TOMSPARKYR

𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐬 || 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 || 𝟏𝟖 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠?

[tomsparkyr]

𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐘𝐑'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

do you want the house tour?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

stranger things! (inc. steve harrington & mike wheeler)

marvel / dc! (inc. peter parker, johnny storm & adrian chase)

youtubers! (inc. harry lewis, george clarke & arthur frederick)

footballers! (inc. mason mount & joao felix)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

wattpad acc: @-hmustilinski🩵

[tomsparkyr]

me fighting the voices inside my head telling me to start writing for leon kennedy

[saturncollides]

Summary: Rookie! Leon interrupts a bachelorette party OR Rookie! Leon gets mistaken for a stripper.

a/n: look at those puppy eyes, no one would take him seriously 😭😭 my babieee // FLUFF AND HUMOR. Also I haven’t written much this past month so if this isn’t good I’m sorry</3

Pink balloons spelling BRIDE OF THE PARTY decorated your apartment. Glitter and metallic tassels littered the floor as your small group of girl friends celebrated your best friend's last few weeks of freedom before tying the knot.

To say your apartment had disrupted the peace and quiet of the complex would’ve been an understatement. Music pulsed through the walls while laughter rose above it, filling the space with enough noise to make the ice in your drink clink against the sides of the cup. It didn’t seem excessively loud to you, just lively enough for a small gathering. But someone down the hall clearly felt otherwise, because before long, the police were on their way.

Three firm knocks cut through the music and chatter, echoing across the room.

As Maid of Honor, and consequently the least drunk person present, it fell to you to answer the door.

"Oh my God," one of your friends gasped. "Don't tell me you hired a stripper."

"No? Maybe?" the bride said through a fit of laughter. "I don't remember." The room erupted into giggles before returning to the far more important task of taking shots.

Rolling your eyes, you crossed the living room, weaving around discarded heels and half-empty cocktail glasses.

The first thing you noticed wasn't the navy blue uniform, or the tag name spelling L.S. Kennedy, or the badge clipped to his chest, but his face. Soft features, bright blue eyes framed by absurdly long lashes, a stupidly charming deep cleft chin and dirty-blond hair that looked almost perfectly tousled beneath the dim hallway lights.

There was simply no way that man looked intimidating enough to be a cop.

Behind you, someone immediately blurted, "Oh my God, he's cute!”

The uniformed man shifted awkwardly in the hallway.

"Uh... miss?" His voice snapped you out of your staring.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." You blinked and finally took in the rest of him. The vest, the handcuffs, the radio.

So he was truly a stripper.

"Miss," Officer Kennedy tried again.

You glanced over your shoulder to take a look at the bride-to-be and the rest of your friends who had gathered behind you, peering around your frame with barely contained excitement.

Before you could say anything, one of them gasped.

"You actually hired one! I always wanted to be with a man in uniform, they’re so hot." The apartment erupted in excited screams.

The fake officer's eyes widened. Looking increasingly alarmed, he glanced between you and the crowd packed into the apartment.

"No, no, I'm not-" His gaze dropped to the handcuffs hanging from his belt, and understanding flashed across his face.

"I'm actually a police officer," he said quickly.

The sincerity in his voice was almost enough to make you feel bad.

Almost.

"How much extra do they charge for the police package?" another girl called from somewhere behind you and the room dissolved into hysterical laughter.

"Officer," you said quickly.

You straightened, and the poor man's shoulders visibly relaxed.

Before he could respond, you noticed his attention shift past you. His gaze swept over the mess of your apartment: the table cluttered with empty bottles, half-finished cocktails, and scattered shot glasses. Around it, your friends sat in various stages of intoxication, red-faced and giggling.

His eyes lingered for a moment before returning to you, apparently identifying you as the only semi-sober person in the room.

"Would you mind stepping out into the hallway with me for a moment?"

"Of course, Officer." You slipped outside and pulled the door mostly shut behind you, muting the laughter and shrieks from within.

"We don't like bothering people in their homes," he said. "But we've received multiple noise complaints from your neighbors."

You gave a small nod. "I understand. I'll take care of it."

"I'd appreciate that, ma’am." Then he added, "Look, I'm not looking to write anyone a citation tonight. Just keep the noise down. If we get called back, the conversation may be different."

"Understood, I apologize for the inconvenience." You offered him your most innocent smile.

"Good."

The conversation should have ended there. Instead, someone inside your apartment yelled, "Ask if he does birthdays too!"

Officer Kennedy closed his eyes for a brief second, as though praying for patience.

The corners of your mouth twitched.

He opened his eyes again and regarded you for a moment, his expression serious, though not entirely unfriendly.

As if on cue, the apartment door opened a fraction of an inch.

Three of your friends were immediately visible, stacked on top of each other as they attempted to spy through the gap. The moment they realized both you and Officer Kennedy were staring directly at them, the door slammed shut.

A chorus of muffled screams erupted from inside.

"HE SAW US!"

"I TOLD YOU HE'D SEE US!"

"Was he smiling? Do you think he thinks she’s hot?"

Officer Kennedy looked away, but not before you caught the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You noticed then that he was younger than you'd first assumed, not much older than you, if at all.

And he looked really cute when he smiled.

Before you could think of something to say, the apartment door suddenly flew open.

Your friend Liv stumbled into the hallway with a wicked grin spread across her face.

"Liv," you warned immediately, but she ignored you.

"Mr. Officer, thank you so much for responding to the noise complaint. We'll keep it down.” She offered her hand, and the officer took it with confusion, giving a strange look at the meeting of their hands.

"Good. I better get going." He said dryly.

"And if you need to come back later... for any reason…"

"Liv, please don’t." You pleaded with her.

Your friend Liv stumbled into the hallway, a wicked grin already spreading across her face.

"Liv," you warned immediately, but she ignored you.

"Officer, thank you so much for responding to the noise complaint. We'll keep it down."

She stuck out her hand; Officer Kennedy hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. A flicker of confusion crossed his face as he glanced down at their joined hands.

"Good. Then I should probably get going," he said dryly.

"Absolutely," Liv agreed.

Then she pointed between the two of you.

"But if you need to come back later for any reason whatsoever..."

"Liv, please don't." She shot you an innocent look.

"I think someone would be very happy to answer the door." Liv said, looking at you with a big toothy smile.

You wanted the floor to open beneath you and swallow you whole.

The officer coughed suspiciously into his fist, clearly hiding a laugh.

Liv beamed.

"Anyway, goodnight!" Then she disappeared back into the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

Silence. Painful, humiliating silence.

"I can arrest her myself if that helps." Slowly, you turned back toward him.

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Worth a shot." You said avoiding looking at his eyes in embarrassment.

His smile lingered but then he took a reluctant step backward toward the elevator.

"Just keep the noise down."

"Will do."

"And good luck with the babysitting."

"Officer, I think I'm going to need backup." You sighed dramatically.

His eyes finally met yours, and you immediately noticed his cheeks had a hint of rosiness. Was he embarrassed as well? Cute.

"Backup, huh?"

"I've got ten highly intoxicated women in there trying to plan a wedding." You tilted your head toward the apartment.

"I'd say the situation is pretty serious." His smile widened.

You shouldn't have noticed how good he looked when he smiled. Unfortunately, you did.

He took another step toward the elevator, and then paused.

"Actually..." Your pulse skipped as you watched him reach into a small pocket on his vest. "You might want this." He held out a business card.

Confused, you took it. Before you could look at it, he lifted the folded scrap of paper Liv had slipped into his hand during their handshake.

"Since your friend gave me this."

Heat immediately rushed to your face when you noticed the scrap of paper had your phone number scrawled across it.

"Oh my God." Mortification washed over you.

"I was wondering why she insisted on shaking my hand."

Neither of you looked away. There was too much to say and no appropriate way to say any of it, and the fact that you were half-drunk wasn't helping.

Your gaze dropped to the business card in your hand, slightly tracing the printed letters with your thumb before looking up again.

Leon S. Kennedy.

His eyes were still on you as the elevator doors began to slide shut.

Just before they closed, he nodded toward the card. "Text me when the hostages are safely contained."

A laugh escaped you, but you nodded in agreement.

"Goodnight. Try not to get arrested before I hear from you. "

"Goodnight, Officer Leon Kennedy."

The doors slid shut, and not even 5 seconds later the apartment door flew open behind you.

"HE FLIRTED WITH YOU!"

A swarm of women spilled into the hallway. Liv was at the front of the pack, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"HE WANTS YOU SO BAD."

"Oh my God," another friend groaned. "Did you see the way he looked at her?"

"He gave her his number!"

"He told her to text him!"

"But are you going to text him?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"I am."

The screaming started again before the door had even closed.

MASTERLIST

[dearwalker]

Enchanted to meet you

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word Count: 3.8k

Description: When Johnny is sent to investigate suspicious steam coming out of a sewer, he doesn’t expect a woman from another dimension to climb out of it. You look at him like he’s your knight in shining armor, and he realizes very soon you possess the ability to completely derail his life.

Inspired on the movie Enchanted ✨

Tags/Warnings: whimsy!reader, fluff, humor, cheeky references to other characters and universes, yearner!johnny being down bad for women out of this world.

Notes: I’ve been feeling whimsy lately and it’s all thanks to my dear @vividxpages, so this one is dedicated to her 🤍 I’ve also missed writing our dramatic prince Johnny, and ended up giggling a lot while writing this. Enjoy 🫶🏼

Masterlist

Johnny had just walked out of the shower when his Fantastic Watch™ beeped. Wrapped in only a towel from the waist down, he steamed the remaining water off his body as he reached for it. 

‘Steam rising from a sewer system detected in Midtown, please go check it out – Reed.’ 

He chuckled. The situation seemed a little bit dramatic to call a whole superhero, but Johnny Storm never missed a public appearance if the opportunity arose. He quickly got dressed in his blue suit, making sure his hair was fully dry before smiling to his reflection, and stepping out into the living room. 

Ben, who was reading a book on one of the large couches, watched Johnny stroll to the kitchen island to snatch a fresh Maisie’s cookie from the batch H.E.R.B.I.E was putting on a tray, giving him a little pet in the process. 

“Hey, J,” Ben called, just as Johnny reached the balcony and burst into flames. “If you find anything weird down there, try not to flirt with it,” he teased without looking up, and a robotic giggle was heard from the kitchen.  

Traitor, Johnny thought, narrowing his eyes at Herbert. 

Ben thought he was so smug ever since the whole Herald fiasco. But Johnny, ever the sweet summer boy, just gave him a pearly white condescending smile before finally taking off into the night. 

A few minutes later, Johnny lands in the middle of a street in Times Square, where traffic has stopped and a crowd has gathered around a rattling sewer lid. There’s indeed thick white clouds coming out of it, and Johnny can feel the high temperature as he lands next to them.

People gasp when they see him, then cheer and whistle because salvation has arrived. 

‘Human torch!’ ‘What’s happening?’ ‘I told the mayor he needed to check on the system ages ago!’

“Alright everyone, back up,” he puts on a smile, shooing people away with his arms. “I got it covered–”

A loud metal sound makes him turn around, and the manhole cover blasts upward landing on top of a car nearby with a loud crash. People scream and scatter away, and Johnny flames on instantly, absorbing all the heat that pours out of it.

The white steam subsides, replaced by some lilac, glittering particles that make Johnny cough a few times, swatting at it with his gloved hands. Once Johnny can see clearly again–or maybe not–he notices there’s something peeking out. 

Is that…a hand? 

A hand comes out to grab the edge of the sewer, but he sees no claws or scales or weirdly colored skin, no…it’s a woman’s hand wrapped in delicate lace gloves. Then the other hand comes out, clearly trying to prop themselves up. 

Johnny’s fire dies when he sees no imminent danger, and he frowns at the small coughs coming from inside, stepping closer to see when something finally emerges from the sewer. 

You emerge. 

“Oof,” you say, using all your strength to climb out of…whatever you were in. 

The puffy white gown you’re wearing spreads around you as your heels finally touch the ground, layers upon layers of sparkling fabric drag through the glittery pavement when you straighten yourself up. You brush away dust from your giant skirt, too lost in your own world to notice that the crowd around you has gone dead silent, and Johnny looks flat out bewildered. 

That is, until a car blasts its horn, making you jump so hard you almost fall back into the sewer.  

Strong, warm arms wrap around your waist, catching you immediately. You yelp, clinging to your savior, and that’s when your eyes finally meet. Your breath hitches, but all you needed was one look to that perfect blonde hair and those bright blue eyes to exhale in relief. 

“Oh, thank goodness!” you say giddily, “Is this the Barbie Kingdom?”

Johnny doesn’t answer because quite frankly, what the fuck? 

You don’t seem to mind, your melodic voice keeps spilling out excitedly. “My bad, Ken. I know it’s not a kingdom anymore! That democracy thing you have going on is spectacular, I really admire–” your enthusiasm dies out a little when your eyes dart around, realizing there’s zero pink in this place, only strangers,  a bunch of weird colored lights, and the guy you’re holding onto for dear life is looking at you like you’re insane. “But this…doesn’t look like Barbieland,” you add with a nervous laugh. “Are you…a prince?” 

Barbieland. A prince? 

(I mean, he’ll take the compliment, but ????) 

Johnny’s confused gaze darts all over your face, then down to your dress. A wedding dress. There are actual sparkles woven into it, and he’s sure your skirt alone weighs more than him. The white fabric is pristine and you smell like flowers, not like you just crawled out of a sewer. 

And you just called him Ken. Thank God Ben is not here. 

“Umm, kind sir?” You snap him out of his trance, still gripping his forearms. “Can you please tell me what kingdom is this?” 

He looks at you, then at the crowd that’s just as confused as him, before replying hesitantly. 

“...Manhattan?” He says, and it does very little to calm you down. He clears his throat, finally releasing you from his grip so you feel more comfortable. “You can call me Johnny, by the way,” he says, giving you his best trademark smile. 

You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Well, Johnny of Manhattan,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself and trying to avoid making eye contact with the people whispering around you, and the noise of those weird metal boxes with wheels. “Do you know Andalasia?” 

Even with all the extensive space knowledge Johnny possesses, he can’t really point out a place in the universe named like that. 

“Is that your planet?” He asks, making you chuckle softly. Johnny delights in the sound, he feels like any moment now birds will wake up to surround you and start chirping. 

“It’s my world,” you say, your voice turning more nostalgic now. “I was meant to marry The Bat Prince Edward today, my Eddie, and now I’ve fallen into this terrible place...” 

“…Right.”

Johnny tries to consider all options.

Maybe you hit your head? Or you were some junkie? A very dedicated theater kid? Method actor? Or maybe, crazy idea, you were telling the truth. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because your laced gloved hand suddenly reaches for his.

“Please, can you help me go back?” You ask desperately. 

Johnny looks where your hands meet, and decides to ignore the creeping blush on his face and the intrusive thoughts. She’s engaged. She’s probably crazy. But she’s so beautiful–no! Stop it, Johnny. 

The last time he had a crush on a woman that showed up unannounced on his planet, things had not ended well. 

“I know someone who might,” is all he says, avoiding your eyes. Since when does Johnny Storm get shy? 

You squeal immediately, practically leaping into his chest to give him a hug he certainly wasn’t expecting. Johnny laughs surprised, trying not to get lost in your sweet perfume. A white flash suddenly blinds you, and your eyes widen in panic at the crowd closing in. 

‘Johnny, who is she?’ ‘Another Herald?’ ‘Is this for a movie?” 

Without thinking you cling tighter to Johnny, who you’ve decided is the only person you can trust in this weird place, and that does something alarming to his stupid little heart. Red flag, red flag–whatever, he decides to step up to the role, shielding you from the photographers. 

“Alright, show’s over everybody!” He announces with a smile, never losing that golden boy persona, before turning back to you. “Okay, princess, you’re coming with me,” he says, pointing upward.

“...How?” You ask, staring up at the sky with a frown. 

“You just hold on, and try not to scream,” he winks at you, and before you can react he’s picking you up bridal style, bunching the skirt of your dress so it’s not on the way. “I’ll try not to scorch it, but no promises.”

“Scorch it? What do you mea–oh my god…” 

The night sky glows with fire coming out of this man’s body, as he flies you across the Manhattan realm. Truth to be told, coming from a world of magic and curses, this may not be the craziest thing that has ever happened to you. 

You land on the balcony of a tower that looks absolutely nowhere near the ones made of stone back home. And thank the universe you’re too busy gawking at the view, because Johnny is able to sneakily pat the ends of your dress that caught on a few flames without you noticing. 

“Oh wow…” you whisper, placing your gloved hands on the railing, overwhelmed by all the movement and lights and floating things. “Your world is strange, Johnny of Manhattan,” you laugh softly. 

Johnny chuckles, and wow, this is not what he thought his night would be like. But then you gasp, pointing at the sky.

“We have the same moon!” You exclaim, placing your elbow on the railing and your cheek on your palm as you stare longingly at the sky. “Don’t you like it, Johnny? Knowing she’s always there?”

Johnny smiles, but he’s not sure it’s because of the celestial body he’s admired since he was a little boy, or the way you seem completely mesmerized by it.

“I’ve always loved her,” Johnny says fondly, stepping next to you with both hands on the railing, but he doesn’t look up. His eyes stay on you. He watches you sigh dreamily, and it makes him smirk. “Is this the part where we start singing about our heart’s wishes?” 

“What? Noo,” you chuckle, without taking your eyes off the moon. “It just means home must be close if we can see the same stars…” 

Right, home. Johnny forces himself to take his eyes off you, and as he peeks inside the empty living room, he notices Ben is no longer there. Perfect. 

“Come on, let’s go inside, princess,” he says, and you turn to him with a smile. 

He bows to let you go first, and you do a little bow in return. Your enormous skirt barely manages to cross the threshold with a few tugs. The black fabric at the ends, courtesy of the human torch, drags across the carpeted floors as you slowly take in every detail. He guides you into a big metal box, and presses a panel. You extend your arms for balance as the thing begins going up all of a sudden. 

“Fascinating,” you whisper.

Johnny watches you with a smile and pride blooming in his chest. The Baxter Building is a marvel even for normal people, to you? It must be mind blowing. The innocent awe in your face makes Johnny feel that familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Bad Johnny. 

“Okay, number one rule,” he clears his throat, compensating by the thing he does best: joking. “We’re going into the ogre’s swamp, so you’re better off not touching anything.”

He feels proud of it, at least until you look at him horrified and recoil in fear. 

“An ogre? Oh no no no no…” you shake your head, reaching for the panel and pressing it frantically until the thing stops moving. “I don’t like those, absolutely not.”

“No, wait, sorry,” Johnny apologizes. “It was just a joke. We’re going to my brother in law’s lab, and he’s a bit…particular,” he explains, and only presses the button to keep going up when you nod. “Just uh…follow my lead, and you’ll be fine,” he says, when the elevator comes to a stop.

He stretches his neck, bouncing slightly on his feet and giving himself a small pep talk you can’t really understand. Then the doors open to another colorful, open place that makes your eyes go wide. Johnny strolls in first, and you follow behind like an anxious lost puppy. 

“Reed!” he calls out dramatically, to a figure leaning over a counter. “I bring gifts from my mission!”

The man–not ogre, thank the stars–Reed, doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. His intention to ignore Johnny doesn't last long though, because he hears a pair of heels clicking on the floor that definitely don’t belong to his brother in law. He lifts his gaze, and his eyes immediately land on you.

“Why is there a bride in my lab?” He deadpans, looking at you up and down. “For the love of God, Jonathan, don’t tell me you–”

“Uh-uh,” Johnny cuts him off, holding a finger in the air before spreading his arms in a flourish to gesture at you. “I present to you: the steaming sewer.”

“Hiii!” You smile politely, waving at Reed. “Are you the ruler of this realm?”

Reed now looks at Johnny, exasperation written all over his face. “Explain yourself.”

“She came out of the sewer,” Johnny shrugs, looking too smug for his own good. “Dress and all.”

“I did,” you nod enthusiastically, not really helping at all.

Reed sighs, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers, but by the time he opens them again, you’ve already wandered to one of his old models with a curiosity that reminds him of his own son. 

“Oooh, what’s this?” You ask, reaching for a red lever.

“No, don’t touch–“

You gasp in delight as the lights flicker when you pull on it, but Johnny catches your hand just in time before you pull the whole thing and cut the power of the entire building. He gently guides you away from the counters, smiling apologetically at Reed’s resting bitch face. 

Ogre, indeed. 

The doors of the metal box you arrived in open again, and a woman storms in carrying a child in her arms. He doesn’t even look a year old. 

“Not only are you working late, but you’re messing with the power while I’m trying to put Franklin to bed and I–” The woman stops in his tracks when she sees you standing in the middle of the lab. Her eyes go to Johnny, and she only has to raise her eyebrows for him to look like a scolded child.

“Sue, I can explain. Don’t panic, she’s just a–”

“Pwincess!” The baby in her arm babbles, clapping his little hands together.

You coo at the baby, but stay put where you are, not wanting to crowd the woman narrowing her eyes at you. You gather the fabric of your dress and give them a little curtsy.

“Thank you, little bean. But I’m not a princess yet,” you say, pressing one hand to your chest. 

Sue notices the way you clutch the fabric of your dress nervously, and curiosity gets the best of her. 

“Did you escape from your wedding?” She asks, but there’s no real malice behind it. 

“I didn’t escape,” you shake your head, looking down to the floor. “I believe someone may have tried to kill me and I ended up here instead.”

“Oh honey,” her expression softens, not entirely sure why she believes you’re harmless to her family. At least at this moment. 

Johnny does, and he sighs, because now you’ve activated Sue’s mom instincts. How is he supposed to not get attached?

At least she won’t be telling him to kill you.

“Where exactly did Johnny find you, sweetheart?” She asks, bouncing little Franklin on her hip.

“Johnny says it’s called a sewer!” 

Sue just nods, looking between Reed and Johnny but the latter just smiles with a shrug. A sudden blue light washes over you, but before you can panic Johnny shows you it’s coming from a little device Reed is hunching over. 

“He’s just scanning you to see how we can help,” Johnny explains reassuringly, and you nod as the light keeps going all over you. 

“Fascinating,” Reed says after a few minutes, walking away from the thingy to circle you. “No traces of chemical intoxication. Her body has adapted to survive in our environment, but her clothing fibers are unlike anything I’ve seen on this planet.” 

“Oh! My dress was hand sewn with the help of my friends. Mouses and rabbits are very talented when it comes to special fabrics,” you say matter of factly. 

“Mouses and rabbits.” Reed repeats and you nod happily. Jesus Christ. 

“H.E.R.B.I.E told me you were all here. What’s going on?” A new voice echoes across the lab as the doors open again. ”Uhh, is Johnny getting married and didn’t tell us?” 

You turn around to see a tall man made out of orange rocks and your shoulders sag in relief. Finally, someone normal around here. But before you can ask him if he knows how to get to your kingdom, Reed is already gesturing for him.

“Perfect timing, Ben. Team gathering. Now.” 

Ben obeys, following him without taking his eyes off you. Sue walks past you, and Franklin giggles when he tries to grab one of your puffy sleeves and fails. Reed motions them deeper into the lab, and Johnny walks backwards to look at you. 

“Don’t touch anything,” he mouths, and your eyes drift immediately towards another lever device on the counter. “Especially that!” He whisper-shouts, and you nod innocently, clasping your hands behind your back.  

He flashes you a grin before jogging to meet the others, who are already explaining the situation to Ben. You can hear the whispering, but you can’t really make out what they’re saying, so you distract yourself with your own dress. 

On the far corner of the lab…

“She came out of a sewer, and you believe she’s a princess?” Ben asks, biting back a smile as he watches Johnny roll his eyes.

“She could be delusional. Experimenting a psychological episode perhaps.” Reed says.

“Then why didn’t your scans show anything?” Johnny crosses his arms. 

Reed hesitates, because the machine may not show physical abnormalities, but your mental state is a different thing. 

“My love?” Reed asks the person he trusts the most in the room.

“She looks harmless,” Sue shrugs, shifting Franklin who’s starting to fall asleep on her shoulder. 

“She is harmless,” Johnny says immediately.

“You've known her for like twenty minutes,” Ben teases. 

“Yeah, and in those twenty minutes she’s been overwhelmed, yet polite enough to ask for our help. After all we’ve seen lately, I think we’re safe–just…look at her.”

They all glance back. 

You’re standing exactly where Johnny left you, carefully lifting the edge of your gown and gasping in visible distress when you notice it has turned black.

“Oh no…my dress…”

Johnny mentally slaps himself when you look at the singed fabric with a sad face. Okay, maybe flying in flames while carrying a hundred pounds of magical tulle had been a bad idea.

“So who’s the lucky fella?” Ben whispers, nudging his arm to get his attention.

Johnny takes a second too long to take his eyes away from you, before turning back to the group with the answer. 

“She said she was marrying some prince named Eddie,” Johnny explains, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t trust him, what if he’s the one who sent her away?”

“Or…maybe you just want to steal his bride,” Ben says without hesitation, making Sue snort. Even Reed’s mouth twitches. 

Johnny groans, stepping back to point between them defensively. 

“No, no, no. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong! Absolutely wrong,” he defends himself, but his family has the audacity to laugh in his face. 

“Johnny–”

“No! This isn’t another Shalla-bal situation,” he insists, crossing his arms. “That was months ago. Besides, can you really blame me? She was gorgeous.”

“And do you think the princess is gorgeous?” Sue asks with a knowing smile. 

He glances at you once again, and it’s a bad idea, because Herbert has rolled into the room too and now you are bending slightly so you can pet his weird head. You were actually petting him. The droid is complimenting your dress, and you thank him giddily because you somehow understand what he’s saying. 

“I fear the gown may be ruined, though,” you add with a small laugh.

“It still looks pretty on you,” Johnny blurts out loudly from his spot. 

You straighten up to look at him, and your flustered face makes it difficult for him to not smile like a lovesick puppy. What the hell is happening to him? 

When he turns back around, everyone is staring at him. Johnny closes his eyes with a grimace, sighing. 

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“I say you’re toast already,” Ben says, amused, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Good thing you can handle some heat–“

“I’m not handling any heat–“

“Alright!” Reed shuts them up. “Until we understand what happened, we can’t exactly send her anywhere,” Reed says, exhaling in defeat.

That makes Johnny perk up immediately with a smile that’s nothing but trouble.

“So we’re keeping her?” He says. 

“We are letting her stay temporarily because she clearly needs help,” Sue corrects, giving him a warning look. “And you are going to behave.”

“Yes, absolutely!” Johnny nods, way too fast and completely unconvincing. Sue narrows her eyes at him. “Your mistrust wounds me, sister. I’m always on my best behavior.”

She glares at him one last time, before gesturing with her head at the group to walk back to you. She notices H.E.R.B.I.E has stuck to your side, and seems to be charmed by you as much as Johnny is. Which is another positive point in your favor.

“You can stay with us until we figure things out,” Sue says with a reassuring smile. “We’ll do our best to find your home.”

Your eyes go wide, the relief washing your face makes you look even brighter. Johnny has to keep himself from clutching his chest dramatically. 

“Oh, I’m eternally grateful to all of you,” you say, lifting the fabric once again to do a full curtsy. “But especially to you, Johnny of Manhattan, because you were the one to trust me enough to bring me to your castle,” you add with a smile, straightening up and walking toward him to pressing a soft kiss on his warm cheek. 

Johnny stills on his spot as your lips delicately graze his skin, before you pull apart a walk alway like nothing happened. His hand lifts instinctively to touch the spot you kissed, and this time his family’s snickers are inevitable.

Maybe Ben was right. Maybe he’s toast. Burned toast. 

As he watches you obliviously hum a little tune for Franklin, who’s drooling away on Sue’s shoulder, acceptance hits him like a train. 

He was absolutely doomed the second you climbed out of that sewer. 

Thank you for reading this small fairytale! Feedback is always appreciated 💗🦇

Gorgeous dividers by: @chachachannah

[justreadingthings]

Did this just heal my inner child?

[imani4reading]

Heroes | Masterlist!

SUMMARY: An unexpected group of outcasts and nerds must come together to solve their small town’s mysteries, learning what it means to become found family and heroes.

PAIRING: Stranger Things x Fem!Adopted!Henderson!Reader

INTERACTIVE: This story is completely interactive! Place votes at the end of each chapter to dictate what decisions are made, romantic relationships (within the older teen group), friendships, and more! Every decision matters!!

A/N: Dates on chapters are subject to change, coming earlier if votes lean heavily one way, and chapters coming later if votes are tight.

WC: 226.0K (so far)

♫ We can be heroes, just for one day ♫

Suggestions/Ideas!

Dump all of your suggestions or ideas here! This story is interactive after all!!

Extra!

Find any extra posts I’ve made for Heroes here!

Trailer!

Characters and their respective D&D roles

Fates of Characters as Song Quotes pt.1

Fates of Characters as Song Quotes pt. 2

Chapter 18 Dialogue Breakdown: Parallels

For the girl I love mixtape

You’re Running Out of Time, Reader

SEASON 1

Chapter 1 - The Demogorgon

Chapter 2 - Skater

Chapter 2.5 - What If…

Chapter 3 - Monster Hunting

Chapter 3.5 - What If…

Chapter 4 - 16 Candles

Chapter 4.5 - What If…

SEASON 2

Chapter 5 - Hot Shit Hargrove

Chapter 6 - D’Artagnan

Chapter 6.5 - What If…

Chapter 7 - Electricity

Chapter 7.5 - What If…

Chapter 8 - You’re Pretty Metal

Chapter 8.5 - What If…

Chapter 9 - Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

Chapter 10 - Who’s Gonna Drive You Home Tonight?

Chapter 10.5 - What If…

SEASON 3

Chapter 11 - Bummer Summer

Chapter 11.5 - What If…

Chapter 12 - The Wrong Soul Answered

Chapter 13 - Beginning of the Irreversible

Chapter 13.5 - What If…

Chapter 14 - Be My Lifeline

Chapter 14.5 - What If…

Chapter 15 - That Wasn’t Your Line

Chapter 15.5 - What If…

Chapter 16 - Fate Waits Patiently in the Dark

Chapter 16.5 - What If…

Chapter 17 - Illusion of Choice

Chapter 17.5 - What If…

Chapter 18 - This is All so Paradoxical

Chapter 18.5 - What If…

Chapter 19 - That’s Not Power, It’s Control

Chapter 20 - They. Want. You. He. Wants. You.

Chapter 21 - It is Not in the Stars to Hold Our Destiny but in Ourselves

Chapter 22 - Time After Time

Chapter 22.5 - What If…

SEASON 4

Chapter 23 - Eddie The Freak Munson

Chapter 24 - Back In Character

Chapter 24.5 - What If…

Chapter 25 - Dear Mom

Chapter 26 - Why Do Fools Fall In Love?

Chapter 27 - Meta

Chapter 28 - Caught In The Trance

Chapter 29 - Separate Ways Worlds Apart

Chapter 30 - Red Herring

Chapter 31 - Can You Stand The Rain

Jonathan’s Letter

Lucas’ Letter

Max’s Letter

Dustin’s Letter

Eddie’s Letter

Steve’s Letter

?’s Letter (Coming soon…)

SEASON 5 (Coming soon…)

Chapter 32 - ¿¿¿ (Coming soon…)

[codename-kennedy]

SEASON OF THE ROT: A STUDY IN HUMAN CONSUMPTION

a resident evil rewrite

You've loved Leon longer than you've existed. You attribute a knowingness to him that will never be achieved by anyone else of great purpose in life. Your ligature predates all things of dignity, it will surpass those things yet to come. You're having a hard time living without it lately. The idea that love could turn someone to a god, that to be consumed is the only way to feel it completely.

PAIRINGS: leon kennedy x reader, slight chris redfield x reader

CONTENTS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, angst, moderate burn?, canon typical violence, unrequited love, explicit language (it should go w/o saying but i'll say it anyway), best friend!claire redfield, i can be a wordy gal (yes this is a warning), a bumpy ride for all involved...will add more as it appears relevant, will also have chapter specific warnings when necessary!

audio files ~ redacted ~ the take

Book I: Don't Panic - RESIDENT EVIL 2 - IN PROGRESS

Book II: Essential Strangers - RESIDENT EVIL 4 - COMING SOON

Book III: Situation Normal - RESIDENT EVIL 6 - COMING SOON

Book IV: We're Dying Tomorrow - RESIDENT EVIL 9 - COMING SOON

[smh-kitty]

ex bf! leon kennedy who calls you drunk, slurring his words and tripping over how he wants to fix things, drinking himself into a stupor and misses his alarm the next morning.

ex bf! leon kennedy who searches for you when the breakout occurs in raccoon city, eyes always searching the dead, hoping to never find you among the corpses.

ex bf! leon kennedy who spends the first few months of the breakout searching every town he comes across, the single polaroid of you in his wallet pushing him onward, asking locals if they had seen your face and scanning every person who even slightly resembled you.

ex bf! leon kennedy who hardens as the years pass, hope to ever see you again dull and nearly faded as he finds no leads to you or your whereabouts, dead ends at every turn.

ex bf! leon kennedy who stumbles upon the only lead he’s had in years when searching for ada wong after she stole from him, promising himself at the first chance he would resume his search once again.

ex bf! leon kennedy finds traces of you, traces of your life, entangled with pieces of him he’d long forgotten, telling him that you had been searching for him too, after all this time.

ex bf! leon kennedy who finally catches sight of you, eyes shadowed and cast warily, a small pistol attached to a band on your thigh, and though he’s sure you’ve suffered like he has, thinks you’re the most beautiful you had ever been.

ex bf! leon kennedy who wastes no time in striding over to you, sleeves rolled above his elbow and breathing slightly labored at his pace, who doesn’t let you get a single word out before he takes your face in the palms of his hands and kisses you.

ex bf! leon kennedy who embraces you, sighing in relief just slightly once he feels your heart beating, confirming you’re alive, that you had been alive and his search was over.

ex bf! leon kennedy who swears to never let you out of his grasp again, fighting tooth and nail to survive and make it home to you.

[tomsparkyr]

this is perfect

[leonsgfpost]

Synopsis: He became addicted after you popped his cherry! (previous part)

Tags: RE2!Leon x Fem!reader, no apocalypse AU, new relationship established, silly nicknames, Leon in love and needy, dry humping and lots of caressing, rubbing through clothes, cumming in pants, semi-public sex and more!

Note: This is the second part of the previous post! I just can't stop thinking about him and i needed to write it down😩 so I hope u like it as much as i do. Pleasee ignore any mistakes 💕

They always say getting involved with someone at work is a terrible idea, but what's so fun about it then? The point is, you and Leon have been secretly playing lovebirds for a whole month. Things had escalated, the first date turned into a second, then a third, a fourth, and more. You both smiled like idiots at each other and were definitely dating now.

But you decided not to say anything yet because Leon was still too new at work, and you preferred to avoid the first few weeks of gossip after a couple had been spotted at the station. It couldn't be that hard, right? Wrong.

You'd give him those eyes from across the room, flutter your eyelashes sweetly when he came over to ask for a file, and lean provocatively over his desk when you needed to explain something. Of course, it was easier to blame you when he wasn't doing any better.

Because this man seemed like a well-trained puppy. He'd look up at the clack, clack, clack of your heels as you walked down the hall, steal glances at your tight ass in those pencil skirts you loved to wear, and his cheeks would burn when he realized his hand had landed on your lower back as he passed you.

He'd find any excuse to see you. Need photocopies? He was there. Need help with a box of folders? He'd carry them. And he'd leave a hot coffee and a donut (with your favorite frosting) at your desk. And God, he couldn't keep his hands off you after that bathroom incident. So every chance he got, he'd try to touch and kiss you like he hadn't seen you in months.

"Your girl needs help downstairs, Kennedy." Marvin said, entering the room where Leon and some other officers were sitting. And he didn't need to say names or anything else, because Leon got up so fast he almost knocked his chair over, only to stalk out as fast as he could like a dog looking for its owner.

The room fell silent for a few loong seconds after confirming what everyone suspected, and then: "My ten dollars." Marvin claimed victoriously, extending his hand toward another, younger policeman. "Oh, hell no—" the other one complained, searching his pocket for the money.

Did Leon realize his mistake? Of course not, he was too busy rubbing up against you in the West Wing files room.

You were focused on finding some files before this needy man pounced on you. His hands were on your hips and his lips on your neck. At first, he was subtle, trying to get your attention. But the scent of your perfume and your body bent over like that seemed like an invitation to his horny mind.

"Leon, I need to finish this." you complained, trying to sound stern, but you didn't make any effort to push him away. "Oh, I need to finish too..." he murmured with a small, husky chuckle, laughing at his own silly joke. You would have rolled your eyes if it weren't for a particular thrust that pushed you further forward, making you gasp.

He dropped his forehead against your back, muffling his low, husky moans. His hands, too warm even through your clothes, caressed your tits with gentle impatience. Squeezing them, trying to hear you release small sighs. You were getting wet as you felt him rub and caress you like that.

You could feel the outline of his hard member rubbing against your ass, and if you concentrated hard enough, you could feel it throbbing subtly through the blue fabric of his pants. The head of his cock rubbed impatiently against you, starting to leave a small dark stain on his pants. Leon's cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought of coming in his uniform, but fuck it, because he was already close.

"feels so good, baby..." he whined, pressing a wide-mouthed kiss to your cheek and pushing his chest against your back, wedging you between the desk beneath you and his body. His hands rested on yours, trying to hold on to something. "I wanna put it inside, wanna it so bad—oh, shit." he moaned more sharply, rubbing against you more insistently.

His hips contracted, thrusting pathetically as if he could break through the layers of clothing between you, and you arched your back even more just to tease him. All you could do was let out small moans and sighs, because no one knew how exciting it was to hear him moan against your ear and rub himself wildly against your ass. But it excited you even more knowing that you made him like this, you turned him into this desperate, horny thing. Because once you let him taste you, there was no going back.

"Oh, fuuck—" He moaned against your back, letting go of your hands so he could grab your hips and give a few small thrusts, before coming hard in his boxers. A broken moan escaped his lips, burying his burning face in your back in shame and panting like an animal.

"You're a pervert." you said, your cheeks flushed and breathless. You tried to sit up, but a hot, wet sensation against your ass stopped you for a few seconds. "Says the one who gave me a blowjob in the bathroom." Leon murmured, his voice bordering on shyness due to his own lack of self-control. Okay, maybe he had a point.

"Oh, right—did you need anything? Marvin said..." He was slurring his words, still dizzy from his orgasm. "Me? No, nothing." You replied, closing your eyes as you felt Leon straighten up, only to gently kiss softly your sweaty temple.

"Oh." He said, opening his eyes in realization. He screwed up.

just thinking about Leon horny and cumming in his pants makes me feel something, im sorry uhh 😩😩

Likes and comments are always welcome ᡣ𐭩 Thanks for the support >.<

(💌) bye, bye!

[mattdexx]

WHAT THE FUCK HES SOOOOOOO FUCKING HOT IM ACTUALLY SUPER PISSED AND HORNY OVER IT FUUUUUUUCK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[dexxingit]

I can’t stop thinking about sub!dex who grovels at your feet when you’re mad at him. Holding onto your legs, hiding his face between your thighs while he sniffles a pathetic apology.

“Please, baby, I’m so sorry. Will you just look at me please i promise, baby I won’t do it again”

His fear of abandonment (as well as mommy and daddy and god knows what other issues) shining through.

“Please” he mumbles

You can’t help it. You snake your hands through his hair, bending down to place a kiss to the top of his head.

He instantly relaxes, yet remains glued to your legs. You whisper small assurances, reminding him that you love him.

He smushes his face against the plush of your thighs, hands banded together just bellow your ass. He presses himself into you, getting as much comfort from you as he can. Soft cry’s escaping his lips.

He looks up at you, smiling through the tears. You run your hands down his neck and across his huge back.

He lets out a small hum of appreciation, greatly relieved that you don’t completely hate him.

[tomsparkyr]

sorry if this is annoying but what happened to the steve fic??

not annoying don’t worry !! it’s still happening i promise, i’ve just been so unbelievably busy this entire year and now i have a lot of time off to recover and finish the story i loved writing !!

sorry for keeping u waiting for so long but i can assure u that it will 100% be finished💕💕

[aquaticmercy]

A Hundred Times A Day

Summary : Dex is convinced that he‘s bad for you, but maybe you were made for each other.

Pairing : DDBA! Benjamin Poindexter x reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Freak4freak!!!! Hurt/comfort(?) Major sex themes, dark romance, codependent relationship, obsessive attachment, Sex is very much described (explicit, but no anatomical detail), hostage backstory, handcuffs/restraint mention, Stockholm syndrome discussion, guilt, panic/anxiety, morally questionable romance, vomiting mentioned (not as a sex act), drug mentioned but no drug use, chase kink mentioned, cursing (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count : 2.9k

Notes : This was supposed to be an impromptu 500-word blurb I wrote while listening to “Free” by Florence and The Machine but I went overboard. This is probably my most explicit fic yet. Enjoy!

The first time you told Dex you loved him, he had thrown up.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

You had said it in his kitchen, half-asleep in one of his old FBI shirts, barefoot with love bites on your neck, reaching for the coffee like you had any right to look that adorable in a place he lived. Like his apartment was not a place where he planned to kill people. Like his hands had never done anything worse than skim under the hem of your shirt and pull you close.

“I love you,” you had said, casual as breathing.

Dex had gone white.

Then he had walked very calmly into the bathroom with one hand over his mouth and vomited until his ribs hurt.

Because yes, he loved you too.

He loved you so badly it felt like his body had mistaken affection for a terminal illness. He loved you until being away from you made his skin crawl. He loved you so much it made him cruel to himself. He loved you so much he wanted to crawl out of his own skin because wanting to keep you felt like a crime. He had wanted to be loved his whole miserable life, and then when you came along and loved him, he wouldn’t fucking trust it.

Because there was no way you loved him back.

Not really.

Not if you were whole.

Not if he had not done something to you first.

Because the first time you met, he had broken into your apartment. After all, your window had the perfect sightline into the building across the street.

Because you had caught him in your living room with a mug in your hand and sleep shorts riding high on your thighs, and he had looked at you like you were a small obstacle.

“What the fuck—”

His hand covered your mouth before you could get any louder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely, because he was one of the good guys now. “I just gotta do this one thing.”

You bit his palm.

He hissed, then caught your wrist and handcuffed you to the exposed water pipe under your kitchen sink.

He flexed his bitten hand once. “I said sorry.”

You glared up at him.

That day, you should have screamed yourself hoarse.

Instead, you had talked for six straight hours. 

You. Fucking. Yapped. 

Like a pomeranian on cocaine.

You had insulted his boots, his posture, his insane audacity. You demanded coffee. You asked if the gun was compensating for something (you later found out it was definitely not). You asked if he always tied women up before breakfast or if you were getting special treatment. You even threatened to bite him again if he came too close, then immediately asked if he was single.

Dex had sat by your window with a rifle scope pressed to his eye. He was pretty sure he fell in love somewhere between the twelfth complaint that your ass was sore and the twenty-first threat to sue him.

So now, eight months later, with you under him, legs wrapped around his waist and your body taking him so well he could barely breathe, all he could think was…

He had done this.

He had broken something in you.

Still, he moaned your name. You were perfect beneath him, pleasing him so well that his own voice kept dying in his throat every time he tried to speak. He could barely form the guilt into words because you kept squeezing around him like your body wanted him closer than close, like every thrust dragged a sound out of you that went straight through his cogmium spine and lit him up from the inside.

“You don’t love me,” he suddenly rasped, because of course he had to bring it up again while he was inside you.

You laughed, but it broke into a moan halfway through when he moved again, and the stretch of him made your whole body seize. “Dex…”

He choked on the spit buildup in his mouth because he was drooling at this point, his hands fisting in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck,” he breathed, voice ruined. “Don’t—don’t say my name like that.”

You tried to answer, but he was too much, too deep, fucking you into the mattress hard enough to make the bed frame knock harshly against the wall like every thrust was an argument he was losing.

“You’re so… hmph,” His forehead dropped against yours. His voice cracked. “God, you’re so fucking tight. I can’t think when you— when you feel like this.”

You could barely hear what he was saying, you just dragged him down by the neck and kissed the scar on his cheek. You were practically making out with it, because hyperfocusing on it helped bring you back to earth. “Dex… fuck!”

His whole body jerked at the sound.

“Don’t,” he rasped, but he didn’t stop.

His hips kept driving into yours, deep and rough, punching the breath out of you until your hands pawing at his skin. “Don’t say it like that.”

You tried to laugh again, but it came out as a shaky gasp when he pushed deeper. “Like what?”

“Like you, hmm.” His head dropped now, his mouth dragging wet and open against your throat. “Like you love me.”

Your nails dug into his back, giving his back scar company. “I do.”

Dex’s brows furrowed like you had hit him.

His pace faltered for half a second. Then the panic caught up to him and he thrusted harder, like he could outrun the words by burying himself deeper inside you. “N-no.”

“Yes.”

“No,” he said again, and it came out so small it was nearly swallowed by the filthy sound of his body moving against yours. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what this is.”

“I know exactly what this is.”

“You don’t.” His hand grasped the sheets. “You can’t. You can’t love me.”

You were struggling to keep your eyes open. He was stretching you so much every thought came apart before it finished forming, pleasure dragging through you hot and heavy, making your thighs shake around his hips.

Still, you forced yourself to look at him. “I do love you.”

Dex looked like he might be sick again.

Every time.

Every fucking time you said it, even if it was a hundred times a day, his heart broke a little. Like his body wanted the words and his mind rejected them. Like being loved by you was too impossible to fit inside him without tearing a wormhole open.

“You hear y-yourself?” he demanded, breathless, furious, hips still snapping into yours. “You hear how insane that sounds?”

You moaned, head tipping back against the ridiculously expensive pillows he had bought you because his last one ‘made your neck a little stiff’ once.

He groaned at the feel of you tightening around him. “Fuck… don’t—don’t do that.”

“I… ahh, can’t help it,” you managed, voice shaking. “I fucking love you.”

“No, you don’t.” He sounded almost angry now, but all of it was pointed inward, all of it soaked in guilt. “I cuffed you to a pipe. I— Fuck— scared you. I held you hostage and now you’re here, telling me you love me while I’m—” His teeth clenched, his body shuddering over yours. “While I’m doing this to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you forced out, gripping his arm hard enough to make him hiss. “I asked for this.”

His eyes burned. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“It does, actually.”

“You’re sick.”

“So are you.”

He laughed once, but there was no humor behind it. He then buried his face in your neck as his pace got messier. “I think I gave you Stockholm syndrome.”

“You didn’t,” you insisted. It was barely a sound, it was a miracle he heard you at all.

“You’re not listening.”

“You’re not thinking.”

“I am thinking.” His voice cracked on the last word because you tightened around him again and his forehead dropped to yours, “Shit, you drive me insane.”

“Good.”

“No.” He kissed you hard. “No, not good. That’s what I mean. You make me like this. You make me want too much.”

“You already want too much.”

His hips stuttered, and you saw the guilt pass over his face at once.

Then he drove into you harder. You cried out, and his eyes went dark.

“There,” he said, voice ragged. “That. You should hate me for this.”

“No, Dex.” Your hands slid up, catching his chin, forcing his face close to yours while he kept fucking you breathless. “You didn’t give me Stockholm syndrome. I. Love. You.”

He shuddered. His mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. Then a broken moan as his body betrayed him again.

“You don’t,” he whispered.

“I do.”

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m not.”

“You are to me.” His voice sounded raw, almost boyish in its disbelief. “And if you love me, then I did something to you. I had to. I had to have broken something, because there’s no– hnggf— no other way.”

Your chest tightened.

He was still moving, still taking you apart with a rhythm so desperate it bordered on punishing, but his eyes were wet. His eyes filled with self-hatred. He looked like a man starving at a feast and hating himself for opening his mouth.

“Fine,” you gasped. “Have it your way.”

Dex went still for exactly one second. Not fully, and definitely not enough to pull out. Then his body reacted before his mind did and he thrust harder.

It was as if the sentence had scared him so badly he had to pin you beneath him with his weight, his mouth, his hands, his hips. Like if he stopped moving, the words would become real enough to take you away. “W-what?”

“Maybe— hm, maybe you did g-give me Stockholm Syndrome,” you said, voice shaking, half from pleasure, half from fury. “Now what?”

His breathing turned ragged.

“So what, huh?” Your nails dragged up his neck into his hair, combing his scalp “You gonna tell me to go?”

Dex’s face soured. “No.”

“You gonna leave me?”

“No.” The thought of it made him sick. You could see it. You could feel it. His whole body tensed, his grip tightening, his hips losing rhythm for a moment before coming back rougher, deeper, more desperate. 

Leaving you was the one noble thing he kept threatening himself with, and the second you suggested it, it destroyed him.

“No,” he said again, like he hated you for making him admit it. Like he hated himself more. “Don’t f-fucking ask me that.”

“But that’s what you’re… you’re saying.” You were so close now you could barely speak, words breaking apart every time he drove into you. “If you really think you ruined me, then stop.”

Dex’s eyes locked on yours.

Your mouth trembled into a cruel little smile. “If you really think, you— shit, you broke me, t-then stop fucking me.”

His breath hitched.

He didn't stop. 

You felt it in the way his body went even harder, even more frantic, like the command had gone straight into the darkest, neediest part of him and went feral.

“I-if you think you’re bad f’me, then get off me,” you whispered, mean and gentle all the same, by his ear, close enough to lick the lobe. “Then don’t touch me. Don’t kiss me. Don’t come in me, because we b-both know you’re— hmphh— planning to.”

Dex groaned, tortured, burying his face against your throat.

“No,” he rasped.

“No?”

“No.”

“Thought so.”

He kissed you then, hard enough to steal the rest of the taunt from your mouth.

It was perfect after that, fucking perfect and awful. Your bodies slick with sweat, his hands gripping your hips like he was trying not to bruise you and failing at restraint in every other way. He fucked you like he was confessing and denying the confession in the same breath, like every thrust said mine and every sound said I’m sorry.

“You should run,” he rasped.

“You’d follow.”

His eyes burned.

You smiled up at him, breathless and shaking. “And I’d let you c-catch me. I’m fucking into it.”

Dex looked ruined.

His rhythm stuttered, and for a second you thought that was it, that he was going to fall apart right there, but he grabbed your hips and flipped you with quick motion that left you dizzy.

Then you were on top of him.

Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips, your hands braced on his chest, and Dex looked up at you like you were killing him. His face was flushed, eyes wet, mouth parted as you sank back down onto him.

“Say it,” he said, voice destroyed.

You moved over him, thighs shaking, pleasure making you unsteady. “Say what?”

His eyes opened, furious and starving. “Say– fuck, baby— that you know you could leave and I’d let you leave.”

Your chest tightened. “Dex.”

“Say it.” His grip tightened, not forcing, just holding on. “Say you know the door isn’t locked. Say you know I’d let you go.”

You stared down at him. At the man who had wanted love so badly it made him monstrous with fear. At the man who still believed wanting you was worse than first degree murder. At the man underneath you, shaking, begging for proof that this was not captivity while his body betrayed how badly he needed you to stay.

You leaned down until your mouth brushed his.

“I know I can leave,” you whispered. “I-I know you’d let me.”

His breath collapsed.

Then you kissed the corner of his mouth without ruining your rhythm. “But I’m not.”

Dex broke under you.

His hands slid up your back, dragging you down against his chest as he thrust up into you, needy and completely undone. You could barely keep up, barely keep speaking, your forehead pressed to his as you rode him. 

“I love you,” you said again. and this time, he knew you meant it.

That was what did it for him. Not the heat. Not the filth. Not the way you tightened around him or the way he was losing himself inside you, though that helped.

That.

The idea that you had chosen him with all your mind intact.

Your breath hitched first, then your whole body seized, pleasure dragging you under so good that your words turned into a ruined little sound against his mouth. Dex’s eyes widened, his hands clamping around your waist as you went through it.

“There,” he rasped. “There she is.”

You came too hard to answer him properly, nails digging into his chest as he kept you there. “There she is,” he said again, almost broken. “That’s my girl.”

And then Dex broke completely.

He buried his face in your neck as he came after you, groaning your name like an apology, like a confession, like it was the only prayer he knew. His body trembled beneath yours, his arms locked around you while he spilled inside you, holding on as if letting go too soon might make the whole thing disappear.

Afterward, Dex held you like an apology.

His mouth fluttered gentle kisses over your temple, your cheek, your throat, frantic in little broken bursts. He kept whispering sorry so many times the word stopped sounding like language and started sounding like breathing.

You were half-asleep against his chest, your fingers tucked loosely against his ribs.

He kissed your forehead again. “Sorry.”

You breathed out, half asleep. “For what?”

Dex went quiet.

He didn’t know, not really. He was sorry for the pipe, for wanting you too much, for needing you in a way that still scared him. He was sorry for looking at your love and thought it must have been damage.

His arms tightened around you.

You opened your eyes just enough to look at him. His face was ruined, like he was still trying to decide whether holding you counted as selfish.

You giggled softly.

“Dex,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded, fingers lazy in his hair. “If I’m broken, then I was broken when you found me.”

His breath stopped.

You smiled like that was supposed to comfort him.

Instead, it crawled into him and settled under his ribs, sweet and infected. It made his heart thump hard against his ribs. It made the guilt twist, mutate, turn into a warm and fuzzy feeling. Because there you were, looking at him like he wasn’t the man that had ruined you, but the man that had finally made sense. Like whatever was wrong with you had looked at whatever was wrong with him and fuckin’ purred.

Dex stared at you, eyebrows relaxing.

You touched his face, thumb dragging gently over his cheek scar, and he leaned into it before he could stop himself. 

Pathetic. So utterly gone for you. 

“I love you,” he said.

It came out hoarse. 

You shrugged like you knew all along. 

“I love you,” he said again. His hand tightened at your waist. “I love you.”

And for the first time, Dex wondered if Stockholm syndrome could happen the other way around, to the captor instead.

There was probably a fancy word for it. Some clinical term made by people with normal hearts. Something he could look up, self-diagnose, dissect, pretend to understand.

But Dex didn’t care.

If that was what had happened to him, then fine.

He didn’t want it cured.

—end. 

Extra note : I’ll start the Dex taglist in the next post, comment if you want to be added!

[tomsparkyr]

im peeping you reblogging dex im in love with wilson bethel… am i reading into this or are we getting something benjamin poindexter 🫣🫣🫣

omg i’ve been caught hahahaha, this is so real i literally said he was in the top 10 best looking men EVER earlier😝😝😝

i’m currently watching daredevil for the first time ever (!!!) and have unsurprisingly fallen in love with dex so once i finish the show there’s a 90% chance i’ll write something for him (probably 100% chance at this rate)💕💕

[dontyouworrydaddy]

heyyyy! would love a benjamin poindexter x reader text thread. Like hes lowk her obssesed neighbour or sumn👏

amazing writing by the way!

Sugar Talking

featuring: Benjamin Poindexter as your neighbor!

warning: suggestive (MDNI!!), fluff, Dex has stalking tendencies

A/N: Thank you so much:)) I hope you enjoy this 🫶🏻

[aquaticmercy]

HEAR ME OUT.

Dex x reader where you cheat on your fiancé with Dex because your fiancé is cheating on you.

TW cheating (not on Dex), murder, self-inflicted injury to frame your ex, mentions of sex (not described), bribery, mentions of food.

It’s not as simple as “bad girlfriend cheats on worse man.” You’re an heiress, and your fiancé is a golden-boy rising star politician. This is in arranged marriage: your dad gets proximity to influence, and your fiancé gets money to fund his cute little campaign. It’s less of a wedding and more of a business merger, really.

See, you’re a good girl. You do what’s best for your family and swallow your pride. The sad part is you actually kinda liked him at first.

You don’t love him, and you wouldn’t die for him, but you liked him enough. He’s alright looking, and he’s not bad at sex. He buys you all the pretty things you want to keep you docile. You thought maybe it could work. Maybe you could be fond of him. Maybe you could be companions! Maybe this arrangement could be mutually beneficial!

Then you find out he’s cheating. And not even discreet enough to respect you.

He’s spending your daddy’s money on mistresses, hotel rooms, gifts, dinners, and secret little affairs. You look through his bank statement, and every single receipt makes you feel less like a fiancée and more like a trophy. You’re just the picture perfect woman he stands beside in public while he does whatever he wants in private.

And no, your heart’s not broken. But you feel so embarrassed. Because now, every time you visited your dad’s office, you knew at least four people on that floor had also slept with him, and worse, everyone knew it. Every time you walked into his office, you looked at his assistant behind her desk and knew she had been in your bed the night before.

To him, you were just a last name. You were just a bank account. You were just the pretty face he needed for campaign photos.

Fucking humiliating.

And one night, you meet Dex in a bar. 

You know exactly who Benjamin Poindexter is. You know he’s dangerous. You know he has blood on his hands. You know a sensible woman would turn around and leave the second she realizes Bullseye is looking at her like that.

But you’re not feeling sensible.

So you flirt with him. One thing leads to another and you sleep with him.

At first, having sex with Dex is just revenge. It’s just you taking back control in the messiest, most addictive way possible. You're tired of being a good girl for your family. For once, you want a bad man. 

But then it gets complicated, because Dex doesn’t treat you like an affair. Dex falls in love with you because this man was not built for casual. This man does not do fun little flings! Are you kidding me? Dex would catch feelings like a house fire. 

And you do too!!! Of course, this reckless little fling spirals into mutual obsession.

Suddenly he’s staring at your fiancé in campaign photos like he wants to put him underwater until the dickhead drowns. Because how dare he make you feel like you’re anything less than a goddess walking the earth??? You would catch Dex looking at him like he’s a temporary obstacle and he is one bad mood away from removing him permanently.

Which, to be fair, he is.

And his solution is simple. “I’ll kill him for you,” he says,  “Then we can be together.”

And you’re like, “Baby, no.”

Because letting your boyfriend dispose of him and running away is wayyy too simple. Nope! That would be amateur hour.

You didn’t know this at first, but you were apparently much worse than either of you had realized! You had a better idea. 

The week before the wedding, you move money into a discreet account. Enough for you and Dex to lay low for a while.

Then, the night before the wedding, you would drive your car out to the middle of nowhere. You cut your palm open with one of Dex’s knives and put it all over the seat (much more than Dex would’ve liked, but it had to be convincing). You scratch the dashboard to simulate struggle. You leave a bunch of your fiance’s stuff (including hair and nails) there to plant evidence.

Then, you cover your tracks and vanish.

When you don't show up to the wedding and the cops find your car, you made yourself into a murder victim. And Agatha Christie-style, you frame your fiancé for it. 

What, like it’s hard? Everything makes sense to the police.

His cheating gives him motive. Your family money gives him motive. Your father cutting him off if he ever finds out gives him motive. The wedding gives him pressure. His career gives him everything to lose.

And because he was arrogant enough to cheat while leaving a paper trail, he basically built half the case himself.

His reelection campaign dies overnight and your father pulls funding from him publicly. Every mistress, every affair, every secret transaction gets dragged into the light. The golden boy suddenly becomes the prime suspect.

And for all the world knows, you’re dead, betrayed by the man who was supposed to love you till death do us part.

Except actually you’re three states away in a motel with Dex, eating fries in bed while the news humiliates your ex-fiancé’s entire life in real time.

Dex is watching the coverage with a small frown on his face. “I still think I should kill him.”

And you’re like, “Not yet.”

Because you want to watch him suffer. You want to watch the trial, because you gave an anonymous tip and a couple of hundred thousands of dollars to the judge before sentencing through an offshore bank account. So you know he’s gonna be found guilty.

Maybe it’s even televised. And because you and Dex are both freaks, Dex fucks you while your ex-fiancé is being criminally convicted to life in prison for first degree murder. Dex will never admit it, but he gets off to it as much as you do. 

And then, when he’s locked away, when his future is gone and there is nothing left of him in your heart, you look at Dex and say, “Okay.”

And Dex…  sweet, devoted, terrifying Dex, breaks into prison and makes it look like suicide.

Because romance is not dead.

Your ex-fiancé is, though.

—

Should I fuck around and make this into a full length fic??? Currently writing the John Walker x reader and Dex x reader/ex!Bucky, but I have nothing planned after that 👀

[basicanti-socialb-tch]

gif credits: x x

CHILLLL IM EASYYYY

[buttlesbunnie]

you make your acting debut ! … (in the fellas podcast trailer)

cw: established relationship , sexual innuendos , this is written as if it’s the final product of what you’d see in the trailer (no bts)

you were wearing a tiny, light grey pencil skirt that just about covered your bottom, and a matching cropped jacket. your heels were uncomfortable, but you were only wearing them for a couple hours and then you would never have to worry again.

“oi, reader!” greg shouted for you.

you poked your head into the door, a lollipop stick sticking out of your mouth , “hello?”

“fuckin’ hell, who’s this little rocket?” alfie grinned at the sight of you, leaning back and man spreading further.

“my assistant. she’s good at selling these places.” greg pointed down to the images of rentable spaces.

“… so she does your job for you?” chip frowned.

“watch your little buddy here.” he scoffed, gesturing to alfie, who’s eyes were zoned in on you, “reader, come sit on my desk while i talk to these boys.”

you tottered over, perching on the edge the desk while maintaining eye contact with alfie and swirling your tongue around the hard, red, ball in your mouth.

“this place, super nice inside, outside is ugly.” greg explained.

“super nice.” you hummed.

“no? not a fan?” he saw chips unamused expression and held up the next images, “play, what about this one? high ceiling, lots of space.”

“so much space for fun activities.” you grinned, reaching out your foot and sticking the tip of your heel up the leg of alfie’s trousers.

he’d said nothing for the entire time, practically in a trance as he gave you heart-eyes (he didn’t need a script to tell him to do that).

“what’s with the adlibs from this one?” chip commented.

“do you come with the gaff?” alfie finally broke his streak of silence.

“oi, that’s my assistant.” greg snapped. “show her some respect.”

you giggled, pointing your lollipop at alfie, “i’ll come wherever you want me to.”

“fuckin’ hell, bro.” chip sighed disappointedly as he watched alfie grin like a cheshire cat.

greg whistled then, catching your attention as you peered over your shoulder at him.

“show these lot the coordinates to my wood.”

“… your mums garden?” you hummed.

he nodded sharply.

“okey dokey.” you hopped down from the desk and grabbed alfie’s hand, “come on, pretty boy.”

chip blinked cluelessly as he was left alone in the room with greg, “am i going as well, or …?”

in the next scene, chip was arriving at the garden set whilst you and alfie clambered out of the caravan, him doing his jeans back up and you adjusting your skirt.

“cheers girl, definitely buying this place now.”

“any time.” you giggled before skipping out of shot.

comments:

userone i never expected reader and alfie shagging as part of the fellas trailer but it makes so much sense

usertwo sabina and reader 😍😍😍 the real stars of the show

userthree bro if i worked in an office with reader as my assistant i’d come to work everyday

abvloggin chill out that’s my mrs

userfour this was everything

userfive reader the shoes 😩😩 please tell me you kept them!!

yourusername nooo they were so uncomfy :(( kept the rest of the outfit tho! xx

usersix caravan shot dropping when?

fellasloaded next week 8pm on the fellas loaded app

abvloggin ???

yourusername stan stop.

fellasloaded its engagement

userseven ok now we’ve had reader and sabina in the trailer, when do they get their own episode?

usereight omg imagine just sabina and reader, no boys

usernine ok but then it’s not the fellas is it?

userseven man discovers that girls can joke for the first time

userten AB can’t handle allat toly hits bro

abvloggin i fucking can. fuck off

userten say fuck one more time you nearly sound hard

abvloggin fuck you

yourusername alfie stop

usereleven reader drop the youtube channel???

usertwelve i fucking love sabina, chip, AB and reader as a group like omg

userthirteen it’s like uncle and auntie with neph and niece

usertwelve bro i don’t think AB and his mrs are siblings tho

userthirteen you never know

usertwelve ???

userfourteen does reader need a dog? i can bark and sleep and shit outside holy fuck

userfifteen the shot of window kid on the office chair and reader sat on the table😭😭 they look like professional older brother and annoying little sister who follows him around everywhere