#*em writes

[lemonadeinfuser]

Into You - Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Season 4, Episode 9 “Pickup” - Reader is in place of Emily in the first scene, then she goes in alongside Emily later on (part 2) as bait, instead of Jordan (mostly because I hate Jordan lol)

Thank you so so much to @cerisereids for the prompt, and to @ilikw for bringing it to my attention!! I hope i did it justice!

“I’m so into you, I can barely breathe”

As you stepped into the sleazy bar, you suddenly became very hyper aware that you were the only female in a few-mile radius who wasn’t wearing a low cut something-or-another. You trailed close behind Morgan and Hotch, as you all made your way to the monologuing misogynist hidden away in the back corner of the bar. Viper’s voice carried through the air- saying something that, you’re sure would’ve made your blood boil, had you been paying any attention- his poisonous eyes landing on you and smirking. A shiver went down your spine as you subtly shifted your gaze over to Hotch, who was watching Viper intently- but his eyes softened when he glanced back at you. “Agent, you alright?” You nod, avoiding his gaze as Viper finishes talking- in fear of your cheeks flushing if you look directly into Hotch’s eyes again. You feel his gaze on you, until it shifts and you instead look up as Viper walks towards the three of you.

“So, what, you think this guy, this unsub took one of my classes?” “He copied your ‘the camera adds 10 pounds' routine verbatim.” Hotch replies. Viper smirks. “Yeah, that’s a good gag.” You bring your eyes up to meet him, speaking for the first time, “If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him.”

Viper toys with it for a minute, before a defiantly sassy “No.” “No?” You repeat. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.” Hotch then continues to banter with him about warrants, then something about outwitting “alpha males like you” to Morgan before you speak up, “What club were you at last night?” Hotch’s jaw has been clenched slightly this whole time- he shouldn’t have had you come along on this particular questioning. With every passing second, he became less and less in control of his actions, as jealousy clouded his judgment. The way that that man was looking at you, all that he wanted to do was grab your waist and show that stupid snake man who you really belong to. But, no, you weren’t even his, regardless of how inappropriate that would be if you were. He grins, very obviously checking you out as his eyes travel up and down your body. “It’s a legitimate question.” Derek counters, watching his body language.” “Firstly, How many times do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy? Secondly-” He turns to Hotch, standing opposite you while Morgan follows him intently with his eyes. “Here, in this harsh light, you may have the advantage..” Viper suddenly takes a step towards you, inching his face so close you can smell the tobacco on his breath, “But meet me on my turf, and ohoho, the things I could make you do..”

A flame erupts inside you, wanting more than anything to cuss him out- but a tall figure is in front of you before you get the chance to respond. Hotch’s voice rang out, cold as he passed the man a business card. “Call us with any questions. And, if you do, I can be certain that if you talk to my agent like that again, it won’t end this peacefully.” You could hear the anger in Aaron’s voice, and you scoffed. As if you couldn’t fucking protect yourself. You feel Derek’s hand on your shoulder, indicating towards the exit. “You okay, blondie?” You shake your head, muttering under your breathe, “All he sees me as is a fucking child, I can protect myself.” Derek furrows his brows slightly, letting you walk to the SUV ahead as he lays back and walks in pace with Hotch. “How much longer are you going to pretend that you don't want to kiss her, boss man?” He winks at Hotch, before hopping in the passengers seat. Hotch’s hands clench the wheel as he drives. That stupid guy. The things that I could do to him, I’d make him regret ever letting his filthy face near her’s. She needs my protection, she hasn’t learned how to calmly react yet, that’s it, she’s new, that’s why I want to protect her. His eyes flick up and find yours in the backseat, as you sit there with your arms crossed, quickly shaking your head and looking out the window when you feel his eyes on you. Every fucking time. He never lets you stand up for yourself, never lets you fight back, half the time he finds an excuse to make you stay out of the unsub crime scenes. Who the fuck was he to defend you? His stupid, handsome face.. Morgan observes you both with a slight smirk, shooting a text to his baby girl that says something along the lines of “I think Blondie and Hotch may finally realize something’s up between them.”

“Been waiting, and waiting for you, to make a move”

As soon as the SUV pulls into the Georgia Field Office, Hotch gets out, with a curt “Agent. My office, now.” before slamming the car door behind him. You grumble and shoot an angry look in his direction, before following him into the Field office, and into his makeshift headquarters. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you start, “Do you not think I’m strong enough for this team, sir?” He sits down, folding his hands and watching you intently as you pace. “I do.” “Is there something weak about me? Do I not make it clear that I know how to deal with suspects and criminals?” “I do not see you as weak, and I certainly know your ability to argue-” You interrupt him, “Then what, sir, what is it? Every damn time, you just cut in front of me as if I’m your daughter or something, I mean, come on, I know I’m younger than you but I-” “That isn’t why I do it, you haven’t worked here long enough to get your footing yet, I’ve done it with Prentiss, Reid, when they first started-” “Then why do they look so surprised every time? It’s like I’m some special pearl, I can only ask questions but never actually interrogate or go catch unsubs-” You’re both yelling by now, and Hotch has stood up and made his way towards you, “Agent, I do not appreciate your tone with me right now.” “Well I don’t appreciate your- your- your weird, jealous, overprotective-” Your stop, chest heaving as he towers over you. You thought he would be angry, on the verge of dismissing you, but instead, his eyes have gone soft as he gazes down at you. Suddenly, you feel his lips on yours. You’re kissing your boss, and it feels so beautiful, so good, so right, as he wraps his arms around your waist and you bring yours around his neck. He pulls away, immediately trying to step back, sputtering apologies, but you grab his hands and kiss him again, with more passion than before. He gives in, for a moment, but pulls away firmly after a few more seconds, and as quickly as it had happened it was over. “Tha, uhm, that will be all, Agent. Thank you” Hotch says breathlessly, motioning towards the door as he resumes his seat at the paint-chipped desk.

Well, fuck.

“A little bit scandalous, but baby, don’t let them see it..”

Keep your eyes peeled for part 2…only if it’s wanted, that is ;) Also on AO3 under the same name!! i’m @/pumpkinspicedtheatre on there :)

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #bau team #spencer reid #criminal minds hotch #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #criminal minds incorrect #derek morgan #criminal minds fic #fanfiction #em writes #writing

[writing-for-marvel]

A Solid Foundation

Builder!Bucky Barnes x Fiancé!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friend suspects your fiancé of having an affair when he starts working late, but Bucky would never cheat on you, right?

Warnings: slight angst - discussion of Bucky potentially cheating (no actual cheating), soft fluff

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: thank you so much for this gorgeous inspiration my love 💕 this is my second entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, for the prompt ‘Modern AU’. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

“Where’s Bucky? You two just got engaged, I would have thought he’d barely be able to keep his hands off you - he does at the best of times.” Nat jokes before taking a sip of her wine.

She had been stopping off at your apartment on her way home to drop some supplies for your engagement party next weekend, when you invited her to stay for a drink, wanting to take your mind off your fiancés absence.

“He’s been working late recently.” You try to say nonchalantly, but Nat’s far too observant to miss the disheartened edge to your voice.

“He’s a builder. Start early, finish early, what’s he doing still working at 6:30?” You didn’t know the answer to that question. And though part of you is curious as to what he’s up to, you’re also nervous to find out the truth.

It’s Bucky, the man who has loved you through every high and low, treasured every part of you, especially on those days where your insecurities were at their worst. Who has done the silliest, most embarrassing things just to hear your laugh. Who trusted you enough to reveal his deepest trauma, who comes to your arms for comfort through every nightmare.

You find it difficult to believe that man would be capable of hurting you, even knowing he hadn’t been completely forthcoming with you the past few weeks.

“I’m not sure, he’s been a little secretive since we got engaged. I don’t wanna push him to talk about it, I just wish he knew he can trust me with whatever it is.” You say as Nat supportively takes your hand, something of sympathy in her eyes.

“Oh sweetie, you are far too pure for this world. Working late, the ring, the secrecy - has it crossed your mind that he might be having an affair?”

“It crossed my mind for half a second before I scolded myself. It’s Bucky, he would never cheat on me.” You state with conviction, the memory of each night you’ve fallen to a peaceful sleep in Bucky’s arms only supporting your belief that he would never put himself in that position with someone else.

“As much as I want to believe you, you know I’m a cynic. In my experience men are pigs, you give them an inch and they take a mile. I know he’s sweet and you love him, but at the end of the day, he is a man.”

But Nat doesn’t know Bucky intimately like you do, hasn’t experienced his selfless and generous heart day after day for the past two years, hasn’t been loved all-encompassingly by him like you have.

You’ve never even thought to question his loyalty to you - Bucky has never given you reason to.

You hear keys rattle in the front door and shoot Nat a look which unquestionably screams don’t bring this up.

Bucky smiles instantly when he sees you seated at the dining table, that same adoration and serenity brimming in his eyes as when he always comes home to you. Though you do notice his skin is somewhat flushed, as if he’s just been physically exerting himself, his hair looks a complete mess and appears slightly darker with sweat.

You know exactly what’s running through Nat’s mind at this very moment.

“I’m gonna let you two talk.” She declares with a perceptible tension in her tone as she stands and grabs her purse. “But I swear if you ever hurt her Bucko, you’ll die a slow, painful death.” She vows with a glare that seals her promise. Though you know Nat well enough to perceive she isn’t joking, Bucky seems to think she’s kidding.

“Duly noted Nattie.” He chuckles as he watches Nat shoot you an encouraging look and then make her way out the front door Bucky just walked through. “What was that all about?”

“She’s just being protective.” You justify, not knowing how to, nor really wanting to tell him that your best friend suspects he’s having an affair. “I told her you’d been working late recently.”

“What… she thinks I should instead be here doting on you hand and foot?” Bucky asks as he moves behind where you’re seated, his hands reach for the back of your neck and begin massaging the tension from your shoulders which had built up from your long week at work. “You know I’d much prefer to be here with you than working.” You shudder slightly at his words as he places a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck curves into your shoulder, your body subconsciously revealing that you don’t fully believe he was working.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, feeling your muscles tense even further underneath his hands, and you internally curse yourself for letting Nat’s speculation get under your skin.

“Where were you tonight?” It’s a simple, four word question, yet the weight of significance on his answer feels like your whole world could start crumbling before you depending on his response.

“I told you this morning: Steve needed me working late.” Bucky replies without hesitation. It’s a straightforward answer, yet there’s something about it you can’t quite believe - a half truth that he’s practised too much that doesn’t quite feel natural. “Why do you ask?” There’s a hint of worry to his voice, as if you’re getting a little too close to something he’d like to keep to himself.

“Nat thinks ‘working late’ is code for you cheating on me.” You comment, placing all the blame on your friends postulation rather than your own curiosity.

You hope Bucky won’t hate you too much for indulging in your friends theory, that he won’t completely resent you for insinuating he’s been unfaithful. Because you don’t think he’s cheating on you, but you also don’t believe he was working late tonight.

Instead, Bucky steps towards you and tentatively places two gentle fingers under your chin, tilting your face so that you’re gazing directly into his vulnerable, sincere eyes.

“Doll, you know I would never, ever, hurt you like that. I love you, you’re my whole world, I wanna marry you and spend the rest of my days making you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel.” You sense the heaviness of your engagement ring on your left hand, you’re still getting used to carrying the small weight of it around with you everyday, though right now it feels substantial.

“I know you wouldn’t Buck, but since you proposed you’ve been a little secretive. Long days, working weekends. I mean you have to admit it’s slightly suspicious.”

He sighs, coming to some sort of internal decision when his gaze meets yours again. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you in an attempt to distract you from the topic of discussion.

“I promise you, I can explain everything, but I think it would be easier to show you.” His hands snake down your arms and when he takes both your hands, pulls you from your seated position at the dining table.

“Show me?” You query, having no idea what that could indicate he’s been keeping to himself.

“Yeah, care for a drive?”

* * *

The night is dark as you sit in the passenger seat watching the world pass you by, the empty roads only lit by periodically placed street lamps and the bright headlights of Bucky’s truck.

You have no idea where he’s taking you - you’ve never been to this part of town before and have no preconceived ideas as to what being here indicates for his unplanned surprise.

Bucky drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other rests comfortingly on your thigh, an indicator that he’s not upset about you insinuating he could be having an affair, and that where he’s taking you to is not a revelation you should be anxious about.

Soon enough he turns down an innocuous street and pulls the car to a slow stop. You're in the middle of a suburban area with expansive blocks of land, stopped a few metres behind an SUV that has stickers of a family of five and a dog on their back window. Looking over at Bucky, you find he’s staring at you with an excited expectancy from the driver's seat.

You turn to look out the car window and the reason Bucky’s been ‘working late’ hits you like a bus.

You’re parked in front of a half built house - at the moment it’s just studs and partitions, with an unemptied skip out the front, but you can see the skeleton of a beautifully spacious two story house.

He’s building you a home.

“Bucky…” You comment under your breath, unable to articulate the swarm of thoughts buzzing around your head and the pure love blooming in your chest like a flower as he rounds the car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I know it doesn’t look like much yet, it’s just the frame and foundation, but soon there will be a roof, walls, windows, and a proper floor. It’ll really start taking shape.” He's nervous, you can tell by his shaky tone of voice, which you find adorable.

“You’re building us a house?” Your stomach contorts with guilt when he smiles crookedly and nods. How could you have ever been suspicious of his long working hours when they were spent building a physical monument to his love for you?

“I wanted to build our dream house, somewhere we can grow old together.” Your heart just about bursts when these words fall from his lips. Though the night is dark, the moon and the small torch Bucky keeps in his truck are the only source of light available, you can see the fondness in his eyes.

You give him a sweet kiss before approaching the house, an outline in chalk on the ground indicates where a front porch will be built and the entry to the house is currently only the rectangular frame of timber.

Bucky starts walking you through the house hand in hand, explaining what he had planned each room to be used for. There's only wooden studs outlining every room and a concrete slab for a floor, but you can already imagine what the space will look like when it’s all complete.

The entry foyer has high ceilings where you can currently see the stars shining, a large winding staircase connects the ground floor with the one above. To one side is a large garage, an offset office and bathroom, to the other has a large sitting room.

As Bucky pulls you further into the structure, the house opens up to a large, open plan living area. You can picture cooking together in the kitchen, room enough for a large island where you can sit and watch as Bucky cooks you breakfast, sneaking kisses in between breaking eggs. A smile grows on your features as you imagine what the future holds for you two, and what you envisage is beautiful.

He shows you where he thinks the lounge room television would go, before steering you to the right to an open room where the walls don’t have horizontal studs like all the other rooms you’ve seen so far.

“And this will be your sunroom.” He comments, eying you with a smile as your jaw drops in awe.

“A sunroom?” You ask as your voice cracks and hot tears well in your eyes.

Your dream house always seemed so far out of reach, you wondered if you would ever earn enough to own a place of your own. But it didn’t stop you from wishing for your dream house. That concept had changed over the years, but the one aspect which remained the same was it containing a sunroom. A place where you could sit in quiet contemplation and read your plethora of novels in peace, the warm afternoon sun heating the room as you draped your legs over beloveds, finding tranquillity together.

Bucky really is making all your dreams come true.

“It wouldn’t be our dream home if we didn’t have the sunroom you always wished for. This entire wall will be a huge built-in bookshelf, then the rest will be just glass, looking out over our backyard and have the perfect view of the setting sun.”

You find yourself completely lost for words, unable to articulate how remarkable this entire house is, that he built it for you, and how you will forever come home to a physical reminder of just how much Bucky loves you.

“If there’s anything you don’t like I’ll change it. I want it to be perfect, I want you to love it.” He says as if he can’t see that you already adore every inch of the house he’s built, thinking that your silence indicates aversion rather than pure amazement.

“Bucky, it’s already perfect.” You lean over to kiss him, slow and sweet, because you need to express the overwhelming gratitude and affection for him doing something so special for you. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you when you were putting in your spare hours to build us a home.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have lied to you about where I was and what I was doing, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His arms snake around your middle and pull you closer to him so none of the cool night air separates you.

“It is a surprise, such a wonderful surprise. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend our life together here.” You say, looking up at him with wide eyes, only closing them to kiss the stubble on his sharp jawline.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” Bucky places a kiss to your forehead, his voice soft but heartfelt and full of tenderness.

For a moment you stay cuddled into his strong, warm chest, his arms gently stroking up and down your back in soothing motions, feeling completely loved and so excited to start your marriage in a new home together.

“Will you show me the bedrooms upstairs?” You ask with a small voice, part of you not wanting to move from Bucky’s embrace, but also intrigued to see how much more work he’s done in the name of love for you.

“Of course, my love.”

He kisses you once more, for emphasis, before guiding you carefully upstairs to show you the spacious master bedroom where you will be spending your first nights as a married couple.

If you're interested in seeing the floorplan I based the house off, you can find that here

#em answers #em writes #Cia 🐴 #bucky Barnes #Bucky #Connect4AU #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters

[bunification]

SHORT FUSE — ELLIE WILLIAMS

ellie takes you to a club and can’t wait til home to fuck you.

wc: 1.2K

a/n: hiiii so this is my first fic!!! i’m super excited, open to any advice, and likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome!!! my asks are always open :)

Ellie is pissed. The kind of pissed that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that burns and simmers until it boils over, scalding everything in its way. And because the reason was you, dancing away at a club she took you to, in clothes she bought for you (knowing you’d look like this, like a meal that’s got a garnish, all delicious and presentable), she’s even more pissed because she knew this would happen.

She can’t take you anywhere without people fawning over you, a fact that both satisfies some primal urge within her and activates an equally primal violent one. She’s having fun, she scolds herself. You can fuck her stupid in an hour. You can give her an hour.

And Ellie could’ve–would’ve–if you hadn’t stumbled over, all done up with black smudged around your eyes and glossy lips twisted in a pout twenty minutes later asking to dance. She even tried complying, folding before you finished asking as she dragged you back toward the dance floor.

It was a minute in, when you began grinding your ass against the strap hidden beneath her slacks, that Ellie’s restraint finally snapped. Her hands slot themselves onto your hips, gripping with a strength that tells you she could throw you over her shoulder in a heartbeat. You pause your movements; her hands tighten, gripping the fat at your hips like you might try and escape, then loosen without losing their place.

You’re just barely tipsy, more confused when you mumble out “Els, wha–?” Except she doesn’t let you finish, moving her iron grip to your hand, swallowing it in her own as she spins you around to look at her. She looks debauched. Pupils engulfing her irises, lips recently wet and parted with heaving breaths, furrowed brows caging in her eyes as she looks at you. She’s ethereal.

“Y’r a fuckin’ tease,” she grumbles and then doesn’t waste a moment more before leaning down to press her lips against yours. It starts slow, with a special awareness that this is happening in the middle of the dance floor, before quickly devolving until the rest of the world fades and it’s just eachother. She devours you, pulls you apart and explores each section as her tongue fucks itself into your mouth, before she obscenely sucks your tongue into hers. You can’t help but whimper, and that’s when she pulls back, allows the two of you to catch your breath. You pant into her mouth, breaths mingling, and Ellie leans down to press a quick peck to your lips, like she can’t help it. Her hand, giant and imposing, softly cups your cheek and her thumb dances across the soft skin.

“Can’t wait till home,” she mumbles, and you catch it by reading her kiss stricken lips, the words going straight to your cunt. “Bathroom?” she asks, and she’s hopeful, so cute with bitten lips and a shy grin. Who are you to deny her of something you’ve wanted since you got back from class? You nod, and she winks, before turning around and swallowing your hand in her own yet again, leading a path through the crowd to the bathroom.

Entering the bathroom was a blur, only coming into focus once Ellie manhandled you onto the counter, cool granite a harsh contrast to the way her hands encapsulated your plush thighs. She was kneading at the doughy skin, mouth relentless against your lips, and then your neck. You were speechless for a moment, and then you were sure you’d never shut up again, “God Ellie, so good to me,” And you’re tugging at her roots, just scrambling to pull her into you, to get her face up to yours so you can see her, breath with her, love on her.

Ellie doesn’t move, instead tsks, just a condescending “Ah, ah, ah” before turning her attention back towards your neck. “Supposed to be mad at you,” and she huffs a laugh into your neck when you scoff. “‘M serious,” she continues, “You’re out there looking all pretty, and I don’t really care what you do, babe, but they’re looking. Wish I could be the only one, ‘s all.”

“So you’re really not mad at me,” you clarify, continuing to run your fingers through her hair, and Ellie nips at your skin, a playful little notion. After a beat, she finally folds, “No,” keeping her position buried in the crook of your neck before peeking out to make eye contact with a twinkle in them before asking, “Will you still let me fuck you?”

You nod, and then it’s all unbottoning pants and flipping up skirts, messy circles on your clit over your panties with your face buried in Ellie’s neck. You hiccup against her skin, lazily mouthing at it when you quiet down a bit, patiently waiting for your girlfriend to pull out her dick. Ellie shimmies her slacks down her legs a bit before letting the pink glittery dildo escape the confines of her pants. “Y’want my fingers? Need a little more from me?” And only a sob escapes because she’s been working your clit the entire time.

“Need you now,” You whimper, squirming where she has you against the granite, her big hands palming at your tits through your shirt, and you’re ready for her, slick and pliant and open. She rubs your clits a couple more times before bringing one of her hands to the base of her dick, and the other to slide your panties over. The head nudges at your rim, stretching so easily as she pushes in, and your lips are a breath apart, panting into the other’s mouth when Ellie slides home.

You moan unabashadly, head throw back until it thumps against the mirror as Ellie thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. She’s so deep it hurts, so deep it feels like she might grow roots and build a home here. And god, you want her to, and you tell her as much as she fucks into you, just “Oh Els,” and “Right there, fuck,” and “I’m getting—mmph—close, oh”. Ellie can’t help the cocky grin that stays on her face as her hips slam into your own, knowing she’s got you like this and knowing that, for the rest of her life, no one else would.

“Is my girl close?” She asks, face now right by your ear, “Y’gonna cum? Is my sweet girl gonna cum?” You nod, furiously, letting out a shout of pleasure when her hand sneaks down towards your clit and rubs. It all lasts a moment more before pleasure consumes you, vision going white as the wave crashes. She holds you, carrying you through it with deep, slow thrusts, a milky white ring around the pretty pink base.

Ellie’s hand circles your back, pulling you toward her before seeming to remember that she’s buried inside you, and so she backs up so she can pull out. She slips out of you, and you briefly whine at her absence until she returns, with some damp paper towel. She cleans you up, and kisses your forehead before resituating your underwear and skirt, then her own slacks.

Ellie is content. The kind of content that worms its way into every thought, the kind that lasts for hours, the kind that floats and glimmers until it’s barely containable. And because the reason was you, sitting before her on the counter she just fucked you on, she’s even more content because she had a feeling this would happen.

#first fic!!! #:3 #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams au #modern!au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #el <3 #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie x you #em writes

[marvel-ous-m]

The Winner Takes it All

written for ‘pin’ wc: #388 | rated: M | cw: grinding, sexual themes | tags: getting together, wrestling, fade to black before things get explicit | @steddiemicrofic

Eddie bit his lip in an effort to stifle the laugh that began to bubble out of his throat- a laugh that would certainly give away his current position. Steve was alone for the first time all evening- had escaped movie night in search of snacks- so it was time to strike. 

Eddie waited for the moment that Steve turned away from the entrance into the kitchen- watched until Steve was vulnerable- and he pounced. 

This had started shortly after Eddie was released from the hospital. Eddie had guy friends, sure, but he didn’t have jock friends, so the first time that Steve tackled Eddie to the ground had taken him completely by surprise. Steve had him pinned down in seconds. 

Eddie had learned, though. Sure, he’d lost every wrestling match thus far, but today? Today, Eddie was going to win. 

The laugh that Eddie had tried desperately to keep down burst out at the sound of Steve’s surprised shriek. Eddie had wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled, and now they were both on the floor, rolling around in an effort to shove the other down. 

After a few minutes of struggling, Eddie was able to regain control. He pinned Steve’s hands down by lacing them with his own, and put his leg in between Steve’s legs as an added restraint. Eddie looked down to see Steve panting, his cheeks flushed from exertion. 

“Alright, alright- you win, Munson. Get off me.” 

Eddie cackled and moved to roll away from Steve, but stopped immediately when he felt something against his leg. 

Something hard. 

He spared another glance down at Steve’s face, taking in the way that Steve’s eyes darted away from Eddie’s, the way the flush seemed to travel down his neck, disappearing below his t-shirt.

Oh. 

Eddie shifted, purposely brushing his thigh against the same spot, and bit his lip in response to the quiet moan that slipped from Steve’s plush lips. He leaned down until he was inches away from Steve’s face, until he could feel Steve’s breath against his skin. “Is this okay?” 

“Y-Yeah, this is- mhm.” 

Eddie pressed his lips against Steve’s and shifted once more. Steve groaned- an intoxicating sound- and Eddie couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

Yeah, Eddie thought as he felt Steve writhe underneath him, he won, alright. 

#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficmarch #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is my first foray into mature/explicit land #and with only 388 words #I'M NERVYY okay enjoy #my writing #em writes

[joelslegalwhre]

Valetine's Day | Dad!Dieter Bravo x reader

word count: 1.2k

pairing: Dad!Dieter Bravo x fem!reader

summary: Dieter and your kids surprise you for Valentines day but you also have one for Dieter he didn't expect.

warnings: dad!dieter is his own warning (and au😌), a ton of fluff, reader is a mom, Santiago (Santi) is a toddler and Camila (Cami) is only about 10-18 months old, talks of breeding kink?, mention of drugs (Dieter is clean around his kids(!!), but we want him to have some fun here and then👀), reader calls dieter "daddy" (just once), this isn't proofread yet!, if I missed anything please tell me!

a/n: This has absolutely thrown my plan of introducing Dad!Dieter off track lol. Timing-wise, it's sometime after Dieter and reader already have kids and are married, but a little Valentine's Day special was too cute not to do.

So, have fun with the first little teaser to dad!dieter (he's got me in a chockehold, thanks @seratuyo & @alwaysmicado for hyping me up even more lmao) And thanks to @morallyinept for the "he said what" posts, they help me sm!

main masterlist

“Okay, everyone be really quiet when we open the door, okay?” “Yes, Daddy." Santi giggles and squeezes the bouquet, which seemed huge compared to his small frame, causing the paper to rustle. “C’mon, Cami.” He stretches out his short arm to take her by the hand, having difficulty balancing the bouquet in his hand. 

"Here buddy, I'll take your sister and you give mummy her bouquet," Dieter says, gently taking your daughter in his arms. She’d only make a few steps anyway and would have to crawl the rest of the way. But ever since she started taking her first steps a few weeks ago, Santiago’s been thrilled and didn't want to go anywhere without his little sister. "Alright, ready?" Dieter asks again and both kids nod excitedly, giving him the reaction he wanted. Dieter grins at the two and then nods in the direction of the door behind which your bedroom was. And where you were still completely knocked out. 

All thanks to Dieter. He insisted on giving you an 'early Valentine's Day present' last night. 

"It's not too early, baby." he grinned with a smug smile. "It's technically the 14th already, and you know damn right what else is ready for you," he emphasized his words with a wiggle of his eyebrows, "all the time." 

You chuckled at his attempt to seduce you and slid further up the bed until your back rested against the headboard. "Okay, show me your present then, Mr Bravo." you grinned. 

"Your wish is my command, Mrs Bravo." 

And as he removed his pants and slowly moved closer until he bent his body over yours, caging you in between him and the mattress, you knew it was going to be a long night. 

"Alright, you go first little man."

Santiago nods again excitedly before stretching to open the door. Dieter tousles Camila's hair, making her smile instantly, and she looks up at her Dad with big brown eyes. "Let's go and surprise mommy, baby girl," he says and kisses her on the forehead before following your son. Dieter holds the door open so Santi can concentrate on delivering your flowers safely, all while watching his kid with a warm smile.

The noise of the door and Santis little feet tapping on the floor wakes you up. The first thing you see when you open your - still tired - eyes, is a broadly grinning Santiago. Dieter must’ve opened the curtains when he got up, so the room was bathed in a warm light.

“Happy Valentine's day, mommy!” 

“Oh hi, good morning. Happy Valentine’s, baby.” you smile and straighten up in bed to sit cross-legged. Glad you put on one of Dieter's many oversized shirts yesterday. 

“We got you flowers.” he tells you excitedly, holding out the flowers for you to see. 

“Oh my god, they're almost as big as you are." you say with a chuckle, "They’re so beautiful, bubba.”

You smell them, closing your eyes as the soft, floral scent fills your nose. When you open them again, you see the piece of paper between the flowers, a tonne of pink and red glitter to decorate the heart-shaped card. 

“Did you make this yourself?” you smile at Santiago, running your fingers through his brown curls. “I did! I used glitter, because you like it!” 

“Yes, I do.” you chuckle. “Thank you.” you smile at him again, and he looks beyond proud. 

“Happy Valentine’s day,” Dieter grins from behind Santiago, “Again.” 

You giggle as he leans down, Cami still on his arm, and gives you a kiss. 

“Ha, ha.” you say in feigned indignation, smacking him on the chest. But the smile that wins over your face, tells Dieter everything he needs to know. 

He's still leaning over you as you reach out to take Cami from Dieter's arms and bring her next to you. "Hey, my little girl." She immediately smiles and you chuckle. 

“Thank you so so much.” you say again, pulling Santiago into a hug and into your lap, as Dieter takes a seat behind you on the bed. The four of you together on the bed, the gigantic bouquet of flowers next to you - because that’s what Dieter does, and he’d die before he’d ever not get you the biggest one he could get - you felt so completely content, safe, and happy. 

“Come here,” Dieter quietly says, one hand on your waist, pulling you - and Santi - to his chest, Cami crawling on the bed next to him. You let your head rest on his shoulder, but turn a little to give him a kiss on his jaw, and another one to the small bald patch in his, slowly but surely, salt and pepper turning beard. Dieter glances down at you and gives you a smile that brings your whole world to a halt. 

Every time he looks at you with that special smile, it's like you're back in time, back in the kitchen, dancing and having batter spilt all over you. A smile that's reserved just for you.

“I love you, baby.” he whispers against your lips, his breath playing with yours.

“I love you.” you smile up at him. 

“I can’t wait to have you all big and round again. You’re the perfect mom, would be a such waste not to have another one.” he continues. “Third time’s a charm, huh?” you play along with Dieter's little game of teasing. “Any other reason you’d like to knock me up, again?” 

Dieter looks at you with a smug smile, his hand finding its way to your belly. 

“Shh now, our kids are present,” he moves closer to your ear and his lips almost touch your earlobe. Dieter knows exactly how to tease you. 

"Your tits are also incredible when you're pregnant." he grins. 

"I literally just had Cami, they're still huge." you laugh softly and shake your head.

"It’s not about the size, baby. I always love them, no exception. But when you're pregnant they're so deliciously sensitive." 

You can practically feel his cheeky grin. “Oh, you’re one of a kind, D.”

Santi is still snuggled up in your arms, half asleep again, while Cami is bubbling away next to you and Dieter, playing with the end of the blanket.

His one arm around your waist, you push up the sleeve of his dark, fuzzy teddy coat on his other arm to reveal his tattoos. Slowly, you trace both of his triad tattoos, a habit Dieter particularly loves. 

“I got you something, too.” you say after a while of comfortable silence.

"Oh yeah?" 

He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "Yeah." you reply, a knowing smile spreading on your lips. 

"It's in the drawer," you whisper, tipping your head towards the bedside table. "Open it."

Moving slowly so as not to disturb you and Santi, Dieter leans towards the drawer and opens it. The slight rustling of the small bag filled with "white goodness", as he likes to call it, tells you that Dieter has found his present. 

"Ohh baby, you just made the whole ‘baby making’ thing even better." 

You grin and feel Dieter pull you closer to him, touching your waist in the process, causing you to giggle. 

"Happy Valentine's day, daddy," you whisper in his ear. 

main masterlist | ao3

💗Happy Valentine's day besties💗

#dad!dieter au #happy valentines my lomls🩷💜 #pedro pascal #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal characters #the bubble #em writes #joelslegalwhre's masterlist #valentines day

[stcveharringtcn]

jealous - s.h.

pairing → steve harrington x fem!reader

summary → you & steve are at tina’s party and one thing leads to another when he gets jealous of you staring at eddie.  

warnings → smut (18+), MINORS DNI. idk man its just pure filth.

word count → 3k

a/n → if you saw me post this the other day, no you didn’t. anyways, it’s longer now <333 enjoy!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*

“hello? earth to y/n?” steve’s voice snaps you out of the intoxicated trance you’re in. the booming sound of bass fills your ears and bodies move around you, almost knocking your drink from your hand. 

“what?” you look up at him in confusion, his body pressed so tightly to yours as you continue walking, squeezing by people as you both make your way up the stairs. 

“oh i’m sorry, did we come to tina’s party to have fun or so that you could ogle at eddie all night?” 

“excuse me?” you snort, handing your cup to steve for him to hold whilst you use the bathroom and he guards the door. “i wasn’t even looking at eddie,” you shout through the door to him, “i was looking around to see if nancy’s here!”

“don’t bullshit me,” steve shakes his head, “i could totally see you staring at him!” you finish up and open the door and steve turns round, leaning against the door frame as he hands your drink back to you. “thought you had better taste than that, is all.” 

you smirk and click your tongue, “are you jealous, harrington?” 

“of eddie ‘the freak’ munson? yeah right,” steve pushes past you to get into the bathroom, checking his hair in the mirror. 

“you totally are,” you poke him in the ribs and giggle, “you’re jealous that eddie gets more girls than you lately, i think you’re losing your touch, honestly.” 

“oh shut up,” he laughs as you tickle him, taunting him. 

“you are, you’re gonna be all alone whilst all the girls throw themselves at eddie-” you continue but steve grabs your wrist to stop you tickling him.

“stop,” he pushes you backwards towards the counter, a smile breaking out across his lips. you’re both breathless from the tickling, your body pressed between the counter and steve, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist. 

“or what?” you huff; the alcohol is taking over your inhibitions, allowing a flirty side to come out of you. you had never really looked at steve as anything more than a friend, an acquaintance even, just somebody who was sort of there when you hung out with nancy and robin, but you can’t deny that he’s attractive. 

his fingers slowly release their grip on your wrist and you almost whine at the disconnection, before he wraps them around your left hip instead, drawing you closer. 

“or i’ll have to make you.” 

you roll your eyes, “you’re such a cliche, harrington.” 

“and you love it,” he’s closer now, close enough that you can smell the mixture of mint and tobacco on his breath. his eyes are wandering over you so hungrily that you can feel a warmth spread across your cheeks as he tucks a piece of hair out of your eyes. “don’t you?” 

you swallow hard and try not to focus on the heat between your thighs as he tucks a finger under your chin to lift your head up to face him. 

“m-maybe…” 

“not so talkative now, huh?” his eyes are devouring you and you can tell he’s thinking about all the things he’s going to do to you. 

“lock the door,” you demand, finally finding your voice. in a second, he leans over to flick the lock on the door before he’s back, closer than ever, his lips crashing into yours as he kisses you desperately, his right hand on your neck, drawing you closer. you’re pulling at him too, nails clawing at the bare skin of his neck as you kiss him. you’re oh-so aware of his knee between your thighs, nudging them further apart, and the way he’s groaning against your lips. 

“steve,” you whisper between kisses, but he either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t want to stop because you have to say his name again. “s-steve,” he pulls away from you, lips swollen and covered in your lipstick, “we’re at a party.” 

“so?” he frowns at you, the confused look in his eyes is almost endearing. 

“so, we can’t get carried away, people will hear us!” you squeak and he smirks. 

“afraid your new boyfriend eddie will hear how good i can make you feel?” 

and in that second, you don’t care who can hear you, you don’t care that you’re in the bathroom of someone else’s house at a lame party, all you care about is steve harrington absolutely devouring you. 

you kiss him again, your lips meeting messily as your fingers tug at his black t-shirt. 

“someone’s eager,” he mumbles against your lips, hands reaching back to pull it over his head expertly, before he’s pulling yours up from the bottom, leaving both of you topless. then he’s kissing down your neck, teeth grazing at the sensitive skin, just enough to leave soft hickeys that you’ll have to cover in the morning. a soft moan escapes you as his hands move higher, his thumb rolling over your nipple through your bra.

he dips his head into the crook of your neck for a second, breathless, and you take the chance to run your fingers through his hair.

“you drive me insane, y’know that?” he groans.

“oh i can feel that, harrington,” you smirk, his obvious bulge pressing into you, making you ache for him to do something. he’s holding your waist so tightly that you’re sure he’s going to leave small, finger-shaped bruises on you, but you don’t care. you start rolling your hips against his, causing a guttural groan to rip from his throat. 

“who put you in charge?” he lifts his head to raise an eyebrow, the softer demeanour in him suddenly gone again, and now his hands are travelling down, the rough pads of his fingers toying with the lace lining of your panties beneath your skirt. you bite your lip and wait, and a gasp escapes you as he brushes his fingers against the material. 

“someone’s excited,” a cocky grin spreads across his lips but you don’t have time to respond before he’s moving the fabric to one side, fingers dipping into the wetness that has begun to pool since the second he kissed you. 

“relax sweetheart,” his lips continue to work their magic on your neck as his fingers flick at the small bundle of nerves, causing your hips to twitch with every movement. you’re whining, concealing your moans in the crook of his neck, and you know he’s just dying to hear you moan his name. 

“steve,” you’re breathless, “more.” 

“what was that?”

“i need more, steve, please,” you beg, panting against his sticky skin before he obliges, sliding one, then two fingers slowly into you, his thumb continuing to rub circles into your clit. you’re tugging on fistfuls of his hair as his lips continue to travel lower, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin just above your bra line. god, this feels like heaven and you never want it to stop. steve harrington sure has a reputation, but he definitely knows how to live up to it.

“you like that, princess?” he groans against your skin, causing your eyes to flutter closed and your head to fall back towards the ceiling. 

“don’t stop,” you manage to whimper and he moves faster, deciphering from your tone that you’re somewhere close. “oh my god- steve,” you can barely hold yourself up, placing one hand on the counter behind you, steve’s free hand holding your waist steady. 

“that’s it, say my name, louder,” the animalistic tone in his voice turns you on even more, and you don’t give a damn who can hear you now, screaming his name over the booming music as he guides you over the edge, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you unravel before him. you’re left gasping for breath, body shuddering against his as you come down from your high, hands still clenched against his chest. 

“you good?” he searches your eyes for an answer, those big brown fucking doe eyes making you melt all over again. 

“mhm,” you hum. looking down, your eyes meet his bulge still constricted beneath his jeans, but steve follows your gaze and chuckles as he hands you your shirt back, “we’ll save that for another time sweetheart, i don’t think you can handle much more right now.”

“but don’t you need to… y’know, relieve yourself?” you’re blushing again, still trying to regain the strength in your legs to move. he bites his lip, thinking for a moment before he speaks, “you could always come over to my place, my parents are out of town this weekend?” 

“what- right now?” your heart flips over and you can already feel the excitement of another round spreading through you. 

“no, next week, yes now,” steve laughs, grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you towards the door, “c’mon.” 

-

the next thing you know, you’re in steve’s car, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are turning white as he steals glances at you. he knows he should be concentrating on the road, especially since he’s had a couple of drinks, but he can’t stop thinking about you, about the way you were moaning and writhing beneath his touch mere minutes ago, and now you’re staring off into the distance like nothing even happened. something feels different now, as if the fresh air has sobered you up, brought you to your senses, made you realise what the hell you’re letting yourself in for.

“you okay?” steve’s voice breaks the silence and you spin round to look at him. that charming yet soft smile of his makes you melt, your body instantly on fire at his touch as his hand reaches over to squeeze your thigh.

“yeah,” you smile. jesus, the absurdity of this situation is ridiculous, you doubt that robin will even believe you when you tell her how you spent your saturday night.

steve wants to tell you that you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, that you guys can just watch a movie, that he’s not the man-whore that everyone makes him out to be. but he also really wants to hear you beg for him again, to hear his name tumble from your lips whilst he makes you crumble all over again, so he continues to drive in silence, tight lipped and still desperate for you.

when you arrive, steve opens the front door and flicks a light on, heading straight for the kitchen whilst you step tentatively inside, admiring the place.

“beer?” you jump as steve hands you an ice cold bottle, lifting his own up to his lips to take a sip. as he takes a seat on the sofa in front of you, you take a second to look at him, to really look at him. his lips are flushed a pink-ish-red sort of colour as his tongue darts out to wet them, his hair a mess from your escapades only an hour before, his legs spread just wide enough to make your mind wander and your heart race. god, he really is beautiful.

“you okay there?” steve smirks up at you and you nod, taking a step towards him. the way your hips sway, your skirt hiked up just high enough to leave little to the imagination, has him wanting to take you right then and there. control yourself harrington, he tells himself, repositioning himself to hide the erection that’s already growing once again in his pants as you straddle his lap.

“where were we?” you take the beer from his fingers, his hands automatically flying to your hips as you place it down on the table beside him.

“somewhere between you screaming my name and my fingers buried in you, i lost track,” the sarcasm drips in his tone as he pulls you in closer, his hands travelling to your ass, squeezing lightly. his lips find yours and you melt into his touch, your hands curling around his neck as you moan into his mouth, driving him crazy. steve just can’t help himself; the taste of cherry on your tongue has him grinding his hips against yours, making you gasp each time his bulge slips against your clit. you lean back, this time lifting your own shirt from your head and steve has a devilish grin on his face as he instantly finds your the clasp on your bra, unhooking it before sitting back to marvel at you.

“where do you want me?” your voice is sickly sweet, angelic, and steve swears he could fall apart just at your words.

“bet you’d look so pretty on your knees, princess,” he groans as you bite your lip, his words spurring you on. you do as he says, falling to the floor between his thighs and his jaw goes slack, watching you with hooded eyes full of lust as you fumble with his belt buckle. undoing the zipper, you tug on his jeans just far enough for his cock to spring free, hard and aching for release, begging for you to take him in your mouth. wrapping one hand around the base, steve’s eyes flutter closed and he moans again, as you press a soft kiss to his tip.

“good girl,” he nods, teeth catching his bottom lip so hard you swear he’s going to make it bleed. his fingernails dig deep into the sofa either side of him, and it’s taking all his power not to grab a fistful of your hair and force you down, before you drag your tongue along the vein running along his cock, taking him in your mouth. steve grunts, his hips thrusting a little to meet your every movement, fingers settling in your hair to keep you in time.

“that’s it, oh-” he’s panting, practically on the edge of release already after everything you did together in the bathroom. you swirl your tongue, hands pumping at the base in time with your rhythm and a string of curses pour from steve’s mouth. “fuck, shit, baby if you don’t stop, i swear i’m gonna-” he can barely get his words out, hips twitching and you know he’s close. 

“c’mere,” suddenly he’s pulling you up, back into his lap and when he sees your eyebrows furrowed together adorably, he chuckles, running his thumb along your jawline. “just wanna be inside you already sweetheart.” 

that familiar heat rises in your cheeks again, the kind that always seems to occur whenever you’re around steve, and you’re quick to manoeuvre yourself into a more comfortable position.

his lips find yours, his tongue dipping sweetly around yours as he kisses you lazily, slowly travelling down, along your jaw, across your collarbone, causing a gasp to rip from you as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and finger. “that’s my girl,” he mumbles, lips soon wrapping around the sensitive bud, replacing pain with pleasure. you can feel his hand between the two of you, attempting to push your panties to the side to gain access, his cock teasing through your wetness.

“steve-” you’re about to whine and beg before he slips inside you unexpectedly, pulling on your hips to sink you down onto him, bottoming out. the pair of you are still for a moment, giving each other a second to familiarise yourselves with the feeling. he’s so big that you can feel the sting of the stretch aching in your thighs and you’re so tight that he’s seeing stars.

“you good?” he pants, tongue darting across his lips.

“mmm,” you hum, and with your nod, steve slowly starts to move his hips, rocking you against him. your head falls against his shoulder, moving in time, slick with sweat, and steve swears he could stay like this forever, buried deep inside you, your body pressed up so tightly against his. you’re a moaning mess, biting down on his shoulder to stop yourself screaming loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear you, as steve quickens his pace, fucking up into you.

“wanna hear you moan for me,” steve mutters, his voice low, and when you lift your head away from him to whimper his name, he pulls on your hair, “louder.” his teeth are on your neck, biting and sucking, his thumb rubbing small sweet circles into your clit, and you can feel that you’re on the edge of falling apart for the second time tonight. 

“you gonna cum for me again baby?” his voice is cocky and you hum, unable to find the words to respond, your mind numb. “cum for me,” he whispers in your ear as his hips snap up, hitting that sweet spot inside you and you’re gone, spiralling over the edge as your walls contract around his cock.

“fuck, baby you’re gonna make me-” steve chokes, unable to contain himself with the way you’re clenching around him, and then he’s cumming inside you, white hot spurts leaking out of you, running down your inner thighs. you’re dizzy as you collapse against him, fucked out and legs like jelly, the two of you completely spent. after a moment, steve’s hand strokes through your hair and you lift your head to find him smiling lazily at you.

“let’s go get you cleaned up princess.”

#steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic #em writes

[emwritesstuff]

DYNAMO | Steve Rogers x Reader | part 6.

HYDRA has made their share of human experiments. You're just one of them. One of the least successful ones. One of the least functional ones. At least your life in the facility gave you a few things: unwavering resilience, cool(ish) superpowers and a great sense of humor. Steve Rogers would strongly disagree with that last one. A single chance encounter with him reluctantly brings you into the Avengers Compound, and you're determined to make his life as miserable as you can. Feeling's mutual.

AO3 | Masterlist | Playlist (coming soon!)

notes: Oh boy. Sorry about the long wait! Writing smut really stumps me, so I hope this isn't so bad. The smut is marked by red dividers - MDNI. (warnings: SMUT!!! (full on p in v, slight edging, fingering), mentions of human experimentation, brainwashing, blood, WWII) (5,351 words)

6: ENTHALPY

Rogers tenses as your lips touches his. For a moment you think he’s gonna push you away and start lecturing you.

Then, his hand is at the back of your neck, keeping you in place as his tongue brushes yours and deepening the kiss that you started.

Your heart hammers inside your chest, torn between nerves and exhilaration. He tastes like you imagined he would. Fresh, minty, with something sweet that lingers just like in the way he smells. You don’t allow your mind to register that you had been wondering about it and that you were right, swatting the thought away like a fly.

What you do like thinking about is that Steve seems just as frustrated as you, with his urgent hands, not allowing either of you to breathe.

He doesn’t stop to say anything. You don’t, either. It’s an ungraceful dance you’re doing, fighting with each other’s lips until your back hits a wall and you’re hoisted up, putting your legs around his waist to keep from falling.

You doubt he’d let you though, from the grip he has on your ass cheeks.

But it’s the look in his eyes that has your breath stuttering. You nearly metaphorically hit the mat three times and say fold, from the way he’s looking down at your barely covered body. Like you’re a prey he’s been dying to catch.

And you walked right into it.

Started it, even.

The rhythm changes when he leans in, slowly capturing your lips with his. Steve sighs when your nails scrape the hairs at the back of his neck, then groans when you roll your hips into his. He’s hard. You smirk against his mouth.

You’re having it your way, no matter if he thinks he’s setting the pace.

With shaky but eager fingers, you start to pull his T-shirt up his torso. He has to let go of you to shrug if off, but you stay put, glued to the wall.

Your robe is next to drop to the floor, the loose knot now completely undone by Steve. He uses the opportunity to trace a path from your belly button all the way down to your core, so painfully slow you have to hold back to knocking your head back onto concrete. His fingers are hooked on the sides of your underwear when he pauses, looking into your eyes. “You sure?”

You let out an exasperated breath, grasping his wrist and moving it to the spot you actually need his hand to be. Such a time to be a goody-two-shoes. Both of you make a satisfied noise when his fingers enter your heat.“Don’t forget I started this, Rogers.”

“Drop the attitude or I won’t let you finish.”

There’s a part of you that wants to snap back at him with double the strength. I’ll give you attitude, you extremely hot-sweaty-infuriating-super-soldier. But there’s a bigger part of you with more urgent wants, needs, so you snap your mouth shut instead. Well, until he rubs circles on your clitoris and you let out a loud moan.

He chuckles, and you’re pressed so close to each other that you feel the rumble of it in his chest. Your eyebrows pinch together at how cocky he is, and not at how your stomach flutters at the feeling.

It has to be the way he works you up, circling your nipple with his thumb. He does it like he’s done it a million times. And maybe he has.

But he does it like it has been you, in all of them.

Your mouth feels dry, so you brings his lips to yours again.

You don’t know how this man can know exactly the spots that get your toes curling.

Maybe he’s a mind reader. “You’re dripping.”

Maybe it just has been a while for you. That’s definitely it.

You throw your head back when your cunt flutters, pleasure coiling at your lower stomach. “Oh, god,”

You’re not religious. All you can see when you look up in search of deliverance is Steve Rogers and his halo made of fluorescent light.

The smile that he gives at your noises is an even brighter flash of luminance, and you start wondering if this might be too far to come back from.

It’s no use thinking about it now.

You bite your lip when he pulls his cock out of his pants, not even whining too much when he pulls his fingers out of you. You’re too distracted.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You huff. “Want me to insult you or something?” There’s a pause while he shakes his head, lifting your leg and pressing against you. You balk when you realize it. “You like when I do it!”

“Think you got me all figured out, huh?” He teases your entrance with his tip, making the rest of your bragging die out on your throat. “I just like getting you to shut up.”

His hand comes to rest on the side of your neck, squeezing so lightly you almost don’t feel it. It’s like when he tells you to focus during missions. It works.

You both make unholy noises when Steve enters you. The fill is exquisite, easily the biggest you’ve ever had, and it has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

The pace he sets is unforgiving, nearly knocking the wind out of you. You’re almost glad he’s been beating you into shape the past few months.

He’s got his head tucked at the crook of your neck, giving you the perfect opening to make some damage of your own. His movements stutter when you latch your lips to his neck, alternating between kissing and biting the salted, sweat-slicked flesh.

It’s a filthy act.

It makes you giddy with delight, how low you’ve gotten him to stoop. Steve Rogers, the picture of decency. You’ve either corrupted him enough or peeled enough of his layers to reveal that as a side of him. You’re not sure what you like more.

Your other leg is hoisted up, making him go even deeper inside of you. “You look so pretty like this,” He pants. You now have to hold on for dear life as he pumps his cock into you, crossing your ankles at his lower back. You’re looking up at him, eyes glazed and mouth parted in a silent moan. “You were so much trouble, and all I had to do— was fuck you into submission.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, in a desperate attempt for leverage and for fighting back. To show him you’re not submitting in the slightest.

“I hate you.”

“I know, darlin’.”

The feel of him dragging up and down against the walls of your cunt has your brain going foggy. If it was important, you wouldn’t be able to tell where you are. Right now, you don’t even know your name.

“M’gonna cum.” You breathe, hiding on his collarbone. A chill runs down your spine as the words leave you and you realize what you’ve just done. And Steve slows down.

He thrusts so slow you almost tear up.

A cruel move from someone always so benevolent.

“Shhh. ” Steve coos, his warm breath tickling the hairs behind your ear. “You’ll get everything you want. I’ll give it to you.”

Each promise is marked by his cock reaching that sweet spot, and you have ire and bliss swimming inside you, both ready to burst.

You cry out when he removes himself completely, still holding on to you. It’s torture. The overstimulation from your inner conflict and pleasure has you trembling.

He walks over to the elevated fighting rink, lowering you onto the steps and filling you up again. You gasp, your hands finding his shoulders again.

“See?” He says, starting to move faster. “Just keep being a good girl, yeah?”

He kisses your neck when you nod. Maybe only a little submitting, temporarily.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You manage in between breaths. “I’m not gonna start…taking orders…after this.”

“Would never expect that,” Steve chuckles. Another deep thrust. “Shit, I’m close too.”

You let your head fall back now that reprieve is near, your nails raking against his scalp as he takes one of your breasts into his mouth. His movements are erratic now, and neither of you have it in you to talk. Heavy breathing and the contact of skin echoes around the large, subterranean gym.

You’re nearly chanting his name when you come, and nothing but cries of pleasure leave your lips. Your cunt pulses around him, just like the last time, but so, so much better. It tips him over the edge too, and he buries himself in with a grunt. His thoughts must be as fuzzy as yours, with not one question as to where his cum belonged.

Perhaps it’s to prove how much he owns you, in this moment.

He gathers himself quicker than you do. “I— I didn’t think… Are you—?” The red on his cheeks makes you giggle. It’s a sound as foreign to you than it probably is to him.

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t… you know.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I can, either.”

You tilt your head, suddenly curious to know what he means by that. But he’s already tying his pants back on, handing you your robe.

Time to get back into the real world.

“You need to know that I don’t do… casual.”

You turn back to him, now as covered as you can be. One eyebrow raised. “You fall in love after one fuck?”

He winces. Probably at the crude choice of word, but you feel like you need it to be this way right now. “I mean that we won’t be doing this again.”

Ah.

Of course. “No worries here, Cap. First and last time.”

He nods.

So that is that. You both need a shower and personally, you want a good amount of distance. You feel like you’ve left something on this gym, like a weight that was keeping you from moving on. Perhaps it’s just your dignity.

Either way, you’ve probably gotten your fill of Steve Rogers for this and the next decade, and you’re ready to not think about him ever again.

You don’t get it.

You just don’t understand why, in this highly technological building, all of the glasses and cups are stored so high up. Surely Stark could have invented moving cabinets by now. It’s not like you’re the shortest of them, but you’re definitely not tall enough to reach the glass you want. The rest is in the dishwasher and F.R.I.D.A.Y. has warned you twice not to open it.

You just want some coke to go with your popcorn.

The smell of it still fills the kitchen, rich buttery goodness waiting for you along with your paused movie. It’s another slow day today, where most of your housemates are out and about, with granted exit and a very detailed brief of where they’d be (you’re sure Natasha faked hers). You’re not allowed that privilege yet, at least not unchaperoned. And you’re positive Rogers would be the one chosen for the task, so you don’t bother. If you were to just leave, the security system would alert everyone who can stop you right away. And to the Raft you’d go. At least on that, you and the others are on the same boat. As far as you know, only Stark and Rhodes can come and go as they want. Regardless, today the Compound was left empty for you to enjoy and watch whatever you want.

You grunt, reaching as high as you can. You’re at risk of pulling a muscle like this, but it’s less absurd than the fact that this kitchen doesn’t have a single step stool.

You almost scream when a metal hand joins yours inside the cabinet, grabbing the glass you want with ease. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Hey, Sparky. You wanted this?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You take the glass from Bucky, holding it against your chest. Don’t even register the nickname as you watch him grab a mug for himself, then pour coffee in it.

“Sure.”

“You move really silently, you know? If I was cardiac I’d be dead.” He chuckles, so quietly you barely hear it. It only has a little humor in it.

“Learned that at the same place you did.” He’s right, you realize.

You stomp around a lot, but when you’re not thinking about it your steps make so little noise you managed to startle a couple people. It’s useful. “Right…”

“I never thanked you for the record player, by the way.”

You turn to him in the middle of pouring your coke, eyebrows scrunched up in feigned confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bucky tuts. “Come on, Sam spilled the beans as I was opening the box. I know you made him go get another one. So thank you.”

Goddammit, Samuel. “Yeah, it just seemed like something you’d miss. Old people and their vynils.” You sigh, and shrug. “That was not me being nice, so no thanks necessary. I felt bad.”

You scowl at him when he rolls his eyes. “Does that work on everyone else?”

“What?”

“The façade.”

You blink. “I— What. Are you doing?”

“Learned that one in therapy.”

It’s all so surreal, you have to shake your head. This has to be longest - and the weirdest - conversation you’ve had with Bucky Barnes in probably ever. “You’re going to therapy?”

He nods. “It’s mandatory. Part of the pardon.”

You blink again. It’s not part of your pardon, that’s for sure. At least for now. You’re not sure why yours and Bucky’s pardons are different, but it seems that way.

“My condolences, then.”

“I know, right?” He snickers, leaning against the counter. “But I’ll take it. I just wanna leave all that shit behind, and get everyone to leave me alone. ”

“Can relate to that.”

You’re considering leaving the kitchen and not asking the question that’s at the tip of your tongue. “Do you ever…think you can’t outrun The Soldat?”

His eyebrows meet at the center of his face. The little lightness he had on his features are gone, and you wish you hadn’t said anything. “Keep goin’.”

You continue despite the sentence being more warning than encouragement. “I mean, you’re doing your deprogramming and everything. But what if people still think you’re—”

“It doesn’t matter what people think.” He says, stiffly, and your fingers tighten around the glass. “It matters that they don’t have a chokehold on me anymore. It matters that I’m not killing anyone else. And I can start over. What about you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, Bucky. At least you know who you were…before. You have a headstart on starting over. Me, I’ve always been this. Sometimes I’m not sure I can be anything beyond that.” You suck in a breath, like you’ve run out of air mid-sentence. “The façade? It might be my actual face.”

His eyes soften a little, looking at you with something between pity and warmth, and then he chuckles. “Shit, you two are exactly the same.”

“Huh?”

Bucky doesn’t offer you an explanation besides sipping on his coffee, too casually for your liking. “Nothin’.”

You frown. All of that, and he’s got nothing to say? “Okay, then.”

“Yep.”

There’s a weird, charged silence after that. It’s the kind you can suffocate in, so you decide that going back to your movie and shelving this conversation as a fever dream is your only option, so you do just that.

Blade Runner is nearly halfway through when Bucky joins you.

He just sits there on the left armchair, not saying anything. It makes you squirm from your spot on the couch.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” You know you shouldn’t ask that, because he also lives here and has the right to sit on any armchair he wants.

“Waitin’ for Steve.”

You groan discreetly. That means he’ll also be here soon, disturbing your peace.

The effort you have to make to focus back on the movie is tremendous. Bucky’s presence is unnerving, and not because he used to be The Soldat. It’s the way he carries himself, the swagger of someone who sees right through people.

You’re lucky Blade Runner is so compelling, even after 30 something years.

The credits are starting to roll when Bucky speaks again. You wonder if he’s going to mention the tear that ran down your cheek during the rain scene.

“What’d you think?”

“About what?”

He leans in, resting his elbows on his knees. “Deckard. Do you think he was a human or a replicant?”

You purse your lips, not quite understanding. “Does it matter?”

“It’s just a question. So?”

Replicants are like any other machine, they’re either a benefit or a hazard.

You think about it for a minute, staring at the names rolling up the screen.

Have you ever retired a human by mistake?

“Are humans and replicants all that different though? Besides all the extra crap the makers put in them?”

“I guess not. Not really,” Bucky flexes his metal fingers.

“So it doesn’t matter. It just matters what they do with it.”

“See? I told you,” Bucky says to someone behind your back.

When you turn to look, Steve Rogers is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He then raises his palms defensively, with a small smile on his lips. “Already convinced.”

You must look like a fish out of water, a betrayed one, because Bucky gives you an apologetic look as he stands. Steve glances at you briefly, like your presence there is an afterthought. You don’t spent too long with your back bent, either, going back to staring at your popcorn.

“Gotta go. Good talk, Sparky.” You can hear Bucky’s soft What? as they both leave, and you almost smile as you imagine the confusion on Roger’s face.

You suppose that, if you were to insert yourself into Blade Runner, you could consider yourself a replicant. Made. Shaped into being, fabricated memories and everything. The movie starts with two options for those: benefit or hazard. It ends with the proof of their complexity.

You’ll have to catch Bucky later and continue that strange conversation. It sparks something in you, that you don’t dare call hope yet; but maybe there’s a chance your own options aren’t that limited, after all. He’s not letting his be.

“Tell me again why this is a good idea?”

“Because you said it uncaps your powers and I need to know how your electrical impulses behaves when that happens.” Bruce Banner is looking down at you, standing on a platform separated by only a wall of thick blindex.

“But. We’re inside.”

“This glass,” He starts, knocking on it. “can keep The Hulk in check, so it should be fine.”

You’re wearing a weird hybrid of a helmet and MRI scanner, looking like a high-tech jellyfish if you counted all the wiring. You shift on your feet, thinking that he puts way too much faith in you. Always has. At the moment you don’t share the sentiment, since no one who didn’t deserve it has faced the full force of your abilities before. You’re not even sure you have.

How far can you go? What happens when you get there?

You’re jittery from the anxiety, wanting to back out, and then you remember that you might have a little ticking clock inside you.

And you need to figure this shit out before the countdown reaches zero.

There’s one way to get rid of the lingering fear; you can almost see Bucky Barnes and his disapproving face, arms crossed. One human and one metal. You tell yourself and Imaginary Bucky it’s necessary. That it’s different circumstances. You have to face the beast in order to defeat it, and it’s how Banner’s test starts.

And blood-black nothingness began to spin, a system of cells interlinked within one stem.

Vernetzt.

Your heart is racing.

Vernetzt.

Change of momentum with change of time. Noether-Theorem.

Hail HYDRA.

Your eyes open again. The anxiety is gone. Everything else is too. You want to chuckle at Bruce’s crooked glasses as he raises his head and gives you a thumbs up, but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Ready?”

Bereit?

You nod.

Bright blue crackles at your fingertips, quickly rising over your palms and swallowing your arms, coating everything in pure, unbridled electricity. It’s probably the most impressive display of power you’ve had in a long while, you could get addicted to the feeling.

The energy oscillates once, and the generator you’re feeding off of dies down. It’s small, to be fair, and not enough if you want to keep going. You focus on the fluorescent lamps above you, watching as they go out one by one and your powers pulse stronger.

Banner is watching the monitors intently, taking notes of whatever he’s seeing up there.

You have to push further.

When the lights go completely out, you consider stopping. But the monitors are still lit up and you can hear the MRI machine on your head whirring, making you doubt if Bruce has even noticed the screens and you are the only light sources in the room.

You try to keep yourself just at the lighting even if you’re not exactly sure how the electrical systems of the building work.

Energy coats your entire body now, and you wonder if you can use it to get the lights back on. With a raised hand you aim, but the blast makes one of the lamps explode. You resort to attacking the concrete instead, a much more sturdy opponent - you manage to make the flow continuous and strong, eyes widening when the concrete cracks a little. The tiniest crack.

You push further.

You don’t see how this time, the screens go out too, all the machines around you also dead.

You only notice you’re bleeding when you taste it.

When you finally stop, the crack is larger. Bruce is yelling at you to stop, banging on the glass.

Hail HYDRA. Noether-Theorem. Change of momentum with change of time. Vernetzt. Vernetzt.

Bruce is running down the stairs as you rapidly mutter the last words.

And blood-black nothingness began to spin, a system of cells interlinked within one stem.

The pain on the side of your head makes your knees buckle, and you’re gasping for air as Bruce reaches you, removing the wires and machines that are still attached to you.

“Jesus, kid. That was terrifying. Impressive, but terrifying.” He turns you on your side, which is smart because you feel like throwing up.

And you would, if this had happened after lunch like it was supposed to.

Is it always going to be like this? Failsafe or not, being defeated by your own power? You’ve always wondered where it came from. If it was born with you or something that was put inside you after. If you’ll learn to wield it or if it’s going to swallow you hole.

“Did—y’ get— anything—”

“Yeah. Think so, a few promising things. Don’t worry, we won’t be repeating this.”

It’s even more comforting that the steady hand he has on your shoulder. You think you could repeat it if necessary. As many times necessary.

Even if right now, you feel like you can’t even lift up your head.

Bruce gets up, saying that he’ll get you some adrenaline and then take you to the medbay.

That’s the last place you want to go to. You’d rather he dump you on the grass outside, under the sun.

It’s strange that the doors are all open like this. Must be the emergency protocol, which must mean you caused a blackout on the entire compound.

Which in turn means the security systems are down.

The idea alone is enough to inject you with adrenaline. You have to muster the last strength you have to get up, then summon some more from god knows where to run. But it’s your lucky day, because you don’t have to stumble far to get to the garage. You don’t think Nat would be too mad if you used her car for a little escapade.

There’s no time to lose. You speed through the open gates, driving like a drunkard until you reach the nearest train station. You’ve seen it on your way to Dr. Steiner’s temporary prison.

You could drive the rest of the way, but you’re feeling responsible.

Just not enough to stop you from taking a train to New York City.

You’re not entirely sure what brought you to this place. You’d been roaming around the city when you stumbled into it, too distracted by the lights, the cars and the people bustling around to keep track of where you were going. A coffee cup on your hands, the authentic one from the street carts. And you thought, why not? And went in. Bought a ticket. That was an hour ago.

Now you’re staring up at a compilation of Word War II films, inside the Brooklyn Museum. At the people that are long gone, made eternal inside the moving pictures. You were raised under the ruins of the losing side of this war, the wrong side, and you didn’t know it most of your life.

Two years ago Bucky Barnes’ name would be on the Missing In Action Memorial. Now his name is erased and there’s an addendum talking about his capture by HYDRA. His years as The Winter Soldier. His rocky journey back to the right side. You wonder how he’d feel about it.

You allow yourself one full minute to look at a photograph of Steve Rogers, the soldier, one of the only ones you’ve seen of him in the actual military garb and not the Captain suit. History seems to prefer the red, white and blue over the tan one.

There’s a crowd in front of the uniforms so you skip that entirely, walking quickly to the exit. You know Captain America’s is a replica, because Rogers currently has the original inside his closet.

One of the last sections inside the exhibition is a small one right after V-day. Of the parties and the reunions. You linger on that one, listening to Orson Welles’ voice on a radio broadcast.

…The men who tilted guns of battleships and stoked them in epic battle will ride the level ferries of bay and river and tank men will drive a powered lawnmower while their fathers watch. The pilot with many missions will do errands for some civilian company.

You can’t help but think of the two veterans back home. How they never actually got that moment. No V-day. No reunion.

You wonder if someone gave Steve Rogers the news that the war has ended.

That the fight is over. That he can go drive a lawnmower and Bucky can do errands for some company. You wonder if they’d go back in time just to experience those moments. Their hard-earned reunions.

Suddenly the air is too thick inside.

You’re startled by the chilly evening air when you step out of the museum. You hadn’t realized it was so late, meaning you should take the train back to Compound if you don’t want a search-and-rescue team at your heel. You might have to walk back, if Natasha has found her car already. Best case scenario.

You decide to extend your freedom a little longer and sit down on the steps, watching the cars go by. Your chest feels heavy and your eyes are misty. You tell yourself it’s because of the cold air and how little prepared you are for it. Should’ve probably stayed in Times Square, with all the pretty lights and creepy guys in costumes. Although you don’t get time to wallow in your self-pity, because the noise of a motorcycle has you looking up.

Steve Rogers drives a very obnoxious Harley-Davidson. Black and chrome and noisy. He never bothers with a helmet, which you think is stupid of him, but today he has one slung over one of the handles.

You know he’s spotted you, because he’s staring right at you; but he just leans on the bike and waits.

Sighing in resignation, you push yourself up the steps and make your way to him. He’s wearing civilian clothes and a leather jacket, and people are beggining to stare anyway.

“How’d you know I was here?”

He nods at the coffee cart down the street. “You used your credit card over there. And then bought a museum ticket.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance. Not even 6 months of not being on the run and you’ve already lost your way with it. Steve gives you a foreign, sympathetic smile.

“That’s why I always use cash.”

“So it’s not because you don’t trust credit cards?”

He purses his lips, eyebrows pinched. “Definitely not because of that.” It’s not convincing.

It makes you laugh at little, and he looks away. “We should get back. Put the helmet on,” He says, stiffening his shoulders. It’s an order.

“Yes, Captain.”

“You shouldn’t have left the Compound. You’re lucky you’re not in too much trouble.”

You flick your eyes up at him briefly.“Yes, Captain.”

His gaze hardens under the thick eyelashes. “Being irresponsible right now can cost you your privileges. And your pardon.”

You shrug, staring at the Harley’s chrome exhaust pipe. “I just wanted to see the city. At least once.”

I panicked. I had a bad day. I’m scared that it’s just a matter of time until I get locked up for good and then all I see is four blank walls forever.

As if he could read your mind, he reaches down and takes the helmet, placing it on your head. It makes you look up.

Steve Rogers. Made of marble and gold. The golden light of the old photograph cast a halo around his frame, like a warrior angel, an Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders. The one in front of you is all stone, under the yellow street lights.

Even more weight above him than ever.

“I suppose it’s on me for not keeping an eye on you like I should.”

You frown, fumbling with the straps under your chin. “And coming to get me was your punishment?”

“I was in town.”

“Ah.”

You had wondered, still inside the Museum, what it would be like to know him back then. Back when he was all hope and not all duty. His eyes were gentle, and you could swear you saw a sparkle of that in this Captain that came to drag you back to the Compound.

It’s gone now. Besides, you don’t want to keep looking.

“I’m ready. We can go.” You say, tugging at the secured helmet straps.

Steve removes his jacket, fully revealing his white t-shirt, and you freeze. He puts it around your shoulders and you stop breathing. “S’ getting cold.”

It takes you a little to answer. The jacket is still hung awkwardly around your shoulders, and he’s looking at you as if he expects you to put your arms in it properly.

“I’m fine.” You say. He’s already sat on the motorcycle, and you’re just standing there. You don’t know if you should focus on his bare arms or how the jacket smells more like him than he does. Both options seem pretty terrible. “I’m not cold.”

“You will be on the ride back.” He urges you to move with his chin, raising his eyebrows. “C’mon, Sparky. Don’t make this harder than it should be.”

You roll your eyes, trying to tell yourself you’re only not putting on a bigger fight because the World War II exhibition messed with your head, and not because his jacket feels warm and nice against your skin.

“That’s what she said, Rogers.” You mutter to his broad back.

Under the loud rumble of the Harley’s engine, you can swear he laughs.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america fanfic #mcu x reader #mcu fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #em writes

[delulu4anime]

✨Thank you if you take the time to vote✨

#Tokyo Revengers #tokyo revengers smut #Tokyo Revengers fanfic #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #tumblr polls #my polls #em writes #keisuke baji #takashi mitsuya #sanzu haruchiyo #kazutora hanemiya #tokyo revengers manga #tokyo revengers fanfiction

[bamnamuu]

smooth fox hamster 이희승

w.count 780 | idol heeseung x fem reader | warnings! none except this isn’t well written or proof read so beware | em’s note! this is probably the worst written thing i’ve made but i love it and the scenario so i gave her a chance

heeseung made it his mission to get you to one of his shows, he's been trying for the past year and every time he plans it out something else comes up, you're car breaks down when you were driving to the venue or you had a school or work thing. it's not like you didn't want to see him perform, you did desperately and that what makes it so much sadder. heeseung calls it ‘the curse’ with finger air quotes and an evil voice for dramatic effect. when talking with your friends on how silly everything is that you never get to see your boyfriend perform they tell you it's probably the universe telling you that you aren't made for each other, it's offensive to even think that you and heeseung are made for each other without a doubt it's just a coincidence, at least you hoped.

this was the second tour you've been with heeseung, and you vowed to yourself to go even if something went wrong. When the tickets went on sale you were ready to fight anyone and anything, was it a little silly that you bought tickets to your boyfriends show? maybe if heeseung knew he would call you dumb for not letting him get them for you, but you didn't want him to know you were coming just to be safe, this was also a surprise after all! you counted the days till you would get to see ur boyfriend, just one month left. In the mean time you figured you should make something for heeseung. After scouring the internet for ideas and signs but nothing seemed right, your phone going off made you lose focus only to decide maybe you should check it out, come to find out it was none other then your boyfriend sending you photos of him rehearsing, after gushing over his face you look at the background to find a jean jacket with his name on it, a lightbulb popped over your head. after a long needed facetime you began to make a replica of his jacket.

You might be the best partner ever, not only are you surprising your boyfriend but also wearing his name on your back with pride, he’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you! You made your way to the venue, it’s big and new, walking through you see signs of the members, fans with posters and banners for the boys, one banner read ‘heeseung ur better than my ex, but could you be my next??’ you can’t help but giggle to yourself, knowing that you’re his and he’s yours. after getting through security and scanning of your ticket you made it to where you could see the stage, in just little time you will be able to see heeseung on there, plus the other members but heeseung is more important right now. you find your seat in the aisle and take it, after scrolling through your phone someone in front of you says “OMG!! i love your jacket, where’d you get it?” “Oh i made it actually!” you say beaming. after chatting for what seems like forever you notice how hot it’s getting you take off your precious jacket and stand up, moving out of the way for people to find their seats when you go back o sit down however you notice your jacket is gone, with a quick scan of the back of the seat, the floor, it’s gone someone must have taken it when you weren’t looking. With a new found sadness you open up your phone to post a instagram story on your lost child jacket, leaving the pictures you took before the only memory you have.

unfortunately for you the one person you forgot to block from viewing the story saw it. Heeseung was backstage getting ready for the show when a notification pops up that his wonderful girlfriend made a story, so he clicks on it to find out not only are you at the show right now but you also made a jacket for him, and also that someone stole it. he couldn’t do much backstage but plan some way to make you feel better , through out the entire show he was looking for you and lucky for him you bought the good tickets that were close to the stage within walking distance. It got to that time during the show where the boys walk around and high five engenes without even thinking heeseung jogged straight towards you taking off his jacket “don’t lose this one okay!” he spoke into your ear. it didn’t matter if people wanted to take your other jacket now because now you had his.

#enhypen #enha imagines #em writes #lee heeseung x reader #lee heesung x reader #enha heeseung x reader #enha heeseung #enha heeseung scenario #enhypen heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung #lee heeseung fanfic #lee heeseung fluff #lee heeseung boyfriend #heeseung lee #heeseung fanfic #heeseung fluff drabble #lee heeseung drabble #lee heeseung x fem reader #nightswithyouu writes #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enha fluff #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enhypen heeseung fluff

[writing-for-marvel]

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Masterlist

Welcome to my first Kintober event! I’ve been on tumblr for over two years now and previously I’ve been too intimidated by the sheer magnitude of this event to try participating, but this year I thought I’d give it a go!

In the aim of doing something a little different, I’ve decided to stray from the ‘normal’ Kinktober format and instead will be writing for only one couple as they explore Europe and each other during their honeymoon - as inspired by the lovely @holacia3

All fics will be with the same Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader established relationship and though they will be linked, each can be read on its own.

This event and my blog are strictly 18+ only - minors and ageless blogs do not interact. Dividers by me, please do not use

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library | Ko-fi

Day 1: Mile High Club (1.7k)

Day 4: Overstimulation (1.8k)

Day 7: Striptease (1.6k)

Day 10: Exhibitionism (1.2k)

Day 13: Somnophilia (1.2k)

Day 16: Massage (1.6k)

Day 19: Sex Toys (1.6k)

Day 22: Balcony Sex (1.6k)

Day 25: Body Worship (2.5k)

Day 28: Filming (1.5k)

Day 31: Breeding Kink (2.1k)

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #Kinktober masterlist #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #mob bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes Kinktober #marvel Kinktober #em writes

[lovesatoru]

SECRETS REVEALED — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

FEATURING: megumi fushiguro

CONTENT: fluff, gn!reader, secret relationship gets revealed, sleepy cuddles bc that’s all i ever write it seems.

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

A/N: i’m back and i return with FLUFF, my favorite!! i promise i’ll try and write something that isn’t sleeping and cuddles LMFAO. but i’m so happy to be back here and writing again. this turned out way longer than i intended but yay!

Megumi’s head whips around at the sound of his door opening. He was fully prepared to start lecturing Yuji on how he needs to learn how to knock as he gets up from his bed. He quickly comes to realize it was just you and the frown on his face quickly turns into a soft grin at the sight.

“Oh, hi. What’s up?” he says while closing the door behind you.

He takes in your appearance, and he swears he felt his heart flutter in his chest. despite it being the middle of the day, you were still in your pajamas and looked as if you were about to fall asleep standing up. The sleepy smile you give him before answering makes him melt even more.

“Just want you, Megs,” you reach out for his embrace, “M’so tired and just want to be with you.”

And with that, Megumi wraps you up in his arms, placing a kiss on your forehead as he does so.

“Let’s go lay down, okay?” he pulls back, but his arms remain around your waist.

You answer with only a sleepy nod of your head and let him lead you to his neatly made bed. You’ve snuck over several nights, using the claim that his bed was “just so much comfier” than your own. Nights that you spend here always lead to early mornings of waiting until the very last minute to run back to your room before the others wake up. Eventually, you’ll tell them or they’ll find out, but it’s nice for things to be just between you and Megumi.

You crawl under his grey comforter, curling up against him the moment he lays down without a single thought. He’s lying on his back with one arm wrapped around you and your head on his chest. Megumi looks down at you, rubbing your skin softly as you fall asleep. He’s not tired, not one bit actually, but he can’t even think about being anywhere else than with you at this moment.

His mind runs wild as you sleep, fondly recalling how just three months ago you had confronted him for avoiding you, leading him to confess to explain that he wasn’t ignoring you because he hated you, more like it was the exact opposite. He wants crawl up in a ball and die everytime he thinks about how he used to scurry away from you when he realized that he had feelings for you. He wishes he would’ve just told you as soon as he realized, especially now that he knows that you had felt the same way the whole time. But, at the end of the day, you’re now in his arms and you’re both happily in love.

A laugh almost escapes his throat when he thinks about how his friends will react when they find out you’re together. They’ve been trying to pair you two together for months, even before the two of you had taken a liking to each other. From locking you guys in a closet together to both Nobara and Yuji just happening to forget about the movie night they planned for the four of you, they’ve done it all. He can picture it now, Nobara and Yuji high-fiving and screaming “We did it!” and taking credit for successfully getting you two together, despite their efforts not being the true reason he finally confessed to you.

Then he looks down at your sweet, sleeping face once again. He thinks you’re beautiful and the most wonderful person he’s ever met. everyday since you started dating has felt like a dream. Every single thing about you just never fails to amaze him. He fights the urge to lovingly caress your face in fear of waking you up. As cheesy as it is, he asks himself “How did I get so lucky?” as he admires you. Everything is just-

Suddenly, Yuji bursts through the door, “Yo, Fushiguro! Wanna go,” his eyes land on the bed and widen once they realize your lying on top of Megumi.

Megumi sighs, cursing himself for not locking his door when he feels you stir awake.

“If you’re going to barge in here, you could’ve done it quietly atleast.”

Yuji is too stunned to even respond to his statement as he keeps looking between you and Megumi, “(Y/N)? Fushiguro?”

You finally manage to sit up, and to both their surprise, you just sleepily huff, “I was sleeping so good.”

You rub your eyes, not actually fully awake as Yuji begins to bombard the two of you with every question imaginable while Megumi answers each one with the shortest answers possible

“So you two are dating?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Three months.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Didn’t come up.”

After what felt like a thousand more questions, you finally feel somewhat awake and decide to butt in.

“Hey, you know what, just go get Nobara and hell, even Gojo if you want. We’ll be there in five minutes and we’ll tell you everything.”

He nods and runs out the door excitedly yelling “Nobara, Hurry! We did it, Megumi and (Y/N) are dating!”

You turn and look at Megumi who is trying to hide his face at the current moment, “It was bound to happen eventually, plus they’re so excited it’s kinda cute.”

He gives a small smile, “You’re right. It’ll be nice to stop sneaking around as much too.” He presses a quick peck to your cheek, “But you do know that for atleast the next two weeks that we will be the topic of discussion.”

“Yes, I know,” You chuckle standing up getting ready to go freshen up a bit in your roombefore heading out to meet them.

Before you can walk out the door, Megumi’s lips are on yours in a slow, soft kiss. It was gentle, just like the way his hand comes up to cup your face. You feel so content as his lips move against yours in a perfect rhythm.

“See! Told you they were together, I wasn’t lying!” Yuji shouts, despite Nobara being right beside him.

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi x you #em writes

[marvel-ous-m]

Tonight, Tonight

Written for @steddiemicrofic April Prompt: Fool | WC: 454 | Rating: Teen and Up Audiences | Tags: Breaking Up, Intelligence-related Insults, Drinking, Hopeful-ish Ending

“Did you really expect me to stay in Hawkins forever? Don’t be foolish, Steve.” 

Eddie’s remark echoed in Steve’s mind, a vestige of their conversation a few hours prior.

Steve had gone to Eddie’s trailer for date night. He knocked on the door, expecting the usual: Eddie pulling him inside, planting a kiss on his cheek, then tugging Steve to the couch so that they could curl up and watch a movie. 

Tonight, though… 

Tonight, Eddie met Steve at the door with flushed cheeks, his skin shiny with sweat. His hair was tied up in a haphazard sort of way, a far cry from Eddie’s regular date ‘look’. 

“It’s Friday already? Shit, sorry. Come in.” Eddie held the door open for Steve, and Steve walked in, wasn’t pulled. Wasn’t kissed. 

Eddie was across the room surrounded by half-full moving boxes, rather than surrounded by Steve’s arms, cuddled on the couch like they would usually be by now. 

“What’s going on?” 

“I’m packing, Steve. Isn’t it obvious?” 

Steve swallowed, walked silently to the couch, and took a seat in their spot. 

He flinched at Eddie’s responding sigh and watched him limp into the living room. 

Limp?

He didn’t sit- just stood there, arms crossed. “Did you really expect me to stay in Hawkins forever? Don’t be foolish, Steve.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“For once in your life, please use your brain. I’m leaving.” 

Ironically, Steve was the one who left after that. 

Didn’t bother to hear Eddie out, though he doubted the man had much more to say going off of his cold tone and slicing words. 

Eddie had never attacked Steve’s intelligence. Bolstered it more often than not, telling Steve over and over again that he was smart, intelligent, loved. 

So, yeah. Steve didn’t need to hear more to know that they were over. 

He didn’t know where to go, so he went home. Grabbed a bottle of his dad’s good whiskey from the liquor cabinet, sat on the tiled floor of his kitchen, cried, and drank. 

It was well past midnight when he heard the front door click, when he felt wet tears against his scalp and a whispered explanation against his forehead, Wayne came home, said I was being an idiot. I couldn’t let you get hurt by the homophobic pricks who roughed me up. I ran. Tried to keep from hurting you by… hurting you. I was so wrong, Stevie, I’m sorry. 

Steve was not nearly sober enough to sort through Eddie’s words, and even if he was, he knew that they had a long way to go before they’d be them again. 

But tonight? Tonight, Steve couldn’t help but fall into Eddie’s arms and hope for a better tomorrow.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #em writes #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #steddie breakup

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

New in Town

ok one last thing for the midwest emo ghouls since i was on a work trip last week and apparently wrote almost 1300 words on Phantom's arrival in town when i was bored in seminars (i don't think anyone's told that story so far?). one day i'll learn my lesson on handwriting in a notebook bc writing it up was a struggle

Rating: general words: ~1300 cw:

Phantom stumbled into town on a Wednesday. As he stepped off the bus and landed in a puddle he wondered, not for the first time, if moving here had been a mistake. First of all, it was raining. He didn’t know why this surprised him, as it was approaching the Yuletide season in the sleepy Midwestern town he was hoping to call home. Secondly, he was cold. There was a biting wind blowing the rain straight into his face, and within seconds of stepping off the bus he was shivering and soaked to his skin. He hoisted his lone duffle bag onto his shoulder, and gripped his guitar case tightly. He could do this.

Squinting through the downpour and tossing his hair out of his eyes, he tried to get his bearings. He was supposed to be meeting someone in a Waffle House to collect the keys for the cheap and dingy bedsit he’d seen advertised online, that definitely wasn’t haunted (the irony of Phantom moving in wasn’t lost on him). He spotted the glowing lights a block down and across the road, and stepped out into the street.

When Phantom regained consciousness, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gone and died already. That would be just his luck, on his first day of his new life. Although if he was dead, he wasn’t sure why he was met by a golden haired angel staring down at him. He was quite sure the door to that afterlife closed to him long ago.

Taking stock of the rest of his senses, he tried to make sense of where he was now. Still cold, still wet, and now also sore. On the ground. That felt more like what he should expect from the check-in desk in purgatory. His ears were ringing, the whoosh of static simultaneously deafening and silent.

The Angel had a panicked look on their face, slowly dissolving into one of anguish. Tears on their elegant cheekbones now mixing with the rain still falling. Raining, still? Phantom thought to himself. He guessed there were worse eternal punishments than a perpetual downpour though.

The static in his ears grew louder, and he started to pick out the sounds of someone crying out for help. The… Angel? … screaming? That seemed wrong. So did the way their golden halo of hair was staring to stick to their face in limp, wet clumps. Their voice sounded coarse, rasping, nothing like the pealing bells of a heavenly choir, unless said choir was in the habit of chain-smoking.

And the plaid. Phantom was pretty sure no angel wore flannel, in any century.

His brain gradually coming back online, Phantom began to suspect he was still alive after all. In fact, he had the distinct impression that he was both alive, and barely a foot away from where he had been walking before. Although he was horizontal now, prostrate on the wet asphalt in the shadow of a beat-up sedan.

Phantom was jolted out of his thoughts by the Possibly-Not-Angel, their sodden hair whipping around their face as they turned to yell towards the car, the source of the rumbling still echoing in his head.

“Rain!”

No shit. Thought Phantom. He was still coming to terms with not being dead, but even he could tell it was still pouring.

A second face loomed over Phantom. This one he was sure wasn’t an angel, despite their beauty and the intensity of the stare in their unblinking blue eyes. Angels didn’t wear beanies.

“What do we do Rain? Is he dead?”

“No, look at his eyes, he’s waking up.”

Phantom blinked up at the increasingly bedraggled pair, and tried to move his limbs. He was bruised, but pretty sure nothing was broken. The second voice spoke again, the sound smooth and melodic like a flowing river.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you until you were right in front of us. Are you alright?”

Despite how level their voice was, it was clear from the rapid rise and fall of their chest they were no less distraught than their now clearly human counterpart.

“Hi?” croaked Phantom, making to sit up. Two pairs of hands reached out immediately to support him, as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Now he was feeling more lucid, he realised the pooled rain on the ground had seeped uncomfortably through his jeans, and he was colder than ever. Phantom clutched at the hand offered in front of him, the warmth making him gasp, before grasping it tighter as his frigid fingers absorbed the heat and he felt sensation returning to them. Cooler hands supported him from behind as he staggered shakily to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of the road”, the warm-handed stranger gently started steering him towards the kerb. The other bent down to grab Phantom’s bag and guitar, and together they herded him out of the road and into the relative shelter of the bus stop.

“Where are you hurt? Should we take you to the ER?”

“I- I’m alright I think.” Phantom smiled weakly, siting down on the bench and trying not to wince at the feel of the bruises forming across his side. Luckily ghouls healed quickly, he was sure he would be fine again after a day or so.

“Can we give you a lift somewhere?” asked the taller of the pair, gesturing towards the car still idling at the roadside with the doors flung open.

“I don’t really have anywhere to go yet, I’m new here. I just got off the bus.” Phantom waved a hand in the direction of the Waffle House in the distance “I’m supposed to be meeting someone to get an apartment key”.

“You have friends here?”

Phantom shook his head, looking up nervously through his eyelashes. “Looking for a fresh start.”

“Oh! Rain was in your position a few years ago!” interjects the other, “I’m Dewdrop.” He shook the hand Phantom was still gripping like a lifeline in a facsimile of a handshake. “I preach at the chapel out the west side of town. If you’re looking to get to know people here I promise we’re very welcoming.”

As he speaks, Phantom spots the upside down cross hanging from a rosary around Dewdrop’s neck and smiles shyly at him “I’d like that.”

Juggling Phantom’s bag and guitar to extend a hand to him, while snaking an arm around Dewdrop’s waist, the taller stranger still standing over Phantom waits for him to drop Dewdrop’s hand before introducing themself.

“Rain. Dew’s husband. I hope you settle in well, there’s a strong community here, particularly through the church.” He offers with a carefully measured smile back at Phantom. “You're sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Phantom could already feel the acute sting of his injuries dissipating. He hoists himself back to his feet, and reached to take his guitar and duffle bag from Rain. He sent a silent prayer below that he had worn his bag on his left shoulder; both he and his guitar had somehow escaped mostly unscathed.

“Will we see you on Sunday?” asked Dewdrop, as he and Rain began heading back to their car.

“I’ll be there” Phantom nodded, Dewdrop’s answering grin making him more sure of this than any other decision he’d made in his move here so far.

“See you there then.” Just before getting into the vehicle, Dew leaned over to gently tap Phantom on the horns, which must have fallen unglamoured while he was unconscious. He smirked up at Phantom, with a conspiratorial look on his face.

“Might want to put these away in the meantime though.”

#this was such a fun creative outlet maybe the list of a dozen non-midwest-emo fic ideas might get written finally #midwest emo ghouls au #midwest emo ghouls <3 #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #em writes #the band ghost fanfiction

[malecacidd]

Radiostatic Week Day One: (First Meeting)/First Confession

#em writes #hazbin hotel #staticradio #radiostatic #radiostatic week 2024 #radiostatic ship week 2024 #I’m not sure which tag they’re going with

[lesbianhotch]

first meetings

determined to keep your planet neutral in the ongoing war, it seems youre alone in those plans. the arrival of clone force 99 only further complicates things.

sfw, wrecker x fem reader, pre order 66, after echo joins, more notes at the end!

“We do not need military intervention, and I certainly do not need a babysitter.”

“My dear, they are not babysitters, they are here for our protection. If you could see past your own ridiculous-”

You don’t hear the rest of his sentence, because you’re storming out of the room and out through the doors to the stone cobbled paths as fast as you possibly can.

Ridiculous? How dare your father call your ideals ridiculous. You were a neutral planet, one that  was going to take care of itself and its citizens, and the last thing it needed was to get involved in this pointless war. Your father bringing in the Republic for assistance would only spell trouble, you were sure of it. 

The bringing in of a clone squad didn’t mean you had joined the Republic, that he assured you. It was simply a favor in good faith from the Grand Army, protection after a few incidents seemed to leave your father with a target on his back.

A target that only got bigger as he spoke to both Republic and Separatist leaders, seeming intent on making your small planet and its citizens go one way or the other. 

You’re continuing down the path through the grounds, stewing in your own thoughts when you hear a voice behind you. 

“Excuse me- Hey, wait up!”

It’s the voice of one of the troopers you’d just been introduced to.

You walk faster.

He’s running now, the sound of boots against stone and plastoid armor clinking together and he moves to outpace you. It’s not hard considering his height, and before you know it the man is stepping in front of you, putting your hurried walking to a halt. He’s in front of you so fast you almost knock into his chest.

He puts a hand out to catch you as you stumble slightly, but you don’t need it. 

You recenter yourself, head held high. 

“What is this about?” As if you don’t already know.

“Sent me to come get ya. They want ya back in there.”

The scene being played out right now must be funny, you’re sure of it. 

A grumpy looking royal, a future Queen of an entire planet, standing her ground with crossed arms in front of a clone trooper head to toe in black and red armor, his helmet painted to resemble some sort of sharp toothed beast. He’s towering over you, and you back up just a step so you don’t have to crane your neck so much.

“I don’t care if my father wants me to come back, I will not be going.” You state this matter of factly, with all the air of finality you can muster. “So if you’ll excuse me.”

You take a slight step to the right, and all the trooper does is put out his arm, and your path is completely blocked. 

This might not be as easy as you thought.

“Listen, I’m sure it won’t take long.”

“You don’t know my father,” you grumble. Going back means the chewing out of a lifetime. The lecture will never end.

You chew on your lip for a moment, considering your options. “How about this? You simply say I was too fast for you, and that I got away. Simple enough.”

The trooper groans, and his hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck. His helmet tilts in a way that implies he’s looking anywhere but at you, and it’s a little charming. 

“See, thing is, m’not a very good liar. Everyone says so.” The admission comes out bashful, very un-soldier like in your opinion.

“No matter. I’ll just be going.” 

You try the same move as last time, scooting to the left instead, but another large arm comes up into your vision and you’re blocked again. 

“Sorry, but I can’t let ya go.” The trooper stands with both his arms spread wide, and he  takes up the entire width of the path, bushes and plants on either side  preventing you from making a break for it out into the grass. 

“You can, and you will.” 

There’s a long bout of silence as you stand there, staring down the man in front of you. You hate that his face is obscured by the helmet, and that you can’t get a read on what he’s thinking. It makes your escape that much harder. 

After another long moment, he sighs, and his head ducks down slightly in an apologetic gesture.

“M’ really sorry about this.”

The statement blindsides you, confusion making your brows raise. “Sorry about wh-”

He picks you up with such ease, it’s actually impressive. However, that doesn’t stop the scream that leaves your mouth, or the flurry of curses that come after as he hoists you over his shoulder.

“How dare you!” 

He’s silent as he starts to carry you back, arms wrapped tightly around your calves. The pauldron on his shoulder digs into your stomach, and you beat against his back with your fists.

“I am a Princess, the future Queen of this planet and I demand that you put me down right now instead of carrying me around like a karking animal that’s destined for the dinner table!!” 

If you two weren’t a sight before, you definitely are now. 

Your yelling and petty rambling has no effect, and you try to wriggle out of his grasp only once before you realize how futile it is. You sigh, feeling defeated and embarrassed, going silent as the trooper continues his walk back up the path back to your home, where your father and the others await. 

When you fall silent, he speaks up.

“You alright up there?”

You scoff. “As fine as one can be, thrown over the shoulder of a man she doesn’t know.”

The grunt he makes in response almost sounds like agreement. “Like I said, I feel bad about doing it, but it was the only option. You got a lot of fire to ya!”

His complement is unexpected, and it comes out of him excitedly, followed by his hearty laughter. 

For some reason, you feel your cheeks get warm. You’re still angry, that hasn’t changed but it’s been tamped down slightly. 

He carries you for a little longer before stopping a few feet away from your home.

“If I put ya down…you promise not to run?”

You consider it for a moment. You don’t think you’d make it very far.

“Promise.” 

His gloved hands move to your waist, removing you from his shoulder and setting you down gently on the ground. He doesn’t appear winded in the slightest, but the warm sun and hot air of your home planet has him moving his hand up to his head as if to wipe away the sweat from his brow. He stops himself halfway to the motion, instead bringing a hand to the lip of his helmet to take it off his head.

Oh. He’s handsome.

Quiet handsome, in fact. 

It’s a little unexpected, and when he smiles down at you, your stomach does some sort of flip that you do not like.

“Your planets a hot one, huh? Like I’m boiling in my armor!” He laughs that boisterous hearty laugh again before he runs a hand over his eye and then covers himself back up with the helmet. 

“Yes, ah, this is the worst of it. It’ll get better over the next few rotations into something more bearable.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” His voice is tinny through the helmet, and it doesn’t take much to decide you liked hearing him better without it and in fact wouldn’t mind hearing it again. 

‘What are you doing?’, you think. ‘Giddy thoughts about this man you don’t know, about a soldier?’

You snap yourself out of your foolish reverie. Or at least try to. 

“I better get inside now.” You nod curtly towards him. “Thank you for your kindness trooper.”

You had a dislike for soldiers, that is true, but your mother had raised you with manners for Makers sake. 

You imagine there’s a kind smile under his helmet as he looks down at you. “Just following orders, Princess.” 

Now there's nothing different about the way he says it; you've heard people use your title on a daily basis. But something about the way he says it....

You feel that heat come across your cheeks again, and oh no, that is not good.

You hurry inside, where the lashing you’re about to receive from your father somehow looks better to you than experiencing the feeling of a foolish, ill-advised, “how in the world have I lost my head”, beginnings of a crush.

-

notes: wow my first foray into bad batch fanfic!!! wrecker is my fav guy so i hope youll enjoy and maybe ill do more!

ive been writers blocked for months and then i cranked this out in like two hours so?? this feels great! beautiful valentines divider is by @stars-n-spice

#tbb wrecker #wrecker x reader #the bad batch #em writes #i cant believe THIS broke my writers block holy shit

[em-writes-stuff]

presumed dead

day 23 of @febuwhump

supervillain, hero, villain, and medic

1887 words

warnings: captivity, cursing, stress positions, implied past torture/abuse

~

Supervillain leans against the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest. She rolls her eyes and kicks off the wall, walking toward Hero. 

His head hangs low to his chest, if not for the rope tied around his stomach, he would be slumped over. His legs and arms are bound to the chair, keeping him from moving. 

Supervillain grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls his head back, forcing him to look up at her. His eyes open and he yelps in pain. 

“What the hell?” He shouts, trying to free himself from his bindings. Supervillain pulls down harder on his hair, pulling his attention to her. He stills and smiles, “Oh, it’s just you.” 

She lets go of his hair and takes a step back. “You know why you’re here.” 

“Oh, I thought you’d gotten over him!” Hero says, slouching forward slightly. “Tell me it’s not about Villain.” 

“You need to pay for what you did to him,” she says, anger dripping like venom from her voice. 

Hero chuckles and looks at her, his head tilted. “Don’t you mean what I’ve been doing to him?” 

Supervillain’s face falls, she takes a step back and shakes her head. “What are you talking about?” 

“Oh my god, you didn’t know.” Hero says. “How could you have known? I mean, I told you I was going to kill him. I told you I had killed him. I even sent you a fucking finger in the mail. But I thought somehow you knew.” 

He laughs and runs his tongue along his teeth. Supervillain shakes her head, “You-” she exhales sharply. “What? You didn’t-” 

Hero cuts her off, throwing his head back laughing. “I didn’t kill him!” he extends his neck as far as it goes and whispers. “He’s been with me the whole fucking time. And boy, can he scream.” 

Supervillain sniffs and swallows the sobs swelling in her throat. “Where is he?” 

“There’s an abandoned building…just off the highway about a mile and a half from here,” Hero says with a smile. “If you hurry, you might make it before…well, you’ll see.” 

Supervillain runs out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She looks at the map tacked up on the wall and finds the building Hero was talking about. 

She runs to the kitchen and grabs the first-aid kit out from under the sink and runs outside. She dials a number on her phone as she turns the key in her car. 

“Hello?” the voice on the other end says. 

“Medic?” she asks, voice shaking. She pulls out of the driveway and turns onto the highway. 

“Supervillain?” 

“I need you. Um…Villain needs you.” 

There’s a moment of silence and Medic shuffles around, sending static through the line. “Villain’s dead, Supervillain. Remember?” 

She shakes her head, “No, he’s not. I thought- I thought he was but…just. Please meet me at my place. Please. I- this is important to me.” 

She waits, silently begging them to say something. 

Medic takes a deep breath, exhaling heavily. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Please hurry.” she begs, hanging up and stepping out of her car. 

The warehouse stands in front of her, boarded up. She runs around to the back of the building and peels a board off from the siding. She ducks inside and bites her bottom lip. 

The air is musty with a tinge of iron floating around. Light filters in through holes in the roof, illuminating the dust in the air. A gas mask sits on a table, mostly clear of dust. 

It catches Supervillain’s eye and she walks up to it, covering her mouth with the collar of her shirt. Behind the table, there are dozens of pictures tacked up on the wall. 

They’re all of Villain in different positions, each more painful looking than the last. 

In each picture, his body is contorted, ropes tied around his legs and arms, holding them in impossible positions. Bile rises in her throat. 

She holds a fist to her mouth and swallows thickly, turning from the pictures. 

In one corner of the building, she sees a lumpy mattress. She hurries over to it and sees Villain’s hair poking out from under a blanket. It’s longer, matted, and caked in blood and dirt, but it’s Villain’s hair. 

She looks up and blinks, trying to fight the tears threatening to run down her cheeks. 

A whimper pulls her attention and she drops to her knees. “Villain?” 

She takes the blanket off of him and gasps. 

His right leg is tied to itself, calf flush with his hamstring. His left foot is tied to his right thigh and his knee is secured against his chest with a bow, making it so that he’s lying with his back curled. His right arm is locked under the bend in his right leg, wrist tied to a rope around his neck. His left arm is tucked under his back, knuckles against his spine. 

“Villain, it’s me, it’s Supervillain. I’m gonna get you untied.” 

“No,” he shakes his head weakly and points at something with his right hand. “Loo…”

She searches for what he’s pointing at and freezes when she sees it. 

A bag of sand is spilling onto the ground, slowly loosening a rope tied to another bag, significantly lighter than the emptying bag. If the smaller bag falls onto the pressure plate underneath it, it’ll trigger a gun trained on Villain. 

Supervillain stands up and grabs the rope right above the small bag of sand. She cuts the rope with her dagger and sets it on the ground. She turns the gun away from Villain and goes back over to him. 

“Ok, I took care of it, let’s get you out of here, yeah?” she nods to herself and falls to her knees, unsure of where to start. 

Villain makes a pained sound, “Left arm. Start…with my left.” 

She nods and gently coaxes his arm out from under him. The blood rushes back into his arm, turning it pink. Villain mutters and sucks air in through his teeth. 

“What next?” she asks. 

“Other arm,” he says, gasping. 

She cuts the rope connecting his arm to the rope around his neck and sets it on the mattress at his side. She works her dagger blade under the rope around his neck and starts to saw away at it, forcing herself to ignore the bruises along his neck and collarbones. She unties the bow keeping his knee against his chest. 

He falls back, head hitting a thinner spot in the mattress. He moans in pain and turns his head away from Supervillain. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should’ve-”

“I’m fine,” he interrupts. “Just get me out of here.” 

She cuts the rope keeping his foot flat against his right thigh and his leg flops onto the mattress, blood flooding to the areas that the rope was. 

Finally, she cuts the rope binding his right leg together. Villain breathes sharply and shakes his head, trying to keep the leg from moving. 

“What are you doing?” 

All he can manage is, “Hurts.” 

“We have to go, Villain. Sidekick has to know Hero’s missing by now." She pulls him up and he tries to stand next to her, but collapses. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, tears welling in his eyes. “I- I can’t stand.” 

She shakes her head and loops an arm around his waist. “Totally fine, I’ll help you.” 

He whimpers and tries to stand up, but as soon as he puts weight on his foot, he falls again. 

“Ok,” Supervillain says, thinking. “I’ll just carry you.” 

He nods and she puts an arm at the middle of his back and the back of his knees. She lifts him and carries him to where she came in at. 

She looks at the hole she made, then at Villain, and back at the hole. “Any ideas?” 

Villain nods and squeezes his eyes shut. “Put me down…” he exhales shakily and opens his eyes. “Then go through, and drag me out.” 

“Right.” Supervillain says. She nods once and…does nothing. 

“Supervillain.” Villain says. “Hurry please.” 

“Right.” she says again. 

This time, she squats and puts Villain on the ground close to the exit. She ducks through the hole and reaches for Villain’s hands. He flinches and pulls his hands away from her. 

“Sorry.” He rushes. He puts his hands back where they were and lets her grab his wrists. 

She drags him through the hole and picks him back up, holding him close against her. He curls against her, face buried against her shirt. 

“Ok,” she says, stopping. “I’m going to put you in the backseat and drive home. Alright?” 

All he can manage is a nod. 

On the ride back to Supervillain’s house, Villain slowly stretches his arms and legs, letting the muscles get used to moving again. His eyes stay closed, the bright light of the sun unfamiliar to him after the months he’d spent in the warehouse. 

The familiar bumps in Supervillain’s driveway alert him that they’re almost done driving and he sits up slowly. Supervillain opens his car door and holds her hand out to him. He takes it and she pulls him out of the car, looping her arm around his waist to keep him upright. Medic’s car is in the driveway, door open. 

They jump up from their spot on the porch and rush over to Villain’s side. They fuss over him, checking him over for any serious wounds before pulling away. 

Supervillain unlocks the door and pushes inside, forgetting about her guest. 

Hero cranes his neck to look at who’s at the door. He smiles when he hears three sets of shoes. 

“Aren’t you going to check on me?” He asks, voice booming through the house. “I assume you haven’t forgotten about me.” 

Villain freezes, recognizing the voice instantly. His entire body tenses and he shakes his head. “No.” he stumbles back and his back hits the door. “No, what-what’s he doing here?” 

Supervillain urges him forward, “You don’t have to worry about him, he’s tied up in the hallway. Just…get to the couch so Medic can look over you and I’ll deal with him.” 

She drags him to the couch and sits him down, “I’ll be right back.” 

Villain breathes rapidly, barely keeping upright. “Don’t- don’t let him…”

“I won’t. I promise.” Supervillain interrupts. She disappears into the hallway. 

Medic kneels in front of Villain, unzipping their go-bag on the floor next to them. 

“Hey,” they say, tapping his knee. “Deep breaths. Calm down, you need to trust Supervillain.” 

Villain inhales shakily and nods, he exhales and pulls his legs to his chest. Medic does a quick once-over of him and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. 

“You’re going to be alright, but it’ll take time. Your muscles are…” 

“I’ve been tied up for five months, I’ve known they’re atrophied. As long as I’ll get better.” he says, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. 

They nod, “You’ll have to work hard, and may never get back how you were before, but you’ll be alright.” 

Villain sniffles and tears fall down his cheeks. He wipes them away with the blanket and curls more into himself. Medic zips their bag back up and sits next to him, arm slung over his shoulders. 

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday23 #presumed dead #stress position #whump #whump fic #hero whumper #hero whumpee #supervillain caretaker #supervillain whumper #villain whump #villain whumpee #medic #captivity #captivity whump #captive whumpee #captive villain #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #whumpee #whump writing #whumper #caretaker