#but it's the only thing my muse came up with for this prompt

[jen-with-a-pen]

𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is. 

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter–  to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day. 

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week. 

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.  

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together. 

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival. 

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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’ 

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door. 

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger. 

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder. 

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit. 

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing. 

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.  

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink. 

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it. 

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time. 

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell. 

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear. 

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below. 

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape. 

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully. 

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium. 

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form. 

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.” 

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan. 

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours. 

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.” 

You wanted to take his finger and break it.  

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.” 

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion. 

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance. 

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles. 

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike. 

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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously. 

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side. 

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?” 

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward. 

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard. 

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body. 

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!” 

“No! Fuck– Get off me!” 

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.” 

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone. 

“Is that all, Sergeant?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.” 

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged. 

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you. 

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.” 

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why. 

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door. 

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy. 

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however. 

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?” 

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release. 

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core. 

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs. 

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass. 

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.” 

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him. 

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure. 

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you. 

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!” 

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you. 

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode. 

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

[queers-gambit]

Not So Heavenly Surprise

prompt: you share exciting news with your husband but don't receive the reaction you thought you'd get. and then, the Outbreak.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!wife!reader only height mentioned: you're shorter than Joel

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: angst, angst, angst, slutty angst club, cursing, character death, major major major spoilers, death of a child, descriptive language - we talk about death and dead bodies!!! canon-level violence! NOT edited!!! (will get around to it) this work is super NOT FOR MINORS ❗️season one, episode one spoilers

September 02nd, 2002 one year before Outbreak Day

"You're going to have to tell him," you sighed to your reflection, trying to amp up the bravery. "He's gonna notice, you don't want him questioning anything, now do you? No, nope, no way, you don't. Okay, so, that's it - you're gonna tell him when he gets home. No big deal."

There was a knock at the door, Sarah calling, "Are you okay in there?"

"Girl!" You laughed, reaching for the knob and opening it to see her. "Ever heard of this thing called 'privacy'?"

"Not in this house," She smirked. "Can I get in? Wash my face?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," you moved out of her way, continuing with your nightly routine.

"So, who were you talking to?"

"Myself," you mused. "It helps me work out big decisions."

"Oh, so, you're finally gonna tell Dad you're pregnant?"

"What!?" You yelped, dropping the jar of night cream and groaning when it dolloped out from the fall - landing on your foot. "What the hell, Sarah?"

"What? You're surprised I figured it out?" She teased. "I found the pregnancy test."

"What? You were digging in the trash?"

"Well, if you must know, I dropped the toothpaste in there and found it when I was fishing it out..."

"Sarah," you sighed.

"You know he's going to be really happy, right?" She smiled at you, massaging her cheeks to curate foam from her face wash.

"Maybe," you sighed, stooping to clean your mess. "But I've been trying to figure out what to say."

"What's to say? Just tell him," she giggled. "C'mon, you guys have been married 8 years now! Isn't this, like, what was supposed to happen?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"But nothing," Sarah laughed. "You're getting all nervous for nothing. It's just Dad, he loves you. He's going to be happy, I promise."

You sighed, nodding slowly, "All right, well, I'll try to tell him tonight."

"There is no try, only do."

"You did not just quote Star Wars to me!"

"Well, is Yoda wrong?"

You whined a little, "No..."

"So, get it done," she smiled. "This is really exciting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "I've always wanted to be a big sister."

"You'd kick ass as one," you agreed.

"Think how upset and flustered Dad will be when I teach Baby to curse!"

"Sarah, you teach the kid any curse words and I'll wash your own mouth with soap," you teasingly warned with a pointed finger. "I'm a little nervous, I think," you admitted.

"Why? Daddy loves you, he'll be really happy," Sarah defended. "Maybe a little shocked, but he'll be over the moon with joy."

"You think?"

"I know," she nodded. "Tell him tonight!"

"Tell who, what?" Tommy asked, appearing in the doorway to make you both shriek.

"What happened!?" You heard Joel, but then, everything was drowned out as you and Sarah started yelling at Tommy for scaring the shit outta you both. Joel appeared in time to see his little brother throw his hands up in defense, laughing at the two of you.

"Not cool, man!" You barked, shaking your head. "Didn't hear y'all come in, the hell's wrong wit'chu?"

"Y'all didn't lock the front door, again," Tommy smirked. "I came up real quick and quiet."

"Jackass," you muttered, wiping your hands on a towel before exiting the room. "Hi, baby," you muttered to Joel, pausing to rock onto your toes and plant a kiss to your husband's lips.

"Hi, honey," he mused, arm anchoring your waist. "What's with the screamin'?"

"Your brother's an ass," you pouted, giving your best exaggerated bottom lip.

"You had it comin', darlin'," Tommy teased. "Told you to lock up, huh?"

"Why're you even here? Why are you always! Here!?" You whined lightly. "Go home!"

"I'm staying the night," he mocked gently.

"You better not clean my fridge out," you warned him with slitted eyes. "I just went to the shop."

"You get them cookies you like?" Tommy perked a brother, watching your eyes widen a small fraction. "YOU DID!" Tommy laughed, turning, and bolting down the stairs - making you yelp and start yelling after him, following closely.

Joel and Sarah could be heard laughing from upstairs.

It was close to midnight by the time you and Joel finally settled for bed. Sarah's homework was done, whole family fed, Tommy was nursing a bonked head with a small ice pack, and you and Joel were turning your bed down.

"Hey, uh," you cleared your throat as you both got in the sheets, "so, I was wonderin' somethin'."

"What's that, sugar?"

"What do you think of when you consider the future?"

Joel paused, then shrugged, "We go to Nashville with Sarah this summer."

"No, baby, I mean the future - like, years from now."

Joel chuckled, "Uh, I don't know, baby, I just think of you and Sarah and Tommy... There's not many others left 'round."

"That's all?"

"I don't know, I think sometimes when Sarah goes off to college, that girl's goin' on a scholarship, you know? So, you and I could maybe take some time for a vacation. Finally take you on that honeymoon I promised."

You hummed, settling against his chest, "Where we goin'?"

"You know I'd take you wherever you wanted," he sighed, "but maybe we could afford... I don't know, trip to... Vegas?"

"So we can renew our vows with Elvis?"

"Why not?" He chuckled, squeezing your hip. "Might be fun, right?"

"You just wanna see the strippers."

"Can you blame me?"

You laughed and smacked his chest, "Easy, mister, you're on thin ice."

Joel laughed lightly, "You know I'm teasin', darlin'. C'mon, anywhere we could, where would you go?"

"Oh, the Maldives, without a doubt.," You smirked. "But how about we keep it simple? Go to, say, Paris?"

Joel snickered, "That's simple?"

"City of Love for our honeymoon? Baby, I'd say that's more cliché than anything. Besides, don't you wanna kiss me at the top of the Eiffel Tower?"

"'Course, sugar, but the food there?"

"Oh, like you've ever been!" You laughed, looking up at him. "Don't talk shit when you don't know."

"Hmm," he considered, "solid advice, sweetheart."

He reached out to caress the side of your cheek, making you sigh, "One thing's missin' though..."

"What's that?" Joel smirked.

"We'd have to find a babysitter."

"Sarah will be older than - "

"No, no, baby, not talkin' 'bout Sarah."

"Who, then?" He chuckled. "Tommy? Though he likes proving us wrong, he can take care of himself."

"No, I'm talking about a babysitter for us."

"Lost me again, sweetheart."

You stared at him for a moment, then admitted, "I'm pregnant. So, we'd need to find a sitter 'cause we'd have a little one by then." However, Joel just stared down at you, brows slowly furrowing as he processed your words. "Joel?" You wondered when he didn't answer, but instead, looked off past you. "Honey, you still with me?"

"I heard you," he grit, making you instantly sit up and off of him.

"Joel?"

He sighed deeply, "Why'd you have to do that?"

"I'm sorry?"

Joel sat up and swung his legs from bed, making you feel instantly smaller than you actually were. "Why'd you have to go and do that? Huh? Get pregnant?"

"Joel - "

"No, what the hell's this!?" He demanded, looking far too upset than you ever considered. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?"

"Yes - "

"God fuckin' damn it!" Joel swatted at a lamp, knocking it over, and waking the entire house - not that either Tommy or Sarah were asleep yet. "You can't seriously be pregnant!" Joel barked at you, and if he could, you knew he'd be gnashing his teeth.

"Why is this such a shock?" You asked. "This is what happens when you're married - "

"You were supposed to be on birth control!"

"It's only so much effective when you're cumming in me like some sex doll!" You snapped back, aware of your loudness.

"Don't turn this on me!"

"I'm not! Fuck's sake, I'm happy about this!" You stood from the bed, too. "I'm happy we're havin' a baby! Why're you reacting this way?"

"We can't afford a baby right now!" Joel looked enraged now. "We don't got the space - fuckin' Tommy crashes the couch! Where we puttin' a whole baby, huh? Where we puttin' a kid? How're we gonna afford more groceries? More schoolin'? You didn't think this through, now, did you!?"

"Fuck's sake, Joel, do I need to give you a sex-ed course? Explain how you're just as much in this as I am? I didn't do this to myself, we both took risks - but I didn't think this was gonna be an issue! I thought you'd want this!"

"When have I ever said I wanted another kid? Huh? Don't put words in my mouth, woman! I got Sarah, ain't no kid better than that! Why would I even want to bother? Knowing our situation!? You think you're ready to be a mom? All you do is work, and it makes you a pretty shaky stepmother! Neither of us are in a place to just stop and take care of a kid, we're in too deep with our current bills!"

You felt too stunned to speak, every defense you had lowering in pure sadness as tears collected in your eyes. "You serious, right now?"

"Completely," he sighed, hands to his hips.

"So, you... You don't want this baby?"

Joel's jaw flexed. "Not right now, no."

"Okay," you sighed.

"I can't take care of another kid," he shook his head. "Look, why can't Sarah be enough? You've known her her whole life."

"Why is it so wrong to wonder what it's like to be pregnant? To have my own child? Since you have Sarah."

"We have Sarah," he snapped.

"No... We don't, since I'm only a shaky stepmother."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No? How'd you mean it?" You wondered sarcastically. "Maybe that I won't be a good mother? That you don't want a kid with me, is it? Whatever, Joel, look, there's no compromise here. You don't want this baby, but I do... So, this it is."

"What is? To what?"

"Us," you sighed, gesturing between you. "If you really don't want this baby, then I don't see how we can still participate in a marriage."

"The fuck - "

"I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"I want you, just not the baby!"

"So, understand this. Because I'm growing that baby currently, you simply don't want me. So, it's all right, now. I'll get my shit and get out, figure out what to do movin' forward, and I'll have the divorce papers sent - "

"Like hell, you are!" Joel raged.

"How're we gonna fix this then!?"

"Fuckin' Christ, woman, you really know how to piss me off! This ain't my issue - this is your problem. But we ain't gettin' a divorce, so, you better figure it out."

You scoffed, "Who the hell even are you?"

"Come again?"

You gestured at him, "This is not who I married."

"Neither are you. When we got married, you said Sarah was more than enough - "

"You know what? Feelin's change!"

Joel scoffed, "Yeah, fuckin' tell me 'bout it."

"Wow," you sighed, turning for the closet, muttering, "wow, wow, wow, wow, WOW!"

"Fuck!" Joel snapped. "C'mon, doll, don't do this."

He watched you pack a suitcase frantically, the fight continuing to wage farther into the night. Back and forth, you two went round after round after round, trying to make the other understand and see reason. To Joel, it was a matter of financials and space. To you? It was everything else.

By 3 am, you had finally packed your necessary belongings into two bags - a suitcase and purse - before you were charging down the stairs with Joel still hollering after you. Tommy was in the living room, pacing, and Sarah was laid on the couch, eyes red and swollen as she clutched a pillow to her chest. You came to a halt when you saw them both, Joel still sneering but silencing himself when he saw what you stared at.

Just like that, he understood his brother and daughter had heard every word he shouted at you, and never had he felt such shame. You swallowed harshly, nodding at Tommy before looking to Sarah. With a wobbling smile, you managed to garble, "I'm sorry."

"Mama, wait!" Sarah gasped, shooting off the couch as you fled for the front door; Tommy catching her around her waist. "No! No! Daddy, go get her! Don't go! Mama! Please! What's happening? Why won't you go after her!?"

But to Tommy's shock and horror, Joel silently descended the stairs to push the front door closed and locked it - bolting them inside and his wife outside. "Joel," Tommy shook his head, confusing marring his features. "The hell happened?"

But Joel only sighed, turned, and headed up the stairs again. Not a moment later, his bedroom door closed - making Tommy release Sarah. She rushed to the door but stopped, only staring out, and Tommy understood she could no longer see your car.

"Hey, Sarah?" Tommy called softly. "You can stay home from school tomorrow. All right?"

She only nodded silently, taking a seat at the front door and just watching. He frowned, wanting to shoo her off to bed, but understood that her child-like mind could only understand so much. She wanted to wait for you to come home, she wanted to see you coming... However, the following morning, Joel found his daughter slumped against the front door and his brother on the stairs from watching her.

His heart had plummeted to his feet when he saw them, more so when he understood you weren't home. The house already felt colder.

September 26th, 2003 Outbreak Day

Your daughter was barely a few months old by the time "it" happened. After leaving Joel, you went home to your parents and they were gracious enough to welcome you and the babe growing in your womb.

They made up your childhood bedroom into a nursery and let you transform their home office into a spare bedroom as your little brother was living in the guest room and older sister in the basement. It was an incredibly tiny room, but it worked for now; and your little girl was a ray of sunshine that you barely noticed how miserable you truly felt.

You hadn't seen Joel since the birth... And before that? Not since your fight. He really didn't want shit to do with your daughter, and while you always told him when your appointments were, he never showed. When you went into labor, your father was the one who called him because you only sobbed through the pain that you wanted your husband. So, Joel showed that day, but didn't go into the delivery room. He just waited outside it, listening, feeling his heart shatter again and again as you begged someone to find your husband, but no matter how your mother and father begged him to go in, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

It was only after the baby was born did he venture in.

You looked beat to hell and the sheets seemed bloodier than usual, but he didn't want to linger. He only nodded at you, hands in his pockets, "Good job... She's real beautiful."

You blinked, glancing over to where a nurse was swaddling the just-cleaned baby. "Thank you," you whispered. Then, he turned to leave, "W-Wait!" You begged, making him pause. "Don't you... I-I don't know, want to help name her?"

Joel sighed, glancing at you over his shoulder, "No, 's all right. Whatever you want, she's your daughter."

Your heart broke all over again, watching him leave. So much so, when the nurse brought your daughter over for you to hold, you broke down in horrendous sobs that the nurse actually shied away. You couldn't breathe from the pain, and it actually set off a few alarms on your hospital monitors.

Your mother watched in despair as a team of professionals had to sedate you in order to calm you down enough; holding her grandbaby and rocking her arms. She waited for days, hoping you'd ask to hold your daughter, but never did. Only when the lactation expert came in to help you nurse your daughter did you actually "willingly" hold her.

It just broke your heart to even look at her because she looked so much like Joel that it should've been illegal. Eventually, you came around and felt as if you couldn't set the baby down, but for the first few days were exhaustingly tough. Your parents were a huge help, but that didn't make it easier on you to try and process life without Joel. You loved your husband, wanted him back, but after his behavior, you couldn't fathom being within 6 feet of him again.

However, life had much different plans.

You didn't feed your baby formula, opting for breast feeding. Ironically, during your pregnancy, you had developed an intolerance to gluten and never wanted flour-products even after giving brith to your daughter. However, your father loved your mother's cookies...

It was nearly 2 am when it happened.

Your father had been the first "Infected" of the family, and only your mother was in their room with him. You heard the thumping and screams, peering out of your room only to see blood pooling from under your parent's closed bedroom door. "Get back," you hissed at your little brother, darting down the hall to your daughter's nursery.

"DADDY! NO!" You heard your brother scream a minute later, panic enveloping you as your daughter started to cry.

"No, no, no, it's okay, hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart," you whispered, trying to shush her. There wasn't time to spare, and just as you secured your daughter to your chest with tight arms and made it from her room, your father came barreling out of your little brother's room - scaring the shit outta you. "D-Daddy?"

He snarled, neck snapping when he looked at you - but that wasn't your father. No, this creature was something else and while it was in your father's body, it wasn't your Daddy, and you weren't safe here.

"Down here! NOW!" Katie, your older sister called, making you shoot off down the stairs in a blind panic. Your father came crashing down behind you, knocking into your legs as you reached the bottom - forcing you to turn over and land on your back to protect your kid.

"OH MY GOD!" You screamed when your father bolted upright.

"STAY DOWN!"

Your sister swung her softball bat, knocking your father's head back with a sickly snap. He went down, and for a moment, it was all quiet. "What the fuck?" You panted, baby still crying.

"I don't know," Katie panted, reaching for your arms and helping you up. "I-I didn't - I didn't think," she stuttered, looking at your father, who's head was split open and spewing blood. "I-I killed him."

"Between us?" You nodded, "Think he was already dead."

"Where's Mommy? And Billy!?"

"Upstairs..."

"You don't think...?"

"Should we check?"

"What if they're alive and we just left them?" She worried, blinking back tears. "I-I don't know what to do."

"I think we need to get the fuck outta here," you admitted, looking around you two. "We aren't safe here, Katie, we should move."

Just then, there was a thud from upstairs. Your sister uttered your name in fear, and you had to steel yourself. "What do we do?" She whispered.

"Kitchen, there's only one door and the basement," you nodded, the two of you turning and hustling into the room. You looked around and found a long cerated knife, standing at the ready with one arm around your baby.

"What's gonna come for us?"

"Whatever the hell happened to Daddy," you gulped. "I still think we should run for it."

"But Mama - "

"She's probably dead!" You snapped. "But we aren't. We don't have to die if we play smart. I say, we get what we need and get the fuck out of here."

However, before she could answer, there was a snarling from outside the door. Your baby still cried, and soon, the door was bursting open with your mother's Infected body being hurled through the door. Your sister begged your name in a yell and you repeated at her that it's not really your mother - keeping the kitchen island between you three - and that she needed to swing the bat.

However, your little brother came barreling inside right after and knocked into you. It was a struggle as you had to let go of your baby to keep the 10-year-old demon off your body; hip teeth gnashing as pale tendrils came curling out of his mouth.

"NO!"

You couldn't look back at your sister, struggling to keep the suspiciously-strong boy at bay. You used your feet to kick him off you, snatch up the knife, and as he came back - snarling and screaming - you only stabbed the knife up into the underside of his jaw. Yanking free, blood and more came gushing out, and your brother when down.

When you turned, your sister was panting and leaning against a counter. Mother laid dead at her feet. "You good?" You asked.

"Yeah... You?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, moving to collect your baby from the bloody linoleum floor. "Can we get the fuck outta here now?"

"There's no more threat."

"Seriously?" You snapped. "Honey, if it happened here, it's happenin' elsewhere and we need to fucking move before we get left behind. Understand me?"

But then... There was a sickening sound from the only other door in the kitchen... The one leading to the basement...

"Katie?" You called your sister's name, "it's time to run."

"GO!" She screamed when a new body, that of your next door neighbor, came bursting through the door. You both ran, your daughter tight to your chest, and just made it outside your family home when a truck was screeching to a halt.

Joel leapt from the passenger seat, hollering your name in panic, and making you shoot off like a Roman Candle towards him. He caught you easily, holding you and your infant close to his chest as Katie came sprinting from behind you - taking cover behind Joel.

"What - "

"JOEL!" Katie screamed, pointing towards the body rushing from your home.

"Tommy!"

There came a gunshot, making you flinch into his chest as he turned you from the sight. "Get in the truck," Tommy called, Sarah opening the door from the inside to invite Katie in.

"We gotta go, darlin', it's time to go, let's go," Joel muttered to you.

"What the fuck is happenin'?"

"We don't know, but it's bad," he nodded, looking around frantically. "We need off the streets, baby, please, get in the truck."

But you paused, asking him, "You came back for me?"

"For the both of you," he sighed, caressing the top of your daughter's head - who still wailed in fear. "Please, baby, it's time to go - get in the truck." When you did, he rambled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, all right, Tommy! Let's go!"

When everyone was in and doors shut, a new game began: Get the Hell Outta Dodge.

During the ride, Tommy and Joel filled you and Katie in with what they knew from the broadcasters that were once on the airwaves. Sarah held onto you tightly, infant child still wriggling in your lap and arms. You were trying to flee the suburbs, making for the highway, but it seemed, everyone else who hadn't been killed off had the same idea and created intense traffic.

"We're okay," you whispered to Sarah on repeat, almost in a chant. Katie frowned and slowly reached over Sarah's lap, taking hold of your daughter. You slowly let go only to latch full onto Sarah and try to comfort her with slow rocking and cooed words of encouragement. Joel knew that in your time apart, you and Sarah saw each other often - nearly on a daily basis - and could understand that you were her mother, through-and-through.

You both needed the comfort right now.

Someone to lean on.

Someone to be scared with you instead of saying "buck up."

"Take the field, Tommy!" Katie barked from the back, holding your screaming baby to her shoulder and trying to offer her warmth and comfort. However, it was impossible with the tangible panic and loud blaring of horns and cursing voices. "We can cut across and pick the road up on the west side."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. West, West, all right. All right, hang on," he turned the wheel, everyone bracing for the sharp movement before the bumping of the terrain became wildly uneven.

Around them, other cars followed suit, and the field was soon flooded with civilian cars trying to flee. "The fuck could be happening?" Katie asked you, gulping, "You're the doctor!"

"I-I don't fucking know, Katie, please," you whispered back, gulping in nerves as Tommy drove you all over the grass.

However, when they came over the hill to catch sight of their destination, there was a flooding of lights and choppers in the air. Tommy cursed, "Shit! Fuckin' Army!"

"Isn't that good?" Sarah asked from your embrace.

"It's good for them, but that's the highway we're tryna get to," Tommy explained, coming to a halt as cars flooded past them.

"All right, keep movin'. Head north," Joel advised quietly, his mind trying to settle.

"Could be a lotta people," Tommy argued lightly.

"Well, we can't go south, we can't go east, we can't go west," Joel pointed out. "Hell else we supposed to go?"

"Tommy, fuckin' drive!" You grit, Katie joining you in on the last word.

"Tommy, c'mon!" Joel followed right after. The tires squealed as Tommy pressed on the gas while turning his wheel, making the truck turn and speed off for a distant suburban town; lights in the distance guiding you. "Yeah," Joel muttered. "Yeah, I know that place. This can work."

"Yeah, all right, fine, cool, but then what?" Katie asked. "Where are we supposed to go then?"

"I don't know. Mexico. Just far, far as we can," Joel answered uneasily. "How much gas?"

"Three-quarter tank," Tommy answered.

"Go through town," Joel advised. "Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade, then we're out."

"I'm gonna throw up," Katie whispered, head tilted back with her eyes closed.

"If you're feelin' sick, hand me my baby," you snapped, looking at her with fear.

"No, girl, it's anxiety," she snapped back. "I'm not sick."

"How can you be sure?" Sarah wondered.

"Cause it would've hit us the same as it did our family..."

"Who'd it hit?" Tommy wondered, looking back.

"We're all that's left," you sighed, saving your sister from answering. "Daddy turned first, then Mama... Billy after... We got out."

"They bite 'chall?" Tommy asked, glancing back.

"No," you answered, looking at Katie. "You bit?"

"Nope, I beat 'em to the punch," she sighed. "Ah, fuck, my stomach."

"Throw up in my truck, darlin'," Tommy muttered, sucking his teeth.

"Throw up on my baby, Kate, and I'll beat 'cho ass," you snipped, perking a warning brow at her.

"Girl," she sighed, glancing at Sarah - who had sat off you in contemplation. "Sarah?" She whispered in wondered.

"Maybe it's everywhere," she voiced, glancing at the two of you sat on either side of her. "Maybe there's nowhere to go..."

"Well, hey, we'll just have to find somewhere safe," you nodded back at her, but furrowed your brow. "Anyone hear that?"

"Oh, shit - "

"What the fuck!?" Tommy called over Katie, glancing up towards the roof as there came a deafening sound of a plane flying far too low to the ground.

"Cover her ears!" You begged Katie, reaching for Sarah to press your hands over her ears. Your sister held your daughter's ears closed - her still screaming bloody murder - as the plane flew over the truck.

"Fuckin' hell!" She looked back, noting the sky. Sarah whipped around, too, only to spy two more planes in the sky - all flying low and at odd angles.

However, ahead of them, cop cars were speeding around the streets and cutting off any route. "Son of a bitch," Tommy cursed. "Gotta go around. Grab somethin'!"

You held onto the designated 'oh shit!' bar over your head as Sarah leaned over to hold Katie and your baby. Tommy took a sharp right into an alley, between buildings. When you all rightened, it was only to see the people on the street running around, screaming, cars zooming past them all. Tommy took a left, then another right, and joined the bustle of the street.

"All right, keep goin', keep goin'," Joel pointed ahead, but tommy blew past a stop sign. "Shit - TOMMY!"

Another car came to a screeching halt, barely missing T-boning the Tommy's truck. They moved on, only to discover people mauling each other in the street - blocking most of their path. "Oh, my God," Sarah whispered, reaching for you as your arm came around her shoulders again as Tommy came to a stall.

"Tommy, you can't stop here," Joel reminded.

"I can't drive through 'em all!"

"Are you serious?" Joel barked. "Just keep goin'!"

However, ahead came the smashing of glass and a stampede of people - all running wildly and making you assume they were Infected, too. "Ohhhhhhh, shit," Katie whimpered.

"Go, go, go, go, back, back, back, back, back, back," Joel encouraged his brother, who hastily switched gears.

"I'm trying!"

However, when you and Sarah looked back to watch the crowd and stay out of Tommy's range of sight, you saw a distant threat and tuned everything else out. "Joel!" You begged, reaching for his arm as the sight of an airborne plane turning in the sky to head back your way was far too pressing right now.

"Dad!" Sarah echoed.

"Holy shit," Katie sobbed, cradling your baby tightly and without you even noticing, put her seatbelt on.

"Move. MOVE!" Joel told Tommy.

The plane took a nosedive into the ground, exploding, and send a flurry of parts around the surrounding area. One of those areas happened to the building you were driving past, and one of the steel parts ricocheted off it and into the truck.

Everything went black.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me? Hey, hey, hey, darlin', c'mon, open them pretty eyes for me, c'mon, baby, please."

"Fuck," you wheezed, eyes slowly opening.

"Hey, hey, hey, there you are, hey," Joel whispered, Tommy, Katie, and Sarah already out of the truck. "There you go, c'mon, you all right? You hurt?"

"No," you blinked a few times, wiggling your toes and fingers. "Fuck's sake, what happened?"

"Car accident," he nodded, "c'mon, sugar, gotta get up for me," he looked around. "We ain't safe here, c'mon, baby, that's it."

You nodded and let him pull you from the wreckage, grunting when shattered glass pressed into your skin to create long drips of blood that resembled a child's melted-crayon canvas from elementary art class. When out, Sarah kept weight off her ankle and wobbled in her stance, making you frowned, "All right?"

"Ankle," Sarah sniffled.

"We gotta get off the streets!" Tommy called from the other side of the car.

"KATIE!?"

"I got her!" She called back, and then, you could distinguish her shrill crying. You sighed with relief before Tommy was profanely screaming and Joel turned you and Sarah from the car just as an out-of-control police car came smashing into the truck.

"I got her," you told Joel, taking hold of Sarah in full as he nodded in thanks before turning for the wreckage they couldn't get around.

"Tommy!? Tommy!? Katie!? TOMMY!"

The brothers found a glimpse of each other through the flames, Tommy telling his brother, "Head to the river! We'll find a way! Get them outta here, Joel! Go!"

"Take care of my daughter," he nodded back.

"C'mon," Tommy told Katie, and the two were taking off with Tommy's gun slung over his shoulder.

Joel turned back for you and Sarah, gulping nervously at you, "Darlin', listen, I'm so sorry - "

"Joel, now's not the time," you panted. "We gotta go. Okay? We're good right now, but we gotta stay good. Let's get the fuck outta here, please. We can talk later!"

He nodded back, looking at Sarah, who refused, "We can't leave them! K-Katie has D - "

"They'll be fine," Joel insisted. "Tommy's with 'em, they'll look after each other. Can you run?"

"No," she shook her head, making Joel sigh.

"Can you?"

"I'm good," you nodded, worryingly looking at Sarah. "I can carry her - "

"'S all right, darlin'," he muttered, sweeping Sarah into his arms and making her arms latch around his neck. "You keep your eyes on me," he told his daughter. She nodded. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sarah breathed.

"Okay," Joel nodded. "And you don't look anywhere else." Sarah buried her head in her father's neck, his eyes meeting yours. "And you..." He panted, swallowing nervously. "You stay with me, you stay right with me, all right?"

"All right."

"All right," he agreed, hurrying off down the alley. You were true to your word, keeping up with him easily, but both slowing when the end of the alley only lead to a group of Infected motherfuckers feasting on the flesh of other humans.

You panicked for a moment, looking around you, and nearly missing the sound of the a distant explosion - sounding more like a crack from this distance. However, it was enough of a sound to draw the attention of at least one Infected Fucker - who looked up to stare at you, Joel, and Sarah.

Joel lead you to a building behind you - but the Fucker followed. "Joel, go, go, go," you hissed, easily taking the lead to use your body to burst through doors. Joel followed, understanding that because he was carrying Sarah, you had assumed the role of "guide" and wanted to clear his path - but it also cleared a path to be followed.

It made horrendous sounds as it chased you three, literally hauling it's body around as if it had no real control over it. The feeling inside your chest was chaotic, the tension tangible through the air as you lead Joel through the closed-diner.

The creature still followed.

Finally outside, you didn't have to restrict yourself but couldn't find it in you to leave Joel and Sarah behind. If this was the end, it was only right you fell as a family - and while deeply stupid of you, it was oddly poetic. However, as you heard the beast in pursuit just nipping at your heels, so sounded a reverberating gunshot.

It made you pause, looking back to see a headshot had taken the Infected Fucker out, and yet, no obvious sign of the shooter. Joel comforted Sarah, looking down at you - making you nod, telling him you were okay - before looking around again.

Then, a flashlight blinded you as a Humvee's lights flashed on, a voice demanding, "Don't move!"

"Joel..." You whispered, holding onto his elbow as he readjusted so he was slightly in front of you.

"My daughter's hurt!" Joel called to the military man. "Her ankle!"

"Stop right there!" He barked again.

"Okay," Joel muttered, nerves being shared as you had a bad feeling about this. "Easy now. We're not sick!"

But the solider, instead, radioed in, "I got three civilians by the river, one of 'em injured... Ankle..."

"What about Uncle Tommy and Aunt Katie?" Sarah asked her father.

"We're gonna get you somewhere safe first, with your Mama. Yeah? Then we'll come back for 'em, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, repeat?" The solider asked into his comms system - earning your attention again. Joel tried to step forward, but the flashlight was right back up into your face, the man snapping, "Hey! No one told you to move!"

"Joel," you worried. "They have shoot-to-kill orders."

"What?" He whispered.

"In the event of extreme violence, similar to this, they have orders to shoot-to-kill," you told him shakily, watching the man. "I know you wanna trust 'em, but they're not our friend right now. Get ready to run..."

"Darlin' - "

"Joel," you hushed, squeezing his elbow.

The solider answered his commanding officer with three, spaced out, "Yes, sir's," before he was slowly picking up his firearm and the light was again in their eyes.

Joel realized how right his estranged wife was in that moment. "We're not sick," he tried to remind. But the man approached, making Sarah's breathing pick up as she held on tighter to Joel's neck - blindly reaching out for you. "Sir," Joel begged, "we are not sick!"

But just like you had said, the orders were shoot-to-kill, and the rapid gunfire sounded in the knight - only barely masked by Sarah's high-pitched scream. You felt a searing burn in your thigh, all three of you toppling over down the short hill you were heading towards; all three rolling away from one another.

When you came to a halt, you seethed in pain, holding your thigh, but hearing a much worse sound. Sarah hyperventilating. You looked up as the solider leered over Joel, army-crawling towards her just as a gunshot sounded. However, when you weren't struck, you kept going, and reached your stepdaughter.

"Baby?" You whispered.

"Mama," she begged. "Mama, Mama," she repeated, barely able to swallow her saliva - much less her fear. "Hurts," she grunted, soon losing the ability to form words.

Tommy had seen the scene and rushed forward to shoot the solider, leaving Katie at his side with your infant daughter still in arm. "I got'cha, hey, hey, hey, I"m here," you whispered, literally whipping your shirt off to press into her stomach. "JOEL!" You cried, looking over your shoulder to spy him on the ground.

He quickly scrambled to Sarah's other side, taking in the situation, and looking at you with absolute devastation. You cried as you held pressure, but you knew, from the entry wounds, Sarah didn't stand a chance. Her aorta artery had been hit and shredded by a bullet, only giving her moments left in this life.

Watching Joel was possibly harder than watching him walk away from you in the birthing room. He was desperate, trying to save his daughter but only being able to hold her as she grunted and sobbed in pain; bleeding out in her father's arms. Joel begged you to help but you couldn't, unable to form words, so, he turned to his brother and screamed at him - and your sister - to help him.

But in that moment he had looked away, Sarah's life had left them. "Joel," you whimpered, making him look down and realize what happened. He sobbed, drawing her in tightly; rocking helplessly on the ground as he couldn't fathom what had just happened.

However, amongst his mourning, there came a sound you never wanted to hear again. Whipping around, you caught sight of your sister starting to twitch and leapt to your feet; limping in hurried motions to snatch your screaming baby from her tightening grip.

"Katie," you begged in a sob, backing up towards Tommy, "oh, God, no... No, please."

But the bite on her forearm had turned a sickly black-and-blue, alerting she had been bit at some point and never voiced it. Before your very eyes, she turned from your dear, sweet older sister into a blood-thirsty monster. Yellowed and dead eyes, snarling and uncontrollable twitching, limbs that turned up in odd angles as the infection took over completely.

When done, you sister gave a shriek before you pleaded, "Tommy!"

He took aim and fired once, putting Katie out of her misery; sending her corpse crumbling to the ground. You panted, tears in your eyes as you couldn't process this night, but then... The unexpected.

"Oh, God, no," you gasped, wrenching your daughter from your chest as she started wriggling uncontrollably. "No, no, no, no, no, no," you sobbed, dropping to your knees and laying her down. Quickly opening her baby blanket, you noted the adult-sized bite on her whole shin, sobbing harshly. "Delilah! No, not my baby, no, no, oh, fuck, no, c'mon, not you, too. Not you, too, Delilah, please, my angel, oh, fuck, no, God damn it!"

"Darlin'," Tommy stuttered from behind you. He looked up in fear, finding his brother's confused gaze and calling, "J-Joel!"

"Delilah, please, fuck, h-how do I fix this!?" You begged. "No, fuck, God damn it! Why can't I help my daughters!?" You snarled at Tommy, sobbing until your chest hurt. "Why!? Why can't I save them!?"

"Doll," he whispered, his older brother slowly letting go of Sarah to lay her down, shut her eyes, and rest her arms over her stomach before turning for you.

"Not her, too, please," you begged. "That's everyone, please, no, please, th-this can't - please, this can't be happening! How do I help, Delilah, baby, please?" You still begged, looking at her bite. "I-I can - I don't know what to do! Wo-Would amputation work? Oh, fuck, no, no, it's - no, please!"

Joel stumbled to his feet, nearing you, but pausing as he could only stare as his infant daughter, whom he had only just seen, twitched and convulsed as the infection proved too great for her little body. It also wasn't lost to his that you had name her after his own mother, long since departed from this world and who would never meet her granddaughter.

"Oh, my God," Joel whispered, slowly nearing you as you sobbed over your daughter; hands hovering all over as you weren't sure where to touch her.

"Please!" You begged nobody, sobbing uselessly as Delilah came to a slow but jarring halt. "Oh, my God," you squeaked, leaning back in shock. "Oh... Oh, my fuckin' God, no... Not our kids, c'mon, no, God, please, fuck - this has to be some fucked-up nightmare. Right?" You looked desperately at Joel. "This... This isn't real, right? This isn't really happening? Please, Joel, you have to fucking tell me this isn't real - this can't be real."

"I'm sorry," Joel wheezed, slowly reaching for you.

"This didn't happen," you shook your head. "O-Our daughters - what the fuck just happened?"

Tommy slowly took the seat on your other side, Joel easily tugging you into his embrace as your sobs wracked your whole being. There were no words to be shared, only the grief of two parents who had just lost everything. Sarah's blood stained both your skin, Delilah laid perfectly still in her baby blanket right in front of you, and Tommy, who felt his gun weighed more than himself after failing to protect those he loved most in this world.

Joel, who lost his daughters but kept his brother.

And you... Who lost your husband a year ago and both your daughters, your mother, father, little brother, and older sister all in a single night. You, who would carry this night of great loss with you, for life. You, who felt confused on how "moving forward" was ever possible. You, who would eventually lose feeling in your head and heart that would result in years of violent turmoil.

You, who would eventually find a path to redemption, but for tonight, you, who grieved loudly and openly in the bloody arms of your estranged husband.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

[eddie-stinks-munson]

Can't Keep My Eyes Off Of You- Eddie Munson

Prompt: “Being unable to keep their eyes off of them”  Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 723 There are some femme characteristics but readers gender isn't otherwise specified, no y/n I told myself I'd write at least one fic before my vacation was over, this is it ---

Eddie Munson was a lot of things, but a star student wasn’t one of them. School was a drag, and he could scarcely find a reason to tune into whatever bullshit the teachers were spouting that day. 

Mrs. Clicks class was the most insufferable by far. The high pitch of her voice was grating, and she was constantly droning on about how “America is the greatest country by far.” 

“Sorry I’m late,” came a voice from the back of the class, in a tone that said they weren’t the least bit sorry, “I overslept.”

Eddie, who had been told time and again that subtly wasn’t his strong suit, whipped his head around. He’d know that voice anywhere, rough around the edges with a hidden softness in the center. That voice filled his dreams, both day and night. 

His eyes met yours, and there you stood, in the back of the classroom. A vision of complete and utter perfection. Black makeup smeared bored eyes, and a grin of cherry red lipstick. 

“Good of you to join us. Take your seat before you further interrupt my lesson.” Mrs. Click responded, with a timbre of disdain she reserved only for a special few students. 

You rolled your eyes and gave a half hearted, sarcastic salute before making your way to your desk. It was one row in front of Eddie, and just to his right. He sighed heavily as you sat down, paying attention was hard enough before. But now with you sitting right there, he found it impossible to even try and look at the board. 

Class was half over and Eddie spent the grand majority of that time either counting the droplets of rain racing down the window, or watching the way your face scrunched up in disgust anytime Mrs. Click voiced an outdated, and flat out incorrect opinion. 

At one point, she’d said something so absurd you turned around and looked at Eddie. Brows furrowed dramatically, as if to say, “can you fuckin believe her?” 

Eddie just rolled his eyes and shook his head. If he was being honest, he hadn’t even heard what Click said. He was too busy watching the way your cutoff Dead Kennedy’s t-shirt rode up when you stretched. 

Any time Eddie tried to look at anything else, you did something to bring his attention back to you. He was half convinced you were doing it on purpose at this point. Like the way you moved your sleep disheveled hair to the side, showing off the curve of your neck/ It was such unmitigated perfection. There was no way it wasn’t a calculated attempt on your part to distract him. 

You were fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, and Eddie was absently mirroring you when the bell ripped him from his reverie. When you got up from your desk, you looked at Eddie and smiled. 

He was so excited when you started walking towards him instead of the door he had to remind himself to breathe. By the time you got to him, his heart was hammering so loudly in his ears he stupidly worried he wouldn’t be able to hear what you were saying to him. 

“I can feel you staring, you know.” You said, trying but very clearly failing to suppress a smile. 

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” Eddie replied, more sheepishly than he intended, rubbing the back of his neck, hoping against hope that it would keep the blush he felt creeping up at bay. “Subtly isn’t my strong suit.” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mused, playfully pushing his shoulder. 

“It’s a hard burden to bear, but someone’s gotta do it,” he said, as his face heated up like a goddamn furnace. He was red as the devil, and he knew it. 

“Shut up,” you laughed, then looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Want to skip second period? We can smoke in the woods, I’ll buy.” 

Eddie gently grabbed both sides of your face, looked you deeply in the eyes as his heart settled in his throat, and earnestly said, “If I EVER say no to that, I’m going to need you to kill me. Because I’ve obviously been replaced by a doppelgänger, and the real me is long dead and turning in his grave.”

[mitchellnman]

UPTOWN GIRL / DOWNTOWN BOY.

Request from @slytherincursebreaker

Prompt: Reader all happy and bubbly college student received a text from her boyfriend which her friends were like excited who it was the mystery man like is he handsome or is he a student, the reader describes him tall, sweet, no he's not a student, he's working ( nothing illegal ) and he's handsome, so manly. Her friends are like excited. Then they pointed the bloke who the popular guy in college and has a crush on the Reader and they were excited, until Reader said what no not him oh there he is, she pointed which is Martin which her friends are like wtf, or is she blind or she lost a bet. When she hugged Martin and kissed him.

Word count: 727

Genre: fluff

Warnings: swearing, a slightly shitty friend, she/her pronouns, no beta reader we die like my brain cells scrolling through twitter

A/N: hi hello if you'd like a sequel I've got a few ideas for their date! Hope you enjoy, and have a good day!

—

You loved this time of year. The trees had began to shift from green, to yellow, to orange. The skies were always cloudy, the air was crisp and cool - which meant you could wear your boyfriends windbreakers and hoodies as often as you wanted. Which, was every day, and sometimes to bed if you were particularly lonely.

They smelled like him, and in moments when you thought no one was looking, you would duck your head, and tuck your nose into the collar. He was so supportive of you, and so achingly sweet, it was hard not to miss him every second if every day.

You were both busy now, that was the only downside to this time of year. You were in a good college, studying hard, and he was working. He hadn't told you yet, but you had overheard a phone call he had made to a friend, talking about how he was saving up to buy a slightly bigger place so that you two could live together after you graduated next year.

He was so thoughtful, you mused, as a dreamy smile splayed upon your lips, like a child thinking about their favorite candy bar.

"Hey, space cadet." One of your friends teased, waving her hand in front of your face. "Your phone just went off."

You blinked, your cheeks heating up. "Thanks, Sam." You pulled your phone out, your boyfriend's pet lizard as your screensaver. It was a text from him, and you grinned, brighter than the sun.

M: almost there love <3

"So?" Sam asked, leaning forward on the table the four of you were sitting at; a lovely outdoor cafe, on college grounds. It looked like something off of Pinterest, honestly. "Who is it?"

"My boyfriend, he's picking me up for a date tonight."

"Come on, you have to give us more than that!" Jackie protested to your right. Evelyn nodded in agreement to your left, and they all leaned in conspiratorially.

"Is he a student?" Sam asked.

"Is he tall?" Jackie asked.

"Is he handsome?" Evelyn asked.

You laughed, and covered your face with your hands in an effort to hide your fluster, your skin blisteringly hot under your fingertips. "He's not a student, um, he's fairly tall, and he's... beautiful. Yes, handsome, does all of the manly things you'd expect, opening doors, fixing things, reaching stuff on the high shelves, but - he's so sweet." You said, peeking out from between your fingers. “He's an utter dream.”

"Aww." Jackie said. "He sounds so nice. What does he do?”

“Well,” you said. “He works at a music store, and he has a few hobbies, and he does a recreational sport, for money.”

“Oh, interesting!” Jackie said, genuine invested in this. “I've got to meet him—”

A car pulled up alongside the curb, and a handsome man stepped out; tan, blonde, the star quarterback that was bringing a lot of attention to the college; Tommy.

Sam gasped as the man walked over to them. "Him?"

"The whole school knows he's got a crush on her." Evelyn said, raising an eyebrow. "It's so obvious."

It was, painfully so. He always tried to talk to you, chat you up - but it always came off more like a puppy begging for attention than anything else.

Tommy walked right by you with a wink and a wave, but you shook your head, and pointed. Martin had pulled in alongside him. His resting gloomy face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw you, and he jogged over. You stood up so fast that you nearly knocked your chair over.

"Did you lose a bet, or something?" Evelyn sneered as she pulled her phone out.

"Don't be such a cunt." Jackie said, flicking cookie crumbs at her.

You didn't care. Martin met you halfway, and picked you up by your waist. He spun you around once, and you kissed him, aching for the warmth of his lips against yours.

"Hullo." He whispered, his hands cupping your flushed cheeks. "You taste like cinnamon."

You smiled. "Apple cider donuts. I was going to get some to go." You whispered, happily ignoring the chatter from your friends behind you.

"Good idea. Are you ready to go?" He asked, his voice soft. He brushed his nose against yours, his wild black hair tickling your cheeks.

You nodded. "With you, always.”

[daddy-kinard]

a relatively unimaginative little thing for @bucktommypositivityweek prompt scenes from a fire truck

It’s not the first time they’ve responded to the same call as the 217 engine working ground support, but it doesn’t happen often. Buck thinks this is only the fourth time since Harbor station came to mean something more to him than any other, and two of those times he knew Tommy wasn’t even on shift. Today though, today Tommy’s working, which means probably Tommy’s here. Buck feels his heartbeat pick up in anticipation before their engine has even rolled to a stop, parked up right next to the one branded 217. It hadn’t sounded like the sort of call that would have any of their lives in imminent danger, but Buck knows as well as anyone how quickly that can change.

Thankfully, things don’t escalate any further than expected, and as they start winding down operations the knot of anxiety in Buck’s gut loosens to its baseline - he’ll never be completely calm when he knows Tommy’s out there, trying his utmost to stay safe, to make it back home - to their home - of course, but putting his life at risk nonetheless - and he wonders whether he’ll maybe get the chance to see him before they have to leave.

He’s repacking their gear when he feels a body behind him. The space is tight in between the trucks, and when a hand lands on his hip, he’s about to apologise, to try to squeeze out of the way so whoever it is can pass, when a warm, familiar, voice speaks, right in close to his ear.

“Bobby said I’d find you here.”

“Firefighter Kinard.” Buck smiles as he lets himself be spun around, until he’s face to face with blue eyes that sparkle back at him.

“That’s Firefighter Pilot Kinard, I’ll have you know.”

“Hmm,” Buck muses, pretends to consider it, “you know, I can think of something else I’d rather call you” he lowers his voice to barely above a whisper, “Daddy.”

Buck swears he can see Tommy’s eyes darken in the moment before all 200-something pounds of him is pressing Buck back against the hard metal of the engine. Their lips meet and Tommy kisses him deeply, hungrily, his hand coming up to tangle in Buck’s curls, angling his head the way he wants. Buck goes easily, willingly. He rocks his hips into Tommy’s, wanting more, even though there’s only so much he can feel with two layers of turnouts in between them. He lets Tommy’s mouth wander, to his jaw, to his pulse point, the scrape of teeth and stubble making Buck moan his name softly.

“God, you’re a troublemaker, aren’t you kid?” Tommy huffs as he pulls back.

Images of stolen firetrucks, of being caught with his dick out on the roof of the station, of the countless times he’d given out his number to women on calls, of the few times he’d asked for one of theirs, of an ill-advised appearance at a basketball game, of a soot-covered face in a hospital bathroom mirror, flash through Buck’s mind. A decade’s worth of trouble, now, and he wouldn’t trade where it’s eventually led him for anything. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he snakes one arm beneath Tommy’s coat, resting against his sweaty lower back, to pull him closer for one last kiss.

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t what you came here for?”

Tommy holds up both his hands.

“Alright, alright, busted.” He laughs. “Couldn’t last until tomorrow without kissing my hot boyfriend.” Buck feels his cheeks heat up, turns out there are certain things that don’t get old no matter how many times he hears them.

“118, we’re heading out.” Buck assumes the crackle of Bobby’s voice over the radio is a deliberate warning so he and Tommy can avoid being caught by their co-workers in some compromising position, and he might be peeved if there hadn’t been precedent. Instead, by the time Buck’s team start appearing, the only evidence of their not-quite-PG activities is the state of Buck’s hair - he’ll blame the helmet if anyone dares question it.

“See you at home?”

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you more, be safe.” He studiously ignores the exaggerated gagging sound Eddie’s making from behind him as Tommy presses one last, chaste, kiss to his cheek.

“Be safer.”

Buck swings himself up into the truck.

“Thanks, Cap.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Buck.” Bobby replies with a smile.

[phantom-0-writer]

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene 1

table of contents

------------

scene 2: tim’s arch nemesis 

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Alfred wished, as they all got out of the car. 

“Later, Alfred.” Duke waved as the car left the drop off zone.

The three of them walked together until Tim remembered the conversation from Bruce’s study. He peered over his shoulder at Damian who was trying to act nonchalant as he ditched the principal's office. Tim turned and stopped right in front of Damian ``Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” Sneaky little plans for a sneaky little kid, huh.

“Tsk.” He rolled his eyes at being caught 

Tim smirked at him, the words hillbilly civilians echoing in his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” 

“I was just on my way.” Damian said, trying to seem unbothered as he walked away. 

“Y’know one of these days he’s gonna snap and finally murder you.” Duke mused next to him, before they split into their separate hallways. 

“Better people than him have tried.” They shared a small laugh. Finding his usual seat in homeroom, Tim scrolled through his phone until class started. 

At the bell Ms. Kross stepped to the teacher’s podium to start the daily announcements. “Hello class, happy Wednesday.” She smiled at them, “You’re all chipper as usual,” she commented humorously to herself at the silent audience. “Well today is the day I’m sure all of you have been waiting anxiously for. Before I announce everyone’s placements after the midterms, I just want to remind you all that grades only matter so much in the grand scheme of things, and if you did not score as well as you would’ve liked, there's still time to do better.” Ms. Kross gave them the yearly pep talk, as the system booted. 

Tim had been attending Gotham Academy since the first grade, and he was familiar with the ins and outs of the system now, as opposed to the many students that often filtered in and out of the Academy. Gotham Academy is one of the best schools on this side of the coast and many affluent families would send their kids here. So naturally the Academy was incredibly competitive and so much as one point could move you from 5th place to 50th. 

The competitive atmosphere of Gotham Academy had never been too hard of a burden on Tim’s shoulder. Since grade 3 Tim has easily been placed first in his grade without so much as a sweat, no matter the amount of Robin, or Red Robin responsibilities on his shoulders. Knowing this year would be no different, Tim let his chair lean back leisurely as his other classmates sat forward in anticipation. 

“With no further ado, this year’s first place as for now is Daniel Fenton.” Yup, just like every other- Wait. 

“What?” Tim asked, the front two legs of his chair hitting the floor hard. Tim looked at the screen in disbelief, only to have his suspicions confirmed. 

“Mr. Drake, is there a problem?” Mr. Kross asked, surprised. 

“Are you sure this is right?” Tim asked incredulously pointing an accusing finger at the screen, there's no way that he- Timothy Drake - placed second?

“Yes, Mr. Drake, I assure you this sheet has been double, triple, even quadruple checked. There are no errors.” Ms. Kross smiled exasperatedly. 

Ms. Kross continued down the list of names in the class, announcing their places but Tim wasn’t paying attention. Tim glared at the spreadsheet at the front of the class, waiting for it to correct itself. But no changes were made. The name placed at the top of the list had been burned into Tim’s skull. 

Who the fuck is Daniel James Fenton? 

----

Bonus:

Bruce waited his turn in the pick up line, ready to see his kids' surprise when they found out that he came to pick them up instead of Alfred. When it was finally his turn to pull up to the curb he smiled happily as Tim, Damian and Duke entered the car. 

“Surprise.” Bruce smiled at them.

“Oh, Bruce. Alfred didn’t come today?” Duke asked with a smile. 

“Nope!” He said driving into the street. “Since it’s just us today, how about we go grab ice cream?” Bruce offered, looking at his passengers in the rearview mirror. 

“Ooh ice cream after school!” Duke cheered. 

“I could appreciate some ice cream.” Damian nodded from his seat. 

“Oh how did meeting Daniel go today, Damian?” Bruce remembered. 

“It was fine. Daniel is not entirely despicable.” Bruce blinked in surprise, Damian seemed to have taken a great liking to the kid if he was already calling him by his first name, especially on day one. “Not entirely despicable” and “it was fine” in Damian-speak usually meant that he had had a phenomenal time. 

“That’s great, buddy.” Bruce turned to tell him when he stopped at a red light. “Duke, how was your Chemistry Test?” 

“It went okay, I think. We’ll just have to wait till the results come out, I guess.” Duke shrugged. 

Bruce nodded at the information. He was doing a good job. Engage, Assess, Appreciate. That’s what Dick had said. 

Tim. There was something today, he had mentioned it offhandedly. What was it? Right! The placement release. 

“Tim, how did your-”

“Shut up.” Tim seethed from the back seat. Bruce saw the irritation radiating off of him and decided that today, nor any day, would he be ready to deal with that.

“Ok.”

[the-monkeies-girl]

Okay wait because I just thought of a lil fic for our soft boy Noa: maybe him having a bad day with maybe a lot of stress from the responsibility of rebuilding his clan but he sees reader playing with some of the baby apes? Like she’s letting them climb all over her and she’s chasing them and playing one of their games and Noa’s heart absolutely melts at the sight because she’s so caring with the babies and it makes him think of HIS future babies? 🥹

Paige you are my muse and I could kiss you if I lived closer to you ( Platonically mwah. )

Title: Chimp Gossip. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Heavily Implied! Noa x Human!Reader. Rating: K. ( FLUFFY BABY. ) Words: 2.5K+ Summary: Prompt above.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Noa felt tired. Beyond that, it felt like the usually taut muscles in his entire body were all turning in on themselves, desperate for rest as even his calves faltered a bit as he made his way down from the work in progress that was the Eagle Enclosure. So many large thatches of wood had been used today, so many propped up with the help of other Apes, Noa feeling the responsibility of brutally bearing it all metaphorically onto his shoulders as he thought dimly of his Father and the ultimate legacy that he had left behind.

Noa paused them, feeling the splay of his elongated and spaced out toes pressing into the wood below him that heralded his body in suspended animation in the air, a spiraling walk way that on most days, would not pose a problem, but today with the trenches he was pulling himself through to make sure that Enclosure was perfect, Noa wanted nothing more than to lay his body down and just roll the rest of the way until his fur was coated with dirt and even then he’d fall asleep on the ground, not even able to will himself to the communal nest to sleep. 

Green eyes that would rival even the most flushed and beautiful landscapes that surrounded the village were dropped and silken with lazed appointment to get just himself somewhere that he could unwind, somewhere where there were no responsibilities and where he wasn’t a Leader, he wasn’t the Master of the Birds. A place he could just be… Noa. Another Ape in their vast numbers, not important and just as insignificant in the scape of the world as any other. Maybe, the Ape thought and felt the fur rise against his spine at the mere idea that brilliantly popped into his mind, maybe he’d go and find you just to talk it through. 

Maybe… This burden he felt could be explained in Echo logic, maybe you could give him insight that no one else was able to give, given you came from the outside and had a vastly different view on the inner workings of the Clan. You tried, Noa knew that, but the ignorance and your soft words always put him at ease and he found himself tugged towards that as he finally began moving once again, this time with a more lively tug towards actually doing something beneficial instead of giving up and falling on his face to sleep.

There were two places you could be, he thought and scanned the scape of the village itself with induced interest. With the Eagle Enclosure nearly complete, now there were sprawling natures of half built huts that hit the flattened land that made the Clan a part of the Earth.

He could hear the hustle of a group of Apes playing Monkey Ball to his left in the adjacent field that housed the horse paddock as well. You were definitely not there, Noa chuckled to himself, and bi-pedal even though it tore into the muscles of his tired thighs, he began in the opposite direction towards the stream that cut through the east perimeter of the sprawling and homely bungalows that catapulted into the air. 

Monkey ball, Noa had noticed, was not your thing. There were logistics of it that made no sense, your eyes not able to keep track and you only cheered with what Noa cheered on to help the cause that you were only there to spend time with him. Not that he minded, he like the rise of your body against his as you yelped, your arms in the air and even going as far as showing him a congratulatory high-five, the interest there for the Ape only to see the scape of your stomach as your shirt rose with the action.

There was more chattering to the right of Noa, recognizing his Mother with the young Apes who gave him a spotted glance, Noa giving his best impression of adoration towards her that was always felt as she threw a fish for one of them to catch. Then--- Slowly, his feet backed up and he looked back at his Mother when the tear of your voice rocketed through him. 

You… Noa focused his eyes at the motion behind Dar, curiosity sinking their teeth into him and he trailed that way, hap-hazardly giving her a pressing of the forehead as he went by, a silent hello and always a quiet thanks for being so proud of him despite his shortcomings. Much like you were, Noa mused and stopped a few feet behind Dar to stare at the scene in front of him.

He’d--- It took him a moment to recognize the fact that you were even there, pinned to the ground on your back by four or so young Apes, no older than three years of age, your mouth formed into a grin as they trailed themselves against your appendages. Noa felt slack-jawed, not even tearing himself back to reality at the sound you emitted. A laugh, snorting around the edges as you felt a baby Chimpanzee seat themselves on your chest in victory. “Alright! Looks like Gul won Pin the Echo down.” His brow hardened at that. Was this… A game you were playing with them? Something you… Made up? The objective being to get you pinned down. Surely not. Surely you were fighting back at least a little--- But, then again that would take away the fun as he crouched himself down into a small hunch to observe, admiring the way that your hair flushed back on the ground as you reached to grasp the Chimp who was on your chest into the air and then back onto the ground below.

There was sudden abundance of noise as they chittered as the others, three Bonobos praised their Chimpanzee friend who had just won this new game, Noa tilting his head as you rolled, laughing to himself at the amount of dirt and twigs that were now tangled on your body as you rose, knowing that if you were in any other situation rather than tendering to the young, you’d complain about being dirty. 

You bent your body for him, at least that’s what he wanted, his eyes getting a tasteful amount of skin through the thinned t-shirt you had on, loose in the front and Noa was able to look down it before looking away in innocence and puffing his cheeks in mild defeat that the Ape had that desire, telling himself to remain calm and to not let the hackles of his fur shoulders rise in anticipation.

Curiosity truly was an end all be all as he drew his gaze back towards you slowly from the tree he had chosen to fixate on, admiring the stance of your legs into a position where they were spread, your feet digging into the ground, knees bent and you sat your hands on said knees to urge yourself down to speak to the young group.

“You need to give me a head start this time, you guys are a lot faster than I am.” Gul looked at you, absolutely determined as did Noa to understand the clear objective of this game. Noa figured he’d win again. He seemed competitive, his small frame ready to pounce forward at the moment you began running. The other three he recognized. Bek, Corel, and Stem. Not as competitive but they seemed to be baited in eagerness just like Noa was as you rocked back and forth on your feet. They followed your movement - back and forth on their hands and feet as they were all resting on all fours.

“You ready?” “Yeah!!!” All four in unison and before Noa could blink, you were running away from them, their much smaller frames all chasing after you as you threw your head back in a wild cackle, Noa widening his eyes at the animalistic tear that came from you.

“I’m gonna do it!” You yelled at the Apes who now bounced through the taller grass of the meadow you chose to dart in. “I’m gonna make it to the tree!”

Ah, so that was the objective. Get yourself to the tree safely before you were pinned down by the young. As you went to turn your head back forward so you could see where you were going, you disappeared into the tall grass with a loud grunt, Noa raising his body in a frenzy at the lack of visual on you as the young Apes called out your name, ringing to Noa as he himself fell onto all fours and traced his way there.

“Noa!! Noa!!!” Bek yearned for him, grasping his banded forearm as he came forward. “She fell!!!”

“Right on… Face!” Gul laughed as Corel came to rest by your head, her tiny face near the crown of your skull and sniffed experimentally and Stem was bringing his small body near the other side so they were essentially flanking you before you brashedly moved your shoulders rapidly, up and down.

Momentarily, panic ran through the older Ape that you had been hurt, that you were crying and begging for some help but that… Was not the case as he told himself to calm the beating of his heart at the sound of your muffled laughter that seeped into the Earth below your face. “You can’t cheat and get Noa to come help you!” 

“Not cheating!” Stem was fast to defend himself and bounced on his feet. “Noa like Echo! Had to come make sure okay after falling on face!”

The other three cooed and looked towards the Master of the Birds himself at this gossip and he found himself staring into three sets of small eyes that were alight at the gossip that their friend knew. Before Noa could say anything to you in defense, seeing the blush radiating across your cheeks at the confession from the young, Noa was hounded, his legs being pushed and pulled on by all four of them. “You like the Echo!”

“Echo likes you too, kept talking about you all day!!!” Corel tattled with a barking laugh, Noa’s eyes ample as he looked over at your apologetically. It appeared difficult to keep even the smallest secrets away from the smallest ears.

“Does… she like Noa!?” Gul inquired, “Maybe…” They all gasped in unison as if they knew what he was thinking, “She will be like Mother Dar!!!”

They all four ‘ooo’ed at that curiously at that and moved towards you and climbed onto your back, their small hands and feet tickling at you. “Would… like that! To be Noa’s mate! He need… to ask!!!”

Noa’s mouth opened in protest as you rolled onto your back, all four scattering before they returned to jump on your chest and stomach, a small grunt rising from you as you laughed, your eyes shut as they began pestering their tiny grasps on your face, admiring the plushness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks and the smooth nature of your skin. “Make… different looking Apes! Echo looking!” Stem offered to Noa with a gleam.

“Maybe… ugly.” Gul said, brashedly and Noa felt a pang of offense to that but refused to take it personally. They were just young Apes, they had yet to set into their social skills and he was more than used to that from Anaya at times.

“Hey!” You said with a guff and looked over at the Chimpanzee child. “They would not be ugly!” Staring up at Noa, you spotted him with a small smile that told him you were okay and that there was no reason for him to be apologetic about the entire situation as you could see the wheels turning in his head at the prospect that these young Apes had just presented to him.

The obvious nature of his feelings were able to be detected abundantly as you lifted yourself onto your forearms and told Gul with flushed cheeks at the prospect that Noa even wanted that with you, “You lose a point in the game for that comment.”

“Sorry!” He said and jumped off you to trail himself to Noa, faux swagger in his stance as he looked up at him and said, “Make Beautiful Echo Ape baby.”

Noa gazed down at him and felt his mouth fall open at the statement before there was a call from behind him and all four of the young jumped at the voice, chattering a quickened goodbye to the two of you and made their way back to head home before communal dinner rolled around.

Noa turned his attention back towards you, his stance wide as his arms were open, his feet spread out to accommodate the attack of the small Apes against them and he began fumbling over his words, hopeful to defend himself against it as he tore through the idea of having… Anything beyond a friendship with you. His hands moved frantically, trying to come up with a sign, an excuse. Something that would garner him favor with you as you chuckled softly. At first and then it turned into a boisterous laugh, your head tilting back and you laid in the grass below, arms and legs spread out like a star-fish as you looked up at the sky. 

“Crazy Apes.” Noa chuckled nervously, drawing himself down into a hunch and looked at the side of your face. You were embarrassed, it was obvious from the reddening of your face, the way that you tugged your bottom lip and chewed on it as your glances were giving favor to the fluffy clouds above that were turning a soft orange as the sun was getting ready to depart. “Crazy.” Noa agreed quietly, his hands resting between his bent knees as he played with some grass between his fingertips. “They--- Don’t know what… They talk ab---” “Noa,” You had turned your face towards him, Noa’s heart jumping straight into his chest at the softening of the look, your lips tugging from a hardened laugh into a gentle and eased smile as you assured him, “Don’t worry about it. They’re just… Kids.” “Yeah...” Noa chortled nervously, letting his eyes fall over to the trees to his left as he was unable to shake the idea of what it would be like to bear a child with you. To… Have you give him what he wanted, not known until minutes ago when he had seen how you were with them. How carefree you were, how easy it came to you. Would it be the same if he asked you to do that for him?

To ask you to brute the pain and agony of at least trying with the knowledge that maybe it was indeed possible. Noa pierced his eyes into the deep forest and shuffled on his feet to keep himself from standing awkwardly like a statue before he looked back at you, captivating your gaze with such ease as you smiled at him, tenderly… Softly… A… Affectionately like you would accept the challenge that ran through his mind. 

 “They.. are Just… Kids.”

[sp-by-april]

Poll Winner!! (Sharing is caring!)

Kenny, Kyle, Stan x F!Reader

[Submit a prompt!] [Master Lists]

I was about to have one of the best orgasms of my life. Kyle had my hands and legs tied to the bedposts as he was buried deep inside of me, hitting my g-spot perfectly. I was moaning loudly, my toes were curled and it was my third of the night, so when I finally came it was earth-shattering.

Kyle’s face looked so smug and satisfied as he watched me writhe underneath him., I knew he was having just as much fun as I was. He always went the extra mile for me.

That’s why I was so surprised when the Stan and Kenny sauntered into our bedroom while he was still mid-stroke.

Stan smirked, “Do you need more time alone?”

“Uh, yeah–” I started to say, but Kyle cut me off.

“No, she’s primed and ready,” He kissed my forehead and jumped off of me.

“I’m what?”

Kyle looked at me, “You told me you wanted this,”

I did say that, but in my defense, “I was drunk! I was… musing,”

“Uh-huh,” He smirked, “I can send them home, but this is your only chance. Take it or leave it,”

It did sound like fun. And they did drive all the way across town. And Stan was already getting undressed.

So I rolled with it. Albeit, reluctantly.

Stan settled between my legs. Kenny was at the end of the bed and Kyle sat near my shoulders.

I looked up at him nervously, I couldn’t believe he was going to give me to his friends like this.

“Don’t look at me,” He smirked, “I’m not gonna save you,”

“She’s so wet,” Stan said as he rubbed his fingers over my naked slit and spread my arousal, “You didn’t come in her already?”

Kyle shook his head, “That’s all her. She can get a little messy,”

“Messy is fun,” Kenny grinned.

I was weirdly embarrassed. Here were these guys – Guys I thought I thought cared about me – appraising my body like a used car.

Stan leaned over me as his dick slid over my slit. I looked up at him and he flashed me this smile… One thing about these guys, they were great at putting me at ease.

I sucked in a sharp breath as he pushed into me, but soon settled and relaxed. He felt… really fucking good. Kyle was the only guy I’d been with and he felt so amazing, I was fine with it. Until now.

This was different. Not better, if that makes sense? Just fucking new and exciting and then Stan started rubbing my clit and I really couldn’t take it. I was already sensitive from three orgasms, but even if I hadn’t been – The way he touched me was fucking life-changing. I don’t think I’ll ever look at him the same way after that. Sometimes I still think about all the girls that he’d hooked up with after me and get jealous. He was that good.

I struggled against the restraints, not because I wanted to be free, but I just couldn’t control my body as the pleasure inside of me swelled and crested.

I was being so loud, I almost couldn’t hear him in my ear, “You moan like a little slut,”

Apparently, that was exactly what I needed to hear to push me over the edge. My muscles tensed up and I was gone. I must have squeezed Stan too tightly, because he quickly yanked himself off of me and I could feel hot wet spurts splash against my thigh.

I panted and tried to catch my breath as the three of them spoke above me.

“She’s loud,” Stan smiled and pushed himself against the sticky mess he left on my thigh.

Kyle crossed his arms, “Don’t pat yourself on the back too hard, I already made her come three times,”

“Oh,” Stan sounded a little disappointed.

I smiled up at him, “You still felt really good,”

Kyle pushed Stan’s shoulders back, “Your turn’s over,”

When Kenny climbed on top of me I was little nervous.

He turned to Kyle as he rubbed the head of his thick cock over my soaking wet slit, “What were the rules again?”

That question didn't help.

“Seriously?” Kyle rolled his eyes, “No mouth, no coming inside of her,”

“So.. I could fuck her ass if I wanted?”

Kyle shrugged, “Go for it, I hardly ever use it –“

“Can I come in her then?” Kenny asked with a grin.

“I guess –“

“What if I fucked her pussy and then come in her ass?”

I could already tell Kyle was getting pissed off as he looked down at me, “It’s up to you,”

“Um...” I wasn’t sure how to answer, part of me felt like this was a test I was already failing, “If you really want to,”

Kenny pushed inside of me and I gasped. My entire body shuddered as he buried himself as deep as the soft walls in my body would let him. He built up a quick and hard rhythm so fast, it almost made my head spin.

I know It was partially because I was fucked by all three of them in a row but I was surprised that while they were all so different, they were each so amazing. And fun.

I quickly discovered Kenny was a call-and-response guy.

His hot breath sank over my ear, “You like that?”

I nodded quickly. The way he was fucking me, I wasn’t sure I could talk.

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” He slammed hard into me, “Are you gonna let me fill you up?”

“Y-yeah,” I moaned back at him.

He studied my body with a smirk on his face, “Tell me what you want,”

“I want you to come inside me,” I whined.

Kenny ran his tongue from my collarbone up my neck, “Tell me again”

“Come inside –”

He nipped at my ear, “Again,”

I couldn’t take it anymore, “Fucking come inside me, Kenny,”

“Fuck, yeah?” His hips bucked up into me and he groaned low as I felt him pump spurt after spurt into the very place he was forbidden from just a little while ago.

Kenny took a deep breath as he looked down at me, “Sorry, are you okay?”

I nodded with a smile and he grinned back at me, “I might have to take you home with me,”

Kyle looked down at me, “Are you okay?”

I nodded again, “I’m fine, Kyle,”

Kyle pushed Kenny hard, “This is exactly why we never do this shit any more,”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 38

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've been awake since 2am.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

After breakfast, you get ready to go into town with Frigga and Hela upon their vaunted ladies’ trip. An air of uncertainty persists around what exactly that means. Flowers, shopping, and what else?

You try not to let the mystery overshadow the Odinsons’ hospitality. You’d hate to come across ungrateful after all they’d done. Odin and Frigga hadn’t asked for anything in return all while receiving you with an open hand. Just like with all things, you go along to get along.

The drive has you in a sort of trance as you watch the landscape pass. The lush greens and speckles of violet and pink across the fields, thickening to looming forest of coniferous pines and towering oaks. Finally, the wilds thin into even ground and open into a township with a painted wooden sign.

The buildings are old but well-kept. Not like the large city with its pitted brick and steaming sewers. Every street here is like those that surround Laufeyson’s own estate. Curated and pristine. Just like the Odinsons themselves.

You pull in at a large gated lot. The iron barrier is overgrown with flowers and as you enter, you gape around at the expanse of petals and stems. You’ve never been anywhere so spectacular.

You trail behind Frigga as she browses the selection. You shy away from Hela but she’s hardly concerned with you as she admires a bunch of dark roses. You peer around as an assistant approaches at Frigga’s signal.

“What do you think, dear?” Frigga calls to you, “we want white for the event. Lilies, baby’s breath, gardenia?”

You blink and give some thought, “what about daisies?”

She smiles, “daisies, so simple but pretty.” She turns to the assistant, “do you have many?”

“We should have a few boxes ready for delivery,” she answers.

“Wonderful, we will have some daisies. Oh, and we could have some wisteria hanging. Mm, and miss, white tulips? You have those too?”

The assistant scribbles on her pad, “we can do those as well.”

“Hydrangea,” Hela insists as she approaches, standing behind you, “for the posts.”

“Yes, certainly, hydrangea,” Frigga repeats with a sharp point to the assistant. “Oh and lastly, I spoke with Val about the moonflowers, tell me they’re ready.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson, we have those set aside already.”

“Good, good,” Frigga remarks, “well, we’ll look around a bit more and let you know if anything else is required.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson,” the assistant nods and prompts strolls away.

“You wouldn’t like a splash of red, mother? Maybe some black?” Hela muses, “this Walpurgisnacht will be blinding.”

“Oh, tosh,” Frigga dismisses, “we have a theme. Which reminds me, darling,” she turns to you, “do you have a white dress packed?”

“White?” You blink, “um, no, I didn’t…”

“Not to worry, it’s why we came to town,” she tweets.

“Oof, mother,” Hela cringes. 

“Well, I know you certainly don’t have suitable attire,” Frigga reproaches.

“Actually, I’ve a marvelous white jumpsuit selected for just the event,” Hela challenges, “I can listen, I just often choose not to.”

Frigga gives a pinch look before she returns her attention to you, “well then, our task will be easier. I think chiffon might be nice…”

“You know, mother, I do feel as if I’m being replaced,” Hela snickers. You send her a guilty look but her smile holds no malice. She winks and arches a brow. “And yet I do think this little creature will look delectable in white.”

“Mm, yes,” Frigga side-eyes her daughter, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Oh, pardon me, I should be more like my brothers, would you prefer Thor,” Hela mocks and reaches for your hand, taking it as she caresses it emphatically, “oh lady, you are beautiful, I should wonder if what you hide under your skirt is equally as stunning–”

“Hel,” Frigga exclaims, mortified as she snatches her grasp away from you.

“Ah, alright, Loki,” Hela clears her throat and stiffens her posture, adjusting a non-existent tie, “yes, you are rather adequate. Hm, very acceptable.”

“Don’t,” Frigga commands, “you didn’t have to come if you’re only going to make a joke of it.”

“Oh, mother, that’s simply what it is, a joke,” Hela bats her lashes, “loosen up. Is that not what this day is for? To enjoy ourselves?”

Frigga sighs and shakes her head as she turns away. Your mouth slants as you watch after her nervously. Hela clucks and flicks her fingers dismissively, “once she has a taste of wine, she’ll let go.”

✨

You stand in the fitting room, staring dreadfully at the two hangers. One chosen by Frigga, the other by Hela. They are both beautiful but you’re not certain either of them suit you. You feel the long chiffon as you mull over the choice.

“Well, darling, let us see,” Frigga calls through the curtain.

You wince and recoil. You pull down the longer of the two, the flowy chiffon that caught Frigga’s eye. The one-shoulder cut cinches to draped skirt which drowns you. You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. The fabric seems to drown you.

You turn with a swish and pull back the curtain, stepping through awkwardly as you tug the skirt out of the way of your feet. Hela makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Frigga fawns and daintily touches her cheeks.

“Oh, gods, that is gorgeous, isn’t it?” She comes forward and pinches a fold in the skirt.

“She looks like she’s caught in a snowstorm,” Hela muses, “please, she won’t be able to do much in all that.”

“I suppose,” Frigga backs up and folds her arms, “but I like the style, perhaps we might find something similar with less length.”

“Try mine,” Hela demands.

You look between them, not daring to argue with either. They seem to do enough of that. You spin and sweep behind the curtain once more. You shed the chiffon layers and pull on the satin sheath. There isn’t much to it. Thin straps and not much length, a slit up your thigh. It’s more lingerie than a dress.

You peek out shyly before you make yourself come out. Frigga’s face flushes and her lips part. Hela smirks and tilts her head as she bites her lip.

“Oh, fabulous,” Hela remarks.

“She cannot wear that,” Frigga throws a hand up.

“Why not, she has nice legs.”

“That isn’t… appropriate.”

“Well, mother, she can’t dress like an old matron either.”

“It was a perfectly nice dress–”

“For 1912,” Hela shoots back.

You shrink before them and let their back and forth fade into the background. You glance over the rack of white garments and zone out. You just want this to be over. You’re tired of being pulled back and forth like a game of tug-of-war.

Your name draws you back and you focus on the women watching you. You wince and teeter on your feet, “sorry, I was distracted.”

“I was saying,” Hela intones, “we should let you choose.”

“Me?” You blanch.

“Well, it is your dress,” Frigga utters reluctantly.

“Oh, but I… don’t know much about… clothes.”

“Never too late to learn,” Hela insists, “go on, have your pick. Surprise us.”

You glance back at the rack and wiggle your fingers. You slowly approach as the two other women retreat, still muttering to each other. You push through the hangers; too heavy, too stiff, too sheer.

You think you like this one. A simple sheath lining with a mesh overlay, little crepe flowers sewn into the out later. The straps are slender but the bodice is straight cut. It’s wonderful and dreamy. You take the hanger and quickly scurry back behind the curtain.

You switch out the short dress for your pick. You look at your reflection and nearly stagger. You love it. It’s adorable. You go to the curtain and brace yourself. What if they don’t like it? You exhale and ready yourself for disappointment.

You step through and the women face you. Neither say a word as they look at you. They consider you, eyeing you head to toe. Oh no! It’s hideous, isn’t it? You have no taste.

“I love it,” Hela chirps, “what about you, mother? Isn’t it gorgeous on her?”

“I… it’s so… you,” Frigga squeals, “yes, it’s perfect. And the little flowers. Ugh, amazing.”

“Really?” You stand on your toes nervously.

“You must have it,” Hela insists, “next, shoes… the pairing must be perfect.”

“Shoes…” you murmur. Does it ever end?

✨

Your day doesn’t end after the boutique. The tumultuous night slumps in your shoulders and droops in your eyelids as the hours stretch on. Your next stop is a sleek white building with sparkling glass doors. As you enter, the sterile lobby has you minimizing yourself in fear of staining the pure white tile or breaking the crystal counter.

Frigga and Hela strut towards the woman who stands behind the glass table and greet her breezily. She welcomes them by name as you trail behind like a mouse. You don’t belong here. Not a place like this. You might be with them but you’re not one of them.

Once more, you sink into a daze, trying to distance yourself from the present. From those feelings of unbelonging. Those old wounds from the schoolyard when you stood by the fence and kicked rocks, not daring to provoke anyone with an errant gaze.

“Dear,” Frigga jars you as she gently touches your arm, “did you have ID?”

“ID?” You say dumbly, not processing her request at first.

“They serve alcohol so it’s required to check-in,” she explains.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you clumsily grab your purse and unzip the top. You dig out your ID card and hand it over. Frigga has a brief glance at it before handing it over. The twitch beneath her eye worries you; has it expired?

You wait as Hela taps her short nails on the counter top. Finally, the woman behind the counter approves you for entry. You still don’t really get what this place is. There’s no signs aside from the marquee in swoopy cursive; Hvergelmir.

Another woman appears and takes you through an angular doorway. You’re guided to a private room with robes on hooks, cushioned benches and small cubbies. You watch Hela and Frigga as they remove their heels and set them on the low rack. You do the same, doing everything they do at a delay.

They tuck their bags into the cubbies and undress without shame, keeping only their underwear on as they wrap themselves in the silken robes. You face the corner as you strip and pull on a robe yourself.

It isn’t until you move on to the next room that you realise what this place is. A spa. You’ve never been to one but it’s exactly like you’ve seen on television. You recline as a woman smears your face with a mask and places cucumbers over your eyes. It’s relaxing even if it feels a bit strange.

After laying there for what seems like forever, a woman comes in to offer stemmed glasses of sparkling wine. You remove the sliced veggies from your eyes and accept one in kind with the other women.

“I think I might get a wrap,” Hela declares, “I need the cleanse.”

“Mm, I think I might do the steam room,” Frigga drawls before she sips from her glass. You take a tiny sip, reminding yourself of your last indulgence and the disaster that followed. Hela downs half the glass in a single gulp.

“What about you?” Hela looks at you pointedly. “Would you like to join me for the seaweed wrap?”

“Um, what is that?” You ask.

“Oh, darling,” Frigga sits up and grabs a leather folio, “have a look. You can choose whatever you like.”

You accept the little booklet and open it up to the laminated inside. You read through each item and the description below. The steam room sounds uncomfortable, you’re not a fan of sweating, and the seaweed thing sounds slimy…

“Mud bath?” You read allowed.

“Good choice,” Hela praises, “I might join you after my wrap.”

“Oh, okay,” you close the book and put it on the small round table close to you.

Frigga picks up the small golden bell and rings it. The same woman appears and Frigga lists off the treatments for each of you. She’s led away first, then someone comes to fetch Hela, and finally, you’re taken away by another woman with a high ponytail.

The woman helps you cover your hair with a towel and hands you back your wine glass. She leads you into a room with long rectangular tubs filled with reddish brown muck. She points you to one at the end and you put your glass on the little ledge that juts out from the side.

She helps you remove your robe, “you can keep your underwear on if you like. We can provide a fresh pair after, but you may want to remove your bra.”

You nod and dip your head down to unhook your bra. She reaches to take it and you hesitantly hand it over. She hangs your robe from a hook on the wall and leaves you there. Alright, so you just get in?

You step over the high wall of the tub and lower yourself into the warm mud. It doesn’t feel too bad. You slide around slightly before you’re able to find your bearings and reclining against the slanted back. Is this relaxing? 

You close your eyes but not for long. You end up staring at the lines between the ceiling tiles. You stir the mud with your fingers. You feel childish, like you're making mud pies.

You stop as you hear voices. You peek over for just a moment as someone else enters. A tall woman with a swirl of black hair escaping the towel on her head strides in, her tall figure draped in one of the ivory robes. The attendant takes her to the tub across from yours.

You try not to watch as she opens her robe, revealing her sleek body shamelessly. She eases into the tub with a sigh and the attendant leaves. You keep your eyes up as tension fills the space.

“The mud is nice today,” she says, startling you.

You nod and look at her as she stretches her arms around the walls of the tub. Her chest is barely concealed by the muck.

“You don’t come here often. I’ve not seen you around.”

You shake your head, “first time.”

“Ah,” her blue eyes gleam, “special occasion?”

“Erm, not really, I… Walpurgisnacht,” you pronounce the word delicately.

“That’s not for a few days,” she intones.

“You know it?”

“Yes, of course, everyone around here does. And this year, with Frigga hosting, it will be a spectacle.”

“You know Frigga?” You wonder.

She laughs, “of course I do. Who doesn’t?” Her tone is dry and her expression haughty, “how do you know her?”

“Um, I… work for her son,” you utter flatly.

“Thor?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you correct her.

“How amusing,” she smirks, “what’s your name?”

You answer, your chest binding up tightly. You feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her. Something about the way she grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she purrs, “I’m Sif. You might tell my ex-husband I send my regards.”

You swallow dryly and stare at her. Your heart is pounding and your ears ringing. Sif? In the flesh? She’s absolutely gorgeous. You can see why she haunts the Odinsons. She’s perfect. 

Now you know why you will never live up to Laufeyson’s expectations. Why he’s so hard to please. Compared to her, well, you can never compare to her. She is immaculate.

[milksnake-tea]

For the event, Nanook with Augst 8 but instead reader is the one got hurt

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: They come home beaten, bloody, and bruised. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: nanook ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: implications of physical violence, mentions of bruises and blood, nanook is scary ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: im scared of nanook but also incredibly attracted to them ALSO WHAT IS IT WITH YALL AND ASKING TO GET BEAT UP /LHJ but ykw i know u asked for angst but i kinda made it fluffy imsorry. not really satisified w how this ended but i think its okay

Honestly, whoever did this to you was an idiot.

It was one thing to antagonize the lover of the Destruction. It was another to physically hurt them.

So either your assaulter had a death wish, or a severe deficit in braincells. Although, you weren't too keen on the idea of just running to your lover - knowing them, Nanook would break all of hell loose, giving them a fate worse than death itself.

You sighed to yourself as you rubbed at your cheek, which had already begun to bruise. Thankfully, you weren't hurt too bad, so you could probably just brush it off with a few bandages and ointment. All you had to do was to hope that Nanook wasn't home today.

But of course, fate wasn't on your side.

The second you opened the door to your shared room with the Aeon, what greeted you was a sight of Nanook in their mortal form, lounging on the bed. They weren't doing anything in particular, simply staring up off into space as golden specks flickered around them like fireflies.

Their eyes flicked to you the moment you walked through the doorway. Slowly, their gaze roamed your body, zeroing in on your injuries - evidence of a fight.

Their expression barely changed, save for the slightest narrowing of their eyes. But the atmosphere immediately dampened, as though a black hole had came and sucked all of the air out of the room. The pressure dropped so quickly that your ears popped, and you winced.

Noticing your discomfort, Nanook immediately snapped out of their momentary rage, and the air went back to normal - only slightly, though.

Wordlessly, they beckoned you towards them with a finger, their right arm open for you. Cautiously, you sat down on the bed, allowing Nanook to wrap their arm around you and pull you close.

They studied your bruise carefully, running their finger across it. Swiping their thumb against it, a bit of their power seeped into you, instantly mending your wound.

"Healed by the Destruction," you couldn't help but muse, leaning your head against their broad shoulder. "How ironic. Aren't all Aeons bound their Paths?"

Nanook only hummed, a deep rumbling in their chest. "I've strayed from my Path twice before. The first was when I fell for you. The second is now. Clearly, the laws of the universe are not as rigid as you make them out to be."

"I guess," you shrugged, closing your eyes. Nanook doesn't breathe, nor do they have a heartbeat, but they are warm. Warmer than a human, more like a flame, if anything. "You're not going to ask who did it?"

"I already know," they merely replied. You couldn't help but feel as though their gaze was quite literally burning into your skin as they stared down at you. "I will take care of them, do not worry."

"Don't overdo it," you sighed, shifting into a comfortable position. "The last time you went after someone who hurt me, you destroyed an entire planet."

"I was killing two birds with one stone," they explained matter-of-factly. You laughed, squinting your eyes at them.

"Mmm, I suppose you were," you admitted. Nanook only smiled briefly before poking your nose.

"You should get go wash up," they advised. "You're filthy."

"Gee, thanks," you scoffed, but stood up regardless. You stretched for a bit, rolling out your shoulders before kissing Nanook on the cheek, and then you were off to the bathroom.

But as you closed shower door, and the Aeon heard water running, Nanook's gaze darkened. They dissipated into golden sparks, the only thing that hinted at their existence being a divot in the bed where they had once laid.

That night, as you peacefully rested, unaware of what was happening, your attacker awoke to flames - dark, dark flames devouring their home world as the Destruction watched from afar, the burning planet resting in their dark hand.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[101maverick]

Prompt request: Secretly Atlantean gothamite saving Dick Grayson Robin from drowning in the bay. She recognizes his voice as her classmate crush.

They would ideally be 13-14 ish

A/n: okok this is soooo original i’m in loooveee. I did some research to find out where exactly the Gotham bay is in terms of city area and I hope i got it right :)) Also let’s ignore the fact this took me a whole month to finish, okay? Very sorry about the wait, life has been kicking my butt recently😅

Fishy Business

The water in Gotham was shit.

The pollution typical of every big American city was one thing, but whatever the heck Gotham had was ten times worse. Like, Chernobyl level bad.

Whatever filth was thrown in the waters of the Gotham Harbour on the daily definitely saw a lot of local chemical creations, the ones the city’s rogues were so fond of coming up with to terrorise the population.

Needless to say you would not be swimming in open waters any time soon.

You missed the ocean. You missed being in your element.

The fact you weren’t stupid enough to dare a swim in chemically spiked water didn’t negate the fact the Gotham Harbour was the only body of water you had available though, if not only to look at wistfully while mourning what you had before having to come to this forsaken city.

And that’s what you were doing when it happened. You had been stood up by your classmate and crush, Dick Grayson, for your chemistry study session. Neptune only knows how much that boy sucks at the subject, and the fact he skipped out on your study session made your insides flare up in indignation. Coming to the nearest body of water and reminiscing was the best way you knew of for letting go of ugly feelings.

Just letting your hair be lightly whipped around by the wind, staring wistfully into the last blazing scorches of the dying sun, standing on one of the docks and pretending the overwhelming smell of fish came from the dredges of the seaside market you used to camp out near as a kid.

Then, of course, it happened.

A loud crash startled you out of your musings, and you turned around just in time to see a figure splashing in the water a ways away.

Who the hell goes for an evening swim here? You thought to yourself as you made your way closer to the perturbed water, keeping to the elongated shadows born of the fish crates scattered around.

Once you were close enough to distinguish more of the figure, your eyes widened considerably.

The body flailing around in the murky water of the docks was none other than Robin, infamous sidekick to Gotham’s resident bat-themed vigilante.

Gotham’s resident vigilante that was very clear about his stance on super-powered beings in his territory.

You considered your options. If Batman knew his sidekick was saved by someone with very obviously atlantean powers he no doubt would clock you as somebody who wanted to mess with him, who was probably even spying on him due to the conveniency of the coincidence.

You did not want to find out what Batman did to people who not only disregarder his rules by merely existing in the wrong place, let alone what he did to people he thought were meddling in his business.

Plus, surely Robin could swim, right? He would have no problem getting out of the water by himself, so there was no need for your water-manipulation abilities anyway.

Despite your self-reassurances and the fact you should have been hightailing it out of there as fast as possible, uncertainty kept your feet rooted to the rotten wooden panels.

And so you kept watching, growing increasingly worried as Robin failed to keep his head outside of the water for more than a few seconds at a time.

You made it approximately thirteen seconds before saying ‘fuck it’ and stepping in, emerging from the shadows you had found refuge in just enough time get a good stance, planting your feet and raising your arms while letting your abilities reacquaint themselves with the water near you.

It was a fast affair, getting your powers to grasp at the water Robin was perturbing and pulling, violently yanking both the liquid and the boy out of the Harbor and onto the dock.

The vigilante gasped, gripping the material under him while hacking coughs wracked through his chest as he expelled the water from his human lungs.

You remained hovering above him, watching him, immensely glad the visible part of his face was regaining its normal colour instead of the red-purple it had previously been.

You had always looked upon Batman and Robin as pretty unapproachable, two beacons of justice and penance for Gotham’s criminals, who struck fear into even the most hardened thugs this rotten city had to offer.

But- but Robin was light to Batman’s darkness, and he always had a smile on his face in the grainy pictures that sometimes appeared in the newspaper, and if you focused your inhuman hearing on your surroundings late enough at night you could hear laughter mixing with the swoosh of the wind and the rustling of heavy fabric and the rhythmical zapping of a rope through the air.

And plus, Robin looked so human in this moment, so defenceless while he coughed his lungs out, that you just couldn’t reconcile the boy in front of you with the pillar of rambunctious justice fixed in your mind. And above all else, you couldn’t leave a human, one with so many enemies at that, alone while there was still the risk of him not being completely out of danger.

So you stayed.

You stayed, sat on an empty crate beside him, and kept vigilant with your enhanced senses to avoid any unwanted attention. As he calmed down he seemed to slowly gain awareness of his surroundings.

After what seemed like an eternity, he got his arms under him and slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position. That’s when he took notice of you, still watching him intently.

His eyes weren’t visible through the white-out lenses of his mask, but the way his forehead creased and his mouth opened a little more around his still heavy breaths made you able to accurately guess his surprise. “You- you just…what was-“

You interrupted him before he could keep voicing his question. “Look, just don’t tell the Bat about me and we’re good, okay? I really don’t need the trouble, plus you owe me one.”

Robin just kept looking at you, chest rising and falling with each deep breath, tiny shivers coursing through his soaking-wet form.

After a few beats that felt like eons, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” He half-gasped out, voice breathy with exertion. “Won’t tell a soul.”

His voice… it was achingly familiar.

You studied the unmasked portions of his face more closely, more attentively, your superhuman eyesight undisturbed by the darkness.

You were able to make out sun-kissed skin, soaked inky locks you fantasised about running your fingers through every day during chemistry, a defined jaw, high cheekbones and lips that pulled into semi-rare but blinding smiles. Lips you dreamed about kissing at night, while you lay on your bed thinking of your life.

You were sitting face-to-face with Dick Grayson. Robin.

You nodded, looking right into those white lenses. “Good.” At that, you looked around the empty area of the docks, spying the area sounds of fighting were coming from. “Well, I, uh, better go.”

You turned to him. “Try not to drown again, thanks.” And with that you stood.

Before walking away you turned around one last time, unable to stop yourself. “And, by the way, you stood me up for our chemistry study session. We’ll catch it up tomorrow.”

Before he could reply, you ran away from the docks and into Gotham Proper.

Gosh, you really were an idiot, weren’t you?

——————————

A/n: If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

[kazvha]

Hope you had a wonderful day! I was so excited for this opportunity. so I have a prompt where the reader and eleceed guys get stuck in a closet or smth and due to the lack of space they cannot move further away from each other. Then as the characters try to figure out how to get out of this place, the reader mentions that they like the cologne of the character which leads both of them to turn red. I think it would be cute! anyways, I won't keep you for long. I hope you have an absolutely amazing day! baiii :33

Summary: Forced proximity with them

Including: Kayden, Kartein, Inhyuk, Muse

Notes: Hi, this is such a cute idea! I chose to write this prompt for these 4 guys, I hope you enjoy my take on this. Have an amazing day as well!!🤍

Kayden was doing pull-ups in his cat form, using the wardrobe rail of the closet. When you came into the closet to ask him something, the doors closed behind you and didn't open again when you attempted to push them.

So Kayden changed into his human form to try out his luck too but he failed. The space you two shared became even tinier since he wasn't a cat anymore. With each movement your elbows touched with his.

"We have to wait till Jiwoo comes home. I really don't want to destroy his closet." He said as he looked down at you. You hummed in response and catched a whiff of his fresh cologne. "Wow, you smell really good." You complimented him right away and felt your face heating up a bit.

Kayden's eyes widened in surprise, but his surprise quickly turned into cockiness. "I get that a lot hahaha!" He chuckled as the color of his ears turned red. He was so grateful that there was no light in the closet.

Kartein and you were on a trip together and you just found out that there was only one bed in your hotel room. Asking the manager didn't help because every other room was already booked. So you proposed that you both should sleep on the bed, on separate sides of course. You knew how much Kartein valued his sleep and you also didn't want to miss out the comfort of the bed. Kartein agreed to share it since you weren't a stranger to him.

You snuggled up under your blanket on your side of the bed as Kartein's pleasant floral scent engulfed you.

"You smell amazing. How do you manage to smell that good even after going to sleep?" You were honestly curious.

Kartein turned towards you, with a red face and frowning expression. "Were you sniffing me?"

"What? No!" You cried out completely flustered.

Now you were frowning yourself and your cheeks burned in embarrassment. There was a painfully awkward silence between you two until you heard a barely audible "Thank you." five minutes later.

Inhyuk is building his new closet and you decided to help him. After successfully mounting the closet doors, he tries them out, only for them to not open up again.

"Well, this is weird..." He strokes his chin as he searches for the problem and finally sighs, "I think we used the wrong screws? Let's take the doors down."

You sit down in silence, unscrewing the screws as you both become extremely aware of each other's presence every time your knees touch. Sitting so close to him also makes you notice the pine fragrance he applied on himself earlier today.

"I love that scent on you Inhyuk, it really suits you.", you shyly tell him what you think. Inhyuk slightly blushes and his gaze softens.

"You really think that? Thanks, I appreciate it!"

Muse and you got stuck in the tiny pantry of the cafeteria. You were looking for a midnight snack when you spotted the janitor who did his nightly patrol, so you quickly hid in that little room.

"It's a door that can only be opened from outside. Whose idea was it to put such a door here?" Muse was clearly irritated. And you also whined. "I didn't plan on sleeping on the floor tonight. All I wanted was a snack!"

"Let's just hope whoever finds us here tomorrow morning doesn't like to gossip."

"Great."

You two sat there in silence, back to back. The only thing you could hear were Muse's long fingers tapping against the cold floor. Then you heard his voice say, "You smell nice."

"What?"

Muse cleared his throat as his cheeks got a shade darker. "You heard it, don't let me repeat it..."

"Thank you I guess." You laughed and felt an unexpected warmth flood your body. It was a good thing you couldn't see each other's face you thought.

[eddie-stinks-munson]

Summer Depression- Eddie Munson

Prompt: Sharing Each Others Clothes Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 638 Tags: Fluff, Sad Sweetness (?) Reader is not gender specific, no y/n I don't think it's my best but my wife likes it

---

The sun was setting and there was a crisp breeze to the air, fall was right on the horizon. You’d spent the entire summer causing chaos all over Hawkins with your friends, from dusk til dawn. Now that summer was coming to a close, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness begin to color your days. 

You looked out over the lake, the sounds of your friends laughing and yelling in the woods behind you fading away as you got lost in your thoughts. Camping wasn’t your favorite activity, but you couldn’t think of a better way to close out the season than drinking and playing games with your friends, far away from the stresses of the real world. 

A chill ran down your spine as a breeze blew by, pushing out what felt like the last of the summer heat, and welcoming in the cool night air. You quickly rubbed your hands up and down the length of your arms, trying in vain, to keep the heat from escaping. 

You wanted to pretend that summer would never end, school would never come, and you could carry on- blissfully free of the responsibility and social conventions that came along with life going back to business as usual. As the cold settled in your bones, so did a sense of dread. 

“You cold, Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out from behind you, startling you out of your depressing ruminations. 

“A little,” you replied, hugging yourself tighter and trying to suppress a shiver. 

Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, engulfing your entire body in his warmth. You naturally melted into his embrace and sighed deeply. Taking in the scent that was so uniquely him: weed, campfire, and oreo cookies. 

“More than a little,” Eddie mumbled, squeezing you tighter “Jesus Christ, you’re freezing.” 

Before you could say anything, he was backing away and clumsily pulling his hoodie over his head. Only getting stuck for a minute in the process. You giggled as you watched, and Eddie playfully scowled, and gently threw the garment at you in a way that was so over the top you weren’t quite sure how he even managed to do it. 

“I’m okay Eds, really,” you protested, involuntarily hugging the toasty material to your chest. 

“I insist,” Eddie countered, “what kind of man lets his best friend freeze to death right in front of him.” 

“Fine,” you conceded. Honestly there was little use in arguing with Eddie when he put his mind to something. Especially when it came to your safety or comfort. 

You slipped the sweatshirt over your head, and let the hood conceal your eyes for a moment. Eddie’s laughter got closer, and you could feel his breath on your face. 

“It looks good on you,” Eddie mused, gently taking the hood down, and looking at you with a soft smile. 

You stared back up at him with the same tender fondness, “thank you.” 

His deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, and your bodies slowly gravitated toward each other, like the pull of the tides. Eddie’s hands gripped the hood as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world as his lips ghosted over yours, and his breath tickled your nose. 

You closed the distance between you, savoring the heat of his plush lips against yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, and filled with anticipation. Your heart fluttered in your chest and for a moment you’d forgotten how to breathe. When you pulled away, your foreheads stayed pressed together, the both of you frozen in time. 

Still not daring to move- because if you moved you might wake up and this will all have been a dream- Eddie whispered, “I’ve been waiting all summer to do that.” 

Maybe the end of summer wasn’t that bad after all.

[starryeyedjanai]

catch the embers on my tongue

kinktober prompt: frottage; @eddiemonth prompt: crush explicit | 5.2k

read on ao3

Steve's leaning into Eddie's side and they are high, high, high.

It's about time they got high together. After everything they've been through, and after he spent months recovering from wounds so deep they didn't know if he was going to make it, Eddie thinks they deserve this.

He hasn't smoked in months, the longest he's gone since the first time he tentatively took the joint from some kid he was hanging out with back in like middle school.

He hasn't been able to - the damage to his entire body was rough, his lungs were just one of many things that will probably never be the same. But it's been long enough, he figures. It doesn't ache when he breathes anymore, his body on the up and up.

So he invites Steve over to smoke with him because he remembers selling to him a handful of times when he was in high school, Steve showing up at his locker or waiting by his van after school sometimes. He remembers always wondering back then what Steve would be like when he was high. If he's the talkative type, the paranoid type, the quiet and contemplative type, the horny type.

Even he can admit he's thought about Steve enough to have thoughts on all of those situations and musings about how he'd handle each of them.

But he's not exactly prepared for Steve to be handsy, to be giggly and leaning into him and joking and touching him casually. Because sober Steve keeps his hands to himself, Eddie's noticed.

He's had a theory for years now that Steve is probably touch starved, from not having his parents around much, from the only form of intimacy other than sex being clapping his friends or teammates on the shoulder.

And knowing him now, actually knowing him, he knows he was right. Because Steve is somehow so touch starved that he's touch averse with most people, like he can't handle it, the lightest brush of someone's hand oh his skin has him dodging out of the way to avoid it.

The only person he isn't like that with is Robin. And Dustin has speculated enough times why that might be that Robin eventually came out to the group just to get them all to stop talking about it - well, that and she trusts them. It felt like Eddie's heart was going to burst in his chest at being part of that trusted group.

So Steve doesn't really touch people, doesn't reach out for any of the group for hugs, doesn't really cuddle with anyone during movie nights.

But high Steve, he touches.

They don't even finish the joint they're sharing, because it's been a while for both of them. Eddie's feeling the pleasant buzz under his skin, his lips feeling cold and tingling a little when they're barely halfway done with it. He stubs it out when Steve bows out of taking it from him.

Without the joint to pass between them, they talk. One of his hands somehow ends up in Steve's grasp. He touches Eddie's fingers, plays with his rings, as he talks.

It's mostly chatter that Eddie mostly can't keep up with as he acclimates to the way his brain feels less fuzzy than it has in months, the background noises fading away until all he can hear is Steve, all he can feel is Steve's fingers spinning one of his rings around.

He feels grounded, kind of, focusing in on Steve's voice, watching his mouth move as he talks. He's calmer than he's felt in months, feels less out of control, sitting on his bed next to Steve, letting him touch his hand.

It's only a handful of minutes later when they're laughing about something or another, when out of nowhere Steve puts his hands on Eddie's chest and pushes him down on his bed in what has to be a moment straight out of Eddie's wet dreams before he realizes that Steve is pressing him into the bed because he wants to cuddle with him.

It still has his heart racketing in his chest even after realizing, because he's so close to Steve. Their faces are pressed close together and he can feel the several points of contact between them like a brand on his skin.

It's one of those weirdly hot September days, so they're both in shorts. Steve's wearing a sweater even though Eddie knows he has to be hot in it. Even with the sweater on, this is more skin contact than Eddie is used to with anyone.

He realizes now, in this moment, that he too has become a little touch starved since everything happened.

He couldn't handle a lot of touch in the beginning, his body healing, his skin scarring over in a lot of areas. The scar tissue was sensitive for a long while even after it was safe to touch, so the party and his friends stopped touching him - he'd flinch or brace himself when people got near, ready for the ache or pain or sensitivity that comes with touch nowadays, so they stopped touching him as much to spare him of that.

And now, laying here, pressed up against Steve Harrington, of all people, he's realizing how much he craves touch, how much he's missed having someone's skin against his like this, even platonically - not that he has much experience with things being not platonic.

But his friends stopped touching him because any touch hurt him for a while and then they just kind of haven't started again.

They're probably waiting on a cue from him, he guesses. It's what he'd do, if touch suddenly hurt one of his friends. He'd wait for them to say it was okay, or to initiate touch, before he started cuddling up to them again.

So even though he knows cognitively that's likely the reason, there's a thread of a darker thought that passes through his head, that maybe his friends don't touch him anymore because he's somehow even more of a freak than before. That his scars make him untouchable, undesired, that even the freaks of Hawkins don't want to touch him.

He shakes himself free of those thoughts. He knows that's just his brain being dumb. His friends don't care what he looks like, they never have. If they did, they wouldn't be his friends anyway - that's not the kind of company he keeps.

He tries to get back to the feeling of finally having someone's warmth against his skin after a long, touch-starved drought, calming his thoughts again so all he feels is Steve.

He likes it, he finds - the warmth. Steve's skin is hot to the touch, the air around them warm from having the air conditioning off.

He likes this, probably too much, hasn't had enough touch in months, and Steve is the one here giving it to him.

He likes this and he's been unknowingly craving this. That's a dangerous combination.

He wants to burrow deep, to pull their clothes off so he can get even more skin contact. He wants to feel the whorls of his fingertips dragging on Steve's own scars, because he's maybe the only one who can appreciate it. He's maybe the only one who can understand this - what it's like to want to be touched but not be able to be, to feel like maybe the scars are the reason why he's not getting the touch he needs.

He feels the heat seeping from Steve's skin against his and he wants to wrap himself up in that warmth. After a moment of contemplating whether it would be a good idea or not, he does it anyway.

He's spent months not being able to do the things he wants to do, is the thing.

He's spent months not getting high, not really being able to have his friends touch him without it hurting, not being able to get out of bed, not being able to stand for too long without it hurting. He's spent months bored out of his fucking mind while his body healed from something more traumatic than he ever thought he'd go through.

He thinks he's allowed to have this. He thinks he's allowed to enjoy this, even.

So he pulls Steve closer to him, impossibly close, pressed together all the way from their chests to their shins, legs tangling together. He tucks his head in close, rubs his face against the soft fabric of Steve's sweater.

"I've missed this," he finds himself saying, sighing into Steve's shoulder.

Steve pulls back a little to be able to look at Eddie's face when he asks, "Getting high?"

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, that. But also, this," he says, trapping one of Steve's legs between his and squeezing it between his. "I feel like no one touches me anymore."

There's more he could say, the introspective thoughts about how he gets it - the self-deprecating jokes about his scars bitter on his tongue. But he doesn't say it because Steve already gets it. He has similar scars. Scars that run along his back and his torso and his neck. His neck scar is still visible in most shirts. Eddie knows he gets it.

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "I think I missed this too."

They've never touched like this before, never spent an afternoon curled up together, and he wishes he could go back in time to tell himself to befriend Steve, so they'd get more moments like this. So they'd get thousands of moments like this before all the bad stuff happened.

His brain conjures up the image of high school Steve in his bed in his old trailer. He thinks of Steve's coiffed hair and his polos and barely contains the laugh bubbling up in his chest. He'd look so out of place there.

But Eddie doesn't think he would have been, not really. Not after he lost his crown, after his downfall from King of Hawkins High. He thinks Steve would have fit right in with the rest of Eddie's things - his sweetheart, his posters, his rack of cassette tapes, his Steve. Eddie thinks he would have liked Steve in that room, surrounded by all of Eddie's favorite things.

But he knows his past self wouldn't have allowed it. Even though Steve had changed by his senior year, Eddie was still very much subscribed to a nerds versus jocks dichotomy.

He doesn't think he would have allowed Steve to get close enough to him to be someone he invited over, someone he invited into his room, his space, the only place in Hawkins that was really Eddie's. He would have been too paranoid that Steve would have been trying to pull something over on him.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Steve putting his hand on Eddie's side. He's not touching his skin, but Eddie still flinches. The skin has long since healed over into scars that sometimes pull weird with sudden movement, making it feel like the skin is going to crack open.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers. "Do your scars still hurt? I should have probably asked that before tackling you to the bed."

"No," Eddie says. "They don't hurt. The skin's just weirdly sensitive sometimes. You can keep touching me. It's fine." The second the words are out of his mouth, his face is on fire.

You can keep touching me. That's a loaded sentence if he ever heard one.

Steve either doesn't notice or doesn't care that his face is beet red. He just returns his hand to Eddie's side, where his shirt has ridden up a little. This time, instead of letting his hand rest over Eddie's side on top of his shirt, he pushes his shirt up more, spreading his big hand over the expanse of Eddie's largest scar.

God, his hands are so big. And this is so not the time to be thinking about that.

The feeling of Steve's hand on him makes Eddie shiver. He tries to suppress it, but it wracks its way through his body regardless.

He knows Steve feels it. He has to, with the way his body is pressed so close to Eddie's. There's no way he misses it, the full body shudder, the way his breath hitches a little because of it.

Steve doesn't say anything, but he thumbs at the scars on Eddie's side, right where the scar meets his unmarred skin.

He's being so gentle with him that it makes Eddie want to whine. It makes him want to whine and rock his hips against Steve's, the delicate way he's touching him, just the slightest pressure of his thumb on his skin. It's like a tease, almost. It's like Steve wants Eddie to feel like this, like he knows exactly what touching him like this is doing to him.

Eddie tries to get his bearings right again, tries to be normal about this, but he's high, and it's been so long since he felt good like this. Part of him wants to give in completely, right away, wants to, to knock Steve onto his back and climb on top of him. Wants to press his entire body weight onto him, feel every inch of his skin against his own.

But he knows that's crazy. Even if Steve were receptive to the things that Eddie wants, he doesn't think Steve would want to jump right in. He seems to be the type that would want it to go a little slower, to want to be wooed in bed. He's the type to hold hands during sex and look deeply into his lover's eyes for the connection. At least, that's what Eddie assumes about him, anyway, from the way he talks about relationships and love and what he wants his future to look like.

So even as high as he is, he knows Steve probably wouldn't want to be pushed around like that, at least not at first.

The longer Eddie thinks about it, the longer he has Steve so close to him, the longer he has his hands on him, the more Eddie craves it. He's never wanted like this before, he doesn't think.

He's not super experienced beyond quick and dirty hand jobs or blow jobs. He's never had someone touch him like this before. Touching just to touch. Any touching during his previous encounters were just the quick preliminary touches to get the other guy out of his jeans. The touches didn't linger. They certainly didn't feel like this.

He tucks his head close to Steve's neck again, lets his lips just barely brush against the skin there, tries to keep his breath even. It could be written off as an accident, that he just got too close, because they're already so close. Steve could ignore it.

He doesn't.

He slides his hand down Eddie's side, past his hip to grip his thigh and hitch it up near Steve's hip. Eddie can't keep the gasp from escaping his mouth.

He's already half-hard, just from thinking thoughts about Steve. How the hell is he going to survive this?

Steve's hand travels back up the back of his thigh, stops right before it reaches his ass.

Eddie's heart is beating so fucking fast in his chest.

He pulls back to look at Steve. His eyes are dark, and his lips are red like he's been biting them. Eddie wants to bite them, too.

"Steve," Eddie says, unsure exactly what to say, what he could say to get Steve to want this. Does he have to convince him? Does he have to tell him it doesn't have to mean anything? It would be a lie - it would mean something to him. But if Steve only wants this now, when he's high, Eddie thinks he can handle that. He thinks he can be okay with it, if it means he gets to have this right now.

Steve shushes him though, doesn't seem to need any convincing before he leans in and kisses Eddie.

Eddie lets out a shuddering breath against his mouth.

He hadn't realized how much he's been wanting this because he never really let himself think about it. It's not just touch, not just anybody's touch, not just anybody's kiss, that he craves. It's Steve's touch, Steve's kiss. It's Steve's lips against his, Steve's body against his.

He obviously knows Steve is attractive, but they've grown close over the past few months.

He thinks Steve is probably one of the best friends he's ever had. And of course, with that comes other feelings because how could it not? How could anyone look at Steve and not want? How could anyone know Steve and not want him?

Eddie hasn't been thinking about it, about how he looks at Steve sometimes, about how he watches him. He hasn't thought about it because he knows what it means when his heart beats faster because of it. He knows what it means when his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest when he makes Steve laugh. He knows what it all means, so he hasn't let himself think about it.

But with Steve pressing sweet, gentle kisses against his mouth, the feelings slam into him. He's wanted this so bad.

This impossible crush, these impossible feelings that he has tried so hard to ignore, tried to get to lay dormant when he became friends with Steve, come rushing to the surface with him so close like this, with his mouth on Eddie's like it belongs there.

He pulls Steve's bottom lip into his mouth and bites it. He can't not. Steve gasps against his mouth.

He sucks on his lip gently, tongues at it to soothe the sting away, and hears Steve let out a sigh.

Steve's hand is still on his thigh, trapping his thigh against Steve's hip. He wants his hands on him, wants Steve to touch him everywhere.

He licks into Steve's mouth, slow and deep, their tongue sliding against each other like they've got all the time in the world.

Eddie's hand has been idle against Steve's chest, but he needs to touch, needs to feel him. So he slides his hand up to cup Steve's neck, to tilt his head to better lick into his mouth. He keeps his hand there, fingertips brushing the scar on his neck, his thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw.

He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until all the air in his lungs is gone, until he's hard in his shorts, until his lips feel swollen.

Steve's hand stays stubbornly on his thigh, not moving an inch up towards his ass. Eddie might be a little offended by it if he couldn't feel the way Steve is also hard in his shorts, if he hadn't just spent ten minutes getting to know the inside of his mouth.

He likes this so much, he realizes. He's never been the type to savor it - he hasn't ever really had the opportunity to. The few times he's had anything like this, it had to be quick, it had an expiration date, it had to be over as soon as possible. He's never just sat around and kissed someone until his jaw hurt, until his lips were aching.

He didn't expect it to be this easy, to just put a tiny little thread in the loop and have it spin so easily for him. He didn't think that maybe Steve had been wanting this too, craving this for just as long as he had.

He couldn't even imagine it - Steve, looking at him and wanting, Steve watching him when he's not looking the way that he watches Steve. He can't wrap his mind around it, Steve looking over at him being a dumbass in so many situations and still being like, yep, I want his tongue in my mouth.

But it feels like that's what this is. Because Steve's kissing him with just as much hunger. Steve's kissing him and has his hand on his thigh, gripping him like he owns him. Eddie wants him to push him on his back, to spread his thighs open and show him just how much of him he owns. He wants him.

He pushes his hips forward experimentally, a slow grind. It makes Steve groan against his mouth. The sound is addictive - Eddie wants to chase that sound, to make Steve groan over and over and over as he chases his pleasure between Eddie's thighs.

Steve bites his lip, harder than Eddie had bitten his, and it stings. They've been at it for so long that Eddie's lips were already getting swollen and sensitive, so Steve biting one of them like that pulls a moan out of him.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, to kiss his way down Steve's neck, to bite at his neck. He wants to cover him in marks - deep, purpling bruises. He wants to see his neck and his chest covered, a molten mess of love bites.

His heart stupidly stutters in his chest at the thought of biting a bruise the shape of a heart into his skin. God, he's so gone for him. He has a heart boner for him in addition to a regular one.

He pulls the neck of Steve's sweater down and sucks a bruise into the smooth, tan skin of his collarbone, and when he pulls back, the skin is a deep red. He smiles at his work, knows it's going to deepen in color with time. He's never felt possessive like this before, like he wants to cover him in bruises so everyone knows he's someone's, so everyone knows he's Eddie's.

Is he Eddie's?

The look in his eyes when Eddie looks back up at his face says yes.

Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, their bodies flush together again, and gets a hand in his hair. He tugs his head to the side so he can bite at Eddie's neck the way that Eddie was just gnawing on his. It startles a moan out of him. He didn't know his neck was so sensitive.

He lets Steve suck a bruise into his skin and tries not to accidentally come because of it. All the kissing, their bodies pressed together, their cocks hard and grinding together through layers of fabric - it all feels like so much, too much almost.

He's on top of him, but he doesn't feel in control right now at all.

He can barely stop himself from grinding down and coming in his underwear like a teenager. He wants it, wants to come with Steve's mouth on his skin.

Steve kisses his neck, where his skin is likely bruised now, before he pulls back, thumbing at the mark like he's satisfied he left his mark on Eddie as well.

Steve releases his hair from his grip and slides his hand down between them. Eddie can't stop the groan that leaves his mouth at feeling Steve palm at him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and Eddie isn't sure what he's talking about - his hand touching Eddie's dick? Hell yeah, that's okay. This entire thing? Again, hell fucking yeah.

He nods, because any way you spin it, everything they've been doing is a-okay with Eddie.

Steve grins up at him and Eddie can't help but grin back at him, still in awe that this is happening.

Steve undoes the buttons on Eddie's shorts and unties the tie at the waistband of his own shorts.

Eddie sits up to shove his shorts down and off, watching Steve do the same, leaving his shorts around his thighs.

He looks at Steve's bulge, his cock hard and straining in his underwear. He wants to lean in and put his mouth on it. Get the fabric nice and wet with a mix of his spit and Steve's precome. He wants to suck it through the fabric, tongue at the soft fabric and pull noises from Steve the entire time.

He wants to put his mouth on Steve's thighs. They're paler than the rest of his tan skin, milky and smooth. He wants to see that skin mottled and bruised too.

He can wait for those things, though. He thinks he has time. The thought makes him damn near giddy - the thought of more, of doing this again and in different ways, in every way possible. They haven't even made each other come yet and he's thinking about all the other ways he wants him. He's so far gone on him.

When Eddie lowers himself back down, he tries to keep his reaction to their cocks rubbing up against each other through their underwear to a minimum, but he feels a shiver run through him. It feels overwhelming, and they aren't even naked, aren't even touching cocks with nothing separating them.

He thinks that would probably be enough to make him come immediately, feeling the velvety skin of Steve's cock against his own as they grind together, if how overwhelming this feels is any indication. He feels like he's just a few breaths away from shoving his hips down and humping Steve with abandon until he's making a mess of both of them.

He grinds down against him slowly, trying not to overwhelm himself. He presses his mouth to Steve's again, tangling his tongue with his as his hips move. He rolls his hips against Steve's, their dicks pressed together tightly.

He pulls back to look down at the way they're pressed together and he groans. There's a wet spot on Steve's underwear where he's leaking precome into the fabric. He's losing his goddamn mind.

He sits up and pulls his shirt off so he has a moment to take a breath.

He leans back in and grinds down on Steve again, pushing Steve's sweater up, not sure how he's even still wearing it. Eddie's sweating and he was only in a short sleeved shirt.

Steve enthusiastically pulls his sweater up and in the excitement, it gets a little tangled getting over his head, so they have to stop grinding against each other to figure it out. Steve's head pops out of the head hole of his sweater and Eddie can't help but sit up and laugh. Steve arms are caught up in his sweater, awkwardly making his arms box his head in.

He looks flushed and aroused and out of breath from struggling with his sweater and his hair is a mess, but he's still so unfairly pretty.

Steve pouts at him and says, "Don't laugh at me. Help me out of this?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Eddie says with a grin, sliding his hands up to push the sweater up a little, exposing more of Steve's biceps. Eddie wants to bite them. "I kind of like having you at my disposal here."

He says it as a joke, mostly, ready to help Steve get his arms untangled from his sweater. But he sees the way Steve's eyes darken, sees the way he licks his lips like he likes that thought, the thought of being at Eddie's mercy.

He asks, "You like that?" because he has to be sure he isn't reading this wrong. Steve nods his head, slow and sure.

So Eddie grinds his hips down slowly, pushes Steve's sweater up more, to free up more of his arms. He pushes his hands into the arm holes of the sweater and tangles his fingers with Steve's hands where they lay draped above his head. He knows their hands are going to get sweaty underneath the fabric of Steve's sweater, but he doesn't care right now.

He presses his weight more fully onto Steve, uses his hands to press Steve's into the mattress as leverage. He spreads his legs, knees digging into the bed so he can roll his hips against Steve's harder, still keeping the pace slow and steady.

"Fuck," Steve says on a breath out, keening at the rough way Eddie's cock is sliding against his.

They're breathing the same air, not really kissing, mouths barely an inch apart.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods desperately. He closes the gap between their mouths and licks at Steve's open mouth, his tongue brushing past Steve's lips, tasting him.

His brain is only a little hazy, but Steve's tongue feels hot against his, hot like the embers at the end of the joint they just shared.

He rocks down against Steve faster, picking up the pace, feels the vibration of his moans against his mouth more than he hears them.

He feels the familiar coiling in his stomach, the tightening of his core muscles that tells him he's going to come soon.

He gives into it, huddling impossibly closer, hips moving faster, less controlled than before. He's sweating, his hands on Steve's are damp, beads of sweat rolling down his neck. But he keeps going, he's so fucking close.

"Stevie," he whispers against his mouth.

Steve nods, says back, "I'm gonna come."

Yeah, yeah.

So Eddie releases one of Steve's hands and gets it between them, squeezes Steve through his underwear. He lets Steve jerk his hips up against his hand, chasing his orgasm. He curls his hand around Steve more firmly, hears the curse that falls from his lips.

He bites at Steve's bottom lip, the feeling of his cock riding up against the back of his hand as he gets Steve off overwhelming, Steve's gasping breaths and groans the only thing he can focus on.

Steve lets out a sharp cry and Eddie feels the wet heat of his come seeping through Steve's briefs. He strokes Steve's cock through his briefs, feeling him tremble a little when it gets to be overstimulating.

Steve, having finally weaseled his hands out of his sweater, rubs his hands up and down Eddie's back gently as he comes down.

It's the tenderness, this moment of connection, that has Eddie leaning down and pressing his teeth into the soft skin of Steve's neck.

He's still riding close to the edge and now feeling the satisfaction of making Steve come. He turns his hand over and barely has to put any pressure on his dick before he's coming too, his open mouth pressed against Steve's throat.

He pants through the waves of it, feeling his briefs get stickier and wetter with each pulse.

He's shivering when it's over, the sweat on his skin drying, the come in his underwear cooling.

His hand feels sticky when he pulls it away and he wonders if he'd taste a combination of their come if he licked his palm right now. His cock jerks painfully at the thought.

He rolls off Steve, sated and sweaty, breath still shaky.

Steve reaches between them and laces their fingers together.

"Are we- what are we doing?" he asks, a little nervous, looking over at him.

Steve brings their entwined hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of Eddie's hand.

"Whatever you want," Steve says easily, letting their hands fall between them again.

Eddie steels himself and bites the bullet. "And if I want everything?" he asks, heart in his throat.

Steve smiles shyly at him and squeezes his hand. "I can work with that."

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #59

(Pathetic villain x confident hero👀)

“You know…you’re pretty pathetic.” The hero said, as they bandaged their wounded hand, ready to fight. The villain’s eyebrows perked up, they eyed the wound on the hero’s arm before meeting their eyes.

“Excuse me?” They said, a little sharply, their eyes narrowing. They took a few steps forward to the hero.

The hero chuckled. “You are, villain.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You follow me, you make sure I don’t go on dates with other people, you make sure that I eat and sleep. And make sure that I’m safe. You know…I’m not a baby.” The hero mused, their eyes tumbling, and their mouth drawn up into a smile.

“Well, what does that have to do with me being pathetic?” The villain asked, frowning. Their lips turned upside down in confusion. They were so so adorable, the hero thought. And so so wrong.

“It’s pathetic that you think all of those things are going to make me yours. That I would stop having a normal life and be with you.” The hero revealed, glancing up. Their smile was gone, leaving a cold expression, and even colder eyes.

The villain didn’t move, it was as if their world stopped. Their time faltered, and their breath slowed, almost to a degree to where they struggled to breathe properly. This revelation…was not what they wanted. Not what they expected. No. That couldn’t happen. They wouldn’t let it happen. They wouldn’t let the hero slip through their fingers. They were theirs.

They glanced up, their eyes horrified at hero’s words. The hero came forward, their hands behind their back, with a blank yet smug expression on their face. It was as if they knew just what kind of effect they had on the villain. They stopped inches away.

“You will be with me. You belong to me.” The villain defended angrily like a child not wanting to let go of their favorite toy. The hero shook their head. The villain fumed even more. “No…No, you’re going to be with me. We’ll be together forever. You can’t possibly do this to me!”

The hero only perked their eyebrows up, amused. They don’t say anything for a while, making the villain even more anxious and furious. The hero spoke up after a moment: “You know…the first time we fought, I could see you falling. Not only from that building but also for me. I was delighted, because then I knew I could make the strongest villain fall to their knees for me with a snap of my fingers. You were so easy. And I used that to save thousands, if not millions.” The hero finished, their voice carrying hints of pride that the villain could pick out.

The villain’s head was heavy with the realization, confusion, and so much sadness and rage. They fainted.

[jae-bummer]

Blocked Contacts

Request: can you please do #15 with a protective hao? like he gets snarky with the ex and drops his funny one liners. thank yooou! :)

Prompt:

15) You and your bias run into your ex.

Pairing: Seventeen The8 x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst

TW: Ex repeatedly contacting Y/N and showing up at their apartment.

.

Days off with Minghao were few and far between. With your opposing schedules and general life responsibilities, it was seldom you were both sharing your small apartment at the same time. When days free of responsibilities presented themselves, it was usually a gift.

Today, however, was not.

Cursing to yourself, you shut your laptop and pushed it away. You knew a disgusted expression was plain on your face as you looked up to Minghao who was casually eating his morning yogurt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he said calmly, dragging his spoon along the bottom of the container.

"I don't know," you sighed, dropping your face into your palms.

He remained silent, the sound of metal hitting glass the only thing in the kitchen.

"If I do, I'm worried I'll get mad, and honestly, I don't want to waste that energy on him," you grumbled.

"Him?" Hao asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but you knew his curiosity had been piqued.

"My ex," you muttered, finally lifting your head. "THE ex."

"Ah," he hummed, looking back to his food. "What's he up to?"

"No idea, but he tried to message me."

"Sudden shortage of children to steal candy from?" he smirked. "Absolutely no puppies left to kick?"

"Hao," you chuckled, shaking your head. "He's not a cartoon villain."

"Forgive me, love," he sighed, leaning over to kiss you on the temple. Moving toward the sink, he dropped his spoon and spun back to face you. "But I've never met the man, so I have to go off of what you've told me."

"I hadn't realized I was giving such glowing reviews," you mused.

"Come here," Hao grinned, extending his arms, complete with grabby hands.

Narrowing your eyes at him, it took only a moment to give in. Shuffling over, you slid against his thin frame, and wrapped your arms around his waist. Nuzzling into his chest, you let out a content sigh as he rested his arms on your shoulders.

He kissed your scalp before setting his chin there. "Why are you so bothered?"

"Why aren't you?"

Hao had never been particularly jealous. He was confident in who he was, as well as your feelings for him. In his head, he had nothing to worry about, so why let an emotion as petty as jealousy creep in when he could keep it locked down?

That being said, he was human, and had gone off of his peaceful rails on occasion. This mostly happened when it came to your attention. If someone was actively trying to take away your time with him, he would have a problem with it. You were his. He had no patience for anyone who acted adversely to that.

"If I was bothered by every man who sought out to contact you, I would be incessantly grumpy," he hummed. You could hear the smile in his voice. "And at this point, I'd likely want nothing to do with any of my members and I'd be planning their demise right now."

"I kind of assumed you were planning one of their impending dooms at any given time," you teased.

"Now who's the cartoon villain?"

..

*DING*

*DING*

*DINGDING*

*DINGDINGDINGDING*

"Y/N," Minghao sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.

"Oh, so the noise is bothersome?" you laughed, dropping your phone on the coffee table. "I thought you had lost your hearing."

Pausing the program he was watching, Hao pivoted himself to face you instead of the television. "I know this is a novel idea, but have you heard of manner mode?"

"I know this is a novel idea, but have you heard of me not giving a shit?" you smirked. Pointing to your phone accusingly, you added. "Plus, I'm not the problem here."

"Well, you have my attention now," he accepted. "What's up?"

"I didn't respond to the message I got this morning," you reported. "So, homie apparently got ahold of my number somehow."

"Then block him."

"You, my love, are a genius," you beamed. "But don't you think I did that?"

Minghao rolled his eyes before scooting closer to you and picking up your phone. His face immediately warped with shock. "What is this?"

"All of the numbers he's created to contact me," you continued. "There's been at least ten at this point."

"Who does that?" he gasped, scrolling up and down. Clicking into a message, he began to read. "Why can't we just talk, Y/N? It's been so long. I've changed."

"Apparently not enough to realize I don't want to talk to him," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Maybe it's time we start locking down you phone," Hao sighed, placing your phone back down as it continued to vibrate.

"Locking down my phone?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

Minghao pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. "Yeah, it's common amongst idols. If someone isn't in your contacts, your phone simply will not allow them to call you."

"What about doctor's appointments?" you questioned, feeling increasingly nauseous about the new security suggestion. "Or if someone gets a new number? What am I supposed to do then? I don't have a manager to handle those types of things, Hao."

"I know," he groaned. "It was just a thought."

"Why should I have to change my life because he's an asshole?" you grumbled. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Short of what?" Hao chuckled, obviously frustrated. You hated that you were making this a problem for him too. Hated even more that you knew he wanted to protect you but didn't quite know how. "What do you want me to do? Hunt him down and beat some sense into his brainless head?"

"I mean, that wouldn't be entirely unappealing," you joked.

"Right," he deadpanned. "Your old boyfriend is a psychopath, and your new boyfriend is in jail for assault."

"You pretty much have a built-in gang," you grinned. "Surely at least Mingyu would be down to-"

"Y/N."

"Kidding!" you gasped, winding your body around his. "I just want him to go away."

Hao immediately melted into you, always the first to comfort when things were going sideways. "Want to order take out and forget outside communication exists?"

"That sounds lovely," you sighed. "I'll close my eyes and let you hide my phone."

"Perfect," he smiled. "No promises that I'll remember where I put it though."

"Even better."

...

You wiggled from side to side on the couch, contentment flooding through your bones. Minghao had wrapped you up in one of your softest blankets and put on one of your favorite reality shows before cuddling beside you. "I'm not sure why you watch this."

"And yet here you are," you hummed. "Brain rotting beside mine."

"I do it because I love you," he sighed. "But also, who is that? And why is the other girl yelling at him?"

"I can restart the episode, Hao," you laughed.

"No, no," he muttered, crossing his arms. He was quiet for a moment before he furrowed his brows. "Why would she do that?"

"Okay, I'm restarting-"

*Buzzzzzz* *Buzz Buzz*

"Is that the food?" you gasped, whipping your head toward your boyfriend. He grinned back before springing up.

"My food," he cackled. "Who said I was sharing?"

"Hao!" you gasped.

Giggling to himself, he began unlocking the handful of locks on the door before pulling it open. Swinging yourself around, you peeked over the back of the couch, eager to see what he had picked. Instead, you were surprised when he kept the door cracked and angled himself to hide whoever was on the other side.

"Well," you heard him say calmly. "This isn't my delivery."

"Who are you?"

If you hadn't continued breathing, you would have assumed your heart stopped. How had he found you? Better yet, how did he find the audacity to show up to where you lived with your new partner?

"I'm the person who lives here," Hao said slowly. "Do you have my chicken order or no?"

You knew that Hao was fully aware of what your ex-boyfriend looked like. He was simply toying with him at this point.

"Where's Y/N?"

You felt dizzy with anxiety. Why would he show up here? Sure, he was a supreme jerk when you had dated, but you never thought him capable of his behavior today.

"Who?" Hao asked, his voice all innocence. If you weren't hiding in the living room, fearing for your life, you would kiss him.

"I know they're here, man," your ex insisted. "Just let me see them."

"I have no idea who you're talking about," Hao said plainly. "They have a pretty name though."

If you were in better spirits, you would have giggled.

"Just-" you heard your ex begin to struggle as if he was attempting to move Hao out of the way, but your boyfriend stood firm.

"I would think before trying that again," Minghao said quietly, his tone venomous.

"I just..." your ex trailed helplessly. "I messed up. I want to make it right. I took time and realized that I really love Y/N."

"What's your name?" Hao asked, tilting his head.

"Jae," your ex said quietly.

"Funny," Minghao hmphed. "I haven't heard your name leave their lips. Not once. Plenty of other things though, my name included. Mostly in the dead of night, often loud enough for the neighbors to hear."

"So they're here?" Jae perked up.

You could hear Minghao sigh in defeat. Clearly, the bone head wasn't listening to him.

"They must have forgotten all about you," he said slowly. "Pity."

Backing away from the door, Hao slowly began to shut it. "I'll make one thing clear, so if you're going to clean the shit out of your ears and listen, now is the time. If you're not off my doorstep by the time my food delivery gets here, I will be calling the police.

And if you don't stop contacting Y/N, I'll make sure you'll have bigger problems than getting arrested."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't know what you mean," Hao said lightly, the door only open a few inches now.

"You just said-"

"You must have misheard," Hao sighed. "Anyways, tata, have a nice day."

Slamming the door and locking it immediately, Hao spun to look at you. "Baby?"

Having ducked back onto the couch, you tried to reclaim any semblance of calm. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, you popped up again and attempted a smile. "I think so?"

"I'm sorry," Hao said, immediately crossing the room toward you. Pulling your face toward his torso, he hugged your head while you were still sitting.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" you asked, looking up at him. He had done so much for you in the past day, let alone since you had been together. You didn't know if you could possibly love him any more than you did in this moment.

"That was the last thing I wanted you to have to experience," he sighed. You could tell the exchange had shaken him up more than he wanted to admit.

"Well," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "You were extremely hot."

"Was I?" he chirped, tilting his head.

"Being assertive suites you," you grinned.

"Unfortunate," he hummed. "Because I wasn't a fan."

"That's fine," you said happily, burying your face into his stomach. "I wouldn't have you any other way."