Usopp X Reader: Shot Your Shot

eddie brock wanting to go out with reader, so she dresses up but venom takes over and compliments her in his own weird ways <3

Your ring nearly snags a thread on the inside left cup of your dress, and you carefully retract it before it can tear the garment. There's a lace edge beneath your bra that's itching something fierce, and you can't wait to take the dress off tonight.

Or, of course, have it taken off of you.

"Eddie?" You call through the apartment, now peering down at your necklace as you try laying it against your chest in a particular way, "Ready to go, babe?"

"Yeah," He calls from the kitchen, the soles of his dress shoes clicking against the wood floor as he comes to find you, "I was thinking we could- woah."

His abrupt stop makes you glance up, and he's got his eyes glued to your dress. It's a new one, a rich brown hue that drapes down your frame like you're a modern-day Jessica Rabbit.

I take it you like the dress," You laugh, watching Eddie's cheeks go pink. He needs a moment to recover, and you're patient enough to give it to him, but venom isn't.

With a series of ungodly squelches the symbiote envelops your boyfriend, sharp, jagged teeth already set in a grin that barely holds back his massive tongue. His eyes are narrowed and it makes his grin that much more predatory, a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"I do not know why Eddie will not talk." Venom leans in, hulking figure crowding your own smaller one, "But I want to. You look delicious. You look like chocolate."

"Yeah?" You grin at Venom, fingers fiddling with the silky fabric of your dress, "Thanks, Venom."

"Do you know what I do to chocolate?" Venom leans in farther still, until you can feel his breath fan over your face. He's intoxicatingly large, and your vision is entirely taken up by him.

"I do," You laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek, "I've found enough massacred remains of hershey bars around this place to know you're not gentle with them."

"I would like to do that to you." Venom's tongue comes out to lick over his teeth, a slimy, dripping, circular path, "But for your comfort I think that we should do it on your bed."

"Not right now," You lament, leaning your forehead against his and kissing the space where his nose should be, "We have to eat first. But maybe you can arm wrestle Eddie for me later, big guy."

"I would win an arm wrestle." Venom boasts, thinking literally instead of picking up on the broader meaning of your words, "Eddie is a weak loser."

"A weak loser who's paying for my dinner tonight," You pinch at Venom's arm, though you're sure it doesn't hurt him, "Lemme see him again, V. We can't be late to this place or we'll lose our table."

Venom is very polite with you. He follows orders seamlessly, shrinking back into Eddie until the man's tanned skin breaks through the black goop that had been swarming it. He's on you in an instant, hands against your hips and nose knocking into yours, "You think I'm a weak loser?"

"No!' You laugh, kissing the smile he's trying to tamp down in the name of dramatics, and wriggling from his grip to grab your helmet off of the counter, "I just think Venom could beat you in an arm wrestle."

"It's true," Eddie calls after you, jogging to catch up as you head for the door, "But it's not nice!"

Find Anything Black!Batmom Here!

★Fics★

Thomas Troubles

→ Baby Thomas is causing trouble

Batmom giving birth

→ Damian not knowing why y/n’s baby is brown

Batmom Being Pregnant

→ pregnant batmom things

MILF STUFF

→Reactions to batmom being a milf

Winter Wonderland

→ winter at the manor

Keeping Up With Her Kids Love Lives 1 2

Strummin’ My Pain

→ Duke and Batmom jamming out 

Songs that remind me of Black!Batmom and Bruce 1 2 

T-Shirt and Hair Tied

→ Bruce just wants to fuck his wife in his t-shirt

Invited to the Cookout

→ Clark makes the mistake of putting raisins on the potato salad

The Key to Marriage w/ Bruce and Y/N Wayne

→ They sit down for an interview and discuss their marriage

Smile for the Camera

→ His wife wants to make a sex tape

For the man who has everything

→ Dick doesn’t know what to get Bruce for Christmas

Sense of normalcy

→ Batmom and Jason at four stages of his life

“Oh My God! My Parents are Swingers!”

→ Dick finds out about his parents’ extra-marital activities

Don’t Touch My Hair

→ Sometimes having black hair is stressful

Batmom Finding out about Damian

→ The bullshit Bruce be on

BHM

→ Black History Month in the Wayne Household

Winter Wonderland

→ Winter at Wayne Manor

In High School

→ a brief story of Y/N and Bruce in high school

In the Before Times

→ What Batmom did before getting with Bruce

My Baby Boy

→ Batmom finds out Jason is still alive

★Headcanons★

Batmom & the pets HCs

Batmom Dying HCs

Being Pregnant w/ Bruce’s Baby HCs

★Blurbs★

Vampire blurb

Batmom singing Megan Thee Stallion lyrics

Blurb #003

Blurb #005

Blurb #028

Batfam at a Cookout Blurb

Tiktoks about Black!Batmom

F My Baby Dad Blurb

Batmom Gets Pearls Blurb

Batmom Gets Mugged blurb

Juneteenth Blurb

Batmom and Bruce Working Out Blurb

Picture Day Blurb

Black Wife Effect Blurb

Batfam Sick Blurb

Mother’s Day Blurb

Black!Batmom Knitting

Binging Shows w/ Bruce

Bruce Missing a Phone Call

Jim Gordon Instigating Blurb

Elevator Blurb

Hot Mom Blurb

Black!Batmom & the Renaissance Tour

Batmom’s reaction to the Red Hood

Bruce is Dead in this One

Announcing the Twins Blurb

Birth of the Twins Blurb

All That Matters

Requested by anonymous: "Alright, could you write Luca with a younger reader (25-28 yes old). She's super sweet and bubbly, basically just a sunny disposition. People think she's too young for him/he's too old for her, like especially her family. She grew up really seeking their approval, like she has a problem trying to make other people happy even if it leaves her exhausted, sad, or uncomfortable. but she won't compromise her happiness this time for anyone because she really loves Luca. Sorry if that's too much. I really love your writing" AND a request that I lost about Luca meeting his shy/innocent girlfriend on the beach and keeping their relationship private

Pairing: Dominique Luca x younger!fem!reader

Summary: You're sweet, bubbly, and perfect for Luca. When people begin judging your relationship because of the age gap, you decide that you, Luca, and the love between you are all that matters.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, brief angst, parental judgement

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the kind words, anon! And sorry to the other anon whose ask I lost; I hope I remembered the gist of it. :)

“What’d you think of that one, sweetheart?”

Luca looks up from his surfboard when he hears the question. It sounds wrong like the man in the wetsuit is calling someone sweetheart when he shouldn’t be. The word is dripping in condescension, and Luca is prepared to stand up for the woman being addressed with the sarcastic and likely uninvited pet name.

“It was really good!” you reply, smiling brightly.

Immediately, Luca regrets turning his attention away from his board. He’s quickly convinced he can never get it back from you. You playfully shove the surfer, who grips his arm like he’s in incredible pain. At least she’s okay, Luca thinks as he tries to focus on prepping his board for his morning surf.

“Peters was looking at you again,” the man with you complains.

“Why?” you inquire, using your heel to trace a shape in the sand.

With a sigh, he replies, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going back in. Pay attention long enough to give me some honest feedback?”

“You’re always good,” you assure him. “But I’ll try.”

Luca stands and lifts his board while your friend runs into the surf again.

“Good morning,” you greet as he nears you.

“Morning,” Luca replies with a smile. “How’s the surf look today?”

Nodding, you look at the water and say, “Good. Offshore breeze should help, water’s glassier than it was yesterday, and the wave shapes have been nice.”

“You know your stuff.”

You look down at the sand, and Luca decides then he’d love to get to know you.

“I’m Luca,” he says, dropping the end of his board to shake your hand.

“Luca!” your friend calls as he returns from a wave you didn’t witness. “I thought I recognized that board.”

“And I should have recognized the hair,” Luca replies, fist-bumping him.

“How do you two know each other?” you inquire.

They both look pointedly at their boards, and you roll your eyes.

“Better question is, how do you two know each other?” Luca questions.

“He’s my neighbor,” you explain. “He’s trying to ‘get me out of my shell.’ His words.”

“It’s working!” he defends. “You wouldn’t have talked to a stranger on the beach six months ago.”

You lower your voice to confide in Luca, “That’s true.”

“Excuse me,” your neighbor asks, marching toward a surfer you recognize: Peters.

“He doesn’t like Peters looking at you?” Luca deduces.

“I don’t know why,” you say with a shrug. “Good luck surfing. Or have fun, whatever the right phrase is for non-competitive wave riding.”

“Either works. And between you and me, it’s because you deserve better than Peters.”

You look down again, but you’re smiling, so Luca decides to use this opportunity like a perfect wave and ride it for as long as possible.

“Would you like to get dinner with me?” he proposes.

Looking up, you answer, “I’d love to.”

That evening, Luca glances at his watch while Street and Tan argue about which restaurant makes better cheesecake. He needs to leave now, or he’ll be late to your first date, and while you seem incredibly sweet and would probably understand, that isn’t how he wants to start a relationship with you.

“Guys, I’m gonna head out!” he calls, pointing over his shoulder.

“What? Why?” Street inquires. “We’re going to your favorite place!”

“You don’t know what my favorite place is, Streeter. And the waves are going to be perfect in the morning, so I need some rest. Have fun!”

After he leaves his team, he meets you at an oceanside restaurant and takes your hand as you’re led to a table on the deck. The more you talk and open up, Luca realizes that you’re not only sweet, you’re downright bubbly, and possess a sunny disposition about everything in the world. Yes, you’re innocent and can be shy, but you open up to Luca. He knows he was right this morning, and he needs to know everything about you.

Four Months Later

“Pretty dress,” your mother compliments at family dinner.

“Thank you! Luca got it for me,” you reply, holding the skirt as you look down at the dainty details lining the top.

“You’re still with him?” your father inquires. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re happy but you are too young for him.”

Your mom lays her hand on his arm as she amends, “He’s quite a bit older than you.”

You swallow harshly, fighting the urge to do something that will regain their approval. You’ve been trying to make them happy your entire life, and when they continuously bring up the age difference between you and Luca, it makes you sad.

“Why don’t you go out with that neighbor of yours?” your mother suggests. “The surfer with the pretty hair?”

Because then you’d complain there’s too much sand in my house. Rather than voicing that opinion, you remind her, “He has a fiancé. And she’s one of my best friends.”

“Maybe I can set you up with a son of one of my buddies,” your father says.

You nod, picking at the appetizer on your plate with no trace of your usual smile. Being aware that you’re a people pleaser doesn’t make dealing with the emotions of disappointing someone any easier.

“I’m happy,” you say softly.

“For now,” your father grumbles.

You decide to change the topic, and as the night goes on, the heaviness in your stomach seems to weigh you down. When you return home, you’re inexplicably exhausted, sad with yourself and your parents, and uncomfortable. You never feel like this with Luca because he accepts you for who you are and doesn’t take advantage of your tendencies to do all you can and more for others. It’s one of the many reasons you love him.

As you lie awake in bed, you make a decision. Your happiness is the only thing that matters. And starting now, you will not compromise your happiness or relationship for anyone. You’ll do it for yourself and for Luca.

“How’d your dinner go?” Luca inquires, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You shrug, and Luca brushes his lips against your temple.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” you admit. “But I don’t want to put us at risk to do that.”

“Do you care about the age gap?”

“Of course not!”

“Then that’s what’s important. Everything is up to you. I know it’s not easy to hear and even harder to put it into practice but doing what makes you happy is the only way you’ll get what you deserve. You’re sacrificing yourself for others.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t accept that you make me happy. They don’t care that I love you.”

Luca’s brows raise as he smiles. You realize what you admitted but can’t ask if he’s okay with you saying it before Luca pulls you into a hug that makes all your worries and discomfort disappear.

Luca’s phone buzzes during a sparring match. When he remembers that you are one of the few people who can reach him while he’s at the station, he calls timeout. Ignoring Street’s protests, he lifts his phone and reads the message.

“I gotta go,” he tells his team. “Family thing.”

“You’ve been having a lot of family things,” Deacon says.

“Just tell us what’s going on, man,” Hondo invites. “You know we’re here for you. Don’t have to keep sneakin’ off if you let us help.”

“I…” Luca hesitates, then says, “I don’t know if you can help me get my future in-laws to like me.”

Deacon and Hondo’s jaws drop, and Street snatches Luca’s truck keys out of his hand.

“We’re meeting her right now,” he declares. “Wasn’t a question either, and I can beat you if you try to take these keys back.”

“She’s not feeling great right now,” Luca argues. “Next time.”

Tan pulls Luca’s phone from his hand and taps the message. Luca tries to get his phone back, but Hondo reaches it first. Lifting it to his ear, he raises his hand toward Luca and says, “It’s ringing.”

Luca stops. He’s almost sure you will hang up when you realize it isn’t him calling, but Hondo has a way of disarming people, and you already see the best in everyone you meet.

“Hi,” Hondo greets. “My name is Daniel Harrelson; I work with Luca.” He smiles and holds Luca’s gaze as he says, “Yes, I am Hondo. And Luca is fine. My team and I just wanted to ask if we can finally meet you. Luca hasn’t said a word about you.”

Hondo ends the call a moment later and returns Luca’s phone without a word.

“She said she’ll have coffee and desserts ready when we get there.”

“Watch him,” Deacon warns Luca.

“Alright,” Luca says. He chuckles and shakes his head before inviting his team to follow him to your house. He doesn’t mention that you’re young, sunny, or nearly perfect, but he’s sure they’ll realize quickly. If they disapprove of the relationship, Luca may have to make the hardest decision of his life.

Hondo, Deacon, Street, and Tan watch as you greet Luca at the door. They realize imediately that Luca is in love. Not like the love he’s claimed to be in before, but really, truly, madly in love. What makes Deacon smile is that you are, too. Three of the four men on your walkway don’t notice that you’re younger than Luca, at least not right away. The fourth notices, but only to make well-meaning jokes and take jabs at Luca while they bicker.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say after introductions. “Luca’s told me a lot about you.”

Luca cuts in before Hondo can remind you that they haven’t heard about the relationship.

“We kept the relationship private,” he explains.

“He means he decided to keep me from any possible judgement,” you explain. “I’m getting enough grief from my parents about the age gap without inviting more people to comment on it.”

“I mean I wasn’t going to say anything,” Street begins.

“Then don’t,” Deacon interjects. “He’s kidding.”

Tilting your head, you look at Street, then say, “You’re funny.”

“If you ever get tired of Luca or he throws his back out surfing or something, I’m right here.”

“And you said I’d have to worry about Hondo,” Luca murmurs to Deacon.

“What is that wonderful smell?” Hondo inquires.

“Maybe it’s both of them,” Deacon replies.

“I made some scones, chocolate chip muffins, and brownie bites this morning,” you remember excitedly. “There’s also fresh-brewed coffee. Follow me.”

Luca watches as his team gets to know you. They support the relationship - which they ensure they voice to Luca upon returning to the station - and clearly appreciate your sweet and bright personality. It’s a welcome light in their sometimes dim day-to-day lives.

“So, what are you doing about the parents?” Street inquires as he reaches for another brownie. “If you decide to cut them loose, Deacon and Annie would probably adopt you.”

You look to Deacon, smiling as you expect a deadpanned response that will make you laugh.

“Annie’s going to love you,” he begins. “So, I actually don’t have a response to that because it probably would happen.”

“I think you should just introduce Luca to your parents,” Hondo says, breaking a muffin into smaller pieces. “If we can see how happy the two of you are together, anyone can.”

You look to Luca and decide to do just that. It won’t be an overnight change, but if they see that you love him, they’ll grow to accept him. You and Luca are the only people that matter in your relationship, and you’re happy with him and him alone.

“When’s your birthday?” Tan asks. “We’ll add it to the calendar.”

“What calendar?” you ask.

“The family calendar,” Luca tells you. “I wasn’t kidding when I said if they like you you’re stuck with them.”

Smiling, you ask, “What else is on the calendar?”

“Not your parents’ birthdays!” Street exclaims from the living room, looking at your pictures.

Tim Through the Years - Meet the Class

Series Masterlist

Summary: Tim meets your class of 25 five-year-olds. 1.2k+ words.

“Hey, can I run something by you?” you asked Tim while you were having lunch at his desk.

Tim looked up at you mid-bite of his shared sandwich. He chewed quickly and asked, “Of course, is everything okay?”

You softly bit your lip. “Yes. I know you aren’t a fan of community outreach, but will you come to my class and talk about safety and what to do in an emergency?”

Tim gave you his million-dollar smile “I’d be more than happy to come and talk to your class. I get to spend a whole morning with a beautiful lady.” He leans over and kisses you. “I also get the added bonus of being away from Lucy, too.”

You shoved him slightly. “I think you like the latter more.”

“Hey, that’s police brutality. I might have to handcuff you to this desk all day and then you’ll have to hang out with me.” Tim smiled as he spoke.

“Aw! You two are just so cute!” Lucy said when she walked up to the desk.

“Hi Lucy, how are you?” you turned and asked her.

“I’m doing well! Do you think we can have a girls night with me, you, Angela, Nyla and Bailey? We could go paint pottery or watch a movie or go laser tag or…." Before Lucy could finish, Tim sent her a glare.

“Can I help you with something, Officer Chen?” Tim growled out.

“Our suspect is ready to talk,” Chen said to Tim.

“I’ll see you later,” Tim told you as he kissed the top of your head.

“Bye Tim! Bye Lucy! We definitely have to get together soon!”

You wave them off as you pack up and leave. 

You paced back and forth before school started, waiting on Tim to arrive. You were extremely nervous because your students, while awesome, were very protective of you. They’ve stopped a presentation before because the man who was talking about his job told the class that they could do better than being a teacher. The poor guy got booed and slightly bullied by the group of 5-year-olds, so you just hope that today goes over well. Tim texted you to let you know that he would be a little late due to the fact he saw a crime being committed right in front of him.

When the bell finally rang, your group of students walked into the classroom all chatting away with each other. They put their bags up and sat down in the respective seats (it took a while for them to get down). 

“Good morning everyone!” you tell the class when the second bell rang.

“Good Morning Miss. Winchester!” they responded. 

You started the morning off with doing some freeze dance to get the kids ready to start the day. When that was done, you picked up right where you left off from yesterday. Some students still shouted out answers, but others would remember and raised their hands. You found it adorable how much they enjoy getting to learn. Soon, there was a knock at the door. 

“Class, we have a very special guest today who is going to talk to us about safety.” You walked up to the door, you let Tim and, to your surprise, two more officers in.

“IS THAT A DOG?!?!?!” a student named Ashley shouted.

All the students erupted in excitement, and you had to use your quiet hand gesture to try and settle the class as Tim, a K9 officer, and a small dog walked up to the front of the class. 

“Class, Meet Sergeant Bradford from the LAPD,” you announced to the students.

“Good morning, students, as you heard, I’m Sergeant Bradford, and today I’m talking about safety. Firstly, I brought two special guests with me, Officer Stan with his K-9 Officer Fuzz.”

Officer Stan smiled and greeted the students as Officer Fuzz, a small dachshund, barked excitedly as a greeting.

“I brought Officer Fuzz in today so you can understand what a K-9 is used for and when to approach one,” Tim explained.

“Officer Fuzz is used like any other police officer; he helps us find bad guys and can catch bad guys faster than we can. Officer Fuzz can run up to 20 miles per hour, so we typically send him in to run after someone. Officer Fuzz also helps smell out bad stuff for us to take away. You can approach a police dog at any time with permission from the Officer. If you do see a police dog chasing after someone or he looks angry, do not approach. He could accidentally hurt you because he’s trying to protect his fellow officers or trying to stop someone,” Officer Stan explained. “Any questions?”

Lots of hands flew into the air, so you called on a girl named Hanna to ask the first question. “Does Officer Fuzz stay at the station all the time?”

“That’s a great question! No, Officer Fuzz is technically my dog. So, when I get off work, he gets to go home and be with me. He also goes in when I do, so just like me, Officer Fuzz gets to be a normal dog when he’s not working,” Stan said.

The students continued their questions about Officer Fuzz and his handler. Before Officer Stan had to leave to go back to work, he released Officer Fuzz so he could run around and receive pets from everyone. Officer Fuzz ran up to you last and laid on his back for belly rubs.

“Aren’t you the cutest?” You bent down and gave the tail-wagging dog belly rubs.

“You might have some competition, Bradford,” Stan said with a smile and slightly nudged Tim. Stan called back Officer Fuzz and they both left with waves of goodbyes and a huge “Thank you!” from your students.

“Hello again! I want to tell everyone what to do if they feel unsafe or lost. If you get away from your mommy or your daddy, find a store worker or an officer to help you find your mom or dad. If you are in danger or hurt, call 911 and we will do everything we can to help you. Do we have any questions?”

“What do you do as a Sergeant?” Logan, a young student, asked.

“I am everyone’s boss; I tell them what to do and make sure their job is getting done. I am currently training someone to become a police officer, they are called a Rookie,” Tim explained.

Your students asked as many questions as they could until the lunch bell rang, and the class let out a collective grown in disappointment. 

“Can we have lunch with Sergeant Bradford?” Wade asked, and the other students jumped in to agree.

“I don’t think Sergeant Bradford can stay any longer, he does have to leave at some point,” you said softly.

“I can stay for lunch,” Tim said with a smile. The class cheered and you sent them to get their lunches and to have a private moment with Tim.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said to Tim as you looked up at him.

“I’m more than happy to. Your students are wonderful,” Tim said with a smile, and kissed the top of your head.

“Did Miss Winchester fix your heart?” Johnny asked Tim, startling both of you. 

Tim smiled and looked at you. “Yeah, she did,” he answered, which caused you to blush.

Johnny’s eyes got all big and he quickly ran out to the other students.

“Guys!!!! Sergeant Bradford is Miss. Winchester’s husband!!”

You then hear a loud scream of joy and all the students running in to ask the both of you a million questions about this new revelation. It was going to be a very long afternoon. 

Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: At a Dodgers game, you meet Tim Bradford, who thinks you're a good luck charm for the Dodgers.

Warnings: pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: @bradleybeachbabe inspired me to write this (as well as Eric Winter posting about the Dodgers)! I hope you enjoy the game you're going to soon, Rachel!!!💙

Today’s date has been circled on your calendar for months. The Dodgers are playing at home in LA, and you got tickets behind home base. Since scoring the tickets, you’ve been counting down the moments, using this game to get you through tough days and long nights. Now that it’s finally here, you can forget about everything else for the evening and enjoy the game, hoping for another exciting evening like the tiebreaking two-run homer you watched on TV last week. Dressed in your favorite Dodgers shirt, you leave for Dodgers Stadium happier than you’ve been in weeks. Something in the Los Angeles air makes you think it will be a great night.

“Lucy, if I had an extra ticket, I’d sell it,” Tim sighs as he parks at Dodgers Stadium. “If you want to be at this game so badly, ask Thorsen. If anyone can get you a last-minute ticket, it’s him.”

“But he’s already at the game,” Lucy laments over the phone.

“So am I!”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How is that-“ Tim stops and shakes his head. “Lucy, I hope you can figure something out. If not, I’ll tell you all about the game at work.”

“Ugh, you’re such a man.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Tim ends the call before Lucy can explain that she did not mean that as a compliment. It’s been a tough week at the Mid-Wilshire station, and Tim wants to watch a good game, cheer for his team, and unwind.

Tim smiles as he makes his way to his seat: an unexpected but highly appreciated upgrade to home base. Coming into Dodgers Stadium feels like coming home, and Tim thinks tonight will be a good game. At least until he sees that the seat beside him, which he expected to be empty, is occupied by a woman scrolling on her phone rather than enjoying the pre-game activities. He ignores his disappointment at being in the section with a disinterested neighbor as he watches warmups.

You look up from the detailed roster file you keep on your phone. Gavin Lux, an infielder who is a left-hand batter and right-hand thrower, is wearing his glove on his right hand for warmups. As you scroll through your newest notes, glancing up at the team every few swipes, someone sits beside you.

“Left, right,” you murmur to yourself.

“Excuse me?” the man asks.

You lift your gaze from your phone, then freeze when you see the attractive man occupying the seat to your right.

“Sorry, I’m talking to myself. Lux is just… never mind, sorry.”

As you turn back toward the field, he asks, “Lux is?”

“He’s warming up with his glove on his throwing hand.”

The man looks out into the field, locates Lux, and nods. “He is. Any idea why?”

You shake your head. “I thought maybe I was remembering his stats wrong, but I double-checked and he’s warming up opposite.”

“Interesting. Think we can win with him off his game?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug. “I don’t think he’s the player that makes or breaks a game. Unless he tries to bat right-handed, we should be okay.”

“I’m Tim,” he introduces, offering his hand.

You shake his hand as you tell him your name, surprised by how he holds your hand in his just a moment longer than is usually acceptable. You don’t mind, especially when he smiles and asks if you’ve noticed anything else.

“Is this your usual seat?” you inquire after a few minutes of discussing the players and their techniques.

“No, my season pass gets me over first base,” Tim answers. “You?”

“One-night only. I’d love to get a season pass someday.”

“If we win tonight, they should give you one on principle.”

You laugh as you ask, “Why?”

“If we win tonight after that tenth inning save last week, with our infielders off their game, and you just happen to be in the crowd? You’d have to be good luck.”

“Maybe it’s just a good day,” you counter softly.

Tim smiles as he agrees, “Maybe.”

“Stop letting the ball play you!” someone behind you yells. “This is why they should have left you in the minors!”

You stifle a laugh at their enthusiasm but agree with them. Tim sighs beside you and checks the score.

“Just one can of corn, is that too much to ask?” Tim grumbles.

“Wow,” you exclaim. “You really just used that term.”

“You disagree?”

“Not at all, just haven’t heard someone younger than Babe Ruth call it that.”

“Then, what do we do? We’re going to lose at this rate.”

You shrug and offer, “Guess I’m not very good luck, after all.”

Tim wants to disagree but decides that it’s not his place. If the Dodgers win, then he’ll tell you that he’s impressed by you, drawn to you, but otherwise, you’ll go your separate ways, never to see one another again.

“I don’t want to watch this, Tim,” you say with a pout.

The Dodgers are tied in the bottom of the ninth in a concerning parallel to their previous game. You don’t trust them to get the ball where it needs to be to win, not after their lackluster performance in the first few innings.

“Wish them luck,” Tim encourages, standing beside you as the crowd roars. “C’mon, give into the superstition once. What’s the worst that happens?”

“We lose, and my night of relaxation becomes me wondering if you put a curse of the team by saying good luck in these sacred walls.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but it’s a baseball game. It’s not that serious.”

You try to ignore Tim, but the smile on his face is too hard to look away from. To appease him and partially because you love hearing him say you are good luck, you whisper a wish of good luck, boys through the net separating you from foul balls.

And, somehow, between when you speak and when the stadium silences, Mookie Betts hits a homerun that echoes throughout Los Angeles, and the Dodgers perform another walk-off.

“You did it!” Tim yells as the crowd erupts into cheers.

He pulls you into his arms, completely forgetting his prior hesitance to tell you how much you affected him, and you throw your arms over his shoulders as he spins you. When your feet are on the ground again, you cup Tim’s jaw and smile.

“We won!” you cheer as fireworks boom overhead.

“You really are good luck,” Tim replies.

“Maybe you’re the good luck."

Tim shakes his head and leans closer to you. The stadium around you is completely forgotten, entirely focused on the man before you. His hands are on your waist, yours are framing his face, and you can’t wait to hear what he says next.

“Will you go out with me? I think we could both use some more good luck,” he proposes.

Your smile widens as you nod. “I’d love to.”

Tim pulls you against his side, his arm warm and steady over your shoulders as you cheer for your home team and yourself.

Bonus:

“So, how was the game, Tim?” Lucy asks before roll call.

“It was great, after we caught up, at least,” Tim answers. “Did you watch it?”

“Yeah, Aaron pulled through and got me a ticket. Over the outfield but still better than anything I could’ve gotten on my own.”

Tim nods, but she doesn’t move out of the doorway so he can walk inside.

“What?” he asks.

“I saw something else at the game. Someone made it onto the jumbotron,” Lucy sing-songs. “You’re trending on ClipTok. Everyone’s talking about the mystery couple who celebrated the win.”

Tim narrows his gaze at Lucy, who shrugs and invites him to check for himself before she enters the roll call room. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see a text from you.

We’re trending. I don’t know if I should be more upset by all the people shamelessly looking for us or that they’re calling you ‘gorgeous’ and I’m ‘that girl hugging him.’

Tim rolls his eyes and answers:

Wait until they find out why we won.

You don’t acknowledge the implication that he’ll tell someone (Lucy, who will undoubtedly put it on ClipTok); instead, you tell him you’re looking forward to dinner tonight. What was supposed to be a relaxing evening at a baseball game for you and Tim turned into something so much more. If that’s not good luck, you don’t know what is.

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : two

You leaned against the wide bank of windows and watched the sun fall, the beautiful dress from Walt still draped over the bed covers, seemingly calling your name. A fine mist hovered in the grounds as a light rain started to drop, coating the manor in a sheen of dampness.

Keep reading

watch me fuck MY girl

-> t. law 🧊

SUMMARY: y/n likes to go live & flirt with her horny audience for money - but her bf hates it, so he decides to give her a lil scare (he’s insanely jealous)

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, camgirl!y/n, stalker!law, mask kink, fucking on live, dom!law, degrading, teasing, possessive!law, creampie, missionary, doggy

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“‘you’re so pretty.’” you gleamed up at your destop camera as you read the comments flowing through your feed, making sure your silhouette showed all your right angles as you replied sweetly. your viewers were obsessed with the innocent little act you put on for them.

your stream was going great as always, meticulously showing off glimpses of your cleavage and speaking in a way that made your glossy lips pout — it was such easy money.

your night was was breezing by, effortless earning hundreds of tips just from entertaining lonleg men in the night. the sultry smiles never left your dolled up face, until something one of the comments made all the color from your face disappear.

anonymous6627: i have her address. watch my live in two hours

more and more comments flooded your feed, discarding the image of the previous comment. but you saw another one.

you knew it was probably nothing but the what if thoughts replayed in your mind.

the comments from the unnamed account kept coming.

anonymous6627: watch yourself y/n

…

anonymous6627: cuz i’m always watching you :)

…

you scoffed. ‘stupids internet trolls, bet you wouldn’t say that off anon.’

sometimes people’s comments got to you, but it was never that serious. you continued on nonetheless.

you said your goodbyes as you were finishing up your stream, growing tired from hours of entertaining and answering questions.

in the next two hours it was your time to destress, cleansing yourself from todays work. a nice hot shower and herbal remedies to put your mind at ease. you were in your more comfortable clothes and rested peacefully with a warm cup in hand in the confinements of your home.

but you heard a knock at the door , you shuffled over in your fuzzy slippers and peeped through the little hole in the wood, feeling safe enough to do so through your locked door. or so you thought.

there stood a man in a mask, hiding his face like a coward. he stood restlessly waiting for you to answer, but you never did.

he slammed against the wood harder, jiggling on the door handle when you didn’t answer the second time.

“open up y/n-ya!”

his voice released the tension that was holding tight on your heart. “shit!! law is that you?? you asshole!” you opened to door to meet his figure, smacking his chest and pulling off the black sack mask he wore to hide his face.

your hits didn’t even phase your tall boyfriend, he just laughed in your face.

“what babe? you scareddddd.” he pulled you inside your apartment.

“i just wanna show those chronically online losers what’s mine.”

what did he mean by that?

he took out him phone and propped it up high on one of your shelves to show the entirety of your bedroom, not quite pressing record yet. he ignored you when you questioned him.

“they were getting too bold in your comments, y/n ya~ ‘i’ll make you do backflips on it’?” he shook his head in disbelief. heat rose to your cheeks as he mocked the people in your comments, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

he laughed again.

“please, they’re speaking as if they could even satisfy my pretty girl~”

he grabbed hold of your chin to force you to look at him.

law knew how to make you squirm, he was embarrassing you on purpose, and he knew you liked it. the way he talked down on your poor choices and belittled you made the ache in your abdomen tremble.

he just wouldn’t let it go.

“such a fucking skank for entertaining those pathetic idiots… you like it don’t you?” his grip on your cheeks fell as he set up to press the little red ‘LIVE’ button.

“praises from touch-starved basement dwellers, want them to fuck you baby? think they could make you cum?”

he faced you with his back towards the camera, ripping back his mask from you and putting it on before turning to the lens and giving it a thumbs up.

“the truth is, you like the attention, huh? let’s just see how badly you want it.”

you pleaded. hoping he would reconsider but there was no sign he was going to change his mind. was this a punishment?

“law, baby wait—”

“nuh-uh, get on the bed y/n-ya… think i can let you talk to those guys like that? your actions have consequences my love, let’s give your fans a show, you’d like that huh?”

you fell to your bed aimlessly, his words coaxing you to follow each command. but really, you did want them to watch how well he fucked you, the idea made the knots in your abdomen tighter than they already were.

before you knew it he was on top of you and between your legs, pulling up your thighs and removing your pants for you. mind already dizzy from adjusting to his fast pace, it was happening too fast, you were whimpering for him.

so rough, and the mask, ugh it did something to you.

his fingers found your clit in seconds, playing with it just barely before slamming fully into you. you yelped.

“law! oh my god!—”

“fuck, that’s it. make noise for them, tell ‘em how good i fuck your tight little holes.”

he held you down as he jackhammered your tight cunt, the sensation of being stretched and then empty again made your head spin. the pleasure making you spew nonsense, the only thing law could understand was just mindless and filthy moans.

“you fuck me so good baby, please, ahh!— keep going!” your hips met his with each quick thrust, smacking sounds and muffled moans filled the speakers of everyone’s phones who was tuned into your stream. you had forgot that was even happening but it made you weak, having your fans watch you squirm from the touch of your crazy boyfriend. you were going to cum, hard.

hundreds, no, thousands of comments fled through the feed.

there were creeps begging for a closer angle and some were disgusted. in the moment, you couldn’t care less what people were saying, you just wanted to feed the hunger growing within your cunt.

law kept up his pace, his thick cock kissing deep in your warmth. “gonna cum for me baby? cream around my cock?”

“uh huh, ahh!— keep… g-going gonna cum-” your fingers clung to the clothes he wore on his back, bracing yourself for the deep contractions that were to come with your orgasm.

“fuck!—gonna fill you baby, make you mine, you’re mine.”

“yes! god, yes!! cum in me law! ‘mmm coming!

he pulled out, smirking under his mask as he did so, you cried out. “babyyyyyyyy p-please… was so close..”

“ass up.” he motioned to do so with his fist closed and his index finger pointing upward.

in his lust filled eyes, you were taking too long. his strong arms latched to both sides of your ass and forcefully flipped you over, pushing your face into the pillows of your messy bed.

“you look so pretty for me baby, gonna fuck you good. okay?” his fingers traced up your ass before plunging them into your sopping cunt. “law! auhhh!—” you whimpered into the pillow, falling apart at the touch of his hands. he swirled his digits around meticulously before taking them back out again.

the tip of his cock slid between your slick folds, coating it with your sweet juices. your walls hugged him perfectly as he filled you back up again. “ya- fuckkk… such a perfect pussy, princess. holdin me so fucking tight, fuck!”

he felt his own high approaching, pre cum spilled within you and his cock throbbed hard. he was at the crash, forcefully stuffing your achy cunt until he heard your cries.

“FUCK iM GONNA C-CUM!”

“wait for me y/n, i’m i’m right fuck. i’m rightt there. shhhiiiiit— ‘m coming baby.. s-scream my name for them.”

you forgot about the audience once again but it was so fucking hot seeing you man get off to fucking you in front of thousands, your fans… you screamed for him.

“laww!! so fucking good!” you fucked back on his hips as he had you bent over, smacking against him as your arousal consumed you—you creamed around his cock, white substance dripped from your stretched hole.

even more poured from your sopping cunt as your man came inside you, moans and whines fled his mouth, your sweet name and many profanities.

you laid there for a moment, completely fucked out, waiting for law to get the towel and run to turn off the camera. once it had stoped recording he came to your side and removed his mask, tenderly kissing your warm skin and cleansing any remaining liquid.

“round two? the cameras off baby.” he kept kissing you, his sweeter side coming through with the absence of the mask. he snickered.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

pls leave a like comment & subscribe if u enjoyed >_<

Aftershock - Office Barbie

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2

Tim Bradford x younger!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Weeks later, fate (and a lost bet) brings Tim to a community conference—where you just so happen to be the key speaker.

Fluff

Warnings: sexual tension? kissing? not proofread

You didn’t expect to see him again.

Not really. You figured Sergeant Bradford belonged to that weird category of men you clash with once and remember longer than you should. Like a slow burn from a too-hot pan. Irritating, and then it lingers.

Tim wanted to leave the second they walked in.

“You two are evil,” he mutters to Lucy and Angela as they weave through city-funded booths and low-effort posters with cheap pamphlets about green living.

“This is what you get for losing a bet, Bradford,” Lucy chirps.

“I thought the punishment was brunch,” he growls.

Angela grins. “Brunch and an event. That’s how you learn humility.”

Tim’s already working on a plan to fake a phone call when the lights dim and a new voice comes through the speaker system.

Sharp. Confident. Familiar.

He turns his head—and his body goes still.

“Holy shit,” Lucy whispers beside him. “It’s her.”

Angela lifts a brow. “Tell me that’s not your girl from the construction site.”

Tim clenches his jaw. “She’s not my—”

“She called you Grinch,” Lucy interrupts, grinning. “You called her Barbie. And now she’s out here talking about carbon-neutral foundations in heels that could kill a man.”

“I think I love her,” Angela whispers.

“She’s not—” Tim tries again, but his voice dies in his throat as you scroll through your presentation, completely composed. He watches the way you move—elegant, direct, sure of yourself. You don’t look nervous. You look like the stage was built for you. Like the mic came from your purse.

You look… expensive. Like someone who knows how to win a boardroom, a bet, and a man—if you feel like it. Like the version of you he wouldn’t know how to approach, if he hadn’t already seen you in a hard hat and work boots, barking orders at construction workers during an earthquake like it was just another Tuesday.

You don’t dress like this for conferences.

Usually it’s practical shoes, maybe a sleek ponytail, something just polished enough to prove you take yourself seriously, but not too much—so no one calls you “daddy’s little intern” behind your back.

But today?

Today you wear hot pink.

The blazer is tailored, the skirt is short, and the heels are unapologetically sharp. Office Barbie realness. And you own it. You glide across the conference stage with your presentation remote in one hand and a bulletproof smile in place, heart pounding but controlled.

You’ve got this.

You’re talking sustainability in construction—carbon reduction, green infrastructure, water retention—and you know your shit better than half the men in the room who’ve been in the industry twice as long as you’ve been alive.

But then you see him.

Scowling like someone dragged him here against his will, still looking too good in a plain black T-shirt and jeans. And still somehow managing to make his scowl sexy.

You inhale, steady your hands on the remote. You don’t let it show. Not the way your stomach tightens or how your heart does a messy skip at the sight of him. You keep your voice level and your smile unfazed.

Because this isn’t the time. Or the place.

But God, you missed that face.

Tim hears words. He knows you’re talking about sustainability, about long-term environmental impact, about scalable urban design. He even recognizes a few terms. But none of it sticks. All he can focus on is the curve of your mouth when you speak, the fierce spark in your eyes, the way you command the room like you own every inch of it.

He's absolutely screwed.

Lucy elbows him hard. “Close your mouth, Bradford.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re drooling,” Angela stage-whispers.

“I’m going to kill both of you,” he growls.

“You’re welcome,” Lucy sings.

The second you step off stage, the conference organizer pulls you aside. Praise, compliments, the usual. But your eyes keep darting to the back of the room, where the tall, broody one is whispering furiously to his two grinning companions.

“What are you doing?” Tim hisses.

Lucy clasps her hands like a rom-com fairy godmother. “Helping you get laid. Now shut up and be nice.”

Angela tugs her away. “Don’t be a caveman. Go say hi.”

Tim glares after them. But he moves.

God, he looked even better up close. A little scruffier than last time. Brooding. And his eyes—so blue they could knock the wind out of you.

Tim gave you a slow once-over, and that smirk hit.

He stands there, hands in his pockets, the corner of his mouth just barely tipped up. That same annoyingly sexy, broody look on his face. Blue shirt stretched across his shoulders like a sin.

“Office Barbie suits you.”

You roll your eyes—but you’re smiling. “Still calling me that?”

“Still acting like you don’t love it?”

You step closer, arms crossed. “What are you doing here, Grinch?”

“Lost a bet.”

You bite your lip to hold in the laugh. “That explains the permanent scowl.”

Tim glanced at the now-empty stage, then back at you. “You were good.”

“Only ‘good’?” you teased, stepping closer. “I worked on that presentation for weeks.”

He tilted his head, eyes lingering on your mouth. “To be honest, I didn’t hear most of it.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows, pretending offense. “Too many big words for you?”

His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Too many distractions.”

Your cheeks warmed. But you didn’t flinch. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Maybe,” he said, eyes dropping briefly—pointedly—to your legs before dragging back up to your eyes. “But the view was decent.”

You let out a soft laugh and cocked a hip. “You flirting with me, Sergeant?”

He stepped closer. “Would it work?”

“Depends.” You toyed with the button of your blazer. “Are you here to arrest me for having too many words in my presentation?”

“Didn't bring cuffs."

You gave him a slow, deliberate once-over.

“That’s too bad. I did prefer the uniform.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. It was a little crooked. A little dangerous.

And it did things to your insides.

Before you could say something even more reckless, a voice called your name. One of your professors—old, sweet, the type who’d ask you for lecture slides in a USB drive.

“I should go."

But when you started to step away, he reaches for your wrist—not grabbing, just touching. His fingers brush against your skin and it jolts through you like a live wire.

“Wait—can I get your number?” he asks.

You pause. Smirk.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He raises a brow. “You’d rather I stalk you?”

You lean in slightly, lips just shy of his ear.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

Then you’re gone—heels clicking as you cross the room, leaving him standing there with a frustrated groan and a look that says challenge accepted.

The event wrapped up an hour later, long after the panels ended and the buzz of too many conversations filled the air.

And there he was.

Leaning against his truck like he belonged there. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Watching you approach like he hadn’t been doing exactly that since the second you walked in.

You slowed, one brow raised. “Stalking me now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being polite.”

You glanced at the truck. “Didn’t think Grinches offered rides to strangers.”

He stepped forward, opened the passenger door for you like a damn gentleman. “Get in, Princess Barbie.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

The inside of Tim’s truck is warm. Smells faintly like pine and leather and whatever cologne clings to him naturally, subtle but unmistakably him and masculine in a way that makes your thighs press together instinctively. You settle into the passenger seat, crossing your legs, careful to tug your skirt down as far as it'll go.

He starts the engine. Glances at you. “Seatbelt, Barbie.”

You smirk. “Worried about my safety, Sargeant?”

His jaw flexes, his eyes on the road now. “Always.”

Silence falls for a beat, thick and brimming with the words neither of you are ready to say. Then he clears his throat.

“So… what are you studying exactly?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Civil engineering. Sustainability focus. You know, boring stuff.”

He scoffs. “Didn’t look boring from where I was sitting.”

You give him a side glance. “You mean from where you were staring?”

His mouth twitches—almost a smile. “You were hard to miss.”

You feign surprise. “Because of the heels or the facts?”

Tim shoots you a look. “Definitely the heels.”

You laugh, and he exhales like he can finally breathe again. The ease between you returns, like it never left—not after the earthquake, not after the adrenaline wore off.

Not even after weeks apart.

The car settles into a smooth cruise, city lights rolling past the windows. Tim rests his right elbow on the center console. His fingers dangle—casual, relaxed. Then they brush against the bare skin of your thighs.

Heat crackles up your spine. You don’t move. Neither does he. His pinky drags the lightest line over your skin—so subtle it could’ve been an accident. But it’s not. You both know it.

You shift, just barely. His finger follows.

Still, neither of you look at each other. You chew your lip.

“You were impressive today,” he says, voice lower now. “Seriously.”

You glance at him.

“Thanks,” you say, softer. “I wasn’t sure anyone actually listened.”

“I did,” he murmurs. “Mostly.”

Your brow lifts. “Mostly?”

“I was distracted.”

You smirk. “By the visuals?”

“By your mouth,” he says simply. “Hard to focus on what you’re saying when you look like that.”

A pulse flutters in your throat. You open your mouth to answer—but then the car slows. A red light.

And suddenly, he turns. His fingers shift, pressing slightly into the inside of your thigh. His other hand leaves the wheel. And then he leans in.

You meet him halfway.

The kiss starts soft—testing, brushing. But your lips part almost immediately, like your body was waiting for this, begging for it. His hand cups your cheek. Yours tangle in the collar of his shirt. His tongue slips past your lips, deep and claiming.

It’s slow for a second. Then it’s not. The kiss turns wild—hungry, open-mouthed, teeth and breath and want. Like all the flirting, the near-misses, the power plays between you were just foreplay for this.

Your back arches into the kiss. His hand slides up your thigh, firm and confident. You gasp softly against his mouth, and he swallows the sound like it feeds him.

Then someone honks, announcing the green light. You both freeze.

Tim pulls back slowly, his forehead resting against yours for a beat before he straightens and puts the truck in gear again, cursing under his breath as he drives. His fingers never leave your thigh.

He pulls up in front of your apartment building, cuts the engine, and hops out to open your door before you can even unbuckle.

Chivalry looks good on him.

You step out, heart pounding, the kiss still tingling on your lips. But the second you’re on the sidewalk, his eyes are on your mouth again.

You smile up at him, voice low and teasing. “You know… I live alone.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “As an cop, I suggest you stop saying that to strangers.”

You grin. “Didn’t know you were a stranger back in the car, Sergeant.”

He steps closer and kisses you again. Harder this time. Wilder. His hands find your waist, dragging you against him as your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt. You kiss him like you’ve been waiting—because you have. For weeks. For months. For this exact moment.

You fumble with your keys, still kissing, still gasping between touches.

The door opens. Neither of you stop as you kick the door shut with your heel.

Tim presses you up against it, his mouth hot and hungry on your neck.

You pull his shirt over his head—god, he’s ripped—and he does the same to you, sliding your blazer off your shoulders, fingers grazing your skin, leaving heat in their wake. You gasp when his lips find your collarbone.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

You look him in the eye. “Don’t you dare.”

Should I Stay or Should I Go? (Part Four)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader

Part four of four 💖

Warning: reader drinks/smokes, difficult relationship with Giles and not friends with Buffy. Fighting. Blood. Biting. Sexual reference

It had been a long night.

Spike kept swatting you away every time you started trying to talk to him about something. He was getting exasperated and you found it cute. You didn’t want to walk in silence sensing demons and vampires anymore, that game was getting tired.

He sighed, looking up at the sky exaggeratedly as you started mindlessly talking again. It was something that he usually enjoyed, always had ever since he had met you and you just poured out your thoughts to him against your better judgement. The way you were able to just talk, speak your mind in such a way that made him want to reach deeper. Know you even more.

But there was a time and a place and he was really trying to concentrate. Still, he weaved his hand in yours and squeezed as he listened.

“Don’t you get bored with the fighting? I’m getting splinters here” You moved to show him the other hand, the one brandishing the stake.

“Put the bloody thing away then. You don’t need it anyway, you’re a natural, love” he insisted, making you glow at such a high compliment. He wouldn’t compliment you on your fighting lightly.

“Well, thanks, but I’m still kinda over it. Surely it’s almost dawn?” you yawned, side-eying him to watch the characteristic eyeroll. You knew him so well now, as well as he knew himself.

“Don’t you feel it? Coursing through your veins?” He said, squeezing your hand tighter and bouncing slightly as he walked.

“Boredom?” you teased, the smile spreading across your face telling him that you had been enjoying your little hunting trip. But, really, ten demons was excessive for one night and you were starting to get cramp in your wrist from all the staking.

“The power, pet, the fight of it all”

“There’s me hoping you’d be a lover not a fighter”

“Why can’t I be both, hm?” He arched an eyebrow suggestively, his hand grazing the skin of your arm, until he reached that point on your neck that he loved so much. His thumb stroking the pulse point.

That look was in his eye again, the one from that night. You gasped as his lips caught yours, taking the stake from your hand and throwing it into the darkness. There was a need to the kiss, an urgency even though he had all the time in the world to enjoy your love.

His senses consumed by you, he couldn’t care less if a demon was in the area anymore. All he wanted to feel was you. He pressed you against the closest mausoleum, the rough brick caressing your back as you held Spike against you. You moved your hand beneath his duster, under the layers of fabric that kept his body from yours.

It had been a month. A month since you had died.

He had grazed the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of your blood. He whispered what he wanted to do. That he wanted to turn you. To have you for eternity, that was how strong his love was for you. You had nodded, not thinking and just enjoying the moment. Enjoying him.

You only realised once you had awoken, that you had made the right decision. You would have done anything for him in that moment. In any moment.

It hurt, God it had hurt. If you hadn’t already been dying it would have made you want to so badly. He cradled your form as you went limp beneath him, licking up the side of your neck at the open wound that was still leaking. You had never looked so attractive to him as his own blood collected at the corner of your mouth.

He held you for hours, whispering reassurances, promises of glory and just how good you would feel. Really, he should have buried you. It was a vampire’s rite of passage, having to claw your way out of a grave. But he had never been one for rules.

He laid you in his bed, lying beside you each day, waiting for you to arise.

When you did, you understood everything in such clarity. This is what you were meant to become. You felt like yourself, you weren’t itching for some lame evil masterplan nor were you feeling any guilt for becoming something you had been taught was disgusting and unnatural for so long.

Spike doted, he truly did. He adored you even more now that he had sired you, if that was even possible. Worshipped the ground that you walked on.

And he liked to show you at any possible moment. He liked to stay in physical contact in some way most of the time. Whether it was his hand in yours, leaning against you or kissing you as passionately as he was now. Your life was so full now, you had made friends with a couple of local demons and you sometimes even managed to convince Spike to go on double dates (very, very rarely).

You finally had a purpose. A reason to get up in the evening. All it took was the little death to make you come alive.

You and Spike made a cosy little life together, you lived fully and helped kill demons when the mood struck. You felt like you were doing good, even if it was in a kind of morally grey way. You knew that Giles would never be proud of you, but you couldn’t find it in your to care as much as you did when you were living.

As Spike slid his hand beneath your waistband, his hands sizzling against your skin despite you both being room temperature, your kisses getting sloppier as you mumbled against his lips. You adored this man. His lips. His hands. His everything…

You moaned against his skin, fully wrapped up in him.

Until, of course, you were interrupted in the usual Sunnydale way. You had missed the sound of footsteps, beating hearts and panting breath.  You had missed the scent, the urgency and fear that could now be smelled in the air.

“Y/n! I’m glad we found you”

“Y-you are?” You said, managing to drag yourself from Spike’s touch, ignoring Xander’s eyes dropping to where Spike had just removed his hand from. He was stood with Anya looking

“Can’t a man have any sodding privacy around these parts?” Spike grumbled, showing his hands in his pocket and daring Xander to say something about what he had seen with that smirk that you loved so much.

You focused on trying to look human. You blinked probably more than was normal and stook irregular and strange breaths. It was funny how easily you could have forgotten something that had once been so normal.

You stared at them, more specifically at their necks. Beating and full of life. It made you hungry. Ravenous. You gripped Spike’s arm, feeling your fangs threatening to elongate as the human spoke animatedly about something.

Oh, right, you were meant to be listening.

There was (another) apocalypse on the horizon. An evil force that had been exploding people from the inside. Demons and humans alike. It was like a parasite, once you were infected it lived inside you, making a home until it was ready to ‘hatch’, leaving the host exploding into pieces.

It was pretty grim, even by Sunnydale standards and even Anya looked scared. A little impressed, but still scared.

“What am I supposed to do about it?”

“There’s some prophetic-prophecy thingy that mentions you”

“Me?”

“Well, sort of. G-man can explain. Let’s go”

“Hold on, what makes you think we want to help you losers?”

“The world is ending here, and I’m human and mortal and I don’t want to die and we haven’t got time for tantrums” Anya spiralled and Xander comforted her. It was clearly serious. You and spike looked at each other for a moment.

“One condition. Spike comes too.”

It was awkward to say the least. There was something written about the one that ends a Watcher lineage having ‘potential’. Some sort of dormant power that needed releasing. You had to say some words or shake a stick or something that would cause immunity from the parasite. You weren’t listening too closely you were just waiting for instructions.

You had half hoped it was just some excuse so that your father could talk to you. Perhaps reconcile. But when you arrived it was clearly not the case. They had invited you in, thankfully, and you sat in the corner with Spike.

You stared across the room, your father brewing a hot drink for the group who looked like they all needed something a bit stronger. They had all been told that the world was ending, after all.

As if he had read your mind, Spike slid a flask from the inside pocket of his duster, a glint in his eye as he poured the liquor into each of your mugs. Your father either didn’t notice or chose to turn a blind eye due to the nature of the situation.

They discussed the situation well into the night. Each of them eyed Spike suspiciously and your Dad flat out glared every time Spike so much as looked in your direction.

It was getting late but neither you or Spike was tired. You had always been one to stay up late so it wasn’t unusual to your father. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“Do you have any snacks?” You asked, moving to look through the cupboards. You and Spike were going to watch movies until everyone else went to bed and you could sneak out for some blood. You had settled on some sort of comedy, with lots of blood and guts.

“Oh! You have a full box of these!” You exclaimed, they were your favourite snack, grabbing them and fighting the box to get it open. He had kept them in the cupboard, in case you ever returned.

“You did, ah, always like them when you were a child” Giles said smiling wistfully. It really wasn’t like him to come over all nostalgic and soft. They might take away his British citizenship if he wasn’t careful.

Your father stayed for another twenty minutes before he left for bed, looking at you and wishing you a good sleep before he went. He had missed you, even if you did make some terrible choices.

You had mostly been camped in your old room for the last couple of days. It had been taken over by stacks and stacks of books since your departure. You had insisted that Spike stayed and seeing as you were helping the Scoobies out they reluctantly allowed you both to stay. You had been grumbling about the state of your old room and Spike reminded you that last time he was here he was sleeping in the tub, so it was somewhat of an upgrade. Willow skipped in that morning to see you.

“Let’s go to the espresso pump, it’s a nice day and I have something I wanted to tell-”

“No. Thanks” You said firmly. Willow had wanted to tell you about Tara, she knew you would be supportive.

“Just go, Y/n, we don’t need you here every hour of the day. Just be on call for when we need you” Your father had walked in behind Willow, eyeing Spike with disdain.

“No, really, I’m good. Thanks, though”

“Come on, some light will do you good” Willow insisted, trying to draw back the curtains. You propelled yourself forward to try and stop her but Spike just braced himself and moved out of the way.

You screamed. It wasn’t exactly your finest moment. But the pain was terrible, it felt as if your skin was being cooked. Bubbling beneath the surface.

Everyone ran in from the other room, shocked and confused as you dived behind your old bed to hide from any stray sunlight.

“You’re-”

“Dead? Yeah”

Buffy didn’t think she just launched herself at you, leaving you reacting instinctively and kicking her in the stomach from your spot on the floor. Leaving her reeling backwards into a stray stack of books, not actually expecting you to be as strong as you were.

Xander caught Buffy and Spike immediately got to his feet and struck the Slayer on her jaw before howling in pain at the chip firing in his head.

“I’m, ow, I’m- I have a soul!” You shouted and everyone just stared at you.

“How?” You father asked, staring at you as if you were a museum exhibit. You could have made something up, some heroic story but you doubt any of them would have believed you anyway. You knew you had a reputation for being a bit of a slacker.

“You liar! You don’t have a soul” Anya stated. She would have been able to see it in your eyes.

“Worth a shot” You shrugged trying your best to stick to a defensive stance.

Giles turned to Spike, rounding on him and pinning him against the wall. Spike had killed his child. And turned you into something evil. You ran to pull him off your love, Giles staring at your strength and seeing a passion that he had never seen you display before. You cared about Spike. Truly.

“Look, Dad, I’m sorry. I know I’m all dead now and I’m probably not exactly what you envisioned but I’m powerful now and I can fight demons the way you always wanted me to.”

“I don’t suppose you believe that this cancels out the numerous killing of innocents?”

“I’m, uh, joining Spike on an animal diet. It’s only fair seeing as he can’t eat proper- uh, the other way around” You insisted, though this hadn’t been entirely true. But they didn’t need to know that.

Spike just stared at your Dad, his face unchanged. The amount of times the vampire had wanted to rip Giles’ head off for the way he treated you. But he had let him get a few blows in, because he knew it would still upset you if he hurt your Dad.

There was a silence for a while. Everyone exchanging glances. Finally Buffy nodded and walked towards you, reaching out her hand to you. Waiting for you to shake. A truce. An agreement.

Buffy leaned in, warning you that the moment she caught you killing or doing something immoral you would be dust.

You didn’t feel particularly evil. Or particularly good. You were happily between the two, basking in the grey area that you had always figured existed for demons. Now you knew it was true. And would try and prove it every day to the Slayer and your father.

You had hoped for a happier ending with your father. He barely tolerated your presence. But, you supposed it was better than the alternative: matching piles of dust. You and Spike had gone back to the crypt, so as not to tempt anyone to kill you both in your sleep. But you had still committed to visiting Giles one evening a week to discuss the prophecy and to spend time with him. You had just left and Spike was waiting for you at the end of the drive.

His face always softened when he saw you, his love for you deepening by the day. You felt a little sad. You hid it from Spike the best you could, smiling at the way he doted on you. Waited to walk you home to your shared crypt.

He reached for you, pulling you into an embrace. He wrapped his arms around you, inhaling deeply, enjoying your scent. It was as if he could feel the sadness radiating off you, though. You were clinging to him a little tighter. Hiding your face against him.

“Sod this” Spike said suddenly, pulling away.

You frowned, “The hug?”

“No love” he replied, having already taken his hand in yours and began leading you at pace through the streets of Sunnydale until you reached his car with the blacked out windows and he gestured for you to get in.

“Where are we going?”

“Far” He shrugged, opening the passenger side door for you.

“We can’t go. I can’t let them die, Spike. Even though I would probably quite enjoy it.” He grinned, pressing a kiss against your temple before you slid into the seat.

“Thought about it, when I visited LA last Angel had an ex-Watcher working with him. I wager they’ll figure it out before any real damage is done” He shrugged sitting beside you and starting up the car.

Wesley. You had forgotten about him. You suppose he had ended his Watcher lineage too if he was no longer in the role.

Spike was, as you had once claimed, quite astute. And he could tell you needed a change of scene. He hated to see you sad. This should be one of the best times, learning to hunt and enjoy the darker side of life. He wanted to show you a whole new underworld, one that he knew you would thrive in.

You didn’t need any crappy jobs, no “success” as defined by your father. You had power. Had love. Had a way to contribute. You could actually fight the demons now rather than cower in the corner and let Spike deal with the threat.

You watched him as he pushed a cassette tape in and started slamming the wheel to the beat and banging his head.

You lit up a cigarette, not able to stop yourself from smiling wide. As you passed the Sunnydale sign, you felt free. For the first time in a long time you felt lighter. With Spike by your side, with all the possibilities that came with your new powers.

You drove towards the sunrise, cigarette smoke curling in the air and the music blasting. You couldn’t help smiling as he slid a hand to rest on your thigh.

You felt happy. Real happiness. You felt a flutter of excitement in your dead heart.

what about this: reader is on what they thought was an innocent facetime call with andrew garfield spider-man but it turns out he's 'secretly' been jacking off 🙊🙊

contrary to popular belief, I do indeed respond to my asks 😋

nah, but actual, lovely request, and I’ve been thinking about this one for a while, soo hope you like it ♥️

Keep Going…

(andrew) peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: male and female masturbation, phone sex, squirting, that’s like it

“And get this, he spilled coffee on me then yelled at me for trying to leave to clean it up.” She rambled on, lying on her left side as she spoke to her boyfriend.

“Pete? You listening to me?” She muttered, flipping around to lay on her stomach, holding her phone under her.

“Mhm, always do, sweetheart.” She heard his out of breath voice from her phone, furrowing her brows at the sound of it.

“You okay, Pete? You don’t sound too well.” She spoke worriedly.

Suddenly he moved the phone to in front of his face, which was flushed red. “I’m fine, babe. Promise.”

“You don’t look well, either. Are you sick?” She groaned. “I told you just because you’re Spider-Man doesn’t mean you can be out late at night during winter when it’s raining-“

“I-I’m not sick, baby.” He shook his head, his fluffy hair bouncing.

“Well, what’s wrong with you?” She asked, pouting slightly.

“Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong.” He shook his head again making her huff and bury her head into her pillow.

“Hey, hey, baby. Don’t stop talking, ‘kay? Keep going.” He mumbled, his voice sounding slurred, and when she looked back at her phone only his neck was visible due to his head being thrown back.

“Pete.” She whined and she heard him mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip before he looked back at the screen, his brown eyes hazy.

“You sure you wanna know?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded enthusiastically, attentively looking at her phone screen.

He swallowed harshly before moving his phone down to around hip level.

Her jaw dropped as she saw his veiny hand wrapped around the base of his dick pop up on her screen.

“Pete.” She muttered breathlessly.

“Shit- yeah, Princess?” He groaned loudly, her eyes going wide when she saw his hand start to move up and down, his thumb running over the tip of his dick.

“You- you’re jerking off.” She whispered, trying to pull her eyes away from the sight but she couldn’t.

“Mhm. To the sound of your voice, baby. Been too long since I’ve had you wrapped around me.” He groaned out, a bead of pearly precum dribbling down the length of his cock.

“Pete.. have- have you done this before?” She whispered, holding back the urge to slide a hand down and into her pyjama shorts.

“Mhm” he groaned out, his hand moving even faster. “That okay, babe?”

She whimpered, hearing the loud squelching of his hand around his dick and watching as the tip of his cock got redder and the veins got more prominent. “Yeah.. yeah, it’s okay.” She whispered out, her mouth salivating.

His pearly teeth bit into his pink bottom lip. “Baby, touch yourself. You know you want to.” He spoke lowly, his hips thrusting into his fist.

She whimpered and nodded, moving the camera down to hip level, just like how he has it, and wiggled her pyjama shorts off, leaving her in an oversized shirt (that belonged to Peter) and light pink panties that had a dark patch at her entrance.

He groaned, seeing the wet patch on her panties, his hand moving even faster around his dick. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet."

"All for you." She whined out, propping her phone up with a pillow so the could use both hands to pull her panties down, throwing them somewhere in the room.

"Shit, look at that. Fuckin' cunt fluttering around nothing, huh? Bet you want my cock, right?" He spoke lowly, taking his hand off his dick to lightly roll his balls in his hand, staving off his impeding orgasm.

She whined, nodding her head and running her index finger through her folds, tracing her slit as her arousal practically dripped down onto her bedding.

"Stick a finger inside your pretty pussy for me, yeah?" He grumbled, his hand wrapping back around his dick.

She whimpered and followed his orders, circling her entrance with her middle finger before easing inside of her, a sharp moan escaping her lips.

“There ya go.” He groaned, his eyes fixed on her finger as it disappeared inside of her pussy, his hand movements speeding up.

She whined, curling her finger up inside of her, her other hand playing with her clit.

“That’s its princess. Keep fucking yourself. Imagine it’s me, yeah? Stick another finger inside your pretty cunt, baby.” He groaned out, his hips bucking up to meet the movements of his hand.

She whimpered, moving her ring finger to join her middle finger in her movements inside of her.

His voice faded out in her ears as the white hot pleasure built in her lower stomach.

“Pete- Petey!” She whined out, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What? You’re gonna cum already? Fuck, desperate, aren’t you?” He groaned, tilting his head back for a second before looking back at his phone screen.

“Mhm!” She whined, feeling her arousal drip down her ass cheeks and onto the her sheets even more.

“Fuck, yeah, cum for me, baby. Gush around those fingers.” He grumbled, feeling his thighs tense as his own orgasm approached.

She whimpered, her fingers rubbing her clit faster as her legs shook and she threw her head back into the pillows, a large gush of liquid exiting her body and a shaky moan exiting her body.

He groaned in response, biting his lip as the camera on her end got blurry, her squirt covering her phone. His hand tightened around the base of his cock as he also came, closing his eyes as his cum covered his stomach, chest, and hand.

She whimpered, taking her fingers out of her pussy and looking at her phone, her eyes widening as she used her (his) shirt to wipe off her phone screen so it wasn’t covered in her squirt anymore.

“So, baby, what happened after your boss yelled at you?” He asked lazily, bringing his phone back up to his flushed face, staring at her through the phone.

i never know how to end these ahh