in your fuzzy ears. It isn’t until you get closer that you can make out the words. That you recognise the familiar tones.
“What.. are you… waiting for?” Shane’s words are interspersed with moist gulps and groans.
A snicker, short and stony. There’s little humour in the laughter. Adam replies, “justice.”
“You…criminals are all the same,” Shane utters through laborious breaths, “bunch… freaks… like you… should leave… this town.”
“We own this town,” Adam says, “there would be nothing but dirt if it wasn’t for us freaks.”
A hork and the wet splat of spit on the floor jolts you. You stop just before the doorway, shuddering as you hesitate and look back down the hall. You can go back to bed and hide. If you do, you might wake up and realise it’s all just a rotten nightmare.
“Come on, bunny,” Adam calls to you.
You spin back, finding yourself still alone with only the lip of the wall between you and the flickering amber light. You put your hand on the plaster and your other on your chest. He cannot mean you.
“I hear you,” he says evenly, “we’ve been waiting for you.”
You put your foot out and slowly reveal yourself. You turn and face the room from the doorway. You see the single taper burning on the mantel and the tall shadow beside it. Adam lurks with his straight-shoulder but slack posture.
There is another, in one of the wooden chairs from the dining set, slumped and held up by knotted leather belts. You can see only the back of Shane’s oily black hair. You come forward, eager but terrified to see more of him.
His right eye is swollen shut, a cut weeping beneath, and his lips dribble blood down his chin. He leans forward, kept upright only by his bounds. His breathing is rickety and shallow. He looks at you with his left eye and grunts.
“...bitch…” he mutters under his breath, “slut…I always… knew…”
“Ah ah ah,” Adam tuts and makes himself taller. Shane flinches and swallows loudly, choking on his split and blood, “you mustn’t value your tongue very much.”
Adam reveals a long dagger, the orange glint of the candle reflecting off of it. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before. The metal is both dark and gleaming, a perfectly forged fuller down the middle of the blade.
You turn as you stand transfixed by the sight of your husband. Only then do you notice the scarlet leaking down the front of the wooden armrest, staining deep the veins of the wood. There are three fingers remaining on his right, and one less on his left hand. You cup your mouth behind your hand, catching a scream before it can erupt.
“Shhhhhh,” Adam hushes as he presses himself to your back, “I only had a sampling…”
“What have you done?” You whisper as you gape at the ruin of the man before you. His clothing is shredded so that it reveals the long gashes on his chest and the slices down his thighs. “Why…”
“The strong should protect the weak, not harm them,” he bends and nuzzles your hair, “but more, the weak are not helpless.”
“I don’t understand…” your eyes sting as Shane clenches his jaw and glares at you. How often you saw that same glimmer in him. That sheer hatred that made you wonder if he ever loved you.
“You understand,” Adam’s hand trails down your arm and he pulls you around. He presses the handle of the dagger against your palm and closes your fingers around it, “you know exactly what must be done.”
“Please, I can’t…” you whimper, “you… you hurt him. You’ve…” you look at Shane again, “how could you?”
“I could have cut his heart out by now,” Adam sneers, “but I do not own that.” He squeezes your hand, “it is not mine to take.”
“What…”
“I know what he does. He will not stop. Not until you are dead,” Adam insists as he raises the dagger, his hand still around yours, “or he is.”
He drags you towards Shane and aims the tip of the blade at the slouched man’s chest. He holds it there as you shake, whining as you try to free yourself. His strength is unbending and unbroken. He puts a hand on your back, gripping you tight as he keeps the dagger steady.
“I cannot free you, you must do it yourself…”
You close your eyes. This must be why the townsfolk whisper of the men in leather. Why they scatter at the sight of them. Murderers! Monsters!
“Please–”
“He has made you weak,” Adam purrs into your hair, “I have come to make you strong.”
“No–”
“Yes, you must,” he growls along the rim of your ear, “remember all he has inflicted on you. The names he’s put upon you; bitch, slut, useless, nothing…” he hisses as his hand crawls up to your neck, “how he broke your nose on your wedding night.”
Your heart races, pounding in your ribs. How could he know that?
“How he put your hand on the lit burner when you forgot to buy milk,” he continues, your shaky grasp tightening as your tears crest and fall free.
“Or how just the other day, he would have rubbed your nose in garbage like an incontinent mutt–”
“Stop!” You cry out, “stop! How do you know–”
“I know a beast when I see one,” Adam turns his head, his cheek against your temple, “I know a rabid one should be put down before it can maul again.”
“But… but… I love him,” you sniffle.
“Do you?” He lets his hand fall away from yours but you don’t rescind your reach, you don’t move the dagger away from Shane, “does he love you?”
You know he does not. He never did. You were only ever the stupid girl who fell for him. You realised too late what he really was and now you were trapped for life.
You would be miserable with him until the day you died. Not because he loves you, but because he loves to hurt you.
The tip sinks through the flesh without resistance. You're stunned as you do not stop yourself from letting it further, from pushing it through the layers of fat and muscles, leaning into it until you can’t force it any deeper. You watch the steel bury into him as blood spurts out around your hand and sprays up your sleeve.
Shane does not scream. He cannot as you pierce his heart. His head falls forward and his body goes limp. You keep a hold of the hilt and jerk it as try to wrench it even deeper.
Your hand is slick with his blood and slips off. You raise a fist instead and hit his lifeless shoulder. You hit him again on the head, another strike to his stomach, and a kick for good measure.
You bring your hands up and look at your blood stained hand, your other palm streaked with flecks of his death. You heave and try to scream but you cannot. You collapse to your knees and keel over onto your elbows.
You should cry but you cannot. Your tears evaporate as grief eludes you. It should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt? You’re not sad, but you’re not happy. No, you are free.
The floorboards creak and you raise your head as Adam kneels beside you. He touches your chin as his other arm slings around you. He pulls you to him and presses his lips to your temple.
“They will find him,” he caresses your cheek as he speaks, “but they cannot take you if you are with me.”
“Take me?” You ask dumbly.
“They will call you murderer, they will lock you up,” he coos, “I will keep you safe, bunny.” He dips his hand back down and nudges your chin up. He looks down at you, eyes shining silver in the candlelight, “I will keep you happy.”
#adam warlock#dark adam warlock#dark!adam warlock#adam warlock x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#illuminate#au#werewolf au#series#marvel#mcu
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Masterlist!
🍯 Fluff
🌶 18+
🫧 Reader favourite!
🐚 New!
Jack Thompson x Reader
Distraction 🌶
Night Shift 🌶
Barney Stinson x Reader
Fixing the Yips 🌶
Adam Warlock x Reader
Firsts Series
Butterflies 🍯🫧 [the first time he told you he had feelings for you]
Kiss Me, You Idiot 🍯 [y/n is Adam’s first kiss]
Tell Me More 🌶🫧 [Adam is aroused for the first time]
Like a Gold Statue 🌶 [y/n helps Adam unwind for the first time]
We’re Okay 🍯 [Adam & y/n disagree for the first time]
Indestructable 🍯🐚 [Adam tells y/n he loves her for the first time]
coming soon… 🌶
coming soon… 🌶
Minho (TMR) x Reader
Firsts with Minho
Tease 🍯 [the first time Minho admits he’s attracted to y/n]
Third Row Back 🌶
Loki x Reader
coming soon…
#masterlist#fandom imagine#fics#marvel fics#himym fics#jack thompson#jack thompson x reader#jack thompson smut#adam warlock#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock smut#barney stinson#barney stinson x reader#barney stinson smut#loki x reader#minho x reader#chad michael murray#chad michael murray x reader#chad michael murray smut#will poulter#will poulter x reader#will poulter imagine#nph#neil patrick harris#neil patrick harris smut#nph x reader#tom hiddleston#tom hiddleston x reader#ki hong lee#ki hong lee x reader
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These are all the fics I've read in May. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic
🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff I 💧 - angst | 😈 - dark
Dividers by @saradika
Bucky Barnes
🔥 Headstrong by @flordeamatista
💗🔥 Bedtime Story by @jobean12-blog
🔥 Neighbourly Love by @/jobean12-blog
💗 Bucky Barnes x reader by @maivolpe
🔥 Needy by @targaryenvampireslayer
💗🔥 Love From Afar by @bluehourbucky
💗🔥 Bucky makes sure you know you're his first choice by @like-what-the-fuck-scoob
💗 Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together by @golden-barnes
💗 Dance with the Devil by @rookthorne
💗 Imagine Bucky calling you at work by @lives-in-midgard
💗 Booked on a Feeling by @intrepidacious
💗 Morning Workout by @sparklefics
Steve Rogers
💗🔥 The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are by @buckets-and-trees
🔥 Give You a Ride by @sstan-hoe
💧💗 His Radiant Sunflower by @witchywithwhiskey
💗 The Berry Sweetest by @brandycranby
Sam Wilson
💧💗🔥 Haven by @fluffyprettykitty
💗 Surprise by @/targaryenvampireslayer
Adam Warlock
🔥 A-Z NSFW Headcanon by @tom-whore-dleston
🔥 Soft Dom Adam by @inklore
Joaquin Torres
💗🔥 Expression by @/fluffyprettykitty
Bruce Banner
💗 Cuddles are the Cure by @late-to-the-party-81
Ari Levinson
🔥 Like Jello by @/late-to-the-party-81
💧💗 Post-Nightmare Cuddles by @ronearoundblindly
🔥 Like a Broken Record by @howdoyousleep3
Ransom Drysdale
💧 Occupy My Brain by @/intrepidacious
💗🔥 Insomnia by @/brandycranby
💧💗 One Night by @honeybloomss
Andy Barber
🔥 On Your Knees by @flwrsforu
💗 Pros and Cons by @navybrat817
Joel Miller
💗🔥 A Sweeter Place by @/flordeamatista
💧💗🔥 Wild for You by @/jobean12-blog
#fic rec#Bucky Barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#Steve Rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfic#sam wilson x reader#sam wilson fanfic#adam warlock x reader#Adam warlock fanfic#joaquin torres x reader#joaquin torres fanfic#bruce banner x reader#Bruce banner fanfic#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson fanfic#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale fanfic#andy barber x reader#andy barber fanfic#joel miller x reader#Joel miller fanfic#reading list
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Bound to the Villain
Pairing: villain!Adam Warlock x guardian!gn reader
Word Count: 995
This fic contains: some dark themes, abduction, reader is captive, corruption, evil arc, reader has some insecurities, unbeta'd writing
Summary: You are more than a guardian of the galaxy in Adam's eyes.
Notes: I said I missed writing for Adam so I said yolo and revisited a WIP I thought I had abandoned long ago. It's way different than what I originally planned but it'll do for now. Who knows I might write a part 2 with a little extra something something ;) This is my submission for @flashfictionfridayofficial, who I would like to shoutout for sparking inspiration back into my little brain :)
Your eyes fluttered open to what looked like a dungeon cell. As you gained consciousness, you struggled to remember what happened before you blacked out. All you could recall was fighting alongside the guardians of the galaxy. The reason behind the mission was foggy, along with who exactly you were supposed to defeat.
Upon realizing your friends were nowhere to be found, anxiety rushed through your system as you tried to stand and run. However, you failed to move further than a meter as the chains around your wrists sent you crashing to the floor. You winced in pain as the metal tugged your skin.
An ominous chuckle echoed in the room, yet you could not locate the source of the eerie sound. Your head whipped around the room until footsteps against the cobble approached you.
“Who’s there?” You yelled into the void. A tall man with pure golden skin and wispy blond hair emerged from the dark side of the room. You gasped as your eyes set upon a gem in the middle of his forehead. In fact, it was a stone. A stone you and your fellow guardians were awfully familiar with.
The soul stone.
Almost as quick as the snap that blipped your friends away, you immediately realized who you were up against.
Adam Warlock. The perfect man from space created to destroy the guardians of the galaxy.
“What am I doing here? Where are my friends?” You interrogated, masking your fear with an angry voice.
“No need to worry, my little one,” Adam answered. “Those idiots you call your friends are where you and I last saw them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are on their way to find you. Some heroes they would be.”
Goosebumps pricked your skin at Adam’s pet name for you. Then, your stomach flipped as you worried about the safety of the other guardians.
Were they really out there looking for you? The whole reason your team had been roaming the galaxy was in search of Gamora. Unlike you, Gamora was a stronger and more skilled fighter. Not to mention, Peter was still madly in love with her and refused to stop searching until she was found. You were intelligent, in fact, the most intelligent of the group. Hence, why you felt like an outcast most of the time, but maybe just this one time, you were wrong.
What really plagued your mind was what drove Adam Warlock to keep you of all the guardians as his prisoner.
“You kidnapped me? Why?”
The golden man laughed, kneeling to your level on the ground. “You know, I always pegged you as the smart one of the guardians.”
You cocked a condescending smile. “Perhaps their stupidity rubbed off on me.”
Adam matched your snarky smile. “My main purpose may be to destroy you and your beloved friends, but I realized there is more to my being than death and destruction.” His gloved finger lifted your chin up so you were forced to gaze into his eyes. The gesture made your breath falter as his eyes pierced your soul.
“I may be powerful, but I am also lonely. I have desired a mate since my birth and when I was fighting you and those morons on Knowhere, I was instantly drawn to you.”
You wanted to be infuriated, disgusted even, by his statement. Yet, your body betrayed you as your cheeks warmed up and you arched your back away from the wall. This made Adam’s grin grow wider.
“As smart as you are, you’re not very strong. It was very easy to use my powers against you and make you crumble to your knees. And there is no doubt why.” Adam leaned closer to you.
“Your mind and heart are wounded. You loved and lost so many that you latched onto others who are as broken as you are. You hide your emotions to avoid getting hurt again. You’re just like me, little one. You’re lonely. But don’t mind that anymore, I can fix all that. Be my mate, and you will never have to be hurt or lonely again.”
You conjured all of your strength to swing a punch at his face, yet the chains ricocheted your fist back. A frustrated huff escaped your nostrils as your muscles strained from the attempted attack.
“You know, for someone who was born yesterday, you sure know how to woo a lady. But I’ll have you know, I am not broken.”
The same gloves hand smoothed over your face and down your neck, chills following his touch.
“You can stop lying to yourself, little one. I may have been born yesterday, but even the dumbest creature to plague this galaxy can spot a broken soul.” Now, Adam’s face was only inches away from yours. His hot breath fanned over your lips as if hypnotizing you to close the space between you and him.
All of a sudden, the shackles released from your wrists. Yet, you were unphased by your freedom. You should have knocked Adam to the ground and fled the scene before you could get killed. Instead, you gazed into Adam’s eyes, who extended his hand towards you.
“Take my hand. You will never have to experience pain ever again with me.” You found yourself succumbing to his touch, his voice, and his offer. Yet, at the back of your conscience, you thought about the guardians. How hurt they would be to learn that you chose to side with your enemy. All that time becoming a family with them just for it to go to waste. Your mind became fuzzy from this internal conflict.
“So, what’s it gonna be, little one?”
Your once chained hand interlocked with Adam’s. It felt so natural, and you wondered if you were destined to be the villain. As his plush lips engulfed yours, the darkness clouded your judgment.
If being bound to the villain was wrong, you never wanted to be right again.
Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Adam Warlock Masterlist
header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness
#adam warlock#will poulter#guardians of the galaxy volume 3#gotg vol 3#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock x you#adam warlock smut#adam warlock fluff#adam warlock angst#adam warlock headcanons#adam warlock fic#adam warlock fanfiction#adam warlock imagine#will poulter x reader#will poulter x you#will poulter imagine#will poulter fic#flash fiction friday#fff238
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just a taste
premise: meeting luca after work doesn't usually end up with the two of you in an intense lip lock, both of you knowing once you start it's hard to stop. but that's what offices are for, right?
pairing: luca x (f)reader
word count: 3.1k
contents: literally barely any plot here, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, coming inside, established relationship, doing it at the workplace, teasing, dirty talk, pet names.
note: i know the bare minimum about this man because i’ve never seen the bear but those tattoos, the accent, the hair?? fill me like an eclair is all i have to say ok!
The cool breeze of the night air almost makes you regret not just heading straight home and slipping under the steam of a nice long shower and grabbing the first blanket you see on the sofa and planting yourself there for the rest of the night. Await your boyfriend's arrival under the comfort of cotton and cushion that he’ll surely plop down next to you on after he’s kicked off his shoes. His cold fingers finding you under the blanket to pull you close to his side, a string of kisses pressed along the side of your neck before finding your lips. The smell of yeast and sugar—embedded in his skin at this point—making you bury your nose into his collarbone.
But this was a ritual for the both of you.
You finishing your studies and then meeting him after work.
The two of you walking home together, barely making it through the threshold of your place before lips and clothes were being pressed together and thrown to the floor. Luca’s soft laugh at needing to shower. Thus always leading to your face pressed into the wall of the shower and Luca’s fingers digging into your hips as he thrust inside of you.
So that nibble of regret doesn’t last long when you come to a stop in front of his work. The makings of anticipation pull at the corner of your mouth as you grab your phone from your bag and start to text him to let him know you’re out front.
A text that’s barely on the last word when the breeze of the door is hitting you and making you look up, “you can go in. He's in the back.” a co-worker you’ve met a dozen times, but his name slips your mind as you give him an appreciative smile and thank him as you slip through the doors as he walks out.
You could enter the kitchen a dozen times—a million, a billion—your nose filling with that sweet aroma, Luca bent over a table, a dish, fingers deep in a ball of dough, the monochromatic uniform making his tattoos stand out on his skin like the most beautiful canvas, and you’d never get over the view.
Over how your insides react when you see him in his element.
See him doing what he loves.
It’s like the first time every time.
Just like the first time he dragged you into the kitchen after your tenth date. Showing you his own version of paradise. His love. His joy. The way his face lit up when your eyes brightened when you bit into the scone he had made—saved—for you. The euphoric sweetness a good dessert can do to one's brainstem is still a scientific mystery to you, but you’d gladly leave the research to the experts if you could experience it forever.
Taste Luca’s creations forever.
That memory seems like ages ago. Now well into two years of your relationship.
Nothing seems to fade with Luca.
Your first times feeling just as tortuous to your fluttering insides as the tenth or twentieth time around.
It knocks you off kilter in the best way.
And when you look over at Luca after dropping off your bag and sweater in an open chair, you can not help but laugh when he finally looks up from cleaning off the surfaces of the metal tables and that stone look of him being in chef mode falls from the creases of his face and his features melt into something soft.
He doesn’t say anything until his arm is around your midsection, drawing you in. “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles as your lips meet in a long kiss. Kissing you as if he hasn’t seen you in days, as if he has spent the entire day waiting for this moment and this moment alone. “How was your day?”
“Not as good as it is now,” you tease. Hand in the back of his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours.
The hum that makes your lips buzz and that lands on your tongue as he backs you up so your back is pressed into the doorframe makes anything you could tell him about what happened in your day lackluster. Incomparable. How could you possibly think of anything worthwhile—how could anything be as worthwhile—as his tongue moving along your bottom lip, his hand at the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin?
It couldn’t.
"Let me finish cleaning up," he smirks. Thumb and pointer reaching for your chin, squeezing it, luring you in for one last kiss before returning to cleaning and leaving you dazed in the doorway.
And if you didn’t know how seriously Luca takes this, from the ritual of making pastries to maintaining a stern, clean kitchen, you would tell him to hurry. Complaining that it is not fair for him to kiss you like that and then make you wait for him to finish, but the payoff was always worth the wait. And you love Luca’s love for his craft. Love him in this element—watching him and seeing him go into that little part of his brain that makes him go into boss mode.
The stern gentleness of it all.
It’s breathtaking to watch.
It’s art.
He’s art.
So that’s what you do.
You push off the doorframe and enter further into the kitchen just to watch him.
“How was your day?” You ask while watching him write on the white board in the corner.
“Good. We got a new guy who came in.”
“Is he any good?”
“Better than he thinks he is.”
“I bet you brought out his best. You always do.” You smile at him when you watch him shrug off the compliment, not missing the twitch of the corner of his mouth. Ever so modest.
Wordlessly, he puts the cap back on the marker and sets it against the metal of the board, walking over to one of the refrigerators and pulling out a small bowl of something green and white.
Something that looks too beautifully crafted to eat, let alone eaten by someone who might not fully understand what went into making something so decadent—something that looks like it would be served to someone with a gold card, not someone who eats boxed mac and cheese for dinner twice a week (which Luca always tries to make fancier than Kraft ever could).
Luca hands you a spoon, “told him the only critic that mattered was sharing a bed with me.” You make a face, the both of you knowing how outlandish that sounds when the food genius himself is standing in front of you. The critic who mattered to a lot of people more than the girl who was sharing his bed.
But it still brings a smile to your face.
“Did he think you were utterly insane for such a statement? I think eating greasy takeout two nights in a row is five star dining.”
He chuckles, “you’re the only critic that matters to me.” His palms come down on the edge of the metal table between you as he leans against it. “The only important one at least. Try it.”
The swoop that runs through you from his words, from his eagerness to hear your thoughts on a dessert you do not even know the name of, but know you will appreciate more than anyone else because it came from someone he admires, makes your cheeks heat up.
And when it touches your tongue, when that euphoric sweetness overcomes your tastebuds, you don’t think the English dictionary could come in handy with describing the taste. The goodness of it. Compliments, which you know Luca and his fellow chefs have heard many times before and then some. But still bring that artist's joy to their chests when your eyes widen and you look at them in something akin to shock.
The moan you let out makes him grin.
“Good?”
“Is he single?”
“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” His arms cross over his chest, a playful brow raised.
You take another bite of the dessert, “I think you might want to start looking for another job.”
“And a girlfriend?”
You nod, “with something that tastes this good, I would give him my social security number easily. Oh my god.” You dramatically moan around the spoon, the action doing little to hide the simpering look on your face.
“Here I thought I was the only one who could make you spill such confidential secrets.” Luca strides across the table, coming to stand at your back. His lips pressing against the back of your neck and the top of your shoulder.
Finding its home where your collarbone meets the junction of your throat, where he lets his warm breath blow against the known sensitivity there, then presses his lips to it. Making your back push into his front, your body melting against him.
A soft noise lays dormant at the tail end of your throat, making a ghost of a smirk etch against your skin from his mouth as he murmurs, “and the only one who can make those noises come out of you.”
Your voice is breathy when you say, “so much for being humble.”
"When it’s the truth, I do not need to be humble." His lips trailing to your ear, fingers running up the back of your exposed thighs, pulling up your skirt until they are at the apex of your hip, skating forward and close to your clothed mound. “Am I wrong? Should we see?”
The spoon in your hand lucky you don’t have superhuman strength because it would be crushed in your grip right now.
Luca’s fingers splay themselves across your pelvis, toying with the top of your underwear. “Hmm, awfully quiet now. Where’d my mouthy girl go?” An airy chuckle tickles your ear as he lets it out, “humbled are you?”
There’s a teasing sneer forming on your mouth before it does a 180 and morphs into an ‘o’ as Luca’s fingers push into your underwear, the pad running through the clear as day arousal that’s been making your thighs clench uncomfortably since your kiss in the doorway.
When the finger moves against your clit there's no covering up the gasps that fall from your lips. Or the way your ass grinds against the erection that’s pressing up against it.
“Who’s humble now?” He teases. A cheeky grin on his face when he pulls his hand out from your underwear, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Making your cheeks heat even more when you turn to look at him. Your teasing turns needy as you give him that look, the one that always makes him drop whatever he is doing and have his body on yours within seconds.
You both know that making it home now will feel ten times longer. Ten times more agonizing in the cool air with your warming bodies.
With you soaking your underwear and him hard against his zipper.
So when he says “office”, all you can do is chew on your bottom lip in eagerness as you make a beeline towards it. Luca closer behind you than you expect when you hear the door shut seconds after you’ve entered and his mouth immediately on yours, your ass hoisted onto the nearest surface.
Luca’s fingers making quick work to pull down your underwear, your skirt bunched at your hips. You fully expect him to pull himself up from his knees after slipping the lace from your ankle and tossing it to the floor. You expect him to come back up and slide inside of you quick and easy, but instead he’s trailing kisses and bites into your thighs.
Blue eyes look up into yours, and he must see the need in them—that glint that tells him all you want is for him to be inside of you right now. The heady woes of foreplay just torture at this point.
His teeth sink harder into your flesh, making you gasp. “I’ve worked hard all day; don’t I deserve a treat? A taste of the best dessert out there.”
And how could you argue with that?
You can’t.
Not when his tongue runs from the bite mark in your skin to your wetness. Spreading you around him as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your grip on the metal your ass is under hard and tight enough to leave marks against your palm.
And as crude as it makes you sound, as obscene and cocky as it comes off your lips, you will never hold back from telling Luca that his talent as a chef will never outweigh how good he is with his mouth and cock.
He’s multi-talented and it’s a blessing and a curse to your insides.
“Oh, fuck. Luca,” your head hangs between your shoulders. Your fingers in his hair, the heel of your shoe pressed against his back—his apron long gone, leaving him in that navy blue—his fingers digging into the side of your thighs as he keeps you against his mouth.
The mouth that’s switching between sucking your clit between his lips and rolling his tongue against it. Eating you like you’re the best dessert his tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting.
It never takes him long to get you there. To make your chest heave and your nerve endings light up, as if they are about to make you panic from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that is completely taking over your body.
His fingers have created beautiful, mouth watering food, just as they’ve made you completely lose your mind. Your legs shaking around his head. Your back involuntarily bows until it hits the metal surface of the desk you’re perched on.
It’s when he slips two fingers inside of you that you completely lose it. The sob that pulls itself from your lungs feels red-hot in your throat as your fingers grip the strands of his blonde hair as you come against his mouth. Your hips riding out your high. Rolling against his tongue in a languid way, drawing out the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Your body still reeling and alight with that desire-train that still has it wanting more. That heavy ache between your legs that wants to be filled. To be fucked by something bigger and thicker than a finger.
Your mouth comes down on the tabasco tattoo below Luca’s wrist in a gentle kiss, one of your favorites of his, when his hand comes to cup the back of your head to pull you up to him.
His thumb runs from your cheek to your chin, where he pushes it up, so you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down at you as he stands between your legs. Your nails run along the tattoos along his arms, up his bicep, and to the nape of his neck. A fire burning in his eyes when your fingers run between the strands back there.
“Tell me,” he says close to your lips. He’s checking in. Seeing if you’re too spent for his cock, seeing if there's more you want. If you want to wait until you get home. If you’re ready for him now.
“It’d be cruel to not fuck me now.” You say it in a half-tease-half-serious tone.
“Ooh,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “I don’t want to be cruel.” You can feel his other hand move between the two of you, undoing the button of his pants and messing with the zipper until he’s pulling himself out of them, hard and leaking. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she so desperately needs?”
Luca smirks when you laugh into his mouth, “the worst kind.”
With one last kiss, lick, and nip at your lower lip, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your thighs shake. Nails dig into his skull as he soaks up your oversensitivity to coat himself before going lower and slipping inside of you in one slow, fluid motion.
Your mouth hung open at the stretch, and your breath caught in your lungs. Your foreheads resting against each other as you let your walls accommodate his girth, both of your breaths heavy. The pounding you can feel between your legs—that you’re not sure is coming from him or you or something more poetic and overwhelming like your conjoined bodies aching as one, like a heartbeat aches for a chest cavity when it’s torn from a body.
The two of you need this.
Need each other.
When Luca starts moving, you know the two of you are both completely fucked. Spent and so full of desire that you know your time in this office is just the start of a long night of tangled limbs and wet mouths.
The sounds you are making against each other's mouth are breathy and intoxicating. His tongue in your mouth swallows every mewl and moan he coaxes from your body with each stroke of his cock.
His fingers find the back of your head again, not allowing you to even think about leaving his mouth.
You think you see stars when his palm finds the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher on his hips. Think you could let this man completely consume you, and you’d still never be satisfied. Never get over how good it feels to feel his hips drive deeper into you, to feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes his name roll off your tongue like a prayer.
“Who’s pussy is it, baby?”
"Mm'fuck," you are not sure if he is still playing the game of you leaving him for the new chef or if his filthy mouth is attempting to completely destroy you—which is nothing new when he has you coating and tightening around his cock like this.
When you say his name, when you whine it into his mouth like a pathetic desperation, the erotic noise that it’s met with makes you cling to him tighter. Makes you press yourself closer to him. The movement makes the outside of his pants grind against your clit.
“So beautiful,” Luca murmurs. The octave of his voice grows lower and choppy with heavy breaths the closer he gets. Neither of you lasts much longer when his pace picks up. The grip the two of you have on each other is hard and rough, enough to tear and leave marks that you’ll later kiss with gentle lips, unlike the passion that’s coming through with the hard kisses your mouths are giving as you both come.
“How’d I get so lucky?” He breathes into your mouth, twisting your insides even more.
#luca x reader#will poulter x reader#luca the bear#will poulter smut#luca smut#luca x you#luca the bear x you#the bear#the bear fanfiction#will poulter x you#the bear fx#the bear one shot#will poulter fic#the bear x reader#will poulter#adam warlock smut#luca one shot#the bear imagine
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Reader: name a more iconic duo then my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.
Adam, genuinely trying to bringing you comfort: you and me!
Reader, tearing up: okay.
#source: scatterpatter's incorrect quotes generator#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock fic#adam warlock imagines#adam warlock x you#adam warlock imagine#adam warlock fluff#adam warlock x y/n#mcu x y/n#mcu x reader#mcu imagines#mcu fanfic#incorrect mcu quotes#mcu fic#mcu x you#mcu imagine#marvel x you#marvel imagines#marvel fic#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel x y/n#marvel fanfic#marvel incorrect quotes#Honkai star rail
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Hello! I was wondering how many req do you currently have?
And are any of them for Adam Warlock 🤞😍.
5 and then 2 ideas of my own :)
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Good Omens fic masterlist
A long long time ago (at least longer than this Tumblr has existed) I used to write Good Omens fic, and now that S2 is getting closer every day, here are all my GO fics in one place! they are all Aziraphale/Crowley and all their titles are from Queen songs.
your smile speaks books to me (5k, Aziraphale/Crowley, Anathema/Newt)
Crowley remains rather proud of Instagram. On an average day it rustles up at least two sins - usually Pride and Envy - and on a good day it can hit all seven. He’d been angling for a commendation for it, but Hell typically backdates commendations by decades, centuries even, and now it seems unlikely he will ever get his. Not that it matters.
Having prodded Instagram into being, he left it to fester in the Petri dish of humanity, as he does most of his projects. And as his projects are wont to do, it is now coming back to bite him, like the M25 and automated checkouts sensitive to unexpected items in the bagging area.
Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.
till one day they call your name (6.5k, Adam/Warlock, Aziraphale/Crowley)
“What happened to the one that you did raise, then?” Adam asked. “Instead of me?”
“Blessed if we know,” said Crowley. “Made a hash out of that one, we did. Probably up to his ears in therapy now.”
“Oh, I rather think we did all right,” put in Aziraphale soothingly. “I daresay we were rather good at being godparents.”
“You tried to kill me,” Adam pointed out. “Literally the first thing you did when we met.”
Nine years after almost causing the end of the world, Adam is working backstage in university theatre when he meets a high-strung, melodramatic, manipulative American director who happens to share his birthday.
I Live And Lie For You (12.9k, Bond/Q, Aziraphale/Crowley, Adam/Pepper)
“Absolutely, unequivocally no, you’re not getting a Bentley. Of all the vintage cars in the world, did you have to break into that one?”
“At least ask him where he got it,” says Bond, cajoling.
“He made a pact with the devil,” says Q. “Which you cannot do, as I believe you are already spoken for.”
In which Wensleydale and Pepper grow up and join MI6 so they can continue saving the world. One becomes the youngest Quartermaster in history. The other shoots James Bond.
#all hail the ineffable husbands#devourers of the internet#good omens#good omens fic#aziraphale/crowley#aziraphale x crowley#adam/warlock#aziraphale#crowley#adam young#warlock dowling#pepper#wensleydale
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Two Positives Equal a Negative (Or Something Like That)
PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader
WC: 2.8k (again, a long one. I just can’t seem to write anything short!)
SUMMARY: you’ve always had trouble sleeping thanks your numerous (unfortunate) life experiences. While he hasn’t lived as long as you have, Adam has a similar problem. Fortunately, a Terran phrase that your brother taught you might have the solution that you seek.
WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, fluff, angst if you squint.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: okay, so I accidentally lied and I realized that my last one-shot wasn’t my first official one; I wrote a Natasha x reader several years ago. I just don’t post on here that often so I forgot about it, lol. Anyway, Adam Warlock currently has a chokehold on me so here’s another one-shot for him- the sequel that I mentioned on the last one. I’m tempted to write a Gally one/two-shot, but I’m not familiar with the TMR universe so I’m worried that I’d mess it up.
Also, I know that the phrase is actually ‘two negatives equal a positive,’ but I was drawing on the fact that non-Terrans wouldn’t really remember/understand Peter’s references, and since ‘you’ had only been to Earth during Endgame, you it mixed up.
Part 0 , Part 1
You’d always had trouble sleeping, especially on your father’s planet. There had just been a sense of. . . wrongness that you didn’t need Mantis’ empath powers to feel. It had made you on edge most of the time, alert for the unseen danger that you felt. While this might’ve just been your role as Ego’s protector speaking, you knew that your sister felt similarly. Mantis had once offered to put you to sleep using her powers, which you’d agreed to. Although it had worked, you hadn’t liked the feeling of your emotions being messed with, or the vulnerability that came with sleep. Even though you trusted that your sister wouldn’t hurt you, Ego was a different story entirely.
So, that meant that you were up most of the time with only catnaps and snatches of sleep when absolutely necessary. (Luckily your enhanced stamina helped in this case so it wasn’t terribly detrimental to your wellbeing.) It was hard to hide your unusual sleep patterns on the Milano with your new friends since there wasn’t space to walk around like there had been on Ego’s planet. But the Guardians all had various traumas of their own, so they understood the difficulty of getting peaceful rest. Some nights had even been better than others as Peter would teach you how to play Terran card games, which would then include the rest of the Guardians once you’d learned.
You also liked to sit in the pilot’s chair late at night and watch the darkness of space light up around you. It was funny, really; everyone expected space to be a dark, black vacuum of nothing when it was actually just the opposite. Sure, there was no physical form of life, but space was alive in its own way. As the Milano sailed aimlessly through the stars, you’d pass the orange-red clouds of dust and gas— nebulas. Or the brilliant white-blue of a dying star, or the different hues of blue-black that surrounded you. Space was truly beautiful, which was something that you never tried to take for granted.
But now you were stuck on Knowhere. There were no brilliant colors of space to distract you or friends to play card games with. Mantis was gone— your only source of comfort on those long nights when you’d served your father. You were alone, with nothing but a Zune to distract you as you sat, bored, in the kitchen late into the night. You’d decided on some calmer tunes and were currently listening to the Frank Sinatra playlist you’d curated. A warm mug of tea— which Peter had also introduced you to— sat between your hands as your eyes glazed over, getting lost in your music.
--
As it turned out, Adam wasn’t that great of a sleeper, either. It always felt like there was too much energy running through him to be properly restful— not to mention that, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his mother waiting for him as he flew desperately towards her. And then the explosion would come, jolting him out of sleep as a reminder of his failure.
With a sigh, he pushed back his covers and stood. Since he was already dressed (his mother had always told him to be ready for anything), he made his way to the kitchen where he’d baked cookies with you. It hadn’t been that long ago, but he already missed the comfortable, homey feeling he’d gotten as he formed the batter into spheres with you standing at his side. You had yet to talk to Rocket about how his comments made you feel, but he knew it was because you respected your teammate and didn’t like making a big deal out of things. Thinking about you now, he sort of hoped that he would see you in the kitchen when he got there— but that was a crazy thought; it was the middle of the night! Any normal person would be in a deep sleep by now.
So, it was definitely a pleasant surprise when he came upon you, sitting at the head of the table. Your earbuds were in your ears, as usual, and you seemed to be deep in thought as you absentmindedly traced the rim of your mug with your finger. He was comfortable enough with you to approach you without hesitation, so he took the chair next to yours and nudged you gently to get your attention.
You jumped, startled by the unexpected presence of someone else in the room. At first you had a wild thought that it might be Peter, who came to keep you company as he often had. You were only mildly disappointed to see that it was Adam instead (and this was just because you missed your brother; you were actually quite happy to see the golden boy.) You took out your earbuds and paused your music. “You’re up late. Or early.”
His golden eyes met yours— something you noticed that he did often; it seemed that eye contact was his way of showing that he was listening to you, which always made your stomach flutter pleasantly. “So are you,” he replied. “Can’t sleep?”
“Nah,” you said with a shrug. “You?”
“Me either,” he agreed.
You sat in a comfortable silence together, one so long that you were almost tempted to put your earbuds back in. Maybe this was a one-off thing; you’d never seen him before on your sleepless nights. Maybe he wasn’t used to being up at this hour and just wasn’t as talkative as he normally was with you. But you were also curious; what could a supposedly perfect being be troubled with at night? So, you sighed, and against your better judgement (as you hated to talk about your feelings), you asked, “wanna talk about it?”
But Adam also knew how you were, and he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind just sitting here.” He got to enjoy your company, after all, so he considered tonight to be better than most.
You let out another sigh. As much as you hated getting touchy-feely, the night was already very boring; sitting and not talking would only make it worse. “I don’t mind, actually. I’m used to being around other people when I’m up like this. Talking would make the time pass faster.” You studied his expression for a moment, which was unusually unreadable; it always seemed like he had a kind smile or glance to send your way. “We can start off easy, if you want. Are you up like this every night?”
His expression softened at your willingness to go outside your comfort zone, so he answered honestly. (He had nothing that he wanted to hide from you, anyway.) “Most nights, yeah. What about you?”
“Same,” you agreed. You played with the rubber protective tip on your earbud. “Can’t get to sleep or bad dreams?”
“Both,” Adam admitted. “Although it’s usually the first one.”
You nodded. “Same, again, but for me it’s mostly the latter. You remember when I said that you weren’t the first person to try and kill me?” At his confirmation (because how could he have forgotten that?), you continued, “yeah. It’s mostly that. My father was a great parent,” you finished sarcastically.
When you’d first become friends, you’d shared stories about the Guardians’ adventures— even the ones that had happened before you’d joined the team— although they’d mostly been lighthearted in tone. You’d acted like they hadn’t really affected you and had laughed at the fact that your father’s planet had tried to swallow you whole. Adam sort of wished that your father was still alive so he could fight him for you. While his mother had had her moments of parenting issues, he’d never doubted that she did love him; it was clear that this wasn’t the case with your father.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not really sure what else he could say. Despite everything that had happened to you, you were still a good person; you hadn’t fought the Guardians on your first meeting like he had, which already made you better than him. He wished that there was something he could do (such as getting revenge for you) to help ease whatever burden you were feeling as you often had for him, but there didn’t seem like there was anything that he could do.
“Don’t worry about it,” you replied in a blasé tone, already moving on from your heavy things. “Want to talk about your stuff?”
He shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable to admit his failure to you. He wanted to prove that he was just as capable as you were, and this was one of his worst moments. “I. . . keep thinking about my mother.” His gaze dropped to where his hands were folded on the table, unable to watch your reaction in case you thought worse of him. “How I. . . wasn’t able to save her. I was so close, too. If only I’d been faster—”
You reached out a hand to put it on top of both of his, cutting him off. Yours was much smaller in comparison, barely covering even one of his hands. He looked up at you with surprise, feeling his face heat up at the contact. Your usually jovial expression was uncharacteristically serious as you chided him gently, “stop. Thinking like that never helps, you know. You’ll drive yourself mad if you keep wondering ‘what if.’ I should know.”
While he was relieved that his fears about your reaction were unfounded, he frowned at your last words. “What do you mean?”
You pretended not to notice that your hands were still holding his as you answered, “remember what I told you about the Snap?” At his nod, you continued, “Peter and I were the only ones who weren’t trying to subdue Thanos. My powers are mostly defensive, so they would only anger him, which was the opposite of what we were trying to do. Peter got— understandably— distraught at the news of Gamora’s death and he was practically solely responsible for the Snap.” You sighed heavily, dropping your gaze from him. “As the only other person not doing anything on that planet, I could’ve stopped him, but he was my brother; I couldn’t hurt him. But if I had. . . everything could’ve been so much different. In a way, I was responsible for the Snap, too.”
While he understood your reasoning, he didn’t completely agree with it. You’d filled him in with great detail about the Infinity War, which you’d only learned the missing parts after you’d been brought back. So, he insisted quietly, “Thor could’ve also gone for Thanos’ head, but he didn’t.”
“But Thanos wouldn’t have even gotten to the Terran planet if we’d stopped him on Titan. You see what I mean? These what-ifs really messed with my head— still do. You eventually just have to accept the fact that the situation can’t be changed and learn from your mistakes.” In a lighter tone you added, “I promised myself that the next time I needed to sock it to Peter, I wouldn’t hesitate. Maybe a good hit to the head would knock some common sense back into him.”
Adam chuckled at this, his serious expression lifting. Sensing that you didn’t want to talk about such emotional topics anymore, he changed the subject slightly. “So you’re up every night because of these thoughts? Don’t you need sleep?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got enhanced stamina, so not as much as a regular person,” you said, relieved that he picked up on your hint. “What about you? You’re practically a god yourself.”
He felt his face flush with (pleased) embarrassment at your indirect compliment, even if it was truthful. “That’s part of the problem, I think,” he explained. “All this power. . . it gives me too much energy and. . . I can’t sleep.”
You frowned thoughtfully at your similar predicaments, an idea (admittedly, a stupid enough one that Peter could’ve come up with it) forming in your mind. “Y’know,” you began slowly, “Peter taught me a Terran phrase awhile back. I can’t exactly remember how it goes— it’s like two positives equal a negative, or something like that— and it means that when there’s two good things, it cancels out the bad one. We could try and apply it here.”
He gave you a curious look. “Really? How?”
“Well, since we both can’t sleep— that’s the negative— maybe. . . maybe if we slept. . .” You felt your face burning at your suggestion. “If we slept. . . tog— well, not together-together, I mean— with each— does that sound worse? I—” you struggled to find the right wording that wouldn’t come off as suggestive. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you added hastily, misunderstanding his bemused expression.
“Little Quill,” he teased you lightly, “you haven’t even gotten the question out.”
Oh. You only felt even more embarrassed. “Do you want to sleep in my room?” you finally managed to blurt out, burying your face in your hands, unable to look at the boy across from you.
Instead of taking offense or making fun of you as you’d expected, Adam seemed to actually consider your offer. “Do you think it would work?”
At his question, you dropped your hands to your lap and shrugged, though your face was still very red. He seemed remarkably unflustered, not that you could tell if he was (damn his beautiful golden skin— wait, what?) “I don’t know,” you mumbled, still refusing to look at him. “I can only sleep if I feel safe, and there’s only one person I ever felt that way with— Mantis. But. . . now I think that includes you, too.”
Adam couldn’t help the bright smile that formed on his face at your words, the thought that you felt safe with him (especially after everything that he’d done to you and your friends) meant more than he could say. The thought that you would willingly be vulnerable in his presence made his stomach feel enjoyably— and inexplicably— nauseous. “I feel safe around you too,” he replied without hesitation. “And. . . I wouldn’t mind trying it.”
--
Not long after, the two of you returned to the room you were renting in the dorm-style building. Since neither you nor Adam had family to speak of (and were also short on funds), you’d both found rooms in a tenant building that had lots of other people, many of whom had lost their homes during the Guardians’ most recent adventures. Luckily you’d gotten a room to yourself, though you had to share basic facilities with everyone else.
“You can sleep in the bed since this was my idea,” you offered. You were still in what you considered your pajamas, so you just had to gather some spare blankets and pillows.
Adam shook his head, against the thought of you making accommodations for him. “I can sleep on the floor. You shouldn’t have to give up your bed.”
“It’s not like I use it much anyway,” you joke, pulling the covers back. “But if you’re seriously against me sleeping on the floor, I guess we could. . . share?”
He seemed not to mind your proposal as he agreed readily, and after taking off his shoes, he made to get in when you spoke again with a confused look on your face. “You. . . sleep in your clothes? No wonder why you can’t get comfortable!”
Adam seemed to not understand your comment. “You sleep in your clothes.”
You laughed a little at his observation. “These are sleep clothes, not everyday clothes. At least take off your jacket,” you reasoned.
But as he did so, you realized why he hadn’t gotten more comfortable: there was nothing except chiseled chest under his clothes. You blushed and tried (but failed) not to stare as he got into bed next to you, admiring the way his muscles flexed with his movement. Luckily he seemed to not notice your attention as he settled next to you. There was a sizeable gap between you two despite the bed not being very big, one that you wished you had the guts to close. (Wait— again, what?)
You wondered how you’d ever get to sleep with all that muscle right behind you (okay, this one you could admit freely), but somehow, in the quiet stillness of your dark room, the safe, peaceful feeling lulled you into the first restful slumber that you’d had since your siblings had left months ago.
--
And if you woke up the next morning, curled up against Adam’s chest with his arm wrapped around you protectively, neither of you bothered to say anything about it.
#adam warlock#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock x y/n#adam warlock x you#adam warlock imagine#will poulter x reader#will poulter imagine#mcu#marvel x reader#mcu x reader#marvel imagine#mcu fic#adam warlock fluff#sharing a bed trope#gotg v3#gotg imagine#guardians of the galaxy#adam warlock fanfiction
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