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softquietsteadylove · 4 months ago

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Here to say I’m missing Thenamesh Rus AU and this is in fact a prompt 😅 (sorry I have two brain cells and neither of them are working to formulate a real prompt but I appreciate anything u give us!!!)

Gil strolled through the crowd. He was coming off watch duty, although now that winter was over and spring was approaching, it wasn't quite so agonising. Even so, he was still volunteering to cover Thena's watch when at all possible for her.

He only relented when Thena herself insisted on him staying inside and resting in the warmth of his room.

The humans called it Maslenitsa, or some form of it. They were celebrating, and the sizzling of hot cakes could be heard all over the place. People had cast iron out over the fires, flipping the fluffy, sugary confections.

"Hot cake, Strong One?"

He tilted his head at the offer. There were plenty of other fires making hot cakes, and he had to admit he was curious to ask about how the technique and recipes varied between them all. But this one was already being held out to him; it seemed rude to ignore it. "Oh, uh, thanks."

The woman smiled, leaning on her knees and resting her chin in her palm. "You and your merry band should enjoy Maslenitsa. The nights will become shorter and the sun will be strong."

"That's good," Gil murmured, even looking up at the sky to admire the colour of it. Thena could do with a little more sun, after all. He chewed the hot cake. He thought it could do with a finer grind on the wheat they used, but it was tasty (hot butter and melted sugar would, of course, do that for anything). "This is good."

"It's a newer technique, the old ones don't always add the sugar," the woman smiled, flicking a long train of dark hair over her shoulder. "But I quite like to try new things."

Gil took another bite; the sugar did a lot to add to the light texture, he thought. Surely adding only butter would just be eating a flat biscuit, or soft hardtack.

"Where is the Warrior?"

Gil blinked, surprised she was asking. But he supposed he was rarely without Thena. Many of the people in this country had light yellow hair--more here than anywhere else they had stayed. But Thena's hair was the envy of many of them. It was great hair. "We all shift the responsibility of looking out for trouble. I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

"I see."

Gil licked his fingers finishing off the cake. "Thanks--it's-"

"Have another."

He was going to refuse politely. There were more he could try if he wanted to. But she was already extending another one. His insides squirmed. "Well, okay then."

"The attacks on our walls are lessening," the woman continued to make light conversation as he ate. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed faintly. "Will you and your ilk disappear again?"

Gil thought about his words. They had been here long enough that most had accepted that they were part of the royal party, as it were. It was a sign they were assimilating effectively if people didn't think of them as temporary presences. The more they could muddy the waters around their connection to Deviant attacks the better.

Greece was all but convinced for three whole generations that Thena had fallen from the sky like an angel from the moment Athens was built. Most had forgotten that they had simply showed up one day.

"Your presence would be sorely missed."

Well, that was nice of her to say. Gil mulled on things with his mouth full of hot cake. What to say? They would, in fact, disappear sooner than later. "Uh, I guess we'll see what the Queen decides."

"Of course," the woman lowered her eyes. Sankta Olga's rule was beyond question, after all. She peeked at him coquettishly. "Would you like to know how to make the bliny?"

Apparently that was the hot cake sizzling in butter. He was curious. "Hm, I-"

"There you are."

Gil's face broke into a grin, "there you are--been looking for you."

"Is that so," Thena purred in a funny tone. She let him pull her closer to him, but her eyes were on the stranger. That was common for the Warrior Eternal though.

"Warrior," the woman curtsied to her.

"Have you had these?" Gil asked, gesturing with the half-finished hot cake in his hand. In truth, he had eaten this one slowly, wondering if he might find her and let her have the rest of it. "They're pretty good."

Thena observed the cake briefly before eyeing the woman again. "Tempting, are they?"

The woman shrank back some, letting more than just the fire separate them. Gil wasn't sure what had spooked her, but he held up the cake for Thena to try. "I think you'll like them. Try it."

Thena dragged her eyes away from the woman. She looked at the cake, but ultimately moved his hand out of her way, albeit gently. Her hand remained clasped around his larger one as she smiled, "I shall."

His eyes slid closed as she raised her lips to his. It was a simple peck at first, but she lingered, waiting for further access. Her tongue slithered past his, tracing around his mouth for the hot butter and syrup lingering there. His other arm came up to wrap around her waist completely.

"Hm," Thena moaned pleasantly. She leaned back, licking those perfect lips of hers. Her eyes had a mischievous sparkle in them, "delicious."

Gil blushed, although the woman had needed to look away from such a display.

"I quite like it," Thena added, continuing on as if the kiss had not occurred. She looked at the woman who was now too embarrassed to look at either of them. "I would like one as well."

"O-Of course, Warrior," the woman stuttered, her earlier smoothness and charisma leaving her. She handed over a fresh one from off the iron.

Gil swept it up into his free hand. Thena looked at him, pouting cutely. But he grinned, "it's hot. I'll hold it for you."

Thena rolled her eyes at his chivalry; it was not as though she were human, she could hold something as hot as that. It was no raw, molten iron straight from the fire, like he could. But she allowed it, bending her head to take a delicate bite of her fresh bliny.

He took a bite of his remaining one to finish it off. He raised his brows at her, curious if she wanted the last of this one straight from his mouth, but she shook her head, taking his arm and leading him away from the mortified human.

"You must get better at perceiving when women are hinting at you."

"Hinting what?" he asked. He thought he was pretty good at reading people, actually. He could read a room, he was quite sure. Maybe sometimes a few things might go over his head, but that was what he had her for--to watch his blind spots.

Thena just smiled, dusting some crumbs out of the fur on his shoulders. Soon, they wouldn't need to be draped in furs all the time. "Had I not arrived when I did, I do believe she would have asked you to sample more--the way I did with you?"

He furrowed his brows; that seemed impractical. But oh!--she meant the woman was trying to flirt her way into his arms! She was right, he was terrible at picking up those kinds of signals. He pouted right back at her, "you know I don't pay attention to how mortal women communicate that...stuff."

Thena must have been feeling the good weather. Rather than glare at him, her energy crackling and sparking in her palms, she let her amusement show. She ran her hand down his chest again, tilting her head to peck right at the corner of his lips. She pulled back, licking her lips again; he must have had crumbs there. "Indeed."

He chuckled; if she was happy, then he was too. He nuzzled the tips of their noses together, "sorry, Solnyshkuh."

She sighed cutely, feigning some maidenly distress. "I suppose it is not your fault you are so desired."

"Hey, speak for yourself," he grinned, continuing to lead her through the festivities with their arms wound together. "I witnessed several proposal attempts at that last ball we went to."

She laughed. "Those entertain you as much as they do, me."

That was true; they always had a good chuckle about it later. "And will you laugh about this with me later?"

Thena eyed his lips for a moment. "Later."

Fine with him, she could stake her territory all she liked with him. He would resign himself to it happily.

"I would like to know how they make them," he murmured, looking around at the various other offerings of bliny and flatbreads and cheese.

"I'm certain you need only ask," Thena also looked around them. Several women waved at them; she scowled again. "Perhaps the royal cook--the old one with the moustache."

He chuckled again. He tilted her chin back to him, using her good mood to sneak yet another kiss. "Whose am I?"

She lit, like the sun itself. "Mine."

"Whose?" he repeated, kissing her cheek as reverently as a goddess deserved.

"Gil," she laughed, chiding him lightly, although it came out airy as he tickling below her jaw with his teeth. "Mine."

"All yours," he swore, even canoodling in the middle of an open market. "Besides-"

Thena drew her brows together at his significant pause. Although they shot up as he snuck his hands under her heavy cloak to give the behind of her dress a pat.

"Your hotcakes are still the best."

"Gilgamesh!"

#Thenamesh Rus AU #thank you so much for the ask!!!#listen honey I have only one brain cell and it has office hours so #truly thank you for all your support!#I love this au so much it's dear to my heart #poor Gil #he really has no idea when women are trying to give him the vibes #he just thinks wow everyone is so friendly #ignorant and obsessed with his wife as he is #then Thena can spot it from a mile away #like oh absolutely not #she's not one for public affections #but she sees this woman kind of flirting with her Gilgamesh #and she goes over and sticks her tongue all the way down his throat #Gil is just happy to be a part of things #history wouldn't know it but he's the origin of the term 'cake' for the butt #because now he always tells Thena she's got the best hot cakes #and the rest of them are like did you teach Thena to cook I'm confused #Thena gets really embarrassed because what cheesy joke #eventually the rest of the Eternals catch on and they're like dud can you NOT???

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hyperlexichypatia · 10 months ago

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As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

#mad pride #neurodiversity #ableism #ageism #youth rights #liberation #disability rights #classism #capitalism #mental health culture #pop psychology #feminism #emotional labor

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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ADULT STORE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."

1.5k words

Pt. 2

Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)

Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈

Playme : wanna know what it's like?

The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.

The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.

"Yo."

Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.

He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.

"Ah, h-hello..."

He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.

"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.

"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."

Yeah, that's what I thought.

He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.

"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"

His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."

Aw, of course.

"M'kay... then let me assist you."

He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.

"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"

"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.

I know exactly what she needs...

"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."

His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.

Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.

"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"

Aw, she's flustered.

"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."

Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.

"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."

There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.

He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.

"This one's got ten functions—"

"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."

"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."

The two of you share a long look, then laugh.

"But it really is an excellent product."

"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.

"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."

I could make her squirt.

He's running his eyes up and down your body.

"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.

"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."

He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.

"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.

A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.

Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...

He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.

"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.

You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.

He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.

"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.

"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.

He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.

"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."

"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."

Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.

His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."

After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.

He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.

He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.

"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."

He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.

"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?

"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"

"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"

He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.

Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.

He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.

She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.

You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.

"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.

You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.

"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."

"Fuck, okay."

And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.

"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.

Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.

His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.

This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.

"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.

Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.

"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."

And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.

Please cum on my face. Please please please.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"

You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.

He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.

"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"

Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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eclips-moon · 11 days ago

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Batboys and them having a crush on you:

Let me know what you guys think!!!

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Hero Moments: Dick can’t resist showing off when you’re around. Whether it’s flipping through the air during a mission or effortlessly taking down a bad guy, he always glances your way to see if you’re watching. When you cheer him on, he gets all giddy. “Just doing my job,” he’ll say, but you can tell he loves the attention.

Jealous Vibes: If he spots you chatting with another guy, his friendly demeanor shifts. He’ll casually walk by, pretending to check his gear or adjust his mask, but you can see the twitch in his jaw. “Hey, you need help with that?” he’ll say, trying to insert himself into the conversation. He acts like he doesn’t care, but you know he’s dying to get your attention.

Awkward Compliments: Around you, Dick transforms from suave to stuttering mess. “You look… um, amazing! Not that you don’t always look amazing!” His cheeks go a shade of red, and he quickly looks away, pretending to be focused on something else. You can’t help but smile at his clumsiness.

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

Secret Stares: Jason tries to play it cool, but he often gets caught sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. His friends are quick to tease him about it. “Dude, you’re not even trying to hide it!” they’ll laugh, making him scowl and deny it, but you can see a faint blush creeping up.

Tough Guy Act: He acts all tough, but when you crack a joke or tease him, he can’t help but smile. “Yeah, real funny,” he’ll say, but his eyes sparkle with amusement. He tries to keep his cool, but the way he lightens up around you is undeniable.

Protective Instincts: Jason’s protective side really comes out when you’re around. He’ll hover just a bit closer during missions, making sure you’re safe. “Stick close to me,” he’ll say, acting like it’s no big deal, but you can sense the underlying concern in his voice. He’s always ready to jump in if you need him.

Tim Drake (Robin)

Overthinking Everything: Tim’s mind is constantly racing when you’re around. He’s always plotting how to ask you out or impress you, but when it comes time to actually talk, he freezes. You catch him staring off into space, and when you ask what he’s thinking about, he panics. “Oh, uh, just… strategizing!” he’ll say, fumbling for a way to change the subject.

Thoughtful Gifts: Tim is secretly the best gift-giver. He leaves you little surprises—a book he knows you’ll love or a custom gadget he made just for you. When you find them, he pretends it’s no big deal. “I just thought you might like it,” he says, trying to act casual, but you can see the hope in his eyes for your reaction.

Nerding Out: When you express interest in his hobbies, Tim’s face lights up. He goes into full-on nerd mode, excitedly explaining tech or comics. “So, this is how it works…” He’s totally in his element, and you can’t help but be charmed by how passionate he is.

Damian Wayne (Robin)

Awkward Teasing: Damian’s idea of flirting is to poke fun at you. “You call that a punch?” he’ll smirk during training, but you can tell he’s impressed. His teasing is playful, and it makes you laugh, even if he acts like he’s being serious.

Jealousy Fits: If he sees you talking to someone else, he turns extremely protective. He’ll huff and challenge that person to a duel, trying to show off. “You think you can impress them? Let’s see what you’ve got,” he’ll say, clearly trying to establish his dominance.

Small Acts of Kindness: Despite his tough exterior, Damian has a soft side. He’ll bring you snacks or offer to help with training, and he tries to act like it’s no big deal. “It’s just efficient to help,” he’ll say, but you know it’s because he cares.

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supercutszns · 10 months ago

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Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky.

This year, there were two.

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls.

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love.

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day.

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen.

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility.

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away.

“You alright there, sunshine?”

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile.

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you.

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes.

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls.

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does.

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him.

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice.

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you.

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer.

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt.

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh.

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on.

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear.

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.”

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is.

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink.

You haven’t talked to him since.

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too.

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale.

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you.

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next.

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin.

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?”

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both.

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers.

He will not. Stop. Looking at you.

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there.

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way.

Luke, calling your name.

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him.

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear.

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks.

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.”

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it.

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!”

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly.

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.”

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in.

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth.

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #perrie's requests #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo fic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #heroes of olympus #percy jackson

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luludeluluramblings · 4 months ago

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Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Three

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m realizing I’m struggling to find a good breaking point for reader, cause I want reader to break. I’m terrible at coming up with conflict though. (I’m not much of a writer, but I’m trying.)

A/N: There will be Romantic Yanderes. But, we’ll get to that later when we talk about each yandere. (Most will be platonic or start platonically at least.)

A/N: Hopefully y’all are noticing that Reader is in this constant state of just trying to cope. (If I wrote it correctly, that is.)

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

So, Reader’s childhood crush shows up looking fine and kind

Alfred informs the others of the unexpected guest.

Bruce isn’t home, Damian is out with Jon. Stephanie and Cass are busy in Gotham, Duke’s out on Patrol, Dick’s in Bludhaven, Jason meeting this guy is a bad idea, and Barbara’s at work.

Tim, being the only one home on a rare break (in reality working cases in the Batcave) is practically ordered to scope this guy out.

Which annoys Tim, because Reader is just fawning over their old crush and the truck.

The truck is surprising, not something he expected Reader to want. But, reader is practically crying over it.

Tim would have just brushed it off, but he notices how this guy keeps touching reader.

Practically clings to Reader. Even sniffing unaware teary eyed reader. (Teary eyed reader is…. Cute.)

Tim makes eye contact with this guy, and he looks… smug. Like he won the grand prize.

And, it pisses Tim off. (Why is he so smug? What does he know that I don’t?)

Childhood crush isn’t staying long, he’s going to catch a flight back to the smalltown.

Reader happily offers to drive him to the airport and Tim just hops in the backseat of the truck. (Why? Oh, I just want to get out of the manor for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.)

Childhood crush is peeved, but hides it from Reader. (Tim can tell. He’s a detective, it’s his job.)

The entire ride is Reader and Childhood crush reminiscing and catching up on smalltown gossip.

Tim is listening in on everything with intrest, realizing he knows practically NOTHING about reader. (Didn’t bother researching cause he was pissed and didn’t consider reader worth the effort when he had more important things to do.)

Now, he’s getting to see a side of Reader that no one in Gotham has really seen yet.

Reader is funny, approachable, a hint of a flirt, apparently sings, loves to spend time with people they care about, and a slight geek.

Tim is a bit entranced/intrigued. But, his biggest concern is Childhood crush.

Why is this guy so possessive of reader? What does he know that Tim doesn’t? Something’s amiss, and he’s going to figure it out.

(And, maybe he should get to know Reader some more. They’re trying to make him feel comfortable in the truck, including him in conversation, sharing happy memories and information with him, willingly. It’s nice. It’s soothing.)

Eventually, Childhood crush is dropped off at the airport. But, not after he tells reader, there will always be a place back home for them and to come home soon. We miss you. I miss you. Come Home.

The ride back to the manor is done in comfortable silence. Or, at least, to Reader.

For Tim, he has a lot to think about.

What does he know about Reader? What more is there to Reader? He wants to know more. He wants to know everything.

He asks questions on the way back, occasionally breaking the silence.

Reader happily answers, expecting this will change things between them.

It does for Tim, but not as much for Reader.

Tim jumps into discovering everything he can as soon as he gets back to the BatComputer, but he’s not ignoring reader anymore. He’s almost friendly. (He’s still busy as mess. Not much time to hangout.)

Which makes reader feel better, because Duke and Cassandra disappear for about two weeks after that. (Mission.)

Reader worries and wonders where they are.

Bruce says the two are taking a ‘small vacation’.

(Reader knows he’s probably lying, but in the off chance he isn’t, Reader feels a bit put out.)

Reader is really leaning on those phone calls to their friends and family. They spend hours talking on the phone while pacing the halls, their room, and the garden.

Everyone back in the town wants them home. They miss Reader soooo much. They just understand reader more than these rich city people.

They can’t wait for reader to come home visit.

Damian and Reader eventually have a confrontation.

Damian finds Reader cooking in the kitchen.

(Alfred lets Reader cook, and Reader helps occasionally with dinner and meals.)

Reader offers food to Damian, a peace offering.

Damian, obviously, rejects it.

Doesn’t matter that he’s vegetarian or if he’s not hungry, he was going to reject it regardless.

And then he verbally tears into reader.

Insulting everything about them, the food, their actions, their attitude, their clothing.

Nothing is off limits. (Damian’s had a bad day and is pent up. He wants an outlet and Reader is right there and the object of most of his doubts.)

Reader shuts down. Going cold and looking startlingly blank. (Eerily reminding Damian of Batman Bruce.)

After this all attempts for Reader to bond with Damian stop.

(Sometimes you just gotta cut your losses.)

It doesn’t help that Damian one day hears Reader on the phone when they’re pacing the halls.

Talking sweetly and softly to someone in such a loving voice. Before hanging up with an ‘I love you.’

Damian initially begins to try to interrogate reader. (Who was that? Are you having relations with someone? Does Bruce know?)

Only for reader to bluntly state that they were talking to their younger brother and it’s none of Damian’s business before brushing past him.

Damian would grab at them, but he’s a bit stunned.

He knew Reader had another brother. Bruce was going to try to bring him to the manor. (Still is trying to bring him to the manor.)

But, now doubts start to creep in.

Because he wants that. That unconditional love Reader so willingly gives to their brother.

He wants that love. He wants someone to say ‘I love you’ to him like it’s as easy as breathing.

Damian brushes it off at the moment, but it sits with him. (He’ll fix things eventually. He’ll apologize. He’ll have that one day. He will.)

#yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere tim drake #yandere batfam #dc x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #platonic batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #platonic yandere #smalltown!reader

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lale-txt · 4 days ago

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❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it.

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once.

What a blatant lie.

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk.

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity.

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him.

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again.

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering.

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you.

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently.

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore.��

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him.

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone.

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question.

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better.

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you.

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck.

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?”

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart.

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone.

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share.

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you.

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love.

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right?

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams.

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens.

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up.

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone.

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest.

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe.

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary.

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over.

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment.

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses.

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch.

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms.

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket.

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm.

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again.

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin.

“Damn right it is.”

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs.

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two.

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

#hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu imagines

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sparring-spirals · 2 months ago

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someone more well caught up with the campaign can correct me if im wrong. But based on the impression I've gotten, i love the like. Spectrum of "accidentally oncall" we have, with how the Mighty Nein are accidentally unknown go-to's for various powerful people to get tasks done, while Bell's Hells are accidentally primary sources and lynchpins for various powers to understand and coordinate events.

Like the Mighty Nein are. they're assholes, if you talk to them and they dont really like you. you'll know it and it will kind of suck. But for the most part people don't have to interact directly with them. It's almost weird how much they don't have to??? Like shit just gets. Done. And you find out later like OH its the same. weirdos. No idea who they are but you're told its the same group. What do they even look like. There are so many weird stories at least half of them NEED to be fake. Or people just assume incorrect attribution bc it cant ALL be the same group. What do you mean they saved a world and an island and? Turtles were involved? Sea serpents? what.

For anyone who knows even slightly better/has slightly better connections (but doesn't know them personally) They're just like a weird form of an urban legend where its like. elite strike team. silent and effective. (in the background we see them falling out of the sky into the ocean onto one another). But for the most part its really peak. Knows a guy who knows a guy. If someone HAPPENS to be present they might be squinting into the chaos like. That girl choked me with a stick once? Isnt that other one a professor. Wha- okay. They're gone again. Silent. effective. You have a really hard time tracking them down even if you want to. (If they want to find you though, you can't escape them).

And then with Bell's Hells. (At least when I last checked in). It goes more like. Hey some weirdos have critical knowledge for us. And it's just. an Absolute Halloween themed clown car of events that rolls up. There's a talking dead rat. Weird old gnome griping about wood. They keep flirting with everyone. Including someone that looks very evil. A busty faun just took your wallet. You're pretty sure this group threw a bunch of bees in someone's face in a street race and crashed a skyship and were absolute NIGHTMARE CUSTOMERS at various establishments. They're the ones with critical knowledge. They are communicating it SO, INCREDIBLY INEFFECTIVELY. They were on the moon? They have a person FROM the moon? They keep trying to be friendly with you. You don't want them to be. Another critical thing happens. They're the only one with knowledge. Again. The dead rat keeps flirting with you. You're getting voices in your head. More developments in the critical scenario. They're still the primary source on this potentially Exandria-shattering event. They're still spending an inexplicable amount of time talking about the hotness of various people inbetween dispensing information that literally no one else has been able to glean. You know who they are. You kind of wish you didn't. You are Going To See Them Again. (threat)

#someone caught up on c3 let me know if this is accurate bc if so its very funny to me #critical role #c3e106 #?#bell's hells #the mighty nein #spar speaks #shitpost #party comparison post #i suppose?

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infictionalwonderland · 1 year ago

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Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰

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lcriedlastnight · 4 months ago

Note

Y/n and Lando have a friendly competition to see who can get more numbers and y/n gets upset when Lando gets the number of someone who actually likes him

omg this is such a great idea, thanks for trusting me to write it anon! ily!

tw: fem! reader, swears, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 1.2k

"truth or dare?" lando asks. neither of you are even that drunk so how you had resorted to playing high school party games in the middle of the club was beyond you, all you knew that is if lando wanted you to jump off the nearest bridge you would be pulling up the directions on google maps on your phone seconds later.

"dare" you grin, thinking your choice to be bold, especially when you were playing with lando. your fears are confirmed when he smiles like a cheshire cat at your answer, like it was exactly what he wanted.

"okay well this is kinda a dare for us both, a challenge if you will.." lando trails off as you stand there, drink in hand waiting for him to continue with what was probably going to be a god awful plan or 'challenge' as he called it. you hum out to show you were listening and interested.

"it's simple really, we go around the club and try and see who can get the most numbers, whoever gets the most in the next two hours wins." lando explains. you honestly do not think you have ever heard of a worse game in your life. you guess it does not help if you were in love with your competition. you knew how hard it was seeing lando flirt with random girls in the clubs you had joined him in every weekend or so. you sigh as you contemplate his offer.

"what do i get if i win?" you ask, wanting to make watching the man you were in love with flirt it up with other girls, worth it. it is lando's turn to think as you watch on, desperate for him to decide to call it off, the idea of him getting other girls numbers unsettling, but you knew you could never pull out without hearing the end of it from your opponent.

that smile returns and before you can focus too much on the swirly, fuzzy feeling it creates in your stomach he's speaking up. "the winner gets a whole week of favours from the loser." you probably do not think hard enough about how badly this could end for you before you agree and you are both on your separate ways, hunting for your first victim. you do not feel very comfortable flirting with these random guys, promising to call them and the likes, when you knew that your heart belonged to the stupid boy who had probably only suggested this so he could get girls numbers for when he was lonely.

after an hour you had near enough given up as it felt draining talking to so many men, when none of them even cared enough to ask your name. it was exhausting and this point you knew you just wanted to go home but you knew you still had an hour of this left so you soldier on, continuing your bland and boring conversations with the lamest guys you had seriously ever met.

an hour and a half in and you had only gotten ten phone numbers., you knew as soon as you and lando had counted them up to see who the winner was they would be getting thrown away so you did not really care much to keep them pretty or even safe as you were sure you lost a few navigating through the club crowds.

you had tried not to watch lando jump from girl to girl, most of the time not even having to lay on any charm or anything. you decided in that moment to hate him for the rest of your life. even though you love him it was literally killing you to see this happen right in front of your eyes, and you had no one to blame bar yourself as you had literally encouraged this to happen by agreeing to his stupid dare/ challenge. at this point you had stopped caring about losing and started thinking about how what lando would make you do for the next week straight could never be as bad as watching him throw himself at hundreds of different girls. your eyes are glued to lando as you watch him saunter over to a group of girls, one you could recognise from a million miles away. it was that stupid model that was always liking and commenting on lando's instagram posts. you knew for a fact that she genuinely already had a liking towards lando and the thought of him handing her his number had made you feel sick to your stomach. there was no way in hell you were sticking around to see this one, you were sure this one would be the one that broke you.

you sling the coat that is hanging over your arm around your shoulder and slide your arms into the arms of the jacket before weaving through the crowd to the club exit. you knew lando would probably be going home with blonde model for the night, you heading home by yourself like always. you tried not to be bitter but you were so tired of begging anyone and everything that it would one day be you that lando begs to take home, even for just one night, you would take that over never knowing his touch easily.

you wait for your uber outside in the cold, hearing the noise of the club come and go as the doors to the building open and close as people enter and exit as they please. one of the last times you hear the door open and close you hear footsteps approach you slowly, you cannot even find it in you to be scared because you can tell exactly who it is from the footfall alone, nevermind the overpowering scent that seems to follow you around even after you had left the boys presence.

"y'going home already? cause y'know 've won?" lando teases but you are not in the mood so you fimd it hard to muster up even a fake laugh. lando frowns at you, confused.

"wait what's wrong?" he asks, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him.

instead of answering his question you reply "i have an uber coming. it's on its way." lando nods but speaks up again anyway.

"did you not like the game? did someone say something to you?" he presses, his sudden protective nature doing nothing to help the heart eyes you feel forming as you stare at him.

"no one said anything. how many numbers did you get?" you ask. lando frowns at the way you change the conversation, worried for you.

"i didn't get any." he says, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. you furrow your brows in confusion.

"i seen you talk to loads of girls?" you tell him, eyes trailing over his face trying to catch him out in a lie. you could not.

"didn't get any of their numbers though? realised after the first girl i talked to that none of them even held a candle to you, sweetheart." lando smiles as his thumbs trace a path down your cheeks.

"not even that blonde model who liked all of your instagram posts?" you ask, feeling a little insecure because of lando's out of the blue, kinda confession.

"nah, just went around talking about you all night." lando confesses. "i would've came back to you sooner but you know me, can't give up on a challenge first." you roll your eyes at his words. you link your hand with his and pull him to stand beside you to wait for your uber and he does so without a complaint.

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luveline · 2 months ago

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hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style.

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night.

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair.

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death.

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them.

“Hey.”

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are.

“Hi,” you say.

“I’m Jamison.”

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?”

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.”

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze.

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers.

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.”

“Nice, really?”

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels.

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually.

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.”

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.”

“What were you doing? Before all this?”

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?”

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.”

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.”

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people.

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him?

Nope.

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there.

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him.

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks.

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile.

Something seems a little wrong.

“Steve,” you explain.

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.”

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?”

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.”

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.”

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says.

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.”

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?”

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers.

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down.

“Hey,” you say.

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.”

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.”

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.”

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?”

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook.

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?”

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“I know.”

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek.

You love him so much it must give you an aura.

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly.

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.”

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?”

“I might’ve.”

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer.

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.”

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.”

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe.

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing.

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh.

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?”

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.”

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?”

“He knows.”

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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natsaffection · 3 months ago

Note

Dont play with me, i got another idea!!! While I was listening to another song😭 Birds of a feather, by my baby billie.

Reader had always had a crush on G!P Natasha, but Natasha only viewed them as bestfriends, yet they constantly flirted. Tony was the only one who knew of reader’s crush due to “the look in her eyes” and he tried giving reader advice but they both were too late, Natasha had gotten with Bruce. Reader distances herself from Natasha as a way to get over her, but Natasha notices and an argument breaks out between , leading towards Readers confession, not knowing that Bruce and Natasha didn’t work out. Smutty n fluffy ending🥹

The lyrics that inspired me😇 “I knew you in another life, you have the same look in your eyes, i love you ,don't act so surprised”

-💋

Never letting you go. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, G!P Natasha, unprecedented Sex, veeeery soft sex

Word count: 4,7k

A/n: My lovely 💋 I'm thankful for your service as always. I dont know where you always get your Ideas, but keep going, please.

You had fallen in love with Natasha.

It began as a fleeting thought, which you dismissed as mere admiration. But over time, that thought grew into something bigger. You felt drawn to Natasha in a way you couldn't explain. Every time Natasha entered the room, your heart skipped a beat. Every smile, every laugh, every touch, even the most casual felt like electric sparks igniting a fire in your chest.

But Natasha seemed unaware of your feelings. She treated you with the same friendly warmth she extended to everyone, but nothing more. To Natasha, you were a friend and teammate, someone she could trust in battle and share a drink with after a long mission. Nothing more.

You tried to push your feelings aside, convincing yourself that Natasha could never see you that way. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop the longing glances, the sting in your heart whenever you saw Natasha and Bruce together. The two had a connection that was obvious to everyone. Bruce, with his brilliant mind and kind heart, was the one Natasha had chosen.

Tony always had a knack for seeing through people. That was one of the reasons why, despite his often gruff demeanor, he was such an effective leader. He noticed how you looked at Natasha when you thought no one was watching. How your gaze lingered a little too long, your smile was a little too soft. Tony, being Tony, couldn't resist meddling.

One evening, after an especially exhausting mission, the team was sitting in the common room of the tower. You were sitting on the couch, sipping a drink and watching Natasha, who was quietly talking with Bruce. The sight made your heart ache with familiar pain.

"You're not exactly subtle, you know." Tony's voice broke through your thoughts. He sat down next to you, his sharp eyes sparkling with amusement and you almost choked on your drink. "What are you talking about?"

Tony grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Come on. I've seen the way you look at Romanoff. It's written all over your face." You felt your cheecks flush with heat. You looked away, unable to meet Tony's gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about.." you mumbled, though the lie sounded hollow even to you.

Tony leaned back, his expression softening slightly. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with having feelings for someone. But if you're serious about Natasha, you should tell her. You never know, she might surprise you."

You bit your lip and let your gaze drift back to Natasha and Bruce. They were laughing together, and Natasha's hand rested lightly on Bruce's arm. The sight made your heart sink. "I think it's too late for that.." you said quietly. Tony followed your gaze, and understanding dawned in his eyes. "Banner, huh?" You nodded, your throat tight. "They make a good pair. I could never compete with that."

Tony was silent for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Y/n, listen. Love isn't a competition. It's not about being better or worse than someone else. It's about being honest with yourself and the person you love. If Natasha really means something to you, then tell her. Even if she doesn't feel the same, at least you'll know you tried."

You wanted to believe him, but the fear of rejection, of losing Natasha even as a friend, was too strong. You shook your head and forced a smile. "Thanks, Tony. But I think I'll just leave it as it is. I don't want things to get awkward between us." He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he sighed and patted your shoulder. "Alright, kiddo. But if you change your mind, I'm here." You nodded, grateful for his support, but the decision weighed heavily on you. Deep down, you knew you couldn't bear to risk the little you had with Natasha, even if it meant never knowing what could have been.

The days passed, and you continued to hide your feelings. You watched as Natasha and Bruce grew closer, their bond strengthening with each passing day. Every smile, every touch was a reminder that Natasha's heart belonged to someone else. That realization was like a knife twisting in your chest, but you buried your pain deep inside and masked it with a smile whenever Natasha was around.

One evening, after a long day of training, you found yourself alone in the training room. The rhythmic thudding of your fists against the punching bag was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. You were so focused on your movements that you didn't hear Natasha enter the room.

"Hey." Natasha's voice broke the silence, and you flinched and froze, your hands still against the punching bag. You turned around to see Natasha standing at the entrance, her expression unreadable. "Hey.." you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. Natasha stepped closer, her gaze locking onto yours. "Is everything okay? You seem distant lately."

You forced a smile, hoping it would convince Natasha. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just tired, I guess." Natasha studied you for a moment, her sharp eyes seeing more than you wished. "Are you sure?" You nodded, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. "Yeah, really. I've just got a lot on my mind."

Natasha didn't seem convinced, but she didn't push further. Instead, she gave you a small smile. "You know, if you ever want to talk..I'm here." The sincerity in Natasha's voice made your resolve waver, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. "Thanks, Natasha. I appreciate that."

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. You desperately wanted to tell Natasha how you felt, to let out everything you had been holding back for so long. But the fear of losing her, of ruining your friendship, held you back.

Butt Natasha seemed to sense the tension in the air. She took a step closer, her expression softening. "Y/n..if there's something you need to say, you can say it. Whatever it is, I promise it won't change anything between us."

You felt your heart clench at Natasha's words, the temptation to finally confess almost overwhelming. But before you could say anything, the door to the training room opened again, and Bruce walked in. "Hey, I've been looking for you."

Natasha turned to Bruce, a smile lighting up her face. "Hey, Bruce. Sorry, I was just talking to Y/n for a minute." Bruce smiled, but his gaze shifted to you, and you saw the understanding in his eyes. "Hey, Y/n." he greeted you kindly. You forced yourself to return the smile, even though it felt hollow. "Hi, Bruce." As Natasha and Bruce exchanged a few words, an overwhelming sense of inevitability washed over you. This was the reality you had to accept. Natasha was with Bruce, and there was no place for you in that picture.

When Natasha turned back to you, you had already made your decision. You took a deep breath and forced a smile, one that you hoped would hide the pain you were feeling. "I should go. I'm pretty exhausted." Natasha frowned slightly, as if she could sense something was wrong, but she nodded. "Get some rest, okay?"

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. Quickly, you gathered your things and left the training room, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. As you walked down the hallway, Tony's words echoed in your head: If Natasha really means something to you, then tell her. But now it was too late. Natasha had chosen Bruce, and you had to find a way to move on.

The following weeks were some of the hardest you'd ever experienced. You threw yourself into missions and training, anything to drown out the pain in your heart. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape the longing for Natasha. Every time you saw her with Bruce, the pain flared up again, sharper and more intense than before. You knew you had to find a way to let go, but it felt impossible. Natasha was everything you had ever wanted, and now that you knew you could never have her, the loss was unbearable.

Tony noticed the change in your behavior and tried to reach out to you again, but you brushed him off. You didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to admit how much it hurt. You just wanted to forget, even if it meant burying your feelings deep inside where they couldn't hurt you anymore. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape the truth. You loved her, and nothing could change that.

In the days that followed, it became increasingly difficult to be around her. The pain became too much to bear, and you decided to distance yourself. It started subtly. You found excuses not to be in the same room as Natasha. If you were assigned to the same mission, you requested to be reassigned, or, if that wasn't possible, you interacted with her as little as necessary. You stopped going for drinks with the others after missions because you knew Natasha would be there, laughing and talking with Bruce.

But Natasha noticed. She noticed how you no longer stayed in the training room to train with her, how you avoided eye contact during team meetings, how you left the room whenever Natasha entered. Natasha felt a nagging sense of loss in your absence, an emptiness that grew with each passing day as you pulled away.

One evening, Natasha finally confronted you in the hallway as you tried to sneak back to your room unnoticed. "Y/n, we need to talk." You froze, your heart racing in your chest. You had dreaded this moment, knew it was inevitable, but hoped it wouldn't come so soon. "There's nothing to talk about.." you replied, trying to keep your voice calm as you turned to face her.

Natasha's eyes narrowed in determination. "Don't give me that. You've been avoiding me for weeks now. What's going on?"

"I told you, it's nothing!" you replied, your voice tense. You tried to move past Natasha, but she blocked your way, refusing to let you leave. "You're lying!" Natasha countered, her voice growing sharper. "And this time, you're not getting away.."

Before you could react, Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you into a nearby room, closing the door behind you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, and you found yourself trapped, with the door and Natasha both standing between you and the exit. "Let me go, Natasha." you said, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't want to go through this right now, please.."

Natasha crossed her arms and stood her ground. "You've been running from me for weeks. I'm not letting you run anymore. Talk to me, Y/n. Tell me what's going on." You felt the walls closing in around you, panic rising in your chest. You knew that if you started talking, everything would come out, and you weren't ready for that. "There's nothing to say." you insisted, avoiding Natasha's piercing gaze. "Just let it go."

"That's bullshit, and you know it!" Natasha snapped, her frustration evident. "This isn't you, Y/n. You're pushing everyone away, and I want to know why. I want to help you."

"Help?" you scoffed, the word igniting the anger you had tried so hard to suppress. "The only way you can help me is by leaving me alone, Natasha!" She flinched at the harshness in your voice, but she didn't back down. "I'm not leaving you alone. Not until you tell me what's really going on."

You felt yourself reaching your breaking point, the pressure of keeping everything inside finally becoming too much. You turned away from Natasha, your hands balling into fists as you struggled to hold yourself together. "Just stop, Natasha. Please, stop."

But Natasha didn't stop. She stepped closer, her voice softer but no less insistent. "Y/n..whatever it is, you don't have to go through it alone. I'm here."

"And that's the problem!" you exploded, turning to face Natasha, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and pain. "You care about me, but not the way I care about you! And it's tearing me apart!"

Natasha's eyes widened, but instead of recoiling, she looked at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Wait...are you saying..you're in love with me?" she asked, her voice softening, almost teasing.

"Yes, Fuck, Natasha! I've been in love with you for so long, and it's killing me to be around you, knowing that you'll never feel the same way!" you shouted, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. Natasha blinked, and then, to your complete astonishment, she began to smile, a small, almost relieved smile. "Wow...you really just let it all out, didn't you?" Natasha said, her voice taking on a playful tone.

You stared at her in disbelief. The raw vulnerability of your confession seemed to be brushed aside, as if it was something trivial. "What..what the hell, Natasha? Is this a joke to you?" you asked, your heart twisting in pain. "I just told you I'm in love with you, and you're making jokes?"

Natasha's smile softened, a mix of affection and regret in her eyes. "No, Y/n, it's not a joke. It's just..kind of sweet, you know? I mean, here I was, trying to figure out how to tell you, and you go and beat me to it by just blurting it out. I should have expected that from you."

"Wait, tell me...what?" you asked, still off-balance and more than a little hurt. Natasha stepped closer, her hand gently lifting to touch your cheek. "That I'm glad you love me. Because I love you too." Your breath caught in your throat. You searched Natasha's eyes, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was warmth and something deeper, something that made your heart ache even more. "No, please don't..." you whispered, shaking your head as you tried to pull away. "Don't say things like that just to make me feel better."

"I'm not just saying it." Natasha insisted, her hands holding your face gently but firmly. "I mean it. I broke up with Bruce because it wasn't working, and honestly? It was because I couldn't stop thinking about you." Your eyes widened, disbelief battling with the hope that began to bloom in your chest. "You..what?"

"Yes." Natasha said, smiling a little as she moved even closer. "I realized I was lying to myself. I tried to make things work with Bruce because I thought it would be safer, less complicated. But the truth is, I've been in love with you for a long time, Y/n. I was just too scared to admit it."

You stared at Natasha, still unable to fully grasp what you were hearing. "But...you, you were with Bruce...?" Natasha nodded, her expression growing more serious. "I was. But it didn't feel right. Not when my heart was somewhere else. I couldn't keep lying to him, and I couldn't keep lying to myself. So I ended it. And then you started avoiding me, and I thought maybe I had missed my chance...until now."

Your head spun as you tried to process everything. The anger, the pain, the love..it all swirled together until you felt like you might explode. "Natasha, I..I don't know what to say.."

"You don't have to say anything." Natasha whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned in and silenced you with a kiss. It was electrifying, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had built up between you for so long. As your lips moved together, you felt the tension and fear that had haunted you for weeks slowly melt away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming desire for the woman you had loved for so long.

Natasha's hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the warmth of Natasha's body against yours, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of Natasha's touch, the taste of her lips, the softness of her skin.

When Natasha finally pulled back slightly, you were breathless, your face flushed, and your heart pounding wildly. You looked up at Natasha, your eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. This was really happening. The moment you had only dared to experience in your dreams was unfolding right before you, and it was almost too much to believe.

Natasha smiled gently down at you, her gaze soft and full of affection. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, her thumb gently stroking your cheek. You nodded, but the truth was that you were more than okay, you were overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the reality of Natasha being so close to you, by her touch, her kiss. It was everything you had ever wanted, and it made you feel both euphoric and scared.

As Natasha's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, her fingers gently brushing the fabric, you felt your breath catch. The anticipation of what was to come made your pulse quicken, and you could feel your cheeks growing hotter, your heart beating faster. "Is this okay?" Natasha asked, her voice deep and filled with concern. You nodded again, your voice caught in your throat. "Y-Yeah.." you whispered.

Natasha's smile widened, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You're so cute when you're shy, you know that?" she teased, her tone playful but loving. Your face grew even hotter, your embarrassment increasing. You had always imagined this moment with Natasha, but you had never thought you would feel so vulnerable, so exposed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye, surprising even yourself.

Natasha noticed immediately and froze, her smile fading as concern filled her face. "Hey, hey..what's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of worry. "We can stop. Did I go too far?" You quickly shook your head, raising your hands to cover your face as you tried to hide your embarrassment. "No, no, it's not that.." you murmured through your hands, your voice trembling. "It's just..I can't believe this is real. I've wanted this for so long, and now that it's happening, I'm..I'm just so overwhelmed."

Natasha's expression softened, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she realized what you were feeling. "Oh, Y/n." she murmured, her voice warm and soothing. "There's nothing for you to be ashamed of." But you were too overwhelmed to look at her. You kept your hands over your face, your cheeks burning with the intensity of your emotions. "I'm sorry.." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm just..I don't know how to handle this."

Natasha chuckled softly, finding your shyness endearing. "You don't have to apologize for anything." Gently, she took your hands and pulled them away from your face. "Come on, let me see you." You resisted at first, your face still burning with embarrassment, but Natasha was persistent. She held your hands gently but firmly, raising them above your head and keeping them there.

"Natasha, please..no.." you murmured, your voice filled with embarrassment as you squeezed your eyes shut, your cheeks glowing bright red. But Natasha only laughed softly, clearly finding the whole situation incredibly sweet. "You're even cuter when you're shy and embarrassed."

Your face grew even hotter, your heart racing as Natasha held your hands above your head, your bodies pressed close together. The gentle, playful way Natasha handled the situation made you feel both exposed and loved, a combination that left you breathless.

"Please.." you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren't entirely sure what you were asking for, relief from your embarrassment or more of the sweet torment that Natasha was so skillfully creating.

Natasha's eyes softened, and she leaned down to place a tender kiss on your forehead, then on your cheeks, and finally on your lips. "You're so precious to me." she murmured against your lips. "And I'm going to make sure you feel so good."

Your heart swelled with love, and you found yourself slowly relaxing into Natasha's touches, your nervousness fading as Natasha continued to kiss and caress you gently. Her hands began to explore your body again, her touch slow and deliberate as she moved with a tenderness that took your breath away. You felt the warmth of Natasha's body against yours, her weight comforting, grounding you in the moment.

"You're doing so well." Natasha whispered as she moved lower, her lips leaving a trail of kisses on your neck that made you shiver with anticipation. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as Natasha's lips continued their journey across your body. Her hands moved to gently caress your inner thighs, her touch light and teasing, sending sparks of desire coursing through your body. You gasped, your hips lifting slightly in response to the sensations Natasha was stirring.

"Slowly.." Natasha whispered, her voice full of warmth as she leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your thigh. "We have all the time in the world." You nodded, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as Natasha continued her gentle exploration. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, your body aching for more of Natasha's touch.

When Natasha finally moved her hand to your center, a soft moan escaped your lips, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure Natasha was giving you. Natasha's fingers were gentle, exploring you with a tenderness that made your heart swell with love.

"Does that feel good?" Natasha asked softly as she continued to caress you, her fingers moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Yes.." you gasped, your body arching into Natasha's touch. "It feels..so good."

Hearing your confirmation, Natasha guided you both to a bed, and it was only then that you realized you had been in Natasha's room all along. Natasha moved slowly over you, her touch gentle, every movement filled with a kind of reverence that filled your heart with emotion. Natasha was deeply connected with you, but there was no rush, no haste in her movements, just a slow, deliberate rhythm that allowed you both to savor every moment.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes closing as you focused on the sensations flowing through your body. You could feel every touch from Natasha, the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her heart. It was a moment that felt almost sacred, and you lost yourself in the intimacy of it all.

Natasha watched you closely, her green eyes soft and full of affection. She could see how your body responded to her touch, how your breath quickened and your cheeks flushed with desire. "You look so beautiful.." Natasha whispered, and your eyes opened briefly, meeting Natasha's gaze with a shy but loving smile. She leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she wanted to imprint this moment in her memory. You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in Natasha's hair as you pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.

When you finally broke the kiss, Natasha rested her forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. "Are you ready?" Your heart skipped a beat at Natasha's words, a warm blush spreading across your cheeks. "Yes." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Natasha smiled gently, her heart swelling with love as she closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment. She moved slowly, savoring the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin, the way your bodies fit together perfectly. It was a moment that felt almost otherworldly, a moment Natasha wanted to last forever.

As she moved within you, Natasha focused on the sensations, on the way your body responded to her, the soft moans that escaped your lips, the way your fingers dug into her back and pulled her closer. Every movement, every sound was a testament to the connection you shared, and it filled Natasha with a love she hadn't known she was capable of. "You feel so good.." Natasha whispered, as she gently rocked her hips, drawing out the pleasure for both of you. "So perfect for me."

You could barely speak, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations flowing through you. "Natasha...this feels...it feels so..."

"I know," Natasha murmured, her voice full of understanding as she leaned down to kiss your neck, her lips soft and tender on your skin. "It's perfect. You're perfect." As the pleasure between you slowly built, Natasha allowed herself to get lost in the moment, her eyes closing as she savored the sensations. She moved with care, but also with tenderness, determined that you feel every ounce of the love and affection Natasha had for you.

Your breath came in soft, shallow gasps, your body arching into Natasha's touch as the pleasure grew more intense. You could feel Natasha's steady rhythm, the warmth of her skin, the gentle pressure within you, and it made you feel more connected to Natasha than you had ever felt to anyone. Natasha's breath also grew heavier, but she kept the pace slow, determined to draw out the moment as long as possible. She could feel your body trembling beneath her, the way your muscles tensed and relaxed with each thrust, and it filled Natasha with a deep sense of satisfaction and love.

"Are you close?" Natasha whispered, her voice full of affection as she looked into your eyes. You nodded, your breath hitching as the pleasure reached its peak, your body trembling with anticipation. "Y-Yes..please.."

Natasha smiled gently, her own pleasure rising as she continued to move in slow, deliberate motions. "Let go, Detka." she whispered, her voice full of love. "I'm right here with you." With those words, you finally let go, the pleasure washing over you in a gentle, rolling wave that left you trembling in Natasha's arms. It was a soft, sweet release, one that filled you with warmth and contentment, and you clung to Natasha as the sensations overwhelmed you.

Natasha followed shortly after, her own climax building and reaching its peak as she moved deeply within you, her body tensing as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She held you close, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she savored every moment of your shared release. When it was over, Natasha didn't pull away. Instead, she stayed close to you, her body still connected with yours as she pressed gentle kisses to your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead.

"You did so well.." Natasha murmured, her voice full of love as she stroked your hair. "You're so incredible, Y/n. I'm so proud of you." You smiled, your heart full of love and contentment as you snuggled into Natasha's embrace. You felt safe, secure, and completely loved as you cuddled into Natasha's arms. It was a feeling you never wanted to let go of, a moment of complete fulfillment that you would carry in your heart forever.

Natasha held you close, her hands gently stroking your back, her touch soothing and tender. She could feel your body finally relaxing completely in her arms, and it filled her with a deep sense of satisfaction and love. "You belong to me." Natasha whispered softly, her voice full of affection as she pressed a final kiss to your forehead. "And I'm never letting you go."

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness as you slowly drifted off to sleep in Natasha's arms, knowing that you were loved, cherished, and completely safe. As you finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, Natasha stayed with you, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her warmth and love flowing into every fiber of your being. She held you throughout the night, guarding your sleep and ensuring that you found the rest you had been longing for in her embrace.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha romanov smut

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year ago

Text

Movie nights - Drew Starkey

Pairings - Drew Starkey & reader

Summary - movie nights with the friend group turns into reader and Drew not being able to control themselves.

Warnings - sexual intercourse, oral, language. 18+

A/n- this was a request but for some reason they have all disappeared from my inbox.

“I can just sit on the floor”

Everyone disagrees and chatter feels the room, your eyes fall on Drew who’s watching you from his seat on the couch. “Don’t be silly, just sit between Drew and I” Austin motions, he scoots himself further into the side of the couch and you stare at the gap.

It’s small, too small for your large bottom. You noticed Drew must have had the same thought as you caught him eyeing your lower half, he gave you a soft smile and patted the seat.

You stepped over Chase and Rudy who were sprawled out on the floor, snacks of various kinds sat between them. You slowly brought yourself down to the couch, you were definitely not going to fit.

Before you could stand back up, Drew’s hand snaked around your waist and pulled part of you onto his lap. You couldn’t steady your heart beat, it was going a million miles an hour.

“Comfy?” He questioned, all you could do was nod your head. Keeping your eyes in front of you, the movie had started but you had no idea what was happening.

All you could think about was Drew, your back pressed to his chest. His arm around your waist, your backside pressed to him.

You could feel his breath tickle your ear, his pointer finger rubbing soft circles into the exposed flesh of your hip. Your mind goes into overdrive, unintentionally you press back into him. Emitting a groan from his lips, your thighs squeeze together instinctively.

“You good?” Austin questions, he noticed your tensed body. You nod your head and give him a soft smile, turning your attention back to the movie.

You manage to focus on the tv for the next 10 minutes, trying to forget that you were nuzzled against Drew. The person you had been crushing on for the past 6 months, someone you had started to get to know slowly.

You met him at Austin’s birthday party, he had been praising the ground Drew walked on for months and finally you were going to meet your close friend's new buddy.

You both hit it off instantly, the conversation flowed between the two of you like you’d been friends for years. Austin loved that the both of you got on, he dragged you to everything for the past 8 months.

You had a hunch he was trying to set you up with Drew, he never said anything but the fact that you had been invited to everything was a telltale sign.

You knew you had caught feelings for Drew about 6 weeks after meeting him, you had stepped out of the ladies bathroom at lunch. Your eyes fell onto Drew who was chatting to a very attractive brunette, he had a cheeky grin on his face and he rubbed at his jaw slightly. You knew he was flirting with her, and that’s when you knew you liked him. Your skin felt itchy and your throat felt tight, you had to backtrack into the bathroom and calm yourself.

So it was especially difficult right now, lent against him. You were sure the absentminded circle he drew on your skin was nothing, the two of you had become affectionate. Usually you’d wrap your arm around his waist or he would hold your hand. It was friendly , affectionate, you assumed.

“You smell nice” he whispered into your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin. Shivers ran down your spine causing you to squirm against him, his hands steadying your hips against him. “If you move like that again you're going to be very uncomfortable” he whispered, his hand left your waist to readjust his crotch.

You visibly gulped, turning your head slowly to meet his eyes. His eyes were dark, full of what you assumed was lust. His lower lip was red raw, indicating he had been chewing at it. You couldn’t resist and you moved again, this time pressing your ass cheek to his crotch.

He was hard, so hard you were sure he was about to burst through his jeans. He let out another groan, but bucked his hips against you. “I’m not uncomfortable” you stated, pressing down onto him once again.

His hands held tightly onto the waist, the veins in his arms protruding.

“You don’t sound too good” Austin spoke, causing you to jump out of the bubble you had created around the two of you. He had a smirk on his face, you knew he knew exactly what was going on. “Y/n can you take him to the spare room?”.

“Oh yeah sure” you stood up quickly, grabbing a hold of Drew’s hand and practically dragging him out of her room. Patting him on the back to make it look like he had fallen Ill suddenly.

The moment the door closed, Drew pinned you against the staircase. His hands enveloped your face, his lips pressed against yours. You could hear your heart in your ears, thumping harshly as you kissed him. The blood running through your veins ran hot, your panties were soaking.

“Fuck.. I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he breathed, his breath was staggered and his chest thumped against your own. “You have no idea” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled you against him, carrying you down the hallways towards the spare room.

He lay you against the bed, hovering over you. His eyes wandered your body, he seemed slightly nervous. So you made the move for him, unzipping your shorts for him. He gulped, pressing his lips to yours again. His fingers danced up the length of your thigh, palming your ass in his hand.

“Drew, please touch me” you whimpered, he squeezed your ass once more and moved to pull your pants down. You quickly reached up to bunch the material of his shirt in your hands and pulled it over his head, pressing a soft kiss to his pecks. “Fuck your so sexy” he groaned, you pulled your top over your head as he pulled his pants down.

You could see the hardness of his cock straining in his boxers, you're sure you saw it twitch but his lips were on yours again. Pressing his erection to your core, you whined into his mouth. Grinding your hips up and against him, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips.

You undid the front of your bra, your breasts pooling out. His eyes went wide at the sight of your hard nipples, his mouth enveloping around it. His tongue licked and his teeth nibbled, his other hand massaged your breast. Whines and moans slipped from your lips, you needed more.

You pulled his head away, pushing against his chest. “Stand up” you ordered, reaching for the waistband of his boxers. His eyes were on your face, studying you. He just about came when your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, thick and long. “Shit” you moaned, lacing your hand around the base of his cock. “What a pretty cock”.

You took this moment to look up at him, widening your mouth. You sucked his pink tip, his pre cum sending your taste buds into a frenzy. His hips jerked slightly as you continued to take him in, only slightly gagging as he touched the back of your throat. “Holy shit” he exclaimed, you watched on as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

His hand came around to hold the nape of your neck, his animal instincts kicked in. Forcing himself in and out of your mouth, you loved it. Your pussy was dripping, tears streamed down your face. His cock had your jaw aching but you could feel he was close, the veins in his cock throbbed against your tongue.

“Wait, I don’t want to come like this” he stated, pulling his cock from your mouth. A trail of spit between you two, he wiped your chin and then your cheeks. Pushing you down against the bed, he kissed up your legs until his face hovered over your cunt. “You smell so good” he whispered, pressing his lips to your clothed pussy,

“Fuck Drew, please please touch me” you begged him, your pussy was throbbing. You needed to feel him inside of you, his fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs. A trail of arousal followed, any other time you might have been embarrassed.

But the look on his face had you wideneding your legs for him, his eyes drinking in the sight of your pink wet pussy. He pressed a soft kiss to your folds, pressing his tongue between them. Opening you wide for him, he pushed your legs up against your chest.

Your aching hole staring back at him, you just about came from his nose grazing your clit. His tongue slid up and down your pussy, sucking on your swollen nub. Your hips rolling against his face, he pushed two fingers into your hole. The sounds your pussy was making would have you cringing usually but fuck was it hot with Drew.

“Oh fuck, Drew! I don’t think-“ you cried out, he entered a third finger as his mouth sucked at your clit.

Your chest was heaving, the buzzing in your ear was deafening. Your hole fluttering around his fingers, arousal soaked his hand. “DREW!” You cried, your orgasm hit you like a wave. Swallowing you under, you struggled to breath as your body shook from such pleasure.

His kisses on your stomach brought you back to reality, you were dazed. His smile had you weak at the knees, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a condom, you watched as he ripped it with his teeth and rolled it down his cock. “Ready?” He questioned, hovering over you.

“I want to sit on you” you stated, you pulled yourself up and signaled for him to sit against the headboard. You wrapped both legs around him and hovered over his cock, he gripped the base and you both watched as you slid down him. “O-oh!” You cried, his size stretching your tight hole. You’d only ever been with a few other men and none of them the size of Drew.

“Take it slow baby girl” he whispered, running his hands up and down your naked back. His eyes trained on your face, he watched as your eyes screwed shut and you began to move up and down him slowly. “That’s it, just like that” he mumbles against your neck, kissing your skin and palming your breasts.

“I feel so full” you stated, his lips found yours. His tongue explored your mouth, drinking in your soft moans and whines. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, moving you up and down faster and faster until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Fuck y/n, I need you to lay down”.

He didn’t give you time to comprehend and move the two of you, he brought one of your legs above his shoulder and thrusted into you. This new angle hitting exactly where you needed him to, your walls pulsating around his cock. Sucking him deeper and deeper.

Drew was cursing and grunting above you, watching as his cock entered your pussy. The veins on his arms protruding with each thrust, your fingernails dug half crescent moons into his shoulder blades. “Drew!” You cried out, his cock hitting your g spot. “I’m so close!” You warned him, you pulled him against your chest. Wrapping both your legs around his waist.

His nails dug into your hips as he moved faster and faster. “Let go baby, come around my cock! I want to feel your walls suck me in” he groaned, his own orgasm catching up to him.

Once again your orgasm hit you, this time you're not sure if you’ll recover. Your body shook around Drew, choking back your words of encouragement.

His body began to shake against you, his cock twitching inside of you. He squeezed you tighter, cursing into your shoulder blade. The muscles in his back flexing against your hands.

He pulled himself out of you and collapsed, his eyes closed shut. Both your chests rising and falling heavily, your bodies sweaty and warm. You turned your head to look at him, you thought he may have passed out because he didn’t move for a solid 2 minutes.

“That was fucking amazing” he finally spoke, giving you his biggest smile. You nodded your head rolling into his side. “Those were the 2 best orgasms of my life” you admitted, pressing your lips to his.

“There will be plenty more where that came from”.

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae

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caitified · 14 days ago

Note

hiii u wrote for one of my asks and i loved it sm omg!! 😭💕 another idea i had was paige x reader where it’s r first relationship and she’s nervous

first

paige bueckers x reader

warnings:none

you and paige both started as rookies at uconn, stepping onto that iconic court with nerves hidden behind your game faces. the first day, she was magnetic, flashing her smile at everyone, tossing casual winks, and making everyone feel like they’d known her forever. it was impossible not to notice her, but you tried to keep your focus on practice, convincing yourself that she was just being friendly.

until she started giving you a little extra attention.

at first, it was small things, like the way she’d nudge your shoulder and whisper comments during drills, her voice close enough to send a chill down your spine. then it escalated. she’d sit next to you in every meeting, offer to walk with you after practice, text you late at night with jokes that always made you laugh, even when you were half asleep. and then, there were her compliments—the way she’d drop them so casually, like saying you were beautiful was as natural as breathing.

but every time you felt yourself start to warm to her, you’d see her charm turned toward someone else, laughing and leaning close to one of the other girls, her signature smile in full effect. it was confusing, especially since you’d never been in a relationship before, never felt this unsure around someone. paige made you want to open up, but her flirtatious nature kept you wary.

one evening after practice, she caught up with you in the hallway, falling into step beside you. “hey,” she said, a playful edge in her tone. “i was thinking… you, me, dinner tonight?”

you hesitated, looking away as you searched for an answer that wouldn’t betray the nervous flutter in your stomach. “i don’t know, paige. i mean… you’re always flirting with everyone. i just… i don’t know if i’m comfortable with that.”

her expression softened, and she stepped in front of you, gently placing her hand on your arm. “hey, it’s not like that with you,” she said, her voice steady, eyes locked on yours. “i mean it. when i flirt with you, it’s because i really like you. it’s… different.”

her words caught you off guard, and you found yourself looking up into her eyes, feeling vulnerable but somehow safe in her gaze. “i’ve never… been in a relationship before. it’s kind of new to me.”

paige’s face softened further, and she gave a small, understanding smile. “hey, that’s okay. i don’t want to rush you. we can go as slow as you want… as long as you let me take you out, just once.”

something about her tone, the sincerity in her eyes, made you feel like maybe you could trust her. “okay,” you said softly, your heart pounding, “just… one date.”

her face lit up, and in that moment, all her usual confidence seemed to turn into pure, genuine excitement. she took your hand and gave it a quick squeeze, then let go, giving you space but looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

that night, she showed up at your door, casual yet somehow making it feel like she’d planned every detail to make you comfortable. the evening was full of laughter, her teasing just the right amount to put you at ease, her kindness wrapping around you like a warm blanket. she kept her promise, letting you set the pace, never pushing further than you were ready.

by the end of the night, as she walked you back, she paused outside your door, her hand lingering at her side. “can i… kiss you?” she asked, her voice gentle, eyes filled with hope and just a hint of nervousness.

you nodded, and as she leaned in, her lips brushed softly against yours, a kiss filled with all the unspoken promises and the feeling of something real, something worth taking a chance on.

she leaned in slowly, her breath warm against your skin as her lips brushed softly against yours. it was a gentle kiss, a tentative promise that left your heart racing and your head spinning. as she pulled back, her eyes searched yours, almost like she was waiting to make sure you were okay.

“was that… alright?” she asked softly, her hand lingering by your cheek.

you nodded, trying to catch your breath, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “yeah. it was more than alright.”

her smile grew, and she looked almost shy for a moment, a vulnerability in her gaze you hadn’t seen before. “good. i was hoping you’d say that.”

she reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you both stood there, the quiet night settling around you. it was strange—paige, the confident, flirty girl who seemed so sure of herself, was here, holding your hand and looking at you like she was just as nervous as you were. it made you feel a little braver, like maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself trust her.

over the next few weeks, she continued to surprise you. every time you started to doubt, she’d do something small but thoughtful, like leaving a snack on your locker with a little note, or waiting after practice just to walk you back to your dorm. it was those small moments, the ones no one else saw, that made you feel like maybe she was serious about this—about you.

one afternoon, you found yourself studying together in a quiet corner of the library. she was pretending to read, but you could feel her gaze on you every few minutes, watching as you flipped through your notes. finally, you looked up, catching her in the act, and she quickly looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“what?” you asked, trying to suppress a smile.

she looked back, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “i can’t help it. you look really cute when you’re focused.”

rolling your eyes, you shook your head, though you couldn’t help the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “you’re such a flirt.”

“only with you,” she said, her voice a little quieter, a hint of seriousness cutting through her usual playfulness.

those words stayed with you, lingering even after she left. the way she said it, so matter-of-fact, made you realize just how much she’d been showing you in her own way. she wasn’t just flirting for fun—she was trying to show you that she was genuinely interested, that this wasn’t just some passing thing.

a few days later, after a tough practice, you found yourselves sitting on the bleachers, watching the empty court as the last of the team trickled out. you were exhausted, sweat still clinging to your skin, but somehow, sitting there with her, it felt like you could stay forever.

“you know,” she started, her gaze fixed on the court in front of you both, “i didn’t think i’d ever feel this way about someone.”

“what way?” you asked, feeling your pulse quicken.

she took a breath, her hands fidgeting as she tried to find the right words. “like… wanting to do things right. like actually caring if i mess this up.” she looked over at you, her eyes serious. “i know i can come off as flirty, and i know that probably makes it hard to believe me. but with you… it’s different. you make me want to be better. you make me want to be… serious.”

her honesty floored you, and for the first time, you felt the last of your hesitation slip away. maybe she was still figuring things out, just like you were, but for the first time, you felt like you could trust her, like this could be something real.

taking a shaky breath, you reached over, intertwining your fingers with hers. “i want this too,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of your own words. “i just… i want to take it slow. i’ve never done this before, and i don’t want to get hurt.”

she nodded, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle, comforting gesture. “we’ll go as slow as you want,” she promised, her voice filled with warmth. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and from that moment, things between you changed. she became your person—the one who made you laugh when you felt stressed, the one who was there on your toughest days, the one who never stopped making you feel special. every time she looked at you, there was a warmth, a quiet adoration that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

one night, after a long day, she invited you over to her dorm. you sat on her bed, talking and laughing, sharing stories about family and childhood dreams. the laughter eventually faded, and the room grew quiet as she looked at you, her eyes soft and full of something deeper.

“i want you to know,” she said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “that i’ve never felt this way about anyone. you… you’re everything i didn’t know i was looking for.”

your heart pounded, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. all the doubts, all the fears, faded away in that moment. she wasn’t just flirting. she wasn’t just playing games. she was here, with you, willing to be patient, willing to make it work.

“i feel the same,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that held all the words you couldn’t say. it was gentle, slow, and full of promise, a promise that this was just the beginning of something that was real, something that felt like home.

from that night on, you and paige built something together, a connection that grew stronger with each passing day. she was still the flirty, vibrant girl everyone loved, but with you, she was something softer, more vulnerable. she let you see the parts of her that she hid from everyone else, the parts that made her real, that made her yours.

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