QuackFallBack

fandoms i write for!

Invincible Animated Series Only (I do wanna read the comics sometime later)

Tranformers (bayverse movies, transformers one, earthspark)

Date Everything (mostly everyone?)

what i write for fluff smut angsty

Eddie & Volt x Top Male!Reader NSFW — Smut | Overstimulation | Gentle Dom | Double Attention | Creampie;) | Praise | Emotional Release

The Breaker Box was quiet. For once.

No throbbing bass, no strobing lights, no buzz of crowded conversation. Just the low hum of residual electricity in the walls and the clink of glass as Volt wiped down the final table.

Reader sat at the bar, elbows on the polished counter, eyes on the hallway where Eddie had disappeared ten minutes ago. Last check of the breaker. Last security sweep. Always the last one out.

“He’s running on fumes tonight,” Volt said softly from the other side of the club. “Even you might not get him to come home.”

“I’m not here to take him home,” Reader replied. He stood, slowly. “I’m here to give him something.”

Volt paused in his cleaning, tilting his head. His white hair caught the dim ceiling lights like lightning, and he smiled.

“Then I’ll help.”

Eddie came back a minute later, hair tousled, vest unbuttoned halfway, dragging a tired hand down his face. His silver eyes looked even duller than usual.

“Hey,” he muttered, noticing you still there. “Thought you'd head out by now.”

“Didn’t want to,” you said easily. “It’s been a while.”

Eddie sighed, already backing toward the bar. “I can’t hang tonight. I gotta be up early. Got—maintenance to run. Wires to check. Fuse 4’s been acting like a little bitch and—”

He bumped into the bar with a low thud.

And before he could finish that excuse, you were there. Pressed close. Your hand slid under his jaw, tilting his face up so he had to look at you.

“Maybe,” you said softly, “you’d relax more if Volt and I helped you tonight.”

Eddie’s brows knit, his mouth parting like he wanted to protest again, but the words were caught in your kiss.

Soft. Warm. Purposeful.

He didn’t kiss back. Not at first.

But his body leaned. His hands trembled slightly where they hovered near your chest, torn between pulling away and pulling you closer.

“I just…” he mumbled against your lips, “don’t wanna stay up too late…”

You chuckled, brushing your lips along his jaw.

“Then let us make it worth staying up for.”

Volt came up behind Eddie, hands sliding over his ribs, his voice honey-slick and warm against Eddie’s ear.

“You’re shaking, sugar.”

“Am not,” Eddie bit back breathlessly, but his voice cracked mid-syllable.

You pressed closer to him, sandwiching him between your body and Volt’s. He squirmed a little, still caught in the effort of trying to look unaffected, but his eyes had gone soft—glassy.

You didn’t give him time to overthink.

You kissed his throat, then down to the collar of his shirt, fingers beginning to undo buttons while Volt dragged his tongue along Eddie’s earlobe.

His leather pants were tight already.

Volt kissed him. Not teasing. Not flirty. Just soft.

While you undid his pants and pushed them down his thighs, Volt kept kissing him—sighing into Eddie’s mouth, palming at his sides, making him melt into the feeling of being wanted.

When you lifted him onto the newly cleaned table, Eddie barely resisted.

You slid his legs apart, looking up at him with a small smile as he sat there, flushed, jaw slack.

“You never let anyone take care of you,” you whispered. “Why not just let us tonight?”

Volt pulled back from the kiss, murmuring, “You give so much, Eddie. All that power, all that effort. We’re just trying to give some of it back.”

Eddie blinked slowly. His mouth opened—then closed. And then, very faintly, he nodded.

You leaned in and kissed his lips again, whispering, “Good.”

You took your time with him.

Slicking your cock, you rubbed it between his ass cheeks, teasing until his hips twitched and he let out this fragile little gasp.

And when you finally started sliding into him—slow, inch by inch—Eddie’s head rolled back.

“F-fuck,” he hissed, thighs trembling.

You shushed him gently, one hand stroking his thigh, the other gripping his hip.

“You’re okay,” you whispered. “Just breathe.”

Volt was kissing along Eddie’s chest now, licking over one of the grounding plug ports on his ribs, moaning softly like he was the one being fucked.

And maybe in some way, he was.

The power between all three of you was thick—electricity and want and need.

Eddie was so sensitive.

Every slow thrust made him twitch, hips jumping as his breath came out in needy little moans that he tried to muffle into Volt’s mouth.

But you could feel him clench down around you with every soft sound you made in his ear, every time you whispered, “You feel so good, baby. Let go for me.”

Volt’s hand was on his chest, the other under his chin, guiding him into kisses between every shaky breath.

“Fuck, he’s glowing,” Volt whispered against his lips. “You seeing this?”

You were.

The ports in Eddie’s arms flickered faint gold-white with every thrust. Sweat soaked his vest and his eyes were rolled back, mouth slack as he panted helplessly.

“C-can’t,” he moaned. “Too—too much—”

“Yes you can,” you said, voice deep and soothing. “You’re not doing anything but lying back and feeling good. Let me take care of the rest.”

And then you slid in deeper.

Eddie cried out, voice cracking into Volt’s mouth.

Volt moaned back, tongue sliding between his lips.

Eddie was shaking now—hands gripping the table edge, toes curled in his boots, thighs trembling violently. You reached for his cock and started stroking it, slow and in time with your thrusts.

“I’m gonna—gonna—fuck—”

He came hard, body jolting, muscles spasming under your grip.

And you didn’t stop.

You kept thrusting, slow and deep, fucking him through it, watching his chest heave as his mouth fell open in a ruined moan.

You came inside him moments later, with a low groan and your head buried in the crook of his neck, letting yourself feel it—his heat, his trembling, the way his whole body arched under yours.

You stayed inside for a moment, not wanting to pull out. Not yet.

Volt was cradling Eddie now, both hands on his jaw as he kissed him again, slower this time. More loving.

You brushed back Eddie’s damp hair, watching as his lashes fluttered and his chest rose and fell.

“Still wanna get up early?” Volt teased, breathless.

“…shut up,” Eddie muttered, dazed.

You chuckled, laying gentle kisses along his shoulder.

“I guess we’re not going home tonight.”

“Good,” Eddie whispered. “Kinda… don’t want to.”

Thank you to everyone who got me to 5000 likes!

Am I allowed to write female reader x Maskless Mark or are we all just agreeing Maskless Mark is gay? I don't think I ever saw a Maskless Mark x female reader before so.. am I allowed or is that considered homophobic? Seeing a lot of people are calling him gaymark also, I mean I'm fine for it but I just want to know if I'm allowed to write female readers for him

I may have gotten board so I made two instead of one scenarios, I know you said GN reader but I couldn't come up with anything that feels right, so I made it mxm type. hope you could forgive me my loves!

Anyways here's one-shot featuring Mohawk Mark in two different scenarios—one where you're pulling his hair and another where you're choking him, both pushing him past his bratty limits. Enjoy.

(NSFW Drabble)

Mohawk Mark X top male reader

Scenario 1: Hair-Pulling

Mohawk Mark never shuts up. Even with his face buried in the mattress, arms pinned behind his back, and your weight pressing him down, he still finds a way to talk shit.

“Pft—this all you got?” His voice is strained, but there’s still that damn smirk in it. “Starting to think you’re losing your touch, babe.”

You roll your eyes, tighten your grip on his wrists, and then—yank.

His whole body jerks as you fist a handful of his thick, messy hair, pulling his head back at a sharp angle. A strangled sound leaves his throat—half a gasp, half a moan—but the smirk is still there, twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, fuck, that’s cute,” he breathes, his cock twitching beneath him. “You tryna—nngh—put me in my place?”

You tug harder. This time, he whines.

It’s instant—his cocky attitude crumbling for just a moment as his back arches, his breath hitching. You use the grip on his hair to pull him up until his spine is flush against your chest, his head tilted back onto your shoulder. His throat is exposed, his pulse hammering against his skin, and when you grind against him, he shudders.

“Still think I’m losing my touch?” you murmur, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.

His hands twitch, fighting against the hold you have on him, but you feel the way his body melts under you. His breath is ragged, his hips rocking back on instinct, and when you twist his hair just slightly, a choked moan slips out of him.

“…Shut up and fuck me already,” he finally growls. But his voice is breathless, wrecked, and when you give his hair another tug—pulling him even deeper into your pace—he’s completely at your mercy.

Scenario 2: Choking

Mohawk Mark has an ego bigger than his attitude, and he lives for getting under your skin. He’s grinning up at you, back pressed against the mattress, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s in charge here.

“You look real cute when you’re trying so hard,” he teases, biting his lip. His mohawk is a mess, sweat making strands of hair stick to his forehead, but his eyes are still sharp—still challenging. “C’mon, babe, you gonna fuck me or just—”

Your hand closes around his throat.

His words cut off in an instant. His smirk twitches, lips parting as his breath hitches sharply, and his hands flex against your thighs. But he doesn’t stop you. If anything, his body reacts to it—hips bucking up, pupils blowing wide as your fingers press just hard enough to make him feel it.

“Wha—” He tries to speak, but his voice is hoarse, airy, and fuck, the way his eyes darken when he realizes he can’t finish his sentence makes your cock throb.

You tilt your head, applying just a little more pressure. “What was that?”

He lets out a shaky breath, but the brat in him won’t die. His lips curl into a grin, voice rough when he finally manages, “I said—hah—harder, you coward.”

Oh, he’s asking for it now.

Your grip tightens, just enough to make his pulse pound under your fingers, and his body shakes. He’s completely at your mercy, muscles tensed, his cock twitching between you as his breath gets shallow.

He’s still grinning—barely. But the way his eyelids flutter, the way his body is trembling under yours, tells you everything you need to know.

He’s wrecked, desperate, and completely yours.

And you’re not stopping anytime soon.