#it's turning into a cinematic universe lmao
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@chaosbled : Chuuya had been quietly agonizing about this day for weeks. He and Verlaine had only recently grown close, thanks in no small part to the Flags encouraging him to reach out. He’d been angry at the older man for… a long time. But he could see that Verlaine was making an effort to understand Chuuya, & respect their differences. The last few months had been… painful, & Chuuya had found himself venturing down to visit the blond more & more. It was the first time he’d ever really felt like he had an older brother; the only bond he had he could compare it to was Anesan. It made him want to give him something meaningful — but what could he give Verlaine that the man couldn’t buy for himself if he truly desired it… He’d tried asking Rimbaud for ideas but the man had simply told him to follow his heart… which was probably French cryptid for ‘I have no idea’. It wasn’t as though Verlaine had any family besides the two of them he could ask. Wait… family… that was it.
He went down to the subterranean floor of the Mafia HQ & greeted Verlaine the same way he often did. Still unsure if he wanted to give Verlaine something so embarrassingly personal. The redhead was nearly finished his cup of tea when he felt a sudden burst of courage & grasped onto it tightly. “I know it’s your birthday.” He blurred out, internally cringing at how fucking awkward he sounded. “I-I mean, Rimbaud mentioned it a few months back… I’ve got something for you, but you have to promise to be honest with me if you don’t like it so I can take it back & get you something better.” He remembered a time when he had little to his name & all his gifts were handmade… the Sheep had never been particularly enthusiastic about a handwritten poem or a jar of cool seashells he’d collected. So he was a bit conflicted now; what if Verlaine hated it?
To my dear older brother, the cover page said in the corner. Inside the book was… well, it was almost a collage, of sorts. Images of Yokohama, random locations — no, actually. Images of places significant to them. The bridge, Yamashita park, Old World, the clearing where Guivre had been summoned… with little sentences written under each in calligraphy. You were the reason it all began… the second page had a picture of France, near the city where Verlaine was created. …& the reason I’m here at all. The third was a picture of the freshly created crater in Suribachi, long before the settlement started being rebuilt. It seemed to tell a story as he flipped through it.
You weren’t always here, & that really is a shame… but those that matter most in our lives sometimes take a long time to appear. Battered photographs of Chuuya, ages eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve & on, various stages of his life, from a blank-eyed scraggly little boy to a fierce, lost teenager. Salvaged from the stray Sheep he’d managed to keep in touch with & his own personal possessions. I had to grow without your guidance, & maybe sometimes I wonder what might have been if things were different. But I don’t regret meeting you when I did. Beneath that was a snapshot one subordinate had taken of one of their training sessions, when he was 16. Because despite everything…
A photo of Chuuya on his wedding day, when he’d dragged Verlaine in front of the camera because ‘if I have to take these cheesy ass family of the groom photos so do you!’ The text beneath it read: you were there for me during the most important moments. That’s why… Close to the end, a photo of the two of them, taken by Dazai of all people when Chuuya convinced Verlaine to show him how he braided his hair, & snapped the photo to both of their surprise, his husband could even sneak up on assassin spies, apparently.
I cannot regret what was never meant to be. We might not share blood or DNA, but our existences are forever intertwined. None of us ask to be born, but I don’t want you to mourn the fact that we were, or what opportunities were lost, I just want you to be AMAZED any of us ever got to be here at all. — Love, your little brother, Chuuya.
On the final page was a very official looking documents, belonging to the redhead, one of which he had to do a lot of digging to even find in the first place. It was his birth certificate, his legal one. The one beside it… a certificate of adult adoption.
“I don’t need parents.” Chuuya said, ever so softly. “I haven’t in a very long time, but…” You freed me from a date worse than death. You taught me everything I know about combat. You protect me & are there when I need it most. “Japan allows anyone to adopt individuals older than fifteen so long as both parties consent, & that the adoptee is at least one day younger. The Mafia also follows the tradition that the one who mentors you is, essentially, your guardian. So… if you wanted to…” This would make us truly family, regardless of circumstances of birth.
He clasped his hands together anxiously, & waited.
the days blend together down in the sublevels of the mafia headquarters. not that verlaine really pays much attention to the date of march 30th, for he is an inhuman thing created to be a weapon. he was not born, he does not have a birthday. and yet... i know it's your birthday. the older man pauses mid-sip of his tea at the words. icy eyes glance towards his brother to watch his expression and see how he seems to shuffle in place like a child. this means something to him, just as it means something to rimbaud.
birthday; the anniversary of the day one is born. verlaine was not born screaming into this world. he does not remember the day he was created, only remembers that one day he simply started existing. but that was no. 12, that pitiful thing meant for destruction. verlaine, paul verlaine, was given a birthday. the day he was given a name, given an identity beyond a number. the day he took his freedom. today is the anniversary of the day verlaine came into existence. " of course arthur would tell you. " the former assassin sets down his cup to give chuuya his full attention.
he has no idea what to expect for a birthday present. rimbaud had given him a hat but that had a purpose; it had been a tool for his protection. verlaine does not want for much now, not with the mafia on the rise and his release from his self-exile. when the book is initially set in front of him, verlaine doesn't know quite what to think. well, the first thing he thinks is how nice chuuya's handwriting has gotten.
a scrap book? verlaine flips to the first page and recognizes the locations instantly. meaningful locations. places where he made memories with chuuya -- both good and bad. he turns the page. france, a place of heartache. he knows those trees well; the details of the scenery the only thing he could fixate on while his body moved on its own like a puppet on strings. he remembers autumn, wishing to fall dead like those leaves.
the third page depicts the aftermath of arahabaki. it's a night he still remembers most vividly. chuuya had been so frail when the two spies had extracted him from the facility. verlaine remembers putting his coat around him to keep him warm, remembers how small he had been as he carried the child on his shoulders. something had sparked in him that night, something fierce and defensive. the idea of such a small, innocent child growing up to be like him made him sick. verlaine realizes now that it's the same feeling he gets when he sees chuuya in danger, when he sees him broken and in pain. the desire to protect.
the next set of pictures are new to him. it's chuuya growing up. he couldn't protect him, he couldn't whisk him away to some secret countryside where he would never know his origins. he's lonely and lost. he's like verlaine. he never wanted chuuya to be like him. the next photo makes the blond pause. it's a picture when he was training chuuya. the teenager is serious, concentrating on flattening his opponent with all of his strength. and verlaine is smiling with something light and lively in his eyes. this is when he had found is love for teaching.
chuuya's wedding at had been a special day. even if he didn't trust dazai -- as no smart person would -- verlaine could not deny the happiness he gave chuuya. he remembers talking to the boss after the two had gotten engaged, demanding answers and making mild threats because chuuya's heart must be protected. and that brilliant, cunning bastard dazai had said the one thing he had needed to say to make verlaine understand: chuuya is a lot like rimbaud, isn't he? verlaine stares down at the picture, at the way chuuya has his arm hooked around his brother so he cannot flee from the photo. he's grinning; they both are now. even if his initial plan had failed so steal a258 had failed, chuuya still ended up happy.
the last photo is one verlaine has never seen before and yet it is of him and chuuya. sneaky dazai, he is the only one capable of taking a photo of someone as paranoid as verlaine. he's in the middle of braiding his hair with chuuya looking up at him with fingers messily trying to copy him with his own fiery locks. it's so terribly mundane for a port mafia executive and the former king of assassin's. but isn't that the point? to have something gentle and boring and brotherly in their lives?
verlaine catches the documents as they begin to slip out. he looks at them curiously before realization of what they are slowly melts onto his face. " chuuya. " these emotions within him, swirling like a storm, how could someone ever write code for what he is experiencing? when verlaine had pulled chuuya from that black liquid into the world, when he found the conviction to save him from this life of pain, part of verlaine had wanted to stay with chuuya in that quiet village. even then he had felt the connection between them; the same connection that had verlaine calling chuuya brother when they met again nine years later. all this time, that fierceness in his heart, had it been a longing? a longing for a family? a longing now held in his grasp in the form of adoption papers?
family, not only in feeling, but in right. family, despite verlaine's inhumanness. family, despite them both know what they truly are. he reacts before he can think, pulling chuuya into a hug and holding the young man against his chest. he isn't frail or small anymore -- chuuya has grown up and has found a life for himself. one that is still full of bloodshed but can also be real and true. a life he now invites verlaine to be a part of. what a beautiful birthday present: to have a place to belong.
" merci, mon frère. je serai heureuse d’être ta famille. "
#chaosbled#𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 : LINES OF CODE / IC#𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄 : FOR WHEN THE STORM COMES / MAFIA VERSE#I GOTTA MAKE A KINTSUGI TAG FOR VERLAINE NOW#it's turning into a cinematic universe lmao#but also oh my god???#like oh my god this is actually so perfect????#chuuya is actually a great little brother!!#probably helps that verlaine didnt actually kill all his friends but u kno#also i shoved the french into my preferred translator because im a filthy american pls forgive me
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ok genuinely what is up with c!slimecicle getting shot by heavily religious themed/ immortal/ deity characters in the chest with semi automatic weaponry. i stg this has happened at least four times like there has to be some sort of meaning to this and if there’s not i’m willing to find some anyway
like fr it’s happened on the qsmp about 2-5 times now and i’m only on the fourth vod, and that’s not even mentioning the 100 day evolving apocalypse video and i’m certain there are others. the parallels, they are calling to me. there’s something there, i can smell it
#dandy talks#like genuinely what the hell#charlie slimecicle#slimecicle apocalypse#scu#slimecicle cinematic universe#should i just make a comprehensive catalog of every time he gets shot#cuz it’s happened so frequently i might as well#he’s been shot by schlatt often#he got shot by the consensus bureau on the qsmp like two or three times#he’s been shot by satan on the qsmp another two or three times#like. what’s going on XD#i’m certain i can find some sort of symbolic meaning#i already thought the vibes when deity schlatt or whatever shot him in the 100 days video was intriguing#which is partially what the ‘in the eye of the beholder there is blood’ piece was inspired by#but the twists just keep turning!#anyway i’ll shut up now i just thought it was interesting lmao#qsmp#qsmp slimecicle
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Feel a bit obliged to deliver my rambles now but it is late so it may not make a lot of sense buttttttt
(Btw this is all going to be written like from the perspective of what I think scu!bizly would think.)
Ever thing about how guiltily bizly must have felt after he shot grizzly? Like listen I haven’t watched after the funeral of hardest difficulty in forever I keep just watching the beginning but I mean like-
He shot his brother.
His brother who begged to be killed after the fight. After Charlie made him eat the apple. After bizly killed all his wolves. After they banished him for a stupid prank. After bizly made so many of the mobs messed up it put all the others on edge. setting up whoever had messed up next for failure.
If it wasn’t grizzly who had been banished it would have been bizly. That just is basically a fact.
And because of bizly actions it lead to his own brother begging for death. For bizly to shoot him in the head with a weapon he created.
All grizzly wanted to do was beat Minecraft with his brothers. But in the end he didn’t. He watched them beat it sure. He watched as his brothers defeated the enderrdragon and left them with a final parting message but-
He wasn’t there. He didn’t get to beat it. He was dead. He was dead beacuse of bizly.
Whether it be from directly shooting him or indirectly setting him up for his down fall. It was all bizlys fault.
It was all his fault it was all his fault it was all his fault-
#que3rduckling#duck rambles#I was writing this originally as a ramble but uh it kinda turned into a fanfic at the end there lol#whoops#anyways hope y’all like it#I am very tired lmao#scu#slimecicle cinematic universe#bizly#bizlychannel#scu bizly#scu!bizly#scu!grizzly#grizzlyplays#Minecraft’s hardest difficulty#writing#rambles
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patient zero? more like patient Kill-The-Hero
ahaha am i right?
full page beneath cut
sketch page i did while rewatching “We Spent a 100 Days in a Minecraft Hardcore Apocalypse” because it’s normal, and encouraged even, to revisit that video regularly. just in case 🤗
#charlie slimecicle#charlie slimesicle fanart#my art#schlatt fanart#ish?#WE survived 100 DAYS in a minecraft HARDCORE APOCALYPSE#when that scrunkly kid you were trying to help out turns out to be the harbringer of the end of everything LMAO#SCU#slimecicle cinematic universe#schlatt is the only one that gets real eyeballs. sry.#cw blood#<just in case#slimy rat scrawl
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tomblr discourse in the monster high universe must be something else.
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💝 lalalala Follow
What would I do without cherry smoothies... probably die again 💔
🟥 b3lfrypr3pz-deactivated09182022
Of freaking course the frilly daywalker is a vegan 😒 bet you do witchcraft too you dirty hippie
💝 lalalala Follow
🝢🜊🝣🝗🜚🝰
🟥 b3lfrypr3pz-deactivated09182022
WTF is that lol
🟥 b3lfrypr3pz-deactivated09182022
i t burns. wh at did you do to me .
💝 lalalala Follow
^-^
17k notes
🧠 msdeadfast Follow
Ok but Dead Fast: Night of the Living (2002) has no business being considered the worst Dead Fast movie when the MCU (Murder Cinematic Universe) not only retconned his origin story to make him a virus zombie rather than a curse zombie (which throws off his entire arc about being something more than his deeds!) AND made him be allied with B.L.I.G.H.T. of all organizations because Like say what you will about NOTL and the forced heterosexual romantic plot but at least 1) it gets what makes Dead Fast a hero and 2) GIVES HIS LOVE INTEREST A PERSONALITY AND SOMETHING TO DO
🕷️ 8legscomix Follow
Literally
Also they made the villain Dr. Igorable's motivations so laughable like..... so his wife got turned into a zombie and he wants to cure her? Ok? Did she ask for it? She doesn't even have any groaning lines. Im not even a zombie but that was offensive as hell. Like in the original comics he wants to straight up undo all forms of zombism forever
🧠 msdeadfast Follow
NO FR LIKE....... so suddenly the eugenics obsessed human is tragic because being a zombie must be such a tragedy you guyyyysssss -_- and wanting to get rid of an entire monster type is ok. I swear that movie has turned monster attitudes towards zombies back into the 80s
⚠️ mentalhealth-hazard Follow
I am not sure if I'm overstepping here but, furthermore, the addition of Pendulum to the movie was unnecesary. Stereotyping shapeshifters as untrustworthy and traitorous is something of a past era. Either leave the character behind, or change it entirely.
🧠 msdeadfast Follow
Jackson I love you and I love your takes. but you type like a Victorian in his deathbed ;-;
⚠️ mentalhealth-hazard Follow
The MCU is so dreadful, it's irrevocably turned me into one.
#It has also substracted years off my lives.
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🌊 lacriatura Follow
🦈🦐🐠🪸🐡🐟
^ aquarium!
#lagoona's originals #ocean #sealife #ah-! so refreshing <- aesth tag
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🔥 666firepit666 Follow
Not to vague anyone but some of you have to shut the freak up about the ocean. You don't see me making little dioramas of the Malebolge because I'm not a little cringelet like you lmao
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🌊 lacriatura Follow
If you don't freaking love the ocean don't follow the ocean tag. Yes that goes for @666firepit666, square up and fight me if you're so brave Heath!!!!
#lagoona's originals #personal #more skulls for my skull collection!!!
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🌙 wolf-in-chic-clothing Follow
Day 1 no toxic doomed yuri
🌙 wolf-in-chic-clothing Follow
WRONG SIDEBLOG
#stop reblogging this
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🔩 stitchez Follow
Got a new arm! Can't wait to try it out!
🐯 ninelives Follow
try it out how 🤨
🔩 stitchez Follow
Building a wretched creature out of corpses, of course!
🔩 stitchez Follow
OH that was a double entendre! You should be ashamed of yourself!
🔩 stitchez Follow
I would never use my arms for violent purposes!
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🔥 666firepit666 Follow
Lagoona dragged me into the pool and now my hair is out 😡
🌙 wolf-in-chic-clothing Follow
Skull issue.
🧠 msdeadfast Follow
skull issue
👻 ghostlygossip01 Follow
Skull issue. Take the L
💝 lalalala Follow
Skull issue ^-^
🐯 ninelives Follow
skull issue lmao
🔩 stitchez Follow
Skull issue! I dont know what that means but I'm sure it relates to your experience!
🎸 innerdemon Follow
SKULL ISSUEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!
🔥 666firepit666 Follow
Your own cousin 🥲
🎸 innerdemon Follow
I AM NOT RELATED TO ANY BALD PEOPLE
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💎 scarab-g1rl Follow
Alright, who stole my sinister amulet?
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here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.
It's ok - one
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Part two
Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader
Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)
Word count: 4.6K
Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.
Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie
Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!
“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue.
“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”
“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?”
Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet.
He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?”
You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?”
The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured.
You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.”
Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day.
“Can I see that?”
Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?”
Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.”
“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.”
Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?
The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?”
“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back.
“Is (Y/N) with you?”
“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you.
“Are you on the ground?”
“Yes.”
“You need to get out of there.”
Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?”
A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…”
“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!”
Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face.
“What?”
Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.”
His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind.
“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?”
“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…”
Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever.
Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out.
“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.”
“She ok?”
He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.”
“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help.
“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?”
You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin.
“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?”
“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.”
You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing.
Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–”
“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Ok.”
It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam.
“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.”
“Oh,” was all Adam could think of.
“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.”
“I’m– fuck, Adam.”
“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.”
“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–”
How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?
“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you.
Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent.
He sighed. “We should get rid of that.”
“Huh?”
“The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.”
“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later.
“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.”
You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—”
“It’s ok, (Y/N), don���t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…”
Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back.
So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway.
You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain.
“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”
“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water.
“(Y/N)?” he said softly.
“Hm?
“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.”
“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.”
“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”
“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing.
Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–”
You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?”
“Unless you have sex. With someone.”
Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?”
“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?”
“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.”
Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.”
“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you.
“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!”
Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…
“Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.”
“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen.
“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?”
Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle.
“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.
You sighed at the contact, shifting closer.
He frowned. “Is that…?”
“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured.
That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself.
“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down.
Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink.
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.”
He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt.
“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead.
You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.”
It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.
Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner.
He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him.
But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.
You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit.
“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted.
“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.”
A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you.
You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there?
You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this?
You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair.
Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked.
“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic.
“Hm?”
“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.”
Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat.
Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick.
“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?”
You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand.
“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.”
You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it.
You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his.
Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his.
“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”
“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought.
“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.”
Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well.
“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–”
Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until–
“Adam, oh, Adam—!”
It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely.
After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears.
You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod.
“Are you sure? You’re shaking.”
“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?”
Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?”
No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered.
Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his.
“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?”
“Ok.”
Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better.
After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself.
He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had.
Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand.
“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer.
You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed.
He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up.
You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower.
#adam warlock#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock smut#adam warlock x you#gotg3#mcu#fanfiction#fanfic#shameless smut#smut#marvel#gotg vol 3
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Published Reylo Fics Master List
Everyone knows reylos stay winning, and I have no doubt we'll be one of the most published fandoms of all time. List originally posted on twitter (and actually stolen from an anti lmao) but ported over considering... all that.
(Note: I'm mostly just C&P'ing right now, if you know an author has a tumblr and they aren't tagged please lmk thanks! And ofc lmk if I've missed any or as new things get published.)
Ali Hazelwood Cinematic Universe
Three novels, three novellas, and she's just getting started.
Go Hex Yourself by Jessica Clare
When Reggie Johnson answers a job ad, she’s astonished to find that she’s not applying to work at her favorite card game, Spellcraft: The Magicking. Instead, she’s applying to be an actual familiar for an actual witch.
We'd Know By Then by Kirsten Bohling
Meeting your soulmate triggers "the glimpse"—walking out of Dorothy's house in Kansas and into the colorful world of Oz. The problem is, Brighton has ALWAYS seen in color.
For Love and Bylines by Merrin Taylor
When Ava Thompson is offered an undercover investigative role, she jumps at the chance. But posing as a high school senior proves to be more than Ava signed up for when she meets brooding English teacher, Nico Adams.
Almost Perfect by Charlie Mitchell
Recovering from a brain tumour, Ben has lost confidence in sex & relationships. So he gets in touch with Rey, a specialised sex worker, to help him get over his fears.
Soul Searching by E. A. Blevins
Finding your soulmate is like winning the lottery. They're rare and precious and lead to riding off into the sunset.
They're not supposed to be your high school English teacher or carry baggage that can tear you both apart.
The Hurricane Wars by @theaguanzon
A land ravaged by storms and conquerors…
A refuge across the sea that comes at a price…
A volatile alliance between two bitter enemies…
A growing attraction as dangerous as it is irresistible…
Crossroads by Chaney Banett
Ester lives a simple enough life as a waitress at a truck stop diner, plopped in middle-of-nowhere Minnesota. Her days aren’t boring necessarily. It’s just that they’re one all the same.
She doesn't question life very often. She doesn't question anything at all, actually.
…Until the mysterious regular at booth sixteen starts asking.
Hanukkah at the Great Greenwich Ice Creamery by Sharon Ibbotson
Grumpy Cohen orders a coffee when he goes to deliver a present from his mother at the ice creamery. While there he's immediately drawn to River, the Deaf woman who makes the ice cream flavors.
My Roommate is a Vampire by @jeenonamit
Cassie Greenberg's desperate when she finds a too-good-to-be-true apartment in a beautiful Chicago neighborhood. She knows there has to be a catch—only someone with a secret to hide would rent out a room for that price.
Cassie’s sexy new roommate is a vampire. And he has a proposition for her.
The Rockstar’s Omega by Hannah Haze
Layla won a backstage pass to meet her idol, Ash Canon. What will they do when his scent sends her into heat?
(Does anyone know if Hannah's other works also used to be reylo? LMK!)
The Alpha Nextdoor by Dani Doll
It doesn’t matter how hot the alpha next door is. She’s a beta, and that means it’ll never work between them.
Right?
The Exception to the Rule by Christina D. Ambrose
Violet Dawson is spirited, independent, and definitely not your typical Omega. She's determined not to be drawn to the gorgeous Theodore Chamberlin, senior editor and company Alpha asshole.
They are thrust together to plan an event, and all seems to go well until Violet's workspace floods, and they have to share an office.
What will become of them when their close proximity causes Violet to go into heat?
The Most Titillating Tale of Miss Hall & Dr Black by Jenny Michelle
Miss Charlotte Hall, bored & neglected by her Grandfather, has a shameful problem. Desperate, she turns to his physician for help. But she hadn't expected the help to be quite so…manly.
Antique Magic by Kait Disney-Leugers
Brie St. James is in need of a part-time job. She finds it at Spirit Antiques, owned by the handsome and aloof Ezra. But there's more to the shop than meets the eye. Under the layers of patina and dust, a gateway to the magical world and the shop is the crossroads of goods for the magical residents.
To Have & to Hold by Avery Crow
When Clara’s work visa is denied, she figures that’s the end of the road for her. Until her boss offers to marry her.
The idea of going back to cold, gloomy London and the dark past that haunts her is only slightly worse than having to somehow convince her friends and coworkers that her new marriage is authentic, and that there is any sort of love between them.
But Andrew Morrow is full of surprises, and Clara soon finds herself in over her head and pining for a man who is, after all, only doing her a favor.
Kirsten S. Blacketer
Kirsten has a ton of books, like omg a ton! Looks like at least 7 different series/collections? I don't know how many of them were reylo originally (could be all, could be just a few) but check them out.
#reylo fanfic to published books pipeline#the love hypothesis#love on the brain#love theoretically#steminist#under one roof#stuck with you#below zero#go hex yourself#we'd know by then#for love any bylines#almost perfect#soul searching#the hurricane wars#crossroads#Hanukkah at the Great Greenwich Ice Creamery#my roommate is a vampire#the rockstar's omega#the alpha next door#the exception to the rule#The Most Titillating Tale of Miss Hall & Dr Black#antique magic#to have and to hold#kirsten s blacketer#ali hazelwood#book rec list#reylo#long post
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hi ari!!!! hope you’re doing well!! 🐟🐟 these days the weather is so so nice and the sea is so tempting……………… i went ahead and took some days to swim like the fish i am! surprisingly the water wasn’t so cold and it seems i wasn’t the only one who thought of swimming because the beach was full of people 🙂↕️ it was really fun!
anyway!! i wanted to ask you, which films and/or cinematic universes you think your jjk favs would suit the most??? :33 if it is too restraining you can name tv series, of course!!
(p.s.: oh, i’m glad you liked my silly rant about statue!gojo TT 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 it has been rotting in my mind for months now but i’m a procrastinator and i have too many wips… i think it might be that summer is near and i’m super inspired but i don’t know where to begin lmaooo. my notebook is overflowing with half-finished prompts and chapters that are waiting to be completed……. 😭😭) — 🐟 anon
HIIIII MY LITTLE 🐟 ANON!!!! :33
i’m so happy that it’s getting warmer where you are!!!!! the weather is starting to take a turn for the better here too hehe….. but wahhh!!!! beach trips!!!!!!! i miss them i do…. you’ll have to have double the fun for both of us!!! <3333
AND . GULP. that’s a super fun question and also super tough bc i don’t watch …. a lot of movies……… 😔😔 i’ve been watching more recently!!!! but honestly i have a lot of trouble remembering series and movies that i’ve watched….. my brain doesn’t store a lot of them. HOWEVER . yk what i do watch??? and adore????
……. musicals >:33
so here are some musicals that i associate w my jjk favs!!! I HOPE THAT’S OKAY… i got a little too into it i think 😭
gojo - legally blonde
I JUST THINK HE WOULD LOVE IT SO MUCH……….. i know him personally . honestly i would’ve given him the movie if i had followed your original assignment bc it just screams gojo to me either way!!!! i think he loves chickflicks. :3 and this is definitely one of his comfort movies…… the musical is also just SUCH a bop i knowwwww this man is terrorizing his coworkers by singing ”gay or european” in broad daylight (specifically to nanami)……
sugu - the phantom of the opera
THE PHANTOMMMMMMM OF THE OPERA IS HEREEEEEEEE 🎶🎶🎶🎶 …. <- sugu doesn’t sing along to musicals + doesn’t rlly like them that much in general but i know in my heart and soul that he would hum this part quietly to himself . what can i say….. this is just a very classy musical that i think would appeal to him <3333 he’d read the book beforehand too. he’s a lil pretentious but it’s okay :3 he’s veryyyy picky abt what musical renditions he enjoys tho…….
shoko - the guy who didn’t like musicals
MY PERSONAL FAVORITE MUSICAL OF ALL TIMEEEEE <333333 i just know she’d adore it. the blend between horror and comedy is soooo shoko and i feel like she wouldn’t like musicals at ALL lmao so she’d appreciate the meta commentary!!!! it’s just. suchhhh a good musical….. i love starkid so much it hurts………… AND THE WHOLE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE THINGGG she would eat that up!!!!
pls watch this one if you haven’t 🐟 anon you can find the full thing on yt and it’s INCREDIBLE i’ve watched it like 10 times!!!! it’s my most beloved!!!!
kenny - beetlejuice
BEETLEJUICE 👏 BEETLEJUICE 👏👏 BEETLEJUICE 👏👏👏 okay so i actually lied this one is ALSO my absolute favorite . and i’m giving it to kenny solely based on vibes :3 HE REMINDS ME OF BEETLEJUICE OK…. and i think he’d love it a lot. the songs are so fucking good and i know he’d appreciate them. the theme of life/death is also very kenny obv !!!!
toji - black friday
ANOTHER STARKID MUSICAL. this one is just…… soooo good and funny and also . tragic. one of the characters reminds me a lot of toji :’3 former veteran w a dead wife…. who struggles to show his son how much he cares…… and the theme of capitalism and money and how it corrupts ppl also feels in line w toji’s character!! but above all else this musical is abt. Family. and that’s more toji than anything!!! :(((
this is another musical that i rlly recommend checking out, it’s set in the same universe as the guy who didn’t like musicals but like . an alternate timeline. it’s not my favorite in the series but the songs slap and it made me cry so <3333 yeah.
nobara - heathers
was lowkey considering six the musical for my beloved nobara (bc of the gorgeous women and catchy fun songs) but . i think heathers fits her more!!!! i just feel like she’d ADORE it…… i know she’s singing along at the top of her lungs too LMAO especially to dead girl walking <3333 it’s just such a fun badass musical and i think she’d be obsessed. she does NOT like jd tho god bless 🙏🙏
#I LOVE MUSICALS SO MUCHHHH SNIFFLE SNIFFLE#for one tiny second i was gonna give suguru hamilton BUT . i’ll spare him that fate#(i like hamilton a lot im just a bit embarrassed abt it 💔💔💔)#I ALSO LOVE THE DR JEKYLL & MR HYDE MUSICAL!!!!!!!! if i had to give it to someone it’d be kenny :3#ANYWAYYY thank you for the fun question 🐟 anon i love you very much <3333 AND PLSS you’re so real for the summer writer’s block 😭#i hope you’re able to write more soon!!!!! sending you all the nice splashy sunny summer vibes :33#ask tag ✩#🐟 anon !! ✩
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turns out i'm spider-man
https://archiveofourown.org/works/52959547
by enheist
Peter Parker has finally turned 18 and has agreed to, in time, join the Avengers and reveal his identity. However, he has one condition; he wants to have some fun with the Avenger's Official Twitter account beforehand.
Words: 768, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Avengers Team Members (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Academic Decathlon Team Members (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, James "Rhodey" Rhodes
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Avengers Team Members & Peter Parker
Additional Tags: Twitter, Chatting & Messaging, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Identity Reveal, Secret Identity, Social Media, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Set in the future, Canon Compliant until Endgame EXCEPT no one dies, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Genius Peter Parker, Genius Tony Stark, Like/follow counts may be exaggerated/unrealistic, but that's okay, Famous Spider-Man, Self-Indulgent, Tony doesn't text correctly it was too serious for me lmao
read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52959547
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📚 fic ask :) 📕📘📗
Hi, I am SO sorry it took me so long to answer this- I'm in a play and today was my birthday and I've been busy but I'm so excited to do this! Since you sent me three I'm gonna give you three! They're gonna be from all across the universe of ships, some I've written for before and some I haven't, but I hope you enjoy!
(and for the rest of you- send me book emojis and I'll tell you about a fic I've daydreamed of but never written)
One: WORKING TITLE - and the gentleness that comes (fullmetal alchemist brotherhood, roy/ed)
I've actually been sitting on a complete outline since 2019 and I've written about 15 percent of it, so it's more than a daydream, but I'm gonna talk about it anyway because I want to finish it but I don't know if I ever will lmao.
It's set ten years after the promised day: Ed is 26 and a new professor teaching theoretical alchemy at central university. Roy is a full general and serves directly under Fuhrer Grummand, who is very old and in poor health. Amestris is a semi-democracy now, with an elected senate that in turn elects the Fuhrer every five years.
Roy and Ed meet by chance at a bar, having not seen each other for a decade, and strike up some sort of... friendship??? Anyway, Grummand dies soon after, and Roy is quickly put on the short list to be the next leader of Amestris. Roy and Ed keep running into each other.
But pretty soon, a conspiracy develops that could threaten the entire nation as well as Roy and Ed's lives, and it doesn't help that they're... falling for each other? Even though Roy is still a bastard and Ed was so annoying when he was a kid. They can't possibly be in love, right?
I really do wanna write this some day
Two: Keeper of the Mountain's Heart (the hobbit, thorin/bilbo)
Hobbit fix-it fic. I also have this whole thing outlined and have written the first chapter and several other scenes. This one has been in the works since spring of 2022. I also plan to write it for realsies.
Thorin, Fili and Kili survive the battle of the five armies. Thorin is badly wounded, but makes a slow recovery. Kili is mostly fine, and Fili's injuries leave him paralyzed from the waist down (I am co excited to write wheelchair stuff for this fic). Bilbo decides to stay in Erebor, just until the spring, when it's safer to travel, and besides, Thorin says he needs him to stay.
The big conceit of the fic is that Bilbo confessed his love for Thorin on Ravenhill, when Thorin had been wounded and lost consciousness. Thorin doesn't remember anything Bilbo said. Also, Dain and the Ironhill dwarrows are invoking an old law that would see Bilbo be executed for stealing the Arkenstone. Thinking quickly, Thorin proclaims that no, Bilbo didn't steal it, he gave it to Bilbo as a betrothal gift. Because they're totally engaged. They've been in love this whole time! And since he doesn't want to die, Bilbo has to go along with it. Shenanigans ensue.
So, fake-dating, mutual pining (because Thorin is also in love with Bilbo, secretly), and amnesia, along with a huge helping of cultural differences, courting rituals and sexual tension. Tropey and wonderful and I like to just think about it when I'm falling asleep at night. And I will write it some day I swear.
Three: Scars You Left (DC cinematic universe, bruce/clark)
I ALSO have this one completely outlined and partially written. It's a soul mate AU where you get the scars of your soul mate's injuries, and if they die, you feel it happen and get a mark that corresponds with that event.
Bruce just never had marks ever, so he always assumed he never had a soul mate. It happens sometimes. No big deal. He never wanted that kind of thing anyway. Love just means you have something to lose- he knows that all too well.
Clark never got any marks- obviously. He wasn't born on Earth, and he's impervious to damage, so he never gets injured- why would he feel someone else's wounds? It's difficult to watch his parents, soul mates through and through- but that doesn't mean he'll be alone forever.
Then, the events of Batman V Superman happen, and when Clark dies, Bruce feels it. he has a starburst scar on his chest, where the kryptonite spear went through Clark. It makes no sense, because Clark wasn't even from Earth. But it's undeniable. And it's the worst truth he's ever had to come to terms with.
And then, one night, months later, Clark digs his way out of his grave, throws himself across country and through Bruce's living room window. And maybe there is such a thing as a second chance.
The main plot follows the 2007 animated movie Superman: Doomsday, wherein Lex Luthor creates an evil slave clone of Superman and wreaks havoc on the world about it. Also lots of mutual pining and angst. I really love to pack in the angst before the happy ending.
These were really more WIPs than daydreams, but that's how I daydream- I write an outline and a couple of scenes to get it out of my system so I can focus on my actual real projects, the ones I'm supposed to be working on. Speaking of work, I have to get back at it, bye!
#lord speaks#50daysat#ask games#royed#bagginshield#superbat#wip#fanfiction#writing#asked and answered
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I'm half asleep and running basically entirely on hyperfixation fumes so this thought process might be literally nothing but I'm thinking about how we as the viewer don't get to start making decisions in the Markiplier Cinematic Universe Canon until after the DA's death in WKM. We experience the entire series through their point of view and it's presumed we continue to inhabit their character throughout the canon (at least through date and heist, I'm ignoring space for my purposes bc my grasp on how that fits into the story is fuzzy at best on a good day lmao) but it isn't until after the events of wkm have played out that we start making decisions on their behalf
But anyways something something at the end of wkm they die at the hands of Wil, and they give up their body to Damien and Celine, and their story to Mark, and their autonomy to the viewer. Someone who isn't eepy as hell turn this into a more coherent line of thought for me
#atlas speaks#realizing that this is also very similar to the ways in which ut and dr fans tend to interpret the relationship of the player to the pcs#so that's fun#anyways i can tell my brain is in like creative hyperfocus looking for a new idea to latch onto mode#because I've been bouncing off of different project and story and art ideas all day#woke up this morning incredibly invested in the idea of a full recreation of the wkm house in minecraft#which somehow led to a brief reunion between me and my middle school wkm marble hornets au#honestly still tempted by that one might come back to that when my brain calms down#ended up on some sonic movie fanart bullshit by earlier this afternoon so that might be something y'all get in the next few days#and then i went to lay down and go to bed and somehow landed on this line of thought#so anyways if i come back online to post more random bullshit again after this yell at me to go tf to sleep it's 11pm lmao#I'm so eepy i should not be posting
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finally took some notes to iron out whatever the hell is going on with fuel's mom & nana's parents in the 2thpaste cinematic universe. dropping 'em below the cut in case anyone's curious
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Fuel's mom is Lisa. She and Lighter had an affair before Nichol & Richie were born, it was a whole disastrous awkward scramble. Stuff like infidelity wasn't supposed to happen in Tazmily - it rattled their utopian fantasy, and perhaps threatened to shatter it. In an effort to preserve the peace (read: the impossible illusion of a forever perfect happy town where nothing unpleasant ever happens), Thomas & the rest of the villagers agreed to sweep it under the rug if Lighter raised the kid. Unspoken tensions lingered nonetheless. Lighter still carries some shame over it, Thomas might still hate Lighter's guts, lmao. Despite the accidental circumstances of his single fatherdom, Lighter rises nobly to the occasion, and turns out to be a great dad. Nasty rumors may have circulated on the downlow when he was little, but Fuel's affable, upstanding, hardworking nature earns some respect back for both him and his father.
Fuel isn't exactly ashamed of how he came into the world, but he's got an understated complex where he feels like his mere existence creates burdens for others. :( The events of the game reinforce this, as he unwittingly holds up the search for Hinawa, blames himself in part for Lucas & Claus losing their mom, takes up useless space on the sidelines while the kid who's been through worse saves the whole goddamn world, and so on, and so forth... He also feels guilty when he contrasts his motherlessness with the twins'. Thinks he's got no right to wish he'd had a mother in his life, when his situation was just a socially unacceptable blunder on his parents' part, rather than something gruesomely traumatic. Fuel had a very distant and awkward relationship with Lisa growing up. Only spoke to her as briefly and politely as he could manage, despite bein' friends with his half-siblings. Graciously, he & Lisa make an earnest effort to reconnect at some point postgame, and are on good terms by the time he's an adult.
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Nana's mom is Betsy. Her dad's name was Jensen Ketch, and he actually adopted her. Jensen very much wanted a kid, Betsy n' Jackie had an unwanted pregnancy, they gave him the baby. In postgame retrospect, they recall Jensen's dearly beloved wife had died while pregnant on the White Ship. He'd always yearned for another chance to raise a child, but could not bring himself to remarry, even with his memories being wiped. He and Nana were very close. He adored his eccentric autistic transgender daughter, and raised her with far more care than any of his neighbors (or even her blood parents) probably would've.
Jensen's amnesia began coming undone when Nana was 9 or 10. He was plagued by strange dreams, and envisioned a world beyond Nowhere, somewhere past the horizon. (The villagers now rumormonger that, aside from him bein' a generally odd dude, it's 'cause he lived right by the ocean, on the far edge of town. Perhaps the waves sung louder, to him, than Leder's bell.) Troubled and captivated by the sea's uncharted mysteries, he built a sailboat, left Nana with Betsy & Jackie, and departed on a solo survey mission. It was only supposed to last a couple weeks. He sent letters home via pigeon. The last was lovingly poetic, enamored with the beauty of the sun and the sea, eagerly telling Nana he hoped one day she could see it for herself.
(There's a quiet horror in Jensen's fate. He either died at sea, in bright-eyed pursuit of a past that would've mortified him - or really did make landfall on some destroyed continent, succumbing to the inhospitable terrors of the world he'd left behind.)
When his letters stopped coming, the villagers, unable to comprehend such a soft and dubious loss, assured Nana he'd be home any day. She became more reserved in his absence. Before they could start to get too doubtful, Hinawa's death threw everything off the rails. Most folks sorta forgot about Jensen & Nana as the village modernized. She and Lucas lowkey relate deeply to one another, even though her tragedy was so comparatively subdued, folks hardly even acknowledged it.
#concluding a months or years long effort to resolve the holes in these two's family situations#in ways that reinforce tazmily's whole deal instead of clashing with it#hopefully i'm not overlooking anything contradictory? la#2thtalks
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AT LAST I FINALLY FOUND YOU, YOINK
throbbing king of desire, lmao, did you have fun there localizers?
this place is so fuck ugly i'm sorry i keep gettign distracted going "why does this look so bad" lmao. Atlus, I have notes for you and it's what the fuck are these textures.
BECAUSE YOU TOOK AWAY MY FRIEND IGOR AND YOUR VELVET ROOM FUCKING BLOWS, NEXT QUESTION
god i suddenly remember in P4G i was hypothesizing what cool liminal space the P5 Velvet Room would be. we had elevator and then limo and then.... a prison. i think I was hoping for a train car, which LET'S BE FUCKING REAL, THAT WOULD HAVE FIT PERFECTLY INTO THIS FUCKING GAME. Reverie hopping on the train and walking to the conductor's booth and putting a Velvet Key in the door so it opens to another dimension? that would have been SO FUCKING COOL
AND YALDABOATH TOOK IT FROM US
(autocorrect is like "do you mean whaleboat" lmao)
lmao i love you Morgana. "And?" same energy as "ahem a dumbass says what"
Morgana would so pull that too because Morgana is a perfect character who I will kill for. I am asking to kill for Morgana.
Anyway, we go up against Holy Grailaboath but it's a DISTACTION of course
BRUUUUUUH
that's pretty cool
actually like we're gonna recap but straight up: this ending is still kind of an ass pull like P4G, but not even nearly as severe of an ass pull, like the player gets ZERO in universe hints of whomst the fucketh Yaldaboath is, but at least we have the context of "oh Evil Igor" to go with, so it's not nearly as bad as "The gas station attendant was the Mother of Japan."
ALL THAT SAID, at least this ending Fucks, which P4G did not. P4G should have ended with Adachi and I stand by that bc Izanami was a massive disappointment. Even if I can kvetch about the similarities between this ending and P4G and how much is just a rehash
P5R is like what if the P4G ending was Hot And Sexy, so it is a wild improvement in that sense. It has scale and spectacle on its side, and BALLS TO THE WALL AUDACITY.
Anyway, this fight literally took me 58 minutes, from my save point before the final boss to the point after the cutscenes when the game finally went "yo, you wanna save?" And it's a fun, dynamic fight that at least nods at the brilliance of the Nyx fight in P3P. Yaldy has all the usual tools of the Magician, the bell, the book, the blade, and the... uh.
YOU KNOW I was gonna make a joke about this but HONESTLY? HONESTLY? A gun is a decent replacement for the wand. That's not even a bit.
He's got some bullshit status effects but really, nothing struck fear of god into my heart like when Reverie, armed with Athena and her 53 STR score, got hit with the Jealousy Brainwash and literally almost one hit KOed Mona three times in a row. My fucking PANIC.
Eventually, the game goes into the "okay you beat the boss so here's your cinematic ending" mode like usual. Yaldy starts cheating again and beating the shit out of the Thieves with bullshit total party wipe spells.
kisses morgana on his perfect lil head
oh my god its you
Mishima is like if Issun from Okami was somehow even worse, so he has to show up to rally the masses into clapping their hands and believing in the Phantom Thieves
I'M DOING THIS FOR YOSHIDA TORANOSUKE!!!!!!
AND OUR DAD (BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE)
listen
i'm gonna just
let this one go, okay. i can't criticize every damn thing and its fine because
are you fucking JOKING, are you KIDDING ME, Reverie just summons a COSMIC EVANGELION to beat the god of control with
fucking SATANAEL, who, what, stood with the Demiurge Yaldaboath until realizing his true nature and turning against him, the Gnostic version of Lucifer?
so satan saves christmas
Atlus, you are a bunch of fucking hilarious weirdos, thank you for this moment of sheer fucking ridiculousness
the degree to which this is cooler than Myriad Truths cannot be overstated
sometimes style is substance and this is one of those times
anywhere, where is philharmonic, they need to show up and explain why the fuck they keep letting this shitbird cheat at these dumb fucking causality-deciding games they play, goddammit
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Aveyond 2: Ean's Quest Cinematic Poster (2023)- Nymph Version
Hi everyone! This is my long overdue AV2 cinematic poster! (since 2016 lmao) As usual, I used AI to create the base characters, which I then altered and composited into the end result. I will also include the video breakdown and more info below! Hope y'all like it <3
youtube
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Why the Nymphs? Well since I went with the party members in my AV1 poster, I decided to do something different, and thought making one of the Nymphs would be fun xD (I might do a party member version one day!) And it was so fun just envisioning how the Nymphs would look like, especially since my only reference are their teeny tiny sprites lol
I'm pretty satisfied with how they turned out! I wanted them to look really different from each other - body shape, skin colour, hair colour (this follows the game!) and I also tried to incorporate elements related to them, for example Nuha is the Nymph of Wisdom, so she has a book - and Serendipity, Nymph of Luck, so I added a clover hairpin, since it's universally known as a luck symbol haha. (I also aimed for a cheeky facial expression!).
I had a little trouble with Aisling, Nymph of Hope, so I re-coloured her wings somehow, coz rainbow = hope! It's almost like she's carrying Hope on her back too xD and as for Ishtar and Heptitus, I remember seeing someone headcanon them as twins, so I made them look identical.
Hope you all like this!
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It's ok - two
Navigation
Part one
Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader
Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)
Word count: 7.5K
Summary: you and Adam deal with the aftermath of the pollen debacle
Content: referenced sex pollen and associated dubcon, SMUT, agan maybe a bit of perviness, Adam being down bad, reader being down bad, blowjobs, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's not technically a virgin any more but still kinda is, reader definitely isn't, bit of angst, with a happy ending, getting together, fluff, light dirty talk, praise kink, light body worship, subby Adam, again potential ooc
Notes: this is part 2 so you gotta read part 1 for it to make sense. I hope I fixed the numerous moral issues with part 1's ending lmao also before you come at me for the shower stuff; I'm so white I'm practically reflective, so I do apologise to all my textured-hair girlies for my crimes against you with that... I hope praise kink Adam who loves tits makes up for it. enjoy.
Oh yeah, this is also on my AO3
You woke slowly, swimming up against the gravity of sleep as though it were mud. Your whole body was tingling with a pleasant warmth and heaviness, underpinned by something that wasn’t quite unease, or discomfort, but close enough. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pulled the blanket closer around your neck. Hold on. Blanket?
You shot upright, cursing as the cool air of the ship’s interior hit your bare skin. Of course. You vaguely remembered the sudden flush of heat that had overcome you, your suit constricting like it was being shrink wrapped to your skin, the incessant throbbing low in your stomach and then between your legs. Everything after that was foggy, as though you were watching a film with a hazy filter, shot through a curtain of water. But you could definitely see Adam’s concerned face close to your own, feel the echo of his hand on your back and on your forehead. And, well, everywhere else.
“Do you want to have sex with me?” he’d asked, as if you hadn’t been dreaming about that for months. Hell, you’d been imagining that exact eventuality as you’d frantically gotten yourself off on the floor of the shower.
Now, you wondered if he was ever going to look at you the same way. It had been quick, hard and rough and you felt bad now for how little thought you’d spared him. You weren’t even really thinking at all, your mind offered. He seemed ok. He came, didn’t he? You felt your cheeks heat at the memory, fuzzy as it was, of his face buried in the crook of your neck, hips jutting up against yours, strong arms wrapped around your waist and your name on his lips. It was better than anything your imagination had ever cooked up, and you were probably racking up some truly awful karma by stowing it away.
You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed and running a hand through your (mostly) dry hair, fingers catching in the mess of tangles. You were never going to skim information on anything ever again. Actually, screw that, you were never going to go outside again. At least without a full suit and helmet, oxygen tank and air filter included.
The blanket trailed behind you like a grotesque bridal train as you headed for the bridge, bare feet slapping faintly on the cool floors. It had felt nice earlier, but now you wished you’d kept track of your clothes. You’d left your underwear in the shower, hadn’t you? What had happened to your suit?
The ship was eerily quiet, the bridge deserted but for a pile you didn’t remember leaving on what had been your seat – still swivelled around to face Adam’s for the sole purpose of being able to watch him read the briefing and notes as you packed.
The pile, as it turned out, was a fresh suit and your underwear, bearing no traces of the frankly ridiculous amount of wetness that had made the walk back so uncomfortable, or shower water. Had he washed them for you? Then dried them, too? Your heart gave a pathetic little jump and twist at the thought. Adam didn’t deserve something like this. Maybe if it had been anyone else you’d have been able to live it down, laugh it off and thank them for the good times, but him? No way in hell.
You’d felt something towards the newest citizen of Knowhere almost as soon as you’d started really talking to him. He was funny once you’d gotten him to lighten up, and had practically jumped at the opportunity to help repair the damage to the planetoid, even if he’d been the one who caused a lot of it. There was so much genuine curiosity and wonder in him, the painfully obvious desire to do well – which you supposed came from the High Evolutionary and the whole Perfect Man thing – and the fact that he seemed to hang on your every word like it was the gospel… Well, you hadn’t stood a chance. It had only gone downhill from there, and before long you’d been wondering what it would be like to see what constituted the perfect man up close and personal. What would the hands that destroyed so much of your home, and then rebuilt it beside you, feel like on your bare skin? Would your arms fit around those broad shoulders as perfectly as you imagined? Would his lips be as soft as they looked?
You supposed you knew some of that now. You fit against him perfectly, like you were made for each other. His hands were painfully gentle, and much softer than you’d thought they’d be. You regretted that you hadn’t kissed him more, and done a better job of it. You cringed at the memory of your teeth clashing against his, not an ounce of coordination or forethought.
He’d been better at it when he’d kissed over your chest, sucked gently at the skin of your breasts. You could see a few faint marks as you did up your suit, far too ill-defined to be called hickeys. Guiltily, you wished you’d gotten him to leave more.
You were jerked out of that line of thought by something rustling onto the floor. A note, scrawled hastily.
“Dear (Y/N),” crossed out, then “To (Y/N),” crossed out again, finally just “(Y/N).”
You smiled stupidly. Who knew indecisiveness could be so endearing?
“I hope you’re ok.”
“Yep,” you whispered in return. “All fine here.”
“Sorry I left. I hope you’re not cold. I didn’t want to wake you up so I didn’t dry your hair.”
God, this man.
“I washed your clothes for you, but I incinerated the other suit. Sorry. It had pollen on it. Don’t worry, I made sure it’s all gone.”
You sighed. “Thank you, Adam.”
“I’ve gone out, but I’ll be back in no more than three hours.” There was time here, too, underlined and in parenthesis. He had about half an hour left. Shit, had you been out that long? Seriously?
The next line started with “I h” but the rest was so heavily crossed out you couldn’t even begin to guess what it said. It was followed by “I hope you’re ok” again, then another bout of heavy censorship before his name. You wondered how he’d originally signed it, but quickly squashed that. Nope.
“Alright,” you said to the note. You felt a bit stupid checking your surroundings as you folded it and placed it in your pocket, but hey, it might come in handy. For reports or future references or… something.
How was he being so goddamn nice? A heavy stone of guilt settled in your stomach, along with the distinct sense that he was doing this because he didn’t know better. He was so eager to please, to do good, that he’d probably just assumed fucking you – letting you fuck him was probably a more apt description, actually – was the natural solution to the pollen problem. And yeah, you’d heard the part about dying if you didn’t (which you thought was ridiculous, frankly, and probably said something about humans and their suitability for anywhere outside Earth) but it still didn’t sit right with you. Not even a little.
Something beeped on the console, the light for the door flashing cheerfully. “He’s back!” it seemed to be saying. “He’s back, he’s back, he’s back!”
“Yeah, alright,” you muttered, flicking it off. “Think of the devil.”
“What devil?”
You jumped. Actually genuinely jumped before you turned towards the voice. “Figure of speech.”
“Oh,” said Adam, boots thudding dully on the floor as he crossed the space. “Did you sleep ok?”
“Yeah. Thanks for… this.” You didn’t know what to do with your hands. Fuck, why were your hands so sweaty? And since when had he looked good good in that damn suit? It was ugly on everyone, no matter how pretty they happened to be without it.
Oblivious to the mini meltdown in your head, as he should be, Adam pulled off his gloves and set them down on his seat with a soft thwump noise. “That’s ok. Sorry I didn’t stay, I didn’t want to disturb you, and then I figured you’d be out for a while, then I thought maybe I should just get it over with since I can…” A pause, a breath, then, “Go out there.”
“Yeah,” you smiled, “it’s fine. I’d have done the same.” Should you mention the note? No, you decided. It was staying tucked away in your pocket forever.
He shrugged, then held up his arms. “I didn’t get any on me, by the way.”
Right, yeah, the pollen. The pollen that had turned you into a goddamn nymphomaniac. You supposed it was going to come up, and better to just bite the bullet, right?
“Adam,” you started, stepping around your chair to face him.
His eyes followed every movement, as if he was memorising the way a person walked. Up close, you could make out a faint bronze tinge to his golden face, most likely from the heat outside. You could have studied it for hours.
“I’m sorry,” you said softly. It came out quieter than you’d have liked, huskier and less sure of yourself. You forged on. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything, and I just… I…” Deep breath, look him in the eyes. “Thank you. For helping me. I know it’s how the whole ‘saving people’ gig usually goes but… you did. So, uh, thanks.”
Maybe it was trite. Maybe it was a poor choice of words, but Adam didn’t seem to think so. Very carefully, as though he were afraid of somehow hurting you, he reached out and took your hand. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch as it had been before (after all, why should it have changed?), and just like it had in the shower, his thumb moved in little circles over the back of your hand.
“It’s alright,” he said, sincere as anyone and only just tinged with something that might have been regret’s cousin. “You didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Yeah, I… yeah.” You couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that escaped you. You didn’t have much of a choice? Carefully, you lifted your gaze from the hypnotic movement of his thumb. It was odd how such a tiny gesture, such a light touch, could suffuse your entire being with such warmth. It wasn’t like the heat from earlier, it was gentle and soft and the fact that you clung so desperately to it probably said more about you than him, but still… “I’m glad it was you, Adam.”
You could have sworn he stood straighter, and that the lines of his shoulders became less harsh. Maybe it was just the smile he was giving you, genuine and sweet, and wow you’d never felt so undeserving of a damn facial expression.
He nodded. “I didn’t realise it could feel like that.” Then, at your frown, “Sex, I mean. I didn’t understand why people liked it so much, but now I think I do.”
Oh. Oh. Right. That bit. Of course you were going to have to talk about that bit too. Looking back, you were pretty sure that you’d have thought absolutely anything was top-notch in the state you were in, and from what you remembered, the actual mechanics of it had been very one-sided. You had, if you were honest, simply fucked yourself on top of him.
But you were not going to say that. Instead, you snorted and let your hand fall from his. “You’ve been having sex with the wrong people, then.” Not that I’m the right one, or anything. But maybe I could have been.
Adam eyed your hand, then shrugged and turned towards the panel. “I hadn’t had sex with anyone before you,” he said as he unclipped his radio and dropped it onto one of the few free spaces.
Woah. Woah, hold on, rewind. He what? That was the first time for him? That? The guilt-stone had become a bloody guilt-boulder, and were you being dramatic or had the ship just wobbled?
“What?”
He turned back towards you, frowning. “I hadn’t done it before. Are you ok?”
“Oh God.”
“What? Is something wrong?” He was back in front of you, hands ghosting over your shoulders and arms as your mind raced. You hadn’t even considered that. Well yeah, you had, in various imagined scenarios and fantasies none of which involved the prospect of your death if you did not have sex with him.
“Yeah, I–” You took a breath, forcing yourself to look at him. How the hell were you going to explain this? Should you? Would it just make it worse? But no, you owed him this at least. “Adam,” you said as gently as you could, “your first time should be with someone you want, because you want to do it with them. It shouldn’t be to save someone’s life, let alone someone who… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry.”
He had a firm grip on your shoulders now, and that damned thumb was giving you the comfort treatment there, too. You wondered if he realised he was doing it. “Don’t be,” he said. “I still liked it. And I did want to do it with you. I know it was only me because there’s no one else here, but I still… I still wanted you.” He paused, then, “I just wish it had been you you.”
Yeah, so did you. But that wasn’t what stuck with you. He’d wanted you. He’d liked it, shit as it had probably been from his end. “You…” You stopped, swallowed. “You wanted me, too?”
He just nodded, searching your face. The tinge of bronze had deepened to copper.
“Oh.”
“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I think about you a lot. I wondered– wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Touch you, feel you like… like that.”
Again, all you could manage was a soft “oh,” acutely aware of his closeness, how he filled your vision, the temperature of the ship (which seemed to have risen), and his hands through your clothes. “And?”
His breath hitched in his chest, and his voice was low when he answered. “I’d have liked to kiss you, stay with you afterwards. Tell you… Tell you that you’re important to me, and I don’t ever want to see you in pain again.”
You drew your own breath. How could this be happening? This didn’t exist outside your mind. It really shouldn’t even exist in your mind. But you heard yourself speak all the same. “You could. Kiss me, I mean. If you still want to.”
His thumb stilled. “Are you sure?”
“Mhm.” You nodded, moving a fraction of a step closer. “I’d like you to.”
You did not like cliches. You did not like to be trite or banal, but you could have sworn you were living in slow motion as Adam leaned down the few inches between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it was almost chaste.
You tilted your face towards his before he could pull away, parting your lips ever so slightly, leaning into the warmth at your shoulders. He seemed to get the idea, his hands sliding effortlessly up your neck to cradle your face, fingers caressing your jaw and cheeks, your own hands settling on his wrists. Your heart thudded wildly, and you felt for all the world like a schoolgirl playing truth or dare at a sleepover, a teenager spinning the bottle with the boy you liked sitting across from you, a Guardian of the goddamn Galaxy being touched so gently by the guy you’d ridden six ways into next week not three hours ago.
You pulled back first, but barely. “I didn’t do a very good job of this before, did I?”
“It wasn’t too bad. Not what I expected.” You could feel the words on your skin, your face so close to his that his features were slightly blurred. His breath was warm against your lips.
“Mm,” you sighed, “that’s not usually how it goes.”
“Oh. Ok then.” He dipped back down momentarily, pulling away just as fast. “I like this a lot better.”
“Me too,” you smiled, stretching up to kiss him again. This was firmer, more direct. This time his lips were parted too, and he gave a pleased little hum when you moved against him. You let go of his wrists, mourning the loss of his hands on your face for a moment before you mimicked the position, pulling him closer to you. He was good at this, and you vaguely wondered if it was just the sex part that was new to him. His hands had settled at your waist, holding you steady and he hummed into your mouth, a sound that you could have listened to forever.
“I wanted this for so long, Adam,” you murmured between kisses. “I thought about you too, you know.”
“(Y/N)...” Adam paused, raising a hand to press against your forehead.
You just smiled, pressing into his touch. “It’s all me, don’t worry.”
He nodded, following your lead as your tongue slipped along his lip, a tiny moan caught between his mouth and yours when you slid it alongside his. He tasted like the falsely sweet nutritious bars you never seemed to run out of, warm and smooth and so soft. How could a person’s mouth be that soft? Now you really felt bad for the borderline assault you’d launched on it earlier.
You’d ended up with your hands on his shoulders, half bracing yourself and half mapping out the contours of his upper arms, neck, collar and chest. Your fingers slid easily through his hair where it brushed his neck, dipping occasionally under the high collar. You needed to get someone onto redesigning those.
He was holding you so close you wondered if he was trying to somehow pull you into him, his grip firm and decisive on your hips. Carefully, experimentally, you pushed your pelvis against his, a bolt of heat shooting through you at the hardness already growing there. He cursed, muffled by the fact that his tongue was in your mouth, welcome as anything he was giving you.
“Is this–?” you started, but he cut you off.
“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back enough to look at you. He was really flushed now, lips swollen and so, so pretty, eyes bright with want. “Yes, (Y/N).”
“Are you sure? No lives on the line here.”
He smiled, stroking your hip gently. “I’m sure.”
“Ok.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the bed you’d woken in, your steps sure and determined. He sat, as he had before, watching you expectantly. You considered simply shedding your clothes and letting him take the lead. Maybe you could sit on his lap and jerk him off, show him how to touch you. Maybe.
“Can I?” you asked as you stood between his legs, fingers toying with the fastenings of his clothes.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Would you like me to?”
Again, “yes.”
You smiled, running your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta help me out.”
“Mhm.” He nodded, kissing your palm before reaching up to peel off the suit, rolling the material smoothly down his arms, his chest, letting it bunch at his hips.
This was not the first time you’d seen him without a shirt. There’d been the aftermath of the face-off with the High Evolutionary, for one, and you definitely remembered stripping him before. A few moments where he or you had entered the other’s space as he’d been pulling a shirt on or a suit up, nothing more than a glimpse of midasian shoulders, the ripple of a smooth back, the hint of a belt of muscle. You’d carefully stowed every inch of gleaming gold in the deepest recesses of your mind.
Now you could touch, too. You bent to kiss him as your fingers curled around the ball of his shoulder, revelling in the little sigh he gave when you dragged your hand down to his sternum. His heart thudded under your palm, and you swore you could feel the warm rush of his blood beneath his skin as you slid your touch sideways, your hand now splayed over his ribs.
He whispered your name as you moved your kisses to his jaw, still soft, gradually trailing down his neck. Goosebumps prickled under your hand when your tongue brushed his skin, the sharp rush of his breath stirring your hair when you sucked ever so lightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Lower, over his heart, tiny bronze marks standing out against the smooth gold. You felt the skin of his stomach twitch as your fingers met the waistband of his underwear, and you paused.
“Is this alright?” you asked, craning your neck to look at him.
“Yes.” His eyes were closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen anything so beautiful.
“This?” You slipped your hand under the material, tracing the deep v of his pelvis.
“(Y/N), please–”
Oh wow. The too-tight, too-hot feeling was back, only this time its cause wasn’t sprinkled all over you. He was looking at you like you were an oxygen tank and he was drowning, and how could you ever have said no to that?
“I can’t do it all by myself,” you smiled, pulling at the bunched and folded material circling his waist, “you gonna help out?”
He assured you he was, lifting his hips and kicking his pants down to his ankles. It was then that you both realised he still had his boots on. He cursed softly, apologised, bent to unlace them before your hands on his stopped him. You knew what you were doing now, and exactly where you were going.
“Let me?” you said as you knelt between his legs, your fingers already at work.
“Oh,” he whispered as he watched you. “(Y/N), you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you replied simply. “I wanna take care of you, Adam. Can I?”
“Yes.” It was a sigh, and his eyes when you met them were so full of what could only be described as awe that you wondered if he’d actually heard you. You ran your hands up his muscular thighs, wriggling closer to the edge of the bed, forcing his legs further apart. You bent, laying a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses across his stomach, marvelling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin, the faint tang of sweat and something else that was distinctly Adam.
“You took care of me,” you whispered as you pulled off his underwear. “I wanna return the favour.”
He was hard, you’d felt – and seen – that much already. What you hadn’t seen, and had failed to even consider in any detail, was that his dick would be – that any dick could be – so damn pretty. It was metallic as the rest of him, ample as you’d felt earlier, flushed copper and fuck you wanted to put it in your mouth right now.
“Is…” He paused, breathing hard. “Is that ok?”
“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Yeah, Adam, you’re perfect. You’re just… You’re perfect.”
He sighed again, this time with something close to relief. “Oh. Ok. That’s… That’s good. Thank you.”
“Can I touch you?” You’d already touched him practically everywhere else, and had done a little earlier, so you didn’t expect that moan that slipped from him.
“Yes, please,” he breathed. “Please, (Y/N), go ahead.”
Go ahead, whispered into your neck before you’d sunk down on that dick. So of course, you spat into your hand and wrapped your fingers around him, moving your hand gently to coat the whole thing in moisture. Adam’s thigh tensed under your free hand, his breath catching in his chest. You watched his face carefully as you found a rhythm, mapping every vein and curve, the swell of the head, the wet slit which you slid your thumb over – making his hips jerk ever so slightly into your grip.
“So beautiful,” you whispered as his hand came to rest on your shoulder. “You’re so perfect, Adam. How’d I get so lucky? What’d I ever do to deserve you?”
Your name was little more than a sharp intake of breath, and you smiled as you continued your movements. His hand slid up to your hair, around the back of your neck, fingers dipping under the collar of your suit. “Your clothes,” he said softly.
“Off?” You paused, relishing in the feel of his hand on you. It had been magnified thousand-fold earlier, every brush of his skin lighting you on fire. This was less severe, though not by much.
“Mhm.”
“Ok.” You turned your head, kissing his hand before it slipped from you as you stood. You were less graceful than Adam was in undressing, and you knew you were no stripper, but his eyes still followed every movement raptly, as though he were memorising every inch of skin you revealed. You kicked your suit aside, stepping back into place between his legs as you cast off your bra.
Adam’s hands were quick to settle on your hips, dipping under the waistband of your underwear. “Do you want help with this, too?”
“Yes,” you smiled as you brought your hands to his hair. You’d vaguely noticed that it was softer than you’d expected, and didn’t catch easily between your fingers, but that he’d seemed to like it when you’d pulled it a little. You could explore that more later, you supposed, too focussed on the way he slid the garment down over your thighs to pool at your feet. He hummed quietly as you continued to card through his hair, fingers stroking his scalp gently.
You followed his movement as he ducked lower, sucking a harsh breath through your teeth when you felt him kiss your hip bone, his tongue warm and silken. He did again, his moan soft moan when your fingers involuntarily tightened in his hair stifled by your pelvis. He was copying you, you realised, giving you a belt of kisses just like you’d done to him. Except he was moving lower now, becoming sloppier, gently sucking every now and then.
“What’re you doing?” you asked softly, frowning down at him.
“I want to taste you,” he murmured, not raising his head. “Want to make you feel good.”
Oh God. This man, you thought for the second time and certainly not the last. You laughed, the growing heat in your gut throbbing indignantly as you pulled him gently away. He pressed his cheek into your hand again as you let it fall from his hair, his brow pinched in confusion.
“Next time,” you told him, “ok?” Then, “And you already made me feel good. You fucked me so good it saved my life. Now it’s my turn, hm?”
He seemed to consider that for a moment, then the confusion cleared and he nodded, turning his head to kiss your wrist. He didn’t break eye contact as you knelt once more, rubbing your hands over his thighs again, up to his hips where you caressed the little belt of copper marks. You matched now. How cute.
You leaned forwards, kissing the spot where his leg met his body. If you turned your head just an inch, your mouth would be on his cock. It was hot to the touch, still wet with your makeshitft lube, still flushed deep bronze, now beaded with precum at the tip.
You looked up, meeting his eyes. “You tell me if you wanna stop, ok?”
“Ok.”
That was all you needed. You licked up the shaft, ignoring the twitch of his hips and the sharp gasp it conjured. He moaned – really moaned – when your lips closed over the head, then again, louder, as you relaxed your mouth and sank down on him. What didn’t fit in your mouth was taken care of by the hand that wasn’t holding his hips down, not that you’d be able to do much if he decided to face fuck you.
“(Y/N),” he panted, “oh my– (Y/N).”
“Good?” you mumbled, though it sounded nothing like the word. He seemed to get the idea.
“Yes, yes it’s– you’re– Oh!”
You’d sucked, hard, hollowing your cheeks and sliding your head down as far as you could. You drew back, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before you did again. And again, and again.
He groaned your name as you sped up, hand moving in tandem with your mouth, hot and heavy against your tongue. His hand had found its way to your hair, not pushing or pulling, just resting on the back of your head as you practically swallowed his dick.
You’d never had a problem giving head. Liked it, sure, if the guy was nice, but you hadn’t loved it, and had never understood people who did. Now, as Adam cursed and whispered your name, all of it liberally punctuated by stilted moans and the occasional whine or grunt, you thought you got it. The idea that it was you doing that to him, you and you alone teasing forth those heady noises and making his body twitch and jerk like that… You could happily get on your knees for him every day of the rest of your life if this was what it was like every time.
You breathed deeply through your nose, the warm, sweet and very Adam smell of him managing somehow to overpower the ever growing mess of spit and a little sweat your hand was sliding through. Maybe with anyone else it would have been gross, but here it only forced your own soft moan before trickling to join the wetness growing between your legs. Earlier, as your mind had cleared, right as Adam had been lifting you off his lap, you’d decided that you never wanted to be aroused ever again. You were very happy that wish hadn’t come true as you squeezed your thighs together, eager for any friction you could get.
You could taste the saltiness of his precum at the back of your throat, feel the throb of his cock on your tongue as you relaxed even further, taking him deeper than you’d tried before. You prayed you weren’t about to make yourself throw up on him.
“(Y/N),” he choked, thumb rubbing tiny circles where it rested in your hair. That was going to be a bitch to untangle.
“Hm?”
“You’re so–” He broke off as you sucked hard, the muscles of his thighs and stomach tensing. “Ah, you’re so beautiful. So soft, you’re so… Oh, (Y/N)--”
You’d sped up at the praise, fuelled by the tiny, restrained thrusts into your mouth and the tightening of his hand in your hair. He was close, you could feel it, and you wanted nothing more than to make him cum in your mouth.
“So much,” he groaned. “It’s so… so much, I–”
You squeezed gently at his thigh, a silent reassurance. He’d cum before – in you, no less – but maybe you should have started with something that you could talk to him through. You could have used your hand and told him that it was ok, that he was doing well, while you kissed him and he made all those beautiful noises against your lips. Hell, you could have gone straight to the ninth yard and let him fill you up again, given him control.
Too late now, you supposed. His cock twitched, hips stuttering, whole body tensing. You squeezed his thigh again, I’ve got you, it’s alright, as he groaned deeply. His chest heaved, head tipped back as he came down your throat, hot and thick and salty. You didn’t stop your movements, hand and mouth working him through his high until there was no more. You pulled back and, after a moment’s hesitation, gently licked away the mess of your own spit coating him.
You sat back on your heels, hand still resting on his shaking leg, and took him in. He shone with more than his usual iridescence, a sheen of sweat clinging to his torso, some pieces of hair sticking to his forehead, face and neck flushed so prettily, breath still coming hard and fast. You’d done that. You’d made him look like that. You were responsible for the pure, raw pleasure painted in every line of his being.
“That was…” He broke off, swallowing hard before opening his eyes. He blinked, looked down at you on the floor, smiled. “That was incredible.”
You smiled back, taking his hands in both your own. “You taste fucking divine,” you whispered as you kissed his knuckles. “And you did so well.”
You couldn’t tell past the orgasm-glow, but you thought he might have blushed. “You’re so… so beautiful, (Y/N),” he repeated. “And so warm, and soft, I–”
Now you were blushing, heat rolling up your neck, over your cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” you said softly as you stood, leaning down to press your lips against his. They immediately parted, tongue sliding beside your own, eager and exploratory. You shivered as his hands came to rest on your hips once more, pulling you closer as he shuffled backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed.
“Adam,” you murmured, still bent over him.
He tried to pull you closer still, gently, but still insistent. “What?”
You tried not to laugh at the hint of frustration in his voice. “Bed’s in the way. I can’t get any closer.”
“Yes you can.” He broke away, frowning. “Just sit on me.”
“Sit on you?” You glanced at his lap, back up again, raising your eyebrows. Did you hear that right?
“Yes. Sit on me.” He pulled again, and you were struck suddenly by the realisation that he really didn’t have to ask – or tell – you to do anything. If he wanted you on top of him that badly, he could easily pick you up and place you there without breaking a sweat. Hell, he could throw you across the room if he really got the urge. But he wasn’t forcing you. Even the pressure on your hips was gentle enough that you could have pulled away any time you wanted.
“Ok,” you smiled, steadying yourself on his shoulders as you knelt over his thighs.
“You can relax,” he urged, his hands running down over your hips to your thighs, back up again and over your waist, around to your back. His arms circled you, head bent as he mouthed at your neck. “Don’t have to hold yourself up.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok.” You relaxed your legs, sinking down to rest atop his. He hadn’t stopped the attention he was giving to your neck, nosing your hair aside to kiss under your ear, along the hollow of your jaw, over your jugular, right across the tendons at the base of your throat. You tipped your head back for him, sighing in satisfaction as you ran your hand through his hair. His palms were warm where they pressed into your back, his chest and stomach smooth against your own.
“Closer,” he whispered under your ear, pushing you further up his legs.
You shifted, your stomach backflipping as your pelvis met his. He hummed into your skin, pressing you harder against himself, his cock hard again and hot where it lay between your bodies. His mouth had moved lower, to your breasts, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin just as gently as he’d done to your neck.
“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you breathed, rocking your hips.
“Hm, I don’t want to hurt you.”
You smiled at that. “You won’t, I promise. I wanna see this tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and maybe even the day after that, too.”
You felt him nod, and then moaned because yes he was really using his mouth now. His teeth grazed your skin as he sucked a dark mark just below your collar bone, soothing it quickly with his tongue. He looked up at you momentarily for approval, and at your smile, bent again to repeat it. Yep, you were going to be seeing those for a while.
“Adam,” you gasped as he stooped lower, leaving a trail of wet hickeys down the centre of your chest.
“Hm?”
“I know I was kind of – oh – in control last time,” you started, biting your lip as he turned his attention to your breast. “Do you want – fuck, yes – to try being in charge?”
“No,” he said after a pause. He looked up, hand ghosting up your side to stroke a particularly large and dark hickey. “I liked it.”
That wasn’t what you’d been expecting. He was always so happy to go along with whatever everyone else was doing, which you supposed was another side effect of Sovereign upbringing, you’d assumed he might like to take the lead. He seemed to be having an excellent time exploring your body at his leisure.
“Ok then,” you smiled as you ground against him. “Do you want me to do it again?”
“Yes.” His breathing was heavy as he nodded. “Please, (Y/N).”
“Ok.” You reached down, taking his cock in your hand. “Ready?”
He broke away from your chest, looking up at you like you’d hung the bloody stars. His hand joined yours as he closed the distance, kissing you softly at first, then with less coordination as you lined him up and sank down, sighing against his lips. His fingers gripped your thigh, tight enough that you wondered if they were leaving marks, a deep groan echoing through the space between you.
“Alright?” you murmured, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked.
“Alright,” he echoed. He stroked up your leg, under the back of your thigh, squeezing gently at the soft flesh of your ass and lifting you. You wondered if he was trying to get you off him for a second, then he was lowering you back onto himself and it clicked.
“Like this?” you asked, rocking your hips over his. God, he fit so perfectly, it was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. How had you glossed over that the first time?
“Yes, yes,” he sighed. “(Y/N), you’re– yes, like that.”
You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you as you practically whined, steadying yourself against his shoulders just as you had before. His arm was around your waist, holding you close as you lifted and lowered your hips, your chest brushing his with every movement.
His lips had returned to your neck, warm and soft. “Is this good?” he asked as he sucked at the as yet unmarked skin there. “For you?”
Wow, you were ruined for anyone else. “So good, Adam,” you whispered, running your hands over his shoulders, the back of his neck. “You feel so fucking good.”
He groaned deep in his chest, his hips jerking up into yours. And oh if that didn’t turn you on more than you already were. Just your words could have that effect on him. Eight little words and your touch, and he did that. The power was intoxicating.
“What you do to me,” he was saying, guiding your movements. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
“Yeah?” You slid one hand down, trailing over his chest and stomach before finding the mess of heat and slick and sweat where your body met his. Your fingers danced over your clit, a sharp hiss of air between your teeth.
“No idea,” he repeated, the words gliding over your skin like water.
“Fuck,” you moaned, “fuck, Adam. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
You felt him smile. “Hm?”
“You feel fucking amazing,” you hissed past the steady pleasure-ache of his cock hitting that place deep inside you, your fingers on your clit. It was building with every slap of your hips against his, hot and tight.
“Oh, (Y/N)--”
“Love feeling you fill me up,” you continued. “Dreamed about what it’d be like.”
“What is it like?”
“Like – fuck, Adam – it’s like fucking Heaven, I swear–”
He groaned your name again, desperate and God, you were so close.
“You look like Heaven,” you panted, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head back. You searched his face past the pleasure-haze already clouding your vision, dipping down to kiss him hard. It was as messy as the first not-quite-kiss had been, all tongue and breath and your whispered “so fucking pretty” as you licked into his mouth.
“So are you,” he managed, hands kneading at the soft skin of your waist and hips, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
“Love hearing you say my name,” you went on, your fingers working harder and faster. “All those sounds you make, so perfect–”
“(Y/N).” He said it like a prayer, like an incantation, and if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard, you didn’t know what was.
“Gonna make me cum, Adam holy shit–”
He thrust harder up into you, lips fastened to the hollow under your jaw, moving you hard and fast against himself. “Yes, do it, cum on me,” he babbled. “Let me make you feel good.”
That did it. The bomb of pleasure inside you exploded, fizzing out though your legs as you spasmed around him, a desperate cry of his name torn from you. You held him tight, fingers twisting in his hair, half conscious of his own litany of curses and praises and your name repeated throughout as he continued to move your boneless body. He spilled hot inside you, and when you finally regained control of your mind, he was breathing hard against your chest and shoulder.
“Are you alright?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair.
“Yes,” he nodded. His grip on you had loosened considerably, his hands roaming soothingly up and down your back. “Are you?”
You sighed, then laughed as you drew back. His brow furrowed as you held his face between your hands. “Am I alright?” you echoed incredulously. “Adam, you are amazing.”
The frown deepened. “So… yes?”
“Yes.” You leaned down, pressing your lips to his. This kiss was gentle, slow and thorough, and he smiled at you when you parted. “Will you stay this time?” you asked.
“Yes.” Then, “Can I clean you up again?”
“Yes.” You sighed as he effortlessly shifted you off himself, setting you gently on the bed. You could feel his cum leaking slowly out of you, the air cool against your sweat, his spit still on your skin, and the mess of arousal around your crotch. He wasn’t in any better shape, really, but still he moved with ease and grace towards the doorway, returning in record time with a damp cloth.
Something inside you ached with how gentle he was. Thorough, but he drew away at the slightest hint of discomfort. He’d done this before, you supposed, when you’d been asleep. You remembered him telling you he was going to clean you up, had heard his footsteps retreating, but had dozed off before he’d returned. Still, you’d woken up relatively clean, and there’d been the blanket, too. If it had been anyone else the thought would have made you feel violated, perhaps, but not with him. With him it made your heart melt.
“Let me,” you said softly when he’d finished, taking the cloth and wiping at the mess around his crotch with a clean portion. You tossed the cloth aside when you were done, shuffling backwards, pulling him to lie with you. It took some wriggling, but eventually you settled face to face under the blanket, his arm draped over your ribs, fingers toying with the hair at the back of your head, your own hand splayed over his heart.
“I meant it,” he said softly. “What I said before.”
“Hm?”
“You’re important to me.” Although the bronze had faded from his face, leaving it the shining gold you were used to, his lips were still slightly swollen, his eyes bright. In the dimness of the corner of the room, with the light behind him, he seemed to glow.
“Oh,” you smiled, then sighed as you shifted barely an inch closer “You’re important to me too, Adam.”
He leaned forward over the tiny gap, kissing your lips ever so gently. “Can we… do this again? When we’re back?”
“Yeah. I’d like to.” You paused, taking your turn to kiss him. “I like being with you,” you whispered as you pulled away.
Adam smiled. His hand flattening against your shoulder blades, he pulled you in against his chest. His skin was so warm, and you could hear his heart beating, feel his breathing.
“I like being with you, too.”
Note: I feel like this wasn't quite up to par with what I've written in the past, and I'm genuinely not sure why or how I can fix it. I've re-read both of these like five times now (after finishing them) and have edited them endlessly, but I just can't seem to make them feel right. Anyone else every get that? Either way, hope you guys enjoyed these x
#adam warlock#adam warlock smut#adam warlock x reader#adam warlock x you#mcu#marvel#gotg3#gotg vol 3#fanfiction#fanfic#shameless smut#smut
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😅🤭hey
KALE LOVE. Okay.
😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?
I don't do embarrassment typically but I guess sometimes I'm like yeah I def wrote a fic where Rooster turns into an actual Rooster. So. Yolo. hahaha sometimes I'm like I can't believe I wrote that lmao or sometimes I'm critical of my first stories cuz I've improved since then.
🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?
I'm so unoriginal with that lmao so if it's on tumblr no just 'my fics' but on AO3 I love adding a stupid tag like olive garden as an expression of love or unnecessary mentions of justin bieber's drummer boy featuring busta rhymes. (also I live in that happy ending and humor and AU tag) (I should start tagging all my stuff as GCCU aka grilled cheese cinematic universe)
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