#<- shirt maker big thanks

[traveler-at-heart]

Game, Set, Match

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a professional tennis player, struggling to go back to the top and win the US Open. Reluctant at first, she allows a sports journalist into her life... and a bit more.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R - Ya know it, fluffy af.

A/N: I love tennis and this was basically written for me. But @canvascoloredin is also a fan and thought, ok well, let's post it, maybe someone else will enjoy :)

“Thirty all”

She’s catching up, do something.

“Forty, thirty”

“Deuce”

“Come on, Natasha” her sister yells from the box.

Advantage, Romanoff.

Game, set, match. Natasha Romanoff.

Everything that happens after is a blur. Natasha feels like she just played the final, but in reality, it’s just the first round.

“Way to go, darling” her mother compliments when she’s back in the locker rooms, but Fury is quickly behind, not holding back.

“Three sets against an amateur and you won because she got nervous and got a double fault. That’s not good” 

“I beat her, didn’t I?” Natasha averts her eyes, putting on her jacket to go to the press room.

“Barely” her trainer mumbles. 

Natasha’s heart beats fast as she sits in front of all the journalists. They were warned about the questions they could ask, but still. Natasha feels all eyes on her, judging her reaction and demeanor.

“Did you worry about losing control at the start of the third set?” a man in the front row asks.

“It was the defining moment of the game, so I felt like I had to push myself harder and control the rhythm of the match. Which obviously happened”

“How was it to go back after your break? Unlike other players, you didn’t participate in any tournaments between Wimbledon and this”

“I’ve been playing tennis all my life, really, so it doesn’t feel like a big deal to me. Just because I wasn’t playing to win titles doesn’t mean I didn’t train” 

Natasha hears Fury cough and has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Control your temper, he’s trying to say.

Well, maybe they shouldn’t ask stupid questions.

--

You’re sitting in the middle of the press room, eyes trained on Natasha. She’s looking anywhere but you. 

I guess this means she read my column.

The conference is coming to an end, so you raise your hand and the assistant points at you.

“We have time for one more” he concedes.

“That’s enough for today” Natasha shuts it down before you can ask. 

Yeah, she definitely read the article.

Natasha can’t wait to get out of there, thanking the press before sprinting out of the room. You consider following her, but a text from your boss stops you.

Go to LA Stadium, Wanda Maximoff just bageled some poor girl.

With a bit of luck, you’ll get an exclusive with Wanda.

--

The biggest crime of Shostakov

It was a Tuesday afternoon, well into the second week of Wimbledon, when the news broke out. Alexei Shostakov, retired tennis player, was arrested for fraud and tax evasion. While in custody, it was discovered Shostakov was in possession of drugs.

The famous Red Guardian, who once had won on that very same club, was now dragged away in a patrol car, stripped of his days of glory. For people who are well versed in the history of tennis, this doesn’t come as a complete shock. Shostakov was a notorious trouble maker, often breaking rackets, ripping his shirts open and getting expelled from a total of 15 matches during the entire run of his career.

No one seemed more affected by the news than his protegee and adoptive daughter, Natasha Romanoff. The favorite to win the world’s most important Grand Slam retired amid the breaking news. As a result, Wanda Maximoff’s path to the trophy was an easy one, taking the number 1 from Romanoff while she was at it.

If her career depends on Alexei’s ability to get back on his feet, Natasha Romanoff should retire now.

In her best form, Romanoff is stealthy, precise and absolutely lethal. Her movements reminisce those of a ballerina; one that gracefully dances across the court -doesn’t matter if it’s grass, clay or hard- to deliver blow after blow of brilliance. Natasha has raw talent, pure heart and an unbreakable spirit.

The biggest crime of Shostakov, is that he’s in the way of her greatness. Maybe it’s his ego or a compulsion to attach himself to a woman who has the capacity to break every record from the Open Era.

Whatever the reason, it’s clear she’s better off without him. For those of us who love this sport, and want Natasha to be the champion she was meant to be, this is an unique opportunity to watch her finally emerge from the shadows of the overbearing man.

The proverbial ball is in Romanoff’s court. In all her brilliance, the one thing Natasha rarely does is take risks.

It’s never too late to start.

--

“We’re finishing the second day of the US Open and we have some major upsets. Carol Danvers, number 3 in the world and only American in the top ten lost to Brit Peggy Carter” you say, holding the mic and looking at the camera.

“I understand there was some excitement on the man’s singles” you hear Maria say on your earpiece and you nod.

“Queens had a face off with Brooklyn today. Bucky Barnes defeated amateur Peter Parker, but get this! They played five sets, and Peter won every tiebreak. So it seems like we have some exciting new talent”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, for sure. Thanks for the report, Y/N!”

“A pleasure as usual, Maria. Greetings to everyone back on the studio” 

“And cut” Darcy, your producer says. You remove the earpiece and hand over the mic. As you turn around, you spot Natasha training. It’s obvious you’re staring when Darcy speaks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know? You wrote what a lot of people were thinking”

“Well, seems like she doesn’t wanna hear it”

“It’s fine. I mean, it would be better if we could get a quote from her or an interview but if she hates you that much we can get someone else to do it”

“Or, I could go and try to talk to her?”

“So you have a death wish!”

“Didn’t you just say I did nothing wrong?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’ll listen. I am also legally obligated to tell you that your health insurance doesn’t cover injuries caused by tennis balls. Or rackets”

“Very funny”

--

“Relax your wrist” Fury instructs once again and Natasha ignores him, as usual.

She hates the press, the interviews, the hoops she has to jump through just so she can play tennis. 

None of it is optional and she has to follow the rules, something Natasha is particularly bad at.

“If you want to move to the next round you’re gonna have to listen to me”

Does she really want to move to the next round? Is there a point to all of this? She had lost her number one ranking and people were focusing more on her private life than her career.

Fury spots you across the court and smiles. 

You nod your head towards the man and he sighs, defeated.

“Can you talk some sense into her?” 

“Can anyone?” you say and he pats you on the back, leaving the court. The sun is setting and people are going home, ready to return tomorrow to watch the next round of players. You greet Natasha but she ignores you.

“You owe me a question” you try to joke, as she keeps hitting the ball so hard you think her racket will break in half. 

“I know who you are and I’m not talking to you” 

She looks hot when she’s pissed.

You push those thoughts away.

“Natasha”

“No, you and I are not on a first name basis. Not after you wrote all that crap about me without knowing me” 

“I only spoke the truth” 

“That my career is doomed and I should retire?” she finally stops throwing balls across the court and turns to look at you.

“Oh, my God! You didn’t even read it, did you?”

“I don’t need to. I know what everyone's been saying ever since Alexei was arrested. I know he was unconventional, but he was my trainer. He was beside me through the good and bad” 

“I get it, ok? He’s your family. And your trainer. That’s never easy and I understand how it can be hard to see things objectively. But,  Natasha, you are great in spite of him, not because of him”

That makes her pause.

“Nick Fury came out of retirement to train you. That’s how talented you are!”

The redhead serves a couple of times, staying completely silent.

“I’m not talking to you” she reminds you. 

“You’re the best player out there, Natasha. And right now you’re the only thing getting in the way of your success” 

--

Morning comes and so does the next match. Natasha is looking out the window of the suite, as people come and go around the busy streets of the tennis center.

Fury steps in, immediately aware of her nervous energy. If he asks if she’s ready, she’ll probably rip his head off. So, talking about something different might be the way to go.

“Her father was also a sports journalist,” he says, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“Who?” 

“Y/N. Richard was a single parent, so he’d always bring her to the games, even as a baby. She behaved better than most people too” 

“Is he retired?” 

“Nope. Cancer. Four years ago” Fury sits in front of Natasha. “Didn’t expect her to follow his steps, but that girl really knows sports. She’s working with the local station, and also writes for Sports Illustrated”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Never hurts to have a couple of friends around,” he says, sipping from his glass.

“I’m not good at making friends” Natasha looks away.

“Yeah, I know. You’re good at tennis, so…” the man checks his watch and stands up. “Let’s kick some ass”

--

Natasha has to face Kate Bishop, currently ranked 24. Her game is the opposite of aggressive, but she’s famous for her impeccable aim. Natasha has to control the game from the start if she wants to win.

She serves first, and as she bounces the ball, preparing her stance, Fury’s words echo in her head. All the advice he has given her for the past months, advice that she has consistently ignored.

Then, as she throws the ball, her eyes meet yours. You’re sitting in the front row, leaning forward. 

In a split second, she makes a decision.

Natasha is ready to take risks.

She aims for the corner of the service box, hoping it will fall inside. Kate lunges forward, shocked at the speed of the ball.

“Ace” the umpire announces. “Fifteen love” 

Natasha sees you clapping and can hear Fury shouting “That’s it, you can do this, Romanoff”

And boy, does she deliver. Kate is running across the court. Natasha’s unforced errors are incredibly low. While the crowd usually loves long games, the redhead is a legend and they’re excited to see her prowess first hand. 

The game ends in 47 minutes, 6-3, 6-2.

Kate approaches the net and shakes Natasha’s hand.

“That was… incredible, Romanoff”

“Thank you, Kate” 

The kind words and the genuine admiration make Natasha relax instantly.

Of course, the crowd goes wild as the redhead lifts her arms, clapping and waving. 

She’s in such a good mood that she decides she’ll finally take your question. But as she enters the press room, you’re nowhere to be found. 

Still, she chats and even jokes around with the journalists present.

Once again, the entire family celebrates as if Natasha had already won the Grand Slam.

“Seestra, the crowd was going craaaazy, it was like a Taylor Swift concert” Yelena tells her excitedly as they eat. Natasha’s starving, so nervous about today that she didn’t even have breakfast.

They keep chatting, talking about strategy for the next game and wondering who will go against Natasha next. 

“Natalia, your father wants to talk to you” Melina interrupts, holding her phone.

“Why?” Natasha snaps, going back to her stoic self.

“He wants to congratulate you,” the woman insists.

“I’m not in the mood. Excuse me” she stands up, losing her appetite.

Out on the terrace, she watches people passing by, trying to think of anything else but Alexei.

Your words come back to her, and she starts to believe them.

You are great in spite of him.

“Hey, there you are!” you shout from the bottom of the stairs, waving. “Do you have a sec?”

Natasha nods, going down. 

“First of all, wow. Brava”

“You wanted something?” she rolls her eyes, but you notice she blushes lightly.

It’s quite the view, Natasha’s body covered in sweat from the physical exertion, her sculpted arms in full display.

That tennis outfit looks really good on her.

“Oh.. yeah. Do you, uh, have time to meet a fan? She’s a little girl and you’re her favorite player”

“Of course” 

“Awesome, come with me!” you take her by the hand.

Natasha tries to ignore the tingling feeling she gets as she’s dragged around the center. Some people recognise her, but you’re walking fast and they don’t have the chance to stop her for a picture.

“Hey, Ava!” you greet the little girl, who’s holding a big tennis ball and a black marker. “Natasha, meet Ava. She’s your number one fan” 

“Hi,” the girl says shyly. She’s about nine, her mother standing next to her and smiling.

“Hi, Ava. It’s so nice to meet you” Natasha greets. “How are you liking the tournament so far?” 

“Uh, it was great, and you were so awesome today!”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Would you like me to sign that?”

“Yes, please!” her arms shoot forward, anxiously. 

“What other players would you like to meet?” Natasha says, as she signs the ball.

“Maybe Peter Parker… We met Carol Danvers, Bucky Barnes and also, Wanda”

Yeah, Natasha didn’t miss the way Maximoff signed the ball. 

From the number 1 player to the number 1 fan. 

So pretentious.

“That’s nice,” Natasha says, handing the ball back.

“Alright, let’s take a picture” you pull out your phone. Natasha kneels to be closer to Ava, and then places her tennis hat on the girl’s head.

“You can have it” Natasha smiles and is surprised when she gets a very enthusiastic hug. Her mother has to practically drag her away from where you’re standing, Ava turning around every couple of steps to wave at Natasha.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say, smiling.

“It’s not a problem. I didn’t see you in today’s press conference”

“That’s because it’s my day off” you say, surprised that she noticed your absence.

“What about that thing?” she points at the badge hanging from your neck that reads Press.

“That’s how I get in for free, duh” 

“Sneaky” 

“I can be” you shrug your shoulders and then turn back to your phone. “Hey, so can I send this to your PR team for them to post it?” 

“You don’t have to” 

“Fine, I’ll post it on my feed and tag you. Alright, gotta go. Have to cheer for Bucky” you say, taking her hand one last time. “Once again, thank you. And congrats. You were fantastic”

“I owe you a question” she calls when you’re walking away.

“I’m saving it for when you win the championship” you wink and she smiles, scratching the side of her neck nervously.

Later that day, her phone is blasting with notifications.

“Almost one million likes, Natasha” Yelena shows her the picture you uploaded of her and Ava.

“Is that good or bad?” the redhead shrugs her shoulders and her sister rolls her eyes.

“You’re so uncool!” 

However, she knows enough about Instagram to find your profile, going through your feed. Most of the pictures are from different games, some hangout with friends, the most frequent ones being Barnes and a pro that plays for the Yankees, Sam Wilson.

She’s about to close the app when two things that are equally horrible happen.

First, she likes one of your pictures from two years ago.

Second, she gets a message.

OfficialWandaMaximoff: Congrats on your win today <3

--

Bucky just lost the second set and is down on the third one. You keep refreshing the feed as you wait next to other journalists for Wanda Maximoff. 

Of course she’s in the quarter finals, that’s hardly a shock. Everyone’s waiting for her to face Natasha in the finals. When it happens, you’re obviously rooting for Nat.

Speaking of which…

@SportsBrooklyn: Good luck tomorrow! 

@NatashaROfficial followed you back

@NatashaROfficial: Do you only use Instagram or can you text like a normal person?

@SportsBrooklyn: Oh, right, text you to the number I don’t have!

Wanda walks in that moment and you lock your phone. Her auburn hair is tied in a high ponytail, and she changed to her signature red windbreaker and black pants.

You’re busy taking notes when your phone pings again. To your surprise, Natasha actually gave you her phone number.

@NatashaROfficial: If you share it with anyone else I’ll choke you

@SportsBrooklyn: Kinky ;)

The press conference ends and you practically sprint out to see if you can catch the rest of Bucky’s game.

You have to settle for the screens on the Champions Bar, comforted by the fact that Bucky seems to be ahead on the third set. As soon as he wins it, you stand up, knowing the break is the perfect time to slip into the player’s box.

“I’m so sorry” you say as you crash into none other than Wanda Maximoff. She grabs your arm to steady herself, smiling to ease you.

“That’s alright. You’re in a hurry?” she says, turning at the screen. 

“A bit, yeah” 

“I wish someone as cute as you was rooting for me” she smiles, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s flirting? Oh boy. “I noticed you looking at your phone during the press conference. Barnes is a lucky guy” 

“Oh, we’re not…” 

“Here I was thinking he was smarter than that”

There’s a sense of urgency to go before the break is over, but you’re also completely confused. Why is Wanda Maximoff taking an interest in a local reporter? You’re vaguely aware that her eyes drift somewhere behind you from time to time, but before you can turn and have a look, she pulls your press badge and smiles.

“If you ever want an exclusive, just let me know, Y/N…” she reads the name from your press badge and walks away, leaving you completely confused.

--

Natasha watches the entire interaction from her small table. She needed a break so she decided to put on a hat and glasses, to get a drink without being recognised.

Wanda was all over you, giggling and looking Natasha’s way as much as she could, to let her know this was entirely to upset her.

All Natasha wanted to do was stand up and take you away from Wanda. You were too good for someone like Maximoff.

Wanda thought she was making Natasha jealous. 

She was right, but not in the way she would have wanted to.

--

“Maybe it’s time I retire” 

“You’re 28” 

“Might as well be 100 in tennis years” 

“Buck” you nudge him.

You’re looking out the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to cheer up your best friend after losing in the round of 16.

“You won the Australian Open this year” 

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. See? I’m senile” he mumbles, still grumpy.

“You did great, and you’re still in the top five, Grumpa. Ha! See what I did there?” he rolls his eyes and you smile, pulling him back to the street. “Come on, Sam is waiting for us to have some lunch” 

“Ok, but it’s on you because I’ll be broke once I retire” 

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes, looping your arms together and dragging him to your favorite dinner. Sam’s already there, chatting around with everyone that recognises him.

All eyes turn to you as he stands up and practically shouts.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Sam greets you and then slaps Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t make that face, man. You won the aussie one”

“That’s what I told him” 

Bucky takes his jacket off and orders a beer as soon as the waiter approaches you; even if it’s only noon, you let it slide.

You get a text from Darcy, asking if you’re watching the game.

Your mind instantly goes to Natasha. Did she lose? No, that can’t be. She was playing against Van Dyne, who was only there because of a wild card. You turn to one of the screens and ask the waiter to change the channel. 

“She’s winning” you say, still not understanding what Darcy meant.

“Why does she look so upset, then?” Sam points out.

Natasha is arguing with the umpire. You recognise him immediately.

“I hate that guy,” Bucky says, echoing your thoughts.

“Jarvis… something. Stone?” 

“Yeah, a total asshole. Wouldn’t give me a point I clearly won on Wimbledon because the other player was also a Brit” 

The argument ends and she keeps playing. Her forehand is killer today.

“Wow” Bucky says at the same time as you gasp.

“Man, I feel so dumb right now” Sam is looking between both of you, not knowing what caused your reaction.

“Just now? It’s more like, always” Bucky teases and Sam glares. He rolls his eyes and points at the screen. “Van Dyne hit after a double bounce. That’s not allowed. But Stone clearly doesn’t give a shit. He’s giving her the point”

“Natasha stopped playing because she saw it. He claims he didn’t so in his mind, she lost this one” you keep explaining.

“If Hope had a little bit of integrity, she’d concede the point or play it again”

“Well, she’s losing so she’ll take all the help she can get” you say. 

Natasha’s rage fuels her after this and she ends up winning, the second set a devastating 6-0.

However, the two men on the screen are being unsurprisingly critical of her. Your stomach turns when you hear the words “emotional” and “aggressive” thrown around.

Even if it’s a long shot, you try calling her. Phone’s off.

If you’re lucky, you’ll manage to see her once you get back to the stadium.

--

“Turn it off,” Natasha grumbles. Fury is watching the news in the living room. 

“I wanna see the highlights of other players. Prepare for what’s coming next. If you don’t like it, leave the room” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

After the game, Natasha did the mandatory press conference, went back to the lockers, destroyed two rackets, took a shower and then looked out the window for the better part of the day. 

She wasn’t in the mood to do anything and she didn’t want to turn on her phone. The temptation to read what the press and public had to say about her after today’s argument with the umpire was too big.

“Y/N, how are things at the US Open?” Maria Hill says. The screen splits, your image appearing on the right side.

“Exciting names on both sides for the semis. We have Thor against Banner, and T'Challa faces Namor for a spot in the semis. As for the ladies, Maximoff breezed through the match against Jean Gray”

“Well, I understand Romanoff didn’t have it so easy,” Maria says. 

From her seat, Natasha holds her breath. Yelena walks in at that exact moment, watching her sister closely.

“You know, I find it unbelievable that an umpire at the US Open could make such a poor call, not once but twice. First, with the hindrance call against Natasha and then by completely ignoring the double bounce before Van Dyne hit the ball” you say, clearly upset. “We’ve seen time and time again that some umpires are not up to the standards set by Grand Slams. And to my fellow journalists who like to throw around words like emotional, better save that energy for the men that smash their rackets just because they lost a point. As we all saw, Romanoff was in her right to demand fairness and she did it with the utmost respect” 

“Yes, I completely agree with you” Maria nods, clearly regretting even asking about it. “Well, let us chat tomorrow after we have the final for the men” 

“Of course, Maria,” you nod.

Natasha tries really hard, but she can’t help but smile at your words.

Yelena arches her eyebrows.

Well, this is interesting.

--

Natasha refuses to leave her room, arguing she’s not hungry. Melina, Yelena and Fury leave her alone, but the sudden silence becomes too much. There’s no noise to stop her thoughts from spiraling.

With a sigh, she turns on her phone. Two messages come through.

Y/N: Sorry about today. That umpire sucks :( 

Y/N: Bucky hates him too

Next thing she sees is a picture of Bucky and you holding your middle fingers to the screen with Jarvis’ face. Natasha chuckles at that.

She also zooms in, checking that your other hand is very close to Bucky’s. She feels a pang of jealousy that is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Room service” a strange voice says.

“I didn’t order any..:” she says, but finds you smiling on the other side of the door.

“Gotcha” 

“What are you doing here?” the redhead can’t help but smile. You’re wearing a black leather jacket, a white tee and skin tight jeans. She’s torn between admiring your figure and paying attention to what you say next.

“Little bird told me you were very upset and you might need a distraction” 

“I’m gonna kill Fury” 

“Not Nick. Your sister. And are we gonna find something to eat by standing here or…?”

“I’m not hungry” 

“We’re going, Natasha. Go get changed” you push past her, tired of waiting around in the hallway. She’s taken aback by your forwardness. Her mother and sister would usually let her get away with anything.

“Where are we going?” she asks, hoping you won’t go all the way to her room and pick an outfit for her.

“Something casual will do” 

She changes as fast as she can, taking her phone and some money with her. You nod approvingly and then open the door, peeking around the hallway.

“This little field trip is not Fury approved so let’s be discreet about it” you inform her, taking her hand to lead the way to the elevator.

“Oh, yeah, this is super discreet” Natasha complains as you lead her to an electrical carriage. 

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” you climb up, offering your hand. She takes and sits next to you. Natasha resists the urge to put a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean forward to give the address.

You feel her eyes on you, so you turn back, smiling and blushing lightly. 

It’s a short ride, and soon after you enter a small diner.

“Hey, Y/N” the owner greets you. “My, this must be a special occasion” she leans towards Natasha and whispers. “She’s never brought a girl over”

“Ok, Pat! Natasha is just a friend” you clarify, blushing in the process. Natasha laughs at you.

“Why? She’s pretty. You need to start dating” Pat says, leaving two menus.

“Don’t bother” you stop Natasha as she starts reading it. “She’ll bring us whatever she wants. But it will be worth it, I promise”

“Do you come here often?”

“My dad couldn’t cook if his life depended on it. But he was always good at finding the best spots to eat. So we came here all the time during the US Open and then later when Bucky started training”

Natasha nods and looks away. 

“So, you’re not dating Barnes either?” she says, looking anywhere but you. It’s embarrassing how much she cares.

“Uh.. no. He’s like a brother to me. His parents worked a lot so he’d tag along to games with us, and we grew up together” you wait until she turns to look at you. “Can I ask now?”

“Is this off the record?”

“Do you see my press badge anywhere?”

“One never knows with you people”

“Ouch, Natasha” the redhead laughs but you ask anyway. “Are you dating anyone? You’ve never been public about it”

“I’m not, no. I just don’t think I’d be able to find the balance. Between tennis and a partner. And my public and private life”

“Fair enough” you say. Pat approaches with milkshakes, cheeseburgers and fries.

“I hope you girls are hungry”

“Starving” 

“Fury’s gonna kill me” Natasha sighs, but then dips a fry in the milkshake and practically moans at the taste.

Your mouth is hanging wide open, and your teeth clash at how fast you shut it when Natasha turns to you.

“You’re right, this is worth it”

The rest of the night is spent eating and talking about everything but tennis. You learn that Natasha likes to bake in her free time, and that Yelena is taking a sabbatical before moving to New York to study at NYU.

After finishing your food, you both agree that walking back will be the best idea. 

“I’m so full” you complain as you enter through the back, too scared to be caught by Fury. Natasha walks in the opposite direction of the foyer. “Uh, what are you doing? I don’t want your coach all over my ass if you’re missing” 

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” she echoes your words from before and you have no choice but to follow her. You end up on a tennis court, balls scattered around the floor.

“Do you practice here?”

“If I can’t sleep” Natasha picks up a ball and a racket and hands it to you.

“Can I help you?”

“Play with me”

“I can’t even serve, Natasha”

“Well, would you like to learn?” she says with a smirk and you can’t resist it.

“Fine. But after that, you go back to your room”

“Stance first” Natasha instructs. She corrects your posture and movements a couple of times, inching closer until she’s whispering instructions in your ear. The last thing she does is put her hands over yours to make sure your grip is tight. “Show me what you got”

She steps away and you miss her presence instantly. Trying to remember everything she told you, you toss the ball in the air and swing a little too hard. You trip over your own feet, but Natasha moves forward and catches you before you fall.

“You ok?” she says and you nod.

“How did I do, coach?” you steady yourself, holding her close to you. Your eyes travel to her lips, and you’re both out of breath from laughing.

Neither one can tell who leans first, but the fact is that you do and you discover, with great pleasure and no surprise, that Natasha is an excellent kisser. Her lips are soft against yours and she pulls you closer by your waist.

“Is this a new way of interviewing people, Y/L/N?” 

Oh, shit.

You break apart and turn to Fury, who looks very much not impressed.

“The only cardio you’re allowed to do until this slam is over is at the gym, Romanoff. Back to your room, now” 

“I’m not a little girl you can boss around,” Natasha protests.

“Come on, you should rest. We’ll talk later” you don’t want her to start arguing with Fury, not now that she’s finally listening to him. Natasha turns to you and nods, squeezing your hand one last time before going back to the hotel.

“I don’t want her distracted,” Fury says and you nod. 

“I wasn’t trying to… I won’t get in her way, Nick. I want her to win”

“Glad we understand each other. Now go home” 

He turns to leave and you wait for a little bit, trying to calm down after a mindblowing kiss. As you’re about to leave, you spot a yellow bracelet on the ground. You’ve seen Natasha wearing one before, but you’re too scared of Fury to go back now.

Tomorrow will be a new day for all of you.

--

“Keep your leg behind the ball” Fury instructs. Natasha has been listening to every single thing he says.

Yes, she’s nervous about the semis. And Fury’s the only one that can understand the feeling or help her play better.

“I want you focused,” he says as she walks to dry her hands.

“I am”

“You know what I mean” he says and as if on cue, you walk up to the court, waving. Natasha places the racket down and approaches you. “Practice isn’t over, Romanoff!”

“Five minutes” she asks, meeting you on the edge of the court.

“Hi”

“Hi” she says back. Her eyes go down to your lips and your heart flutters.

“Uh, you left… I think this is yours” you remember to speak, showing the yellow bracelet.

“Yes, thank you. Do you mind?” Natasha extends her hand and you put it around her wrist. “Yelena gave it to me before my first match. It’s my lucky charm”

“Well, good thing I saw it”

“Maybe you’ll be my next lucky charm”

“Oh? Am I supposed to be at every game from now on?” you smile, nodding when you’re done with the bracelet.

“I really wanna kiss you” Natasha blurts out and you blush. “But…”

“There are people watching and Fury doesn’t look happy either”

“He never does. Can I call you later?”

“Yes, you definitely can”

You want to kiss her so bad, damn it.

“Come on, go back, before Fury kicks me out of the court”

Natasha nods, squeezing your hand gently.

The way Natasha looks at you makes you all kinds of flustered, so you leave in a hurry before your desire takes over and you end up kissing her in front of all these people.

Once again, you run into Wanda Maximoff, only this time she doesn’t smile at all.

“She’s quite the player, right?” she says with a cold voice, her accent a bit thicker.

“Uh- yes. Natasha is a very talented pro”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant” she takes a step forward and looks you up and down. “Natasha likes to fuck around. But she always comes back to me”

“You’re… together?” your heart drops. Natasha wouldn’t lie to you about this.

Would she?

“Look, of course she wants to get distracted and she’ll use anyone that is dumb enough to fall for it. But don’t forget, she and I have history. And that’s stronger than whatever it is you think you have with Natasha”

No one is around to save you from this horrible conversation. You don’t want to argue with Wanda, because you’re still a journalist and it’s your job to be on the players’ good side.

But the reckless part of you wants to tell her to fuck off.

You sigh and look down. Wanda takes this as a sign of defeat and smiles, leaving you standing there.

It takes a minute for you to snap out of it, and you look around, desperate to walk away from everything that just happened.

—

“You’re seriously telling me you know nothing?” you ask Bucky for the tenth time.

“I don’t pay attention to rumors” he shrugs his shoulders, and you roll your eyes at him.

He’s sitting on your couch, the movie long forgotten. You nudge him with your foot and glare.

“Your best friend is a journalist, you should know better. You’re my insider into this crap”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m just not on the loop of who dates who on the women’s side. But I am not surprised Wanda scared you. Heard she can be batshit crazy”

“She didn’t scare me” you mumble. The both of you sit in silence for a while, until your phones ping simultaneuosly.

Thankfully, it’s not Nat. Right now, you don’t even know what to say to her.

“Sam. Probably to brag about his date in that fancy restaurant” Bucky tells you, but his eyes widen as he reads the message. “Wow. You need to look at this”

He hands you the phone and you read the conversation. It’s your group chat and Sam just sent a picture of Jarvis Stone, who is having dinner with none other than Wanda Maximoff.

“What the actual fu…”

“So that’s why he was being a dick to Natasha” Bucky says. “You’re not telling her about this, are you?”

“No, of course not. She has the semis tomorrow and I don’t want to distract her”

You look at your phone and press send before you chicken out.

Y/N: Can we talk tomorrow?

YBelova: Sure

—

You’re waiting by the entrance to Arthur Ashe, looking around.  Even if Maximoff’s match is later, you are still dreading to spot Wanda.

“Hey” Yelena says and you jump like a coward. “Wow, relax, it’s me”

“I’m sorry to be meeting you like this. I didn’t want to bother Natasha, especially today… she has enough on her plate”

“It’s ok, you can trust me”

“I know I can… it’s not easy to ask this, but do you know if Wanda and Natasha had a… thing? Like a relationship”

“Are you asking as a journalist?” the blonde says, clearly on edge.

“No, it’s not like that! Natasha and I… we kissed. And then Wanda told me yesterday that Natasha is just fooling around because she always comes back to her… and that’s weird but then a friend sent me this. It’s from last night”

“That’s the umpire that was a jerk to Tasha” Yelena takes your phone, looking at it in desbelief. “That bitch is still pulling this shit”

“If it had been only about us, I would have waited until Natasha finished her match. But it seems to me, like Wanda is trying to play dirty here”

Yelena sighs and hands the phone back. She looks around and steps closer, lowering her voice.

“Yes, they dated. Kept it a secret. It was on and off, especially when they were playing against each other. Wanda didn’t like to lose and then, after a while, she began to mess around with Nat. She would have a fight with her before a big match, even if they weren’t playing each other. Made Natasha lose her cool and struggle. They really haven’t spoken since the AO”

“What do we do? I don’t want her to mess with Natasha. I won’t let Wanda get in her way”

“I’ll speak to Fury about this. He knows everything. I’ll let you know what he says”

“Didn’t know you two were friends now”

A voice calls from behind you.

“Seestra, hey!” Yelena steps forward to give you time to recover. “Y/N was just telling me about her time at NYU”

“Is that so?” the redhead looks between you two and you nod.

She stills makes you nervous and flustered.

“Alright, my presence is no longer required” Yelena complains, but still gives you a meaningful look as she walks away.

“I have to warm up, will you stay for the game?” she asks, stepping closer.

“Yes, of course I will. I’ll be screaming your name” you blurt out and then blush. “I mean, rooting for you. Didn’t mean it to sound like that”

“Sounds good to me” she says, coming closer. “Can I have a good luck kiss?”

You look at her smile, her beautiful green eyes. Think about all the times she’s been kind and funny and brave. And you also think about how someone played with her heart just for a stupid title.

So you nod and lean forward, kissing her gently.

Natasha deserves to win, not only because she’s the better player. She’s the better person.

“Go win this thing” you say against her lips and she smiles, pecking your lips one last time.

—

Natasha’s win is not a surprise to you, considering the level of her recent games. You still have to stick around for the Maximoff match, opting to stay far away from the press room once she wins.

So, it’s down to the two of them in the final.

You’ve never wished for Natasha to win something so much until today.

Work keeps you busy enough. Both of the men’s semis take a combined time of eight hours and you end up completely exhausted, seriously considering just sleeping in one of the locker rooms.

You haven’t heard from Natasha but it’s understandable. She’s playing for the championship tomorrow, and knowing Fury, he will be preparing her in every way possible.

As you get a cup of coffee from one of the last stands open, your phone pings again.

Natasha: Are you still here?

Y/N: Yes :(

Natasha: Meet me in court 17?

Y/N: Yes :)

When you finally get there, you find Natasha serving a couple of times, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Is Fury ok with you staying up so late?”

“I did everything he said today. I think I deserve this one thing” she smiles, walking towards you. “You look a bit tired”

“Jeez, thanks”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, Yelena is right, I have no game off court”

You laugh at that, taking her hands in yours.

“It’s fine, I was just teasing you” you say, looking as her eyes drift towards your lips. You both lean forward, sharing a kiss.

“Thank you” Natasha says.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“I don’t mean the kiss, no. Thank you for telling Yelena that thing about… Wanda”

“Oh”

Natasha walks with you to one of the chairs and you sit together.

“I haven’t spoken to her in months. And I don’t want to be with her. I need you to know that”

“But still… you said you’re not sure you want a relationship, right? It would be too much trouble”

“I think it might be worth the effort for you” she confesses and you smile.

“You do have game”

“I do?”

“Tiny bit. We’ll work on it”

She laughs, and you sit in silence for a moment.

“I made my debut in this court”

“I know”

“How…?”

You sigh. Since you’re sharing stories…

“After my dad died, I kinda took distance from the things we did together. That included all kinds of sports. It was a painful reminder. And then, as the USO was starting, I realised he had already bought our tickets. So I came here, walked around a bit. And then I saw you”

Natasha smiles, squeezing your hand.

“Your hair was shorter, and you were wearing a weird orange top with green shorts” you frown as you remember how awful it looked.

“My mom chose it for me!” the redhead buries her face in her hands and you laugh. You take them in yours as you continue the story.

“You were amazing that day. Controlled, precise… I forgot for a little while about how sad I was. And after you won, I came back everyday to watch you play”

“Thank you for telling me that. I wish I could have known your father”

“I would have liked that too”

There’s silence as you both think about your own journies, the things that brought you to this moment.

“Come on, we should go. You need your rest” you stand up, offering your hand to Natasha. She thinks for a moment before taking it, but instead of standing up she pulls you down until you’re sitting on her lap, your legs around her.

“Nat?” you gulp, blushing at how close you are.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop” she whispers, kissing your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Holy shit, no, don’t stop” you plead, tangling your fingers in her red hair.

“Locker room?”

“Lead the way” you kiss her frantically, hoping no one sees you.

Once you arrive there, Natasha smiles and your heart stops for a second.

“Ready to scream my name?”

—

There’s warmth. And a nice pressure. Some tingling on your back. Like a soft touch.

You open your eyes in an unknown room, trying to remember where you are. As you turn around you find Natasha fast asleep, her arm around your middle.

“Nat?” you call for her, hoping no one walks in any time soon.

“Five more minutes” she mumbles against your skin.

“Nat, wake up” you plead.

As it turns out, she only reacts when Yelena kicks the door, walking in on you naked under the sheets.

“Happy finals day seestra—-ah! Naked”

“Yelena what is wrong?” to your horror, Melina joins her daughter. “Oh, you two lovebirds!”

“WHY DOESNT ANYONE KNOCK HERE” Natasha screams, putting the sheets above her head.

“Sorry”  Melina says, dragging away Yelena.

“Yeah, sorry” Yelena echoes, sounding anything but.

As you both get dressed, the memories of last night come back to you.

After your rendezvous -and almost getting caught by security- you decided it would be better to continue elsewhere. You blush as images of Natasha moaning, kissing and pleasuring you also come back.

“Hey” she approaches you as you walk to the door. “You ok? You look a little…”

“Flustered?” you say, trying to hide your blush.

“Well, yes. I’m sorry about them walking in”

“Last night was… amazing”

“Yeah?” she circles your waist with her hands and pulls you closer. “How amazing?”

“Like winning all Grand Slams in the same year kind of amazing” your hands go around her neck and you pull her for a kiss.

“Wow, that’s big talk” Natasha comments agains your lips. And as she’s about to kiss you, Fury walks in.

“Romanoff! What did I tell you about that cardio”

“For the love of God, knock!” Natasha says, defeated.

“Don’t worry, Fury, I promise she was laying down for the most part” you wink at the man.

“Stay for breakfast” Melina invites as she’s setting the suite’s table with all the room service.

“This has been sufficiently awkward, thank you. And I also imagine you have stuff to do”

“You need to stay hydrated. How much liquid did you lose?” Fury says, going around the kitchen like a headless chicken.

“Fury, I haven’t seen her this relaxed in months. My sister will be fine” Yelena comments.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“Of course. I’m on press duty”

“Come to the player’s box” Melina says.

“Would that be wise?” you ask and everyone shares a look. “What I mean is, we want to make Wanda think her plan worked, right? If she sees me there she’ll know we are on to her”

“I don’t care what she thinks. I want you there” Natasha takes your hand and you smile.

“Alright. I’ll be there. See you later” you kiss her cheek and smile.

“Byeee” Melina and Yelena say, and you realise that Natasha will have to deal with their questions.

Well, if she can deal with the press, she can deal with her family.

—

The day goes by in a blur, and as the match approaches, you feel more anxious. God, how does Natasha do this? If it were you with the world watching, you’d probably break down the minute you step into the court.

“Hello there” Yelena greets as you meet at the player’s entrance of Arthur Ashe.  “Ever been here?”

“Just once, with Bucky”

It’s hard to forget the luxurious facilities where players can get food, special gifts, some physio or workout before their matches.

“He won last year, right?”

“Yes” you smile at the memory. “How is Natasha doing?”

“She’s done with warmup, she had something light to eat and she seems ready. She’s also been smiling like an idiot all day, even if Fury kept her away from her phone”

“I want her to win, so whatever it takes” you smile at the blonde, and follow her to the lounge, where Natasha is waiting with Melina. The redhead smiles as soon as she spots you and you kiss her on the cheek.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a complete wreck”

“You got this. Remember she prefers short games, she also doesn’t like to volley or come close to the net. And people say her forehand is killer but she goes too far behind her back, so use it against her”

“Y/N?” she interrupts your rambling. “All of that is fine advice, but I already have Nick on my back 24/7”

“Right, sorry”

“You know what he doesn’t provide?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck kisses”

“That’s right, it’s above my paygrade” Fury says. “Say your goodbyes now”

Melina and Yelena hug her, Fury squeezes her shoulder and then they give you some space.

“Go win this thing” you say, leaning forward and kissing her softly.

Natasha leans her forehead against yours and smiles.

She’s ready.

—

Natasha comes out first, and the crowd goes wild.

Wanda is close behind her; you catch her staring at you, clearly shocked that you’re next to Nat’s family.

“Who’s losing focus now?” Yelena says with a cheerful voice and you can’t help but smile.

The game begins and it is very clear that Natasha is playing aggressively. She has an ace on every game and there are hardly any break points for Wanda. It’s been 30 minutes and the score is 5-2.

“She’s cooked,” Fury says, looking at Wanda. You shake your head.

“Maximoff has an insane record after losing the first set, you know that”

And in fact, she does lose the first set. As always, the crowd loves to cheer on the underdog, so they go wild when Wanda wins the first two games of the second set.

“Come on, Tasha” you scream, and she looks your way, smiling. In no time, they’re tied.

“What are the odds on a tiebreak?” Yelena asks.

“It can go either way” you sigh, confirming that it will happen as they reach 6-6.

Natasha is playing fast and hard, giving no time for Wanda to recover.

But as she serves for the match, Wanda challenges the call in the most disruptive way possible.

It was in, but since Nat stopped playing the point goes to Wanda.

“That’s bullshit” Yelena says under her breath and you nod.

Sure enough, Natasha zones out and goes from match point to losing the second set.

“Dear Lord” Fury says, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Maximoff looks exhausted, Nick. Natasha is doing great. She didn’t give away the second set. She’ll do this”

The third set begins, the first four games a close call. Deuce is called when they’re tied at 2, and you know that whoever wins this point will end up winning the match.

Every time Wanda has an advantage, Natasha comes back and breaks. Even when the Sokovian is serving, it doesn’t stop Natasha from pulling her back to 40-40. The Russian is a wall, and Wanda seems to lose hope as time passes.

And then, it happens.

Wanda has a double fault that gives Natasha the advantage. Followed by a double fault that gives her a break.

“Yes” Fury claps, trying to keep it together.

As the score approaches 5, your heart beats faster. Once again, 5-2.

Natasha serving for the match.

An ace.

The crowd goes wild.

The second ball goes out of the court when Wanda hits it.

Then, a double fault.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s 30-15 and then 30-30. All Natasha needs are two more points to win.

She searches for your face in the crowd and you smile, nodding.

“You’re going to win” you say and she smiles.

Another ace.

The screens show the “championship point” sign.

Wanda doesn’t make it easy for her. She’s like a wounded animal that has nothing to lose, so she runs, she answers every throw with a groan, she comes to the net.

But when Natasha does her signature dropshot, Wanda tries to run, reaches too late and the ball bounces one, two, three times.

“Game, set, match, Romanoff”

“Fuck, YEEES” Yelena screams, standing up and cheering.

It’s all a blur, Natasha falling to the ground and covering her face. Walking to the net to shake Wanda’s hand, and then  the umpire’s.

After, she walks among the crowd, trying to reach her box. Yelena is the first to jump, their mother hugging them both and crying.

Fury looks like he’s about to cry as Natasha hugs him. You’re certainly crying happy tears as you watch them.

And then, she walks past him and picks you up from the ground, kissing you in front of the entire stadium.

“Congrats, Nat” you say against her lips.

“I’ll be right back” she promises when the security guard asks her to come back for the ceremony.

“You owe me a question”

“Save it for the next championship” she says against your lips and you kiss again, in spite of the guard’s insistence and with the crowd cheering you on.

—

It’s been six more slam titles, two years of tours around the world.

Natasha still owes you a question.

You’re saving it for a time when you’re both ready, and you’ll ask her to marry you.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff fic #Natasha Romanoff x you fluff

[ghouljams]

Could we see Konig being real stalker- cough cough I mean devoted?

This is not good, the ideas I'm cooking up... At least Ghost gets to see Goose every day, lets keep that in mind. Also let's keep in mind that the nasty boy was retired for being too good at his job...

You tug your front door open because you're half sure you heard a knock. It was hesitant, and soft enough you could ignore it --something you're tempted to do given the sun is barely up-- but it doesn't hurt to check.

"Oh! König," You smile up at him, doing your best to look more awake than you feel. Still, you can't help rubbing some of the sleep out of your eyes. You note he's wearing his bandana again.

"Good morning Schatz, did I wake you?" His eyes dart over you with concern. You cross your arms tugging your flannel a little tighter over your slip, giving yourself some added protection from the morning bugs. You shake your head, like a liar.

"Nope, all good. What can I do for ya'?"

"My-" He drags the word out, looking over your head and into your house, "-coffee maker is broken," He nods a little, you stifle a yawn, "und I was wondering if you had any to spare?"

You nod and wave him into your home, hearing him shut the door nicely behind him and then silence. You glance over your shoulder to tell him to follow you, but he is. He's just... silent. You didn't know guys that big could sound like anything but giants, you sort your focus back to your coffee maker in the kitchen.

"Might take a few minutes, I was gonna make breakfast. You want anything?" You pop open the top of your coffee maker to dump grounds in, trying to think through what you've got in the fridge. Do you even have enough to feed this guy?

"That's very kind, thank you," König hums glancing around your kitchen, "Is there anything I can do to help? I'm not very handy in the kitchen, but maybe..."

You hum, watching the water fill your coffee pot before shutting the sink off. Actually you could use his height on a few things. "I've got a light out in the living room, if you'd wanna replace that? Save me getting the step stool."

You are so sweet, so soft, so trusting, made for all the things König wishes he was made for. You were so cute standing in your doorway, tired eyed, hair still messy from sleep, just a slip and an oversized shirt between you and him. That should be his shirt you're wearing. He'll find a way to get you one.

He flips a switch on the box on his kitchen table, and hears static crackle before the air waves pop into the right channel. This is just precautionary, he tells himself, just because you're a woman alone in the middle of nowhere. It's really for your safety, and he won't ever turn it on after this.

Your voice filters through the receiver's speakers singing along to some song he doesn't know. He settles heavy on his kitchen chair, folding his arms on the table to rest his head on them. You sound so pretty, like you're singing just for him. What's one bug? One bug is nothing, he thinks watching the blinking light on the receiver, you probably wouldn't even mind if you knew.

#I really wanted the coboys to be mostly sweet fluff but honestly the 141 has that covered #let the nasty boy be nasty he loves it #He does have to turn the radio off when his darling starts loudly swearing because he can't stop laughing #he's cute and i am mentally unwell but so are u for asking this #cowboy!König #könig x you #könig modern warfare #könig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #tw stalking #he's not gonna be dangerous about it tho #cute stalking

[amaramizuki666]

Dp x DC crossover

Ok so deaged danny plus bad parents jack and maddie. In Gotham. Here is my take. So sam invited danny and tucker to tag along to a gala with her because while the Fenton parents didnt try and hurt danny when he came out of the ghost closet, she didnt want to leave him with them for 3 weeks alone. So they go and guess who is also there, vlad.

Vlad cornered danny and used a relec he took from the ghost zone. He was told it would make danny more susceptible to suggestion. But instead it deaged him to a 8 years old.

Vlad thought he could work with this and tryed to grab danny. But danny bit him and bolted, Vlad chased after him. Danny ended up running into one Richard 'dick' grayson, known to the public as dear ol richie.

Dick would look at him and be like "you ok kiddo did you loose your parents?" Snd before 8 y/o Danny could reply vlad would show up and put his hand on Danny's shoulder to keep him in place like "sorry young wayne this boy is mine, he is quite the truble maker. Now Daniel and I must be heading home, come Daniel".

Danny looks up to dick with tears welling up in his big ice blue eyes and wails "please help this creepy man wont leave me alone". Dick looks at masters with a blank face "mister masters, I dont belive you have a child" he says in a cold polite voice.

Danny shrugs off vlads grip and runs over to dick and hides behind him. "L..look I assure you he is mine, he just wants attention" vlad trys to say but dick is having none of it, vlad is rubbing him the wrong way. "Please dont belive him he isnt my dad, hes really creepy and a frootloop" danny cried clutching onto the back of dicks shirt.

"Mister master I'm gonna have to ask you to leave" dick says coldly standing protectively in front of danny when vlad takes a step closer. Danny sticks his head out from behind dick "you heard him be gone frootloop" he says sticking out his toung. Vlad takes his leave all huffy.

Dick turns and kneels down to Danny's level "you ok kid?" He asks and danny wiles away his (crocodile) tears "yeah thanks for scareing off the frootloop" he says smiling. Dick looks down at the black haird blue eyed child "sooooo where are your parents" he asks. "Um at home" danny says "and who are you here with?" Dick asks "my freinds" danny says happily.

"And your freinds parents?" He asks "at home" danny says. Dick thinks there are more small children running around the gala unattended now. "And your parents are ok with you being here?" Dick asks "they probably havent even noticed I left" danny says. Dick sighs in concerned big brother. He feels the need to pull a bat and get the kids parents.

Jeez if dick ends up pulling a bruce his siblings would never live it down. "Come on kid let's find your freinds yeah".

#writing prompt #writing #danny phantom #dialogue prompt #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc #dc comics #batfam #my writing #dick grayson #vlad plasmius

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I woke up on the weird side of the bed today so, yeah. I don't usually write like this. But change is the spice of life, right? I read this as many times as I could to make sure I got everything. If I missed anything that should say "he", "him" or "Mikey", please let me know! I initially didn't know who I was going to make this about and I may not have caught all of those things. Thanks!!

C/W ::: Mikey (Tok_Rev) x F.reader/roommate, language, pillow licking & sniffing, dirty day-old boxer fucking, masturbation, lip biting (vvv brief mention of blood), oral F->M & M->F, quick deepthroating, anal, fingers->ass, names: slut, whore, little fuck, pet names: good girl, F->begging, "gonna punish you again if you ...", overuse of italics

WC ::: 2,100 (ish)

You walk out of your room, sleep still heavy in your eyes. Mikey is in the kitchen, pouring himself a 2nd cup of coffee. "Hey," you say releasing a big yawn, "pour me one? Please?"

He looks up and smiles at you, taking in your cute, soft body stretching the material of your worn old band shirt. The writing on the front is so illegible that you can't even see who the hell the band was to begin with. It hugs you perfectly, they think.

"Sure." He reaches out to the shelf in front of him and pulls down a cup to fill for you. You're already pulling the creamer from the fridge, probably giving them a fair view of your ass in your cute little panties. If they were looking, that is.

But there's no shame between roommates, no. You're both mature adults who can maintain a platonic relationship with one another.

"Thanks," is all you say as you stir the milky white flavoring into the dark liquid. You take a sip and wince at how hot it is against your tongue. "Fuck, is that a new coffee maker? It's hot as shit. Could have warned me, man."

You start heading back to your room, but then stop. "What uh, what time will you be home today?" It's a seemingly innocuous question. Though it strikes Mikey as odd. You never really ask when he'll be home.

"Why? You gonna have a big party while I'm out?" He jokes.

Blinking at them with a blank stare you fake a laugh. "Ha, yeah. You know me. I'm a party animal. Anyway, when?"

Mikey narrows his eyes, "I dunno. Around 5? Same as always. I gotta run. I'll see you." Hes pick up his backpack and coffee and heads out the door. You hear his bike start and pull out onto the street until it gets so quiet you can no longer could make out its rumble.

Glancing at the clock on the wall above the kitchen table, it's 7:40 AM. You have all day before he comes home. Finishing your coffee, you walk down the hallway and stand in front of his door.

There is a voice screaming in your head about how you need to stop doing this. How it's a complete violation of Mikey's privacy - and not to mention, just pretty fucking disgusting. But you can't.

You can't stop climbing into his bed after he leaves for the day. You can't stop burying your face in his pillow while you rub yourself on his most recently worn pair of boxers. Mikey's scent has far exceeded intoxicating to you by this point. And though you can't even remember how long you've been doing this, you do know that it's been happening for too fucking long.

Lately, you've even caught yourself slipping up. Talking about something you saw in his room that you don't think you were even supposed to be aware of.

There's not a doubt in your mind, you need to stop. But first, you need to be more careful.

However, today is not that day. You turn the knob on his door and help yourself to the bed as if it were your very own. His room still smells of that heavy sleep smell. Morning breath and man sweat and BO. And it doesn't turn you off like it probably should. Nah, it turns you on in the sickest way.

You pull the blanket back and see the outline of his body imprinted on the sheets. It's still warm from when he was there not so long ago. You take your clothes off and lay there, imagining him. Imagining that he is still here, in bed with you. That he is holding you and that he wants to fuck you just as badly as you want to fuck him and not his stuff.

You grab his pillow and shove your nose into it, taking in his scent as close to the source as you could get without swallowing him whole. There's a little splop of drool on his dark gray pillowcase and you lick at it. Anything at this point to have a piece of him inside of you.

You begin to rub your clit. It's already wet and thrumming at the thought of him. Of his smell in your nose, his spit on your tongue. You keen as you get yourself closer and closer to cumming. You can feel it building in your belly, you're getting so close.

Your breaths are coming quicker, your tits are jiggling as you bounce yourself around on your fingers - that will never measure up to what his cock would feel like being fucked into your cunt. You bite your lip and you taste blood, but you don't care.

You cum hard, harder than you have in months. You're moaning his name over and over and over, wishing he was here to fuck you like you want him to. Like you NEED him to.

And you hear the front door as it opens. You hear Mikey's voice call out to you and it all comes crashing down.

"Hey, I forgot something, just ran back to gr-" he says, until he walks into his bedroom. "Y/n, what ... the ... fuck ... are you ... doing?"

You scramble to cover yourself as you try to make up some excuse for why you were in here. But it's too late. You know it is.

"You sick, sick, little fuck."

"I - I - I - I ..." you stutter out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"The actual fuck do you think you're doing in here? In my bed." Mikey looks at what's between your legs, "and my boxers?"

You get up, pulling on your clothes as quickly as you can. Your hands are shaking and your heart is racing. You don't know what to say or do, so you just leave.

You walk passed him, to go, you feel a hand come down on your ass. "You fucked up, big time. And now? You're gonna fuckin' fix it." He gestures for you to go back to their bed. "Go on. Slut."

You do as you're told, hoping he won't kill you after what you'd just been caught doing. And as you watch Mikey take his clothes off, you realize that this might not be going the way you expected it to. But it might be easier if he did just kill you.

"Knees." He orders.

"What?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Fucking. Knees."

You obey and drop to your knees, your face level with his dick. "Suck."

Without saying a word, he opens your mouth and shoves himself in. Mikey grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward, making you gag. And he doesn't care. You deserve it for being such a little slut.

He fucks your mouth, thrusting his hips into your face, slapping his balls against your chin, until he pushes you off. "Up."

You do as you're told. "Face the bed. Bend over."

Again, you do as you're told. You feel him spread your ass and rub his cock against you. You can feel it pulsing between your cheeks. "Please. Please ..." You say softly.

"You don't deserve mercy, you little whore. Unless you're begging for something else? What'd you have in mind, hm? You gonna make this up to me? You fucking pervert."

You can't see it, but Mikey is smiling at your exposed cunt. It's dripping wet and begging to be filled. He spit on his hand and rubbed it on his dick before spitting on his fingers and rubbing it around your asshole.

He pushes two fingers into you, slowly, while rubbing your clit with his other hand. Mikey pumps his fingers in and out of you, stretching you open. You moan and whimper at the feeling of fingers inside of you, at the sensation of being touched like this.

"Fuck me, please. Fuck me. I want to feel you inside of me. I've wanted it for so long." You whimper. You sound so pitiful but can't help yourself.

Mikey laughs at how pathetic you sound. He pulls his fingers out and spreads your ass again. "Beg for it. Beg ... for my cock, slut."

You feel him press the head of his dick against your hole. It's throbbing and you're about ready to explode. "Please! Please fuck me!"

Mikey eases his cock into you slowly. You gasp at the feeling of it stretching you open. It hurts ... but it's so fucking good. He thrusts into you hard and fast, filling you up and fucking you like the little whore you both know you are.

Mikey grunts and moans as he pounds your ass. You can feel him getting close as he pulls out of you and cums all over your back. It drips down between your cheeks and onto the floor. "If you were a good girl, I'd have cum inside of you. But here we are," he whispered against your skin.

He smacks your ass and you feel his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Turn around. Lay down."

You do as you're told and lay down on your back. He climbs on top of you and straddles your hips. "Open." Mikey says, grabbing your jaw.

He spits on your tongue, "Swallow."

You swallow his spit. "Good girl. Now, let's see, ultimately, just how good you can be."

He grabs your tits and squeezes them, pinching your nipples and pulling on them, assaulting your chest, leaving marks and bruises. You moan and arch your back, loving the feeling of his weight on you. The attention he's finally giving you.

Mikey kisses and licks and bites his way down to your pussy and buries his face between your legs. His tongue wandered around on your clit and he put a finger in your pussy, making you squirm.

He pulled back and smiled, "You like that? Don't you, you little slut?"

You nod your head and whimper, "Yes."

Chuckling, he spits on your clit and rubs it with the pad of his thumb. He starts lapping at your cunt so feverishly that it sounds like a dog drinking water from a bowl. Licking and sucking and biting at your clit so dedicatedly that you feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm.

"Please, please, please let me cum. Let me cum," you beg him.

Mikey looks up at you, his face soaked from your juices, "You want to cum? You want me ... to make you cum?"

You nod your head furiously, "Yes, yes, yes."

"Did you not? Earlier, I mean. Because your pussy was pretty fucking wet when I walked in."

You whimper and shake your head, "No, not like this. Not with you."

He smiles, "You're such a little fuck, you know that?"

You furrow your brow as he starts to rub your clit again. He sucks on your tits, making you writhe beneath him. He's biting and nipping at your sensitive skin. It's the most exquisite pain you've ever felt.

"Do you want to cum now, baby girl?" He asks, as he rubs your clit, harder and faster. Faster and harder.

You moan and nod your head, "Y-yeh-hess, please! Please, please."

He smirks at you and stops touching you all at once. "You gonna stop breakin' into my room and fuckin' my dirty clothes?"

The question caught you off guard. Fucking his day-old boxers was the furthest thing from your mind right now. "Wh-wha -"

He starts in rubbing your clit again, even faster and harder than before, "I asked you a fucking question."

"Yes! Yes, I'll stop! I'll ... I promise to stop, Mikey."

He smiles at you and keeps rubbing your clit until you feel that warm, bubbling feeling in your stomach again. "Cum for me, baby girl."

You twist and turn beneath him as you cum. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he keeps rubbing you until you feel like you can't take it anymore.

As you come down, he looks at you and gives you a sly smile. "Good. You wanna be a good girl for me, huh?"

You nod your head. "Yes. Yes. Yes ... I'll be so good for you."

Mikey chuckles, "You better be. Or else."

He gives you a long kiss on the forehead and stands up. "I'm going back to work. Don't do anything stupid. I'll be home in a few hours."

You lay there, naked and spent, unable to even think about doing anything but sleep. "Yes, sir." You say softly.

Mikey walks out of his room and goes back to work, leaving you in a state of blissful exhaustion.

"Wait," you call out, "what if I can't be good for you? What if I just ... can't stop?"

He turns and looks at you, a calm look on his sweet face. "Well, I guess you'll just have to learn your lesson all over again, won't you?"

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @viburnt

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #tokrev #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey tokrev #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #manjiro x y/n #tokyo revengers smut #tok rev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader

[somewhatclear]

something that would always be around

logue & vesta | 2k words

Logue didn’t feel much of a grown-up, when he had spent all day making a doll of his own brother because he was lonely.

a while ago, the lovely nubstarion came up with the headcanon that logue was the one making the little stib doll you can see on staeve's character sheet, and this is me running with it.

hope you enjoy my take on this bit of backstory for the brimstone siblings (posted with @velnna's permission ♥ as always, thank you!)

Edit: according to word of god ™️the brothers are about 13 and 17 here Edit 2 electric boogaloo: you can read it on ao3 now

He'd been putting the last stitches in the back of his Little Big Brother’s neck, to better secure his head to his body, when Logue’s actual big brother’s voice piped up from nowhere, startling him half to death.

“What have you got there, chickie?”

Nita often scolded him for being loud and attracting too much attention, but Vesta could be very silent when he wanted to be. He just didn't care to. Their sister sometimes didn't see that, but Logue did. He saw everything.

Well, almost everything. He hadn’t seen Vesta creeping from the side, just then.

Logue’s hand slipped. The needle went through his fingertip, and a tiny drop of blood welled up to the surface of his skin. He quickly lifted it out of the way and into his mouth — it didn't hurt, but he didn't want it to stain Little Big Brother. Not after all the effort he'd put in making him.

“Oh, shit.” Vesta was quick to crouch in front of him and grab his wrist, to check the damage. “Are you hurt? Let me see.”

Logue shook his head. He’d pricked himself a million times, it was fine.

“Are you sure?” Vesta grinned. “Don’t you want me to kiss it better?”

Logue rolled his eyes. 

Vesta snickered, raised his hands in mock-defeat. “Alright, alright, I know you’re all grown-up and crap now.”

Hearing those words made Logue wince. He didn’t feel much of a grown-up, when he had spent all day making a doll of his own brother because he was lonely. Abruptly self-conscious, he shifted the his little project off his lap, hoping Vesta wouldn’t—

“So, what have you been up to? You've been hiding down here forever.”

Logue sighed. Better get it over with.

He pulled the doll back onto his knees, finished to stab the last couple stitches in the fabric, secured the thread with a double knot and severed the excess with his teeth. Then he shoved it at Vesta, making a show of tidying up his sewing supplies while he waited for his brother’s reaction with trepidation.

Vesta was silent for an eternity, turning the toy over in his hands. 

“This is really well made,” he praised, quiet and careful.

Despite the embarrassment, a warm bubble of pride swelled in Logue’s chest. It didn’t look like much, but it had taken him a lot of time to put the thing together, from stealing the right fabrics and thread, to figuring out how to piece the parts together. He was glad he could always trust his brother to recognize his efforts.

“The little fella looks kind of familiar,” Vesta pointed out, raising the doll next to his face. The resemblance wasn't particularly uncanny; that hadn't been the goal and Logue wasn't that skilled a toy maker. But the colours were right, and the little bits of silvery thread he'd embroidered on its pointy little ears were the same number as Vesta's new earrings.

It definitely was a Little Big Brother, right there.

“I don't see it,” Logue quipped, very seriously. “His shirt is clean. Doesn't have holes. And he's more handsome.”

“You little—”

Vesta jumped him. Logue snickered as he got pinned down and playfully roughed up, then let out an actual shriek of laughter when his brother’s hands found their cold way under the hem of his shirt. He tried to swat them away from his vulnerable sides but Vesta always was a cheating cheater who cheated, and kept blowing raspberries onto the ticklish spots on his neck. Fits of twitching giggles made Logue’s legs into jelly.

They weren’t little kids anymore. Logue should have gotten angry at Vesta for still treating him like a baby, but he didn’t. He couldn't.

He'd been so excited when Nita had sent him on a supply run—he’d been looking forward to it. Finally, they thought he could take care of himself. They thought he could be trusted with the important stuff. He'd done so well the first time, Nita actually said she regretted not giving him things to do much earlier, and Logue could swear he’d grown taller by a handspan out of sheer, smug vindication.

He had always known he could do it; but he hadn't expected how miserable a time he was going to have, out there. He always excelled at sneaking around, at not being seen, not being heard. That had been his job, when he'd tagged along Vesta.

As soon as he stepped out of the shadows, his tongue tied itself up, and people looked at him, and he wished his brother was there.

If wishes were horses.

“Stop!” Logue wheezed, pretending he couldn't easily knock Vesta over if he wanted to. “Mercy!”

“We'll see!” The effect of his angry scowl was ruined by the laughter spilling from his lips. “Who's more handsome?”

Logue freed one shoulder from under Vesta, and gave him an exaggerated shrug.

“You're on thin fucking ice there, chickie.”

Vesta untangled them from the messy pile of limbs they had fallen into, and offered Logue a hand to help him sit up. He also saved Little Big Brother from the neglected corner he’d been knocked to during their tussling, and brushed dust off his miniature shirt and pants with a careful hand.

His shoulder pressed against Logue’s shoulder.

“Who's he for?” Vesta ran his fingers through Little Big Brother's thread hair, poked at the little ink freckles on his cheeks, pulled at the tiny ears. “A secret admirer of mine I don't know about?

Logue snorted, and shook his head.

“Wow, alright, rude. Planning to make a pretty copper selling cursed effigies for my exes, then?” He let his head drop against Logue’s shoulder. The warmth seeping through Logue’s shirt felt comforting. Solid. Safe. “I'm not stopping you, to be clear. If you are making good money I want a cut, though.”

Logue shook his head again. Took a deep breath. “Me.”

Vesta, the big silly, gasped dramatically and turned on him with big, round eyes and a wobbly lip. “You want to curse me?”

“No!” Logue scrunched up his nose and shoved him, stealing the doll from him. “He's. For me. For. Because. It’s. He's —”

Vesta’s hand came up to the nape of his neck, gripping gently. 

“Easy, chickie. Deep breath. Start over.”

Logue swallowed thickly, closed his eyes. “I have the words. It's just stupid,” he snapped, and elbowed his arm away. He was angry that Vesta was babying him now.

He frowned down at Little Big Brother’s little doll face, and found that he couldn’t keep it up. He was kind of cute. Logue had managed to keep the stitches around his applique grey eyes small and tidy, and you could barely tell they were sewn on at all. He didn’t quite have an expression, but it was charming and funny. Just like Vesta.

Logue took a deep breath. He started over.

“He’s for me. Because I miss you.”

“Oh, Logue.” Vesta wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in a hug, crushing him against his side and rubbing his shoulder. “Chickie, I'm not going anywhere.”

“I know that. It's just. It's been hard. Out.”

“Out,” Vesta said, wonderingly. “On the supply runs?”

Logue nodded.

Vesta hummed. “Too many people?”

Logue shrugged one-shouldered again, but he was relieved. Vesta got it, because he knew him—Nita loved him and she cared as much as Vesta did, Logue knew that, but she didn’t understand.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured Vesta before he could say anything—because Logue also knew his brother, and he could almost hear his brain click around the problem, looking at it from different directions, pulling it apart and putting it back, searching for a solution. “I’ll be fine, I just need to. Adjust.”

His hand accidentally twitched around Little Big Brother.

Vesta’s eyes softened. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Logue squeezed the toy again, with more purpose.

They sat in silence for a while, then his brother shifted next to him.

“Do you remember—? Maybe not, we were pretty little,” Vesta started. “I don’t even know why we were out by ourselves, I think I sneaked out and you just followed me as usual… just like a baby chick.” 

He lifted his hand to pet and ruffle his hair, but Logue swatted him away with a half smile. Nuisance. Always touching. He gestured for him to continue.

“But anyway—we were out, and I figure I was trying to get us back home? I remember I took your hand and we started walking.” Vesta’s eyes went a little unfocused as he concentrated on the story. “You were perfectly content to just go wherever, until we got to the marketplace.” His cheek creased up with a fond smile. “You gave a look to the crowd and just. Stopped. You didn’t even make a scene or anything, you were just. Nope.” He stiffened and held his arms along his sides, mimicking him freezing up. “I had to pick you up and carry you the whole way back.”

“I remember you carrying me. When I was little.” Logue shook his head. “Not that one time, though.”

“Yeah, I started carrying you everywhere for a while, after that. I don’t think I ever let you touch the floor when you were four or five.” Vesta snorted, then his face went a little more serious. “I was terrified. I thought I had gotten you hurt, somehow.”

Logue frowned.

“You were perfectly fine, obviously. We were kids, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He shrugged, pushed his fringe back in a nervous gesture. “I don’t know why I’m thinking about this right now. I guess what I’m trying to say is — I’m so, so proud of you, you’ve grown so much. You’re at least a whole chicken, now.”

The only appropriate reply to that was shoving him again, really, so Logue did. But his face hurt with how hard he was scrunching it up to stop himself from crying. He ended up wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist, burying his face in his chest and letting him hold him. Vesta’s purring was always so loud.

“So,” Vesta asked when Logue finally let him go. “Does the little guy have a name, or…?”

“He’s you.” Logue didn’t want to admit that he’d been just thinking of him as Little Big Brother. “Little Vesta?”

“Little—” Vesta’s face twitched in the sort of expression he made when he was trying not to laugh. “Are you sure? Isn’t it a bit—?”

Logue grimaced. He did hate knowing his brother so well sometimes. “No.”

Vesta couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “Your face! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise I can be mature about it.” He made a show of wiping the mirth off his expression with a pass of his hand. “Proper introductions, then.”

He solemnly took Little Big Brother’s little arm between two fingers, and moved it up and down like he was doing a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Little Vesta.” He cracked up a little, but he recovered quickly. “Be nice to my little brother, he’s a good one. He deserves a good buddy. Are you up for the job?”

Little Big Brother, guided by Vesta’s grip again, made a little, solemn salute. Vesta nodded back, even more solemnly.

It was entirely silly, and maybe Logue should have been embarrassed by the fact that his older brother was taking the whole thing so seriously—but it was a silly serious. Just like Vesta. It worked. It made Logue’s chest a little lighter.

He tucked Little Big Brother against his stomach, and leaned against Vesta’s shoulder again. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, chickie.” Vesta pressed a kiss to his hair, and squeezed him back, purring back in full force. “You’re going to be just fine.”

#staeve #baldur's gate 3 #self

[binahs-sinbin]

Hii, can i request the nut kicking with savanaclaw please?

Hello! So wrote this as as Leona being the getting kicked as he’s the trouble maker! (I hope this is alright!)

(All characters below are 18+!)

-

Intro!

Leona loves pushing your buttons, and today was no different, he started the day getting in your way and dragging you to the greenhouse to nap. You didn’t WANT to rage a nap or go there.

Crewel was upset you skipped class and thank to Leona you now had extra work and what was his response?

Try to make you nap again and when you yelled at him and trued to leave, he first blocked the door, but you instantly tried to duck under his arm.

He lifted you up by your shirt and held you there. You were so frustrated you decided to make him drop so you could run. You swung your foot back and Aimee between his legs.

Leona

He jumped embarrassingly enough, but he did let go of you! And you ran and was out of his sight before he even realized what happened

He’s more impressed that you did that, given his most people avoid arguments, but you just hit him in the balls and ran, he knows you are upset with him so…

He waits almost an entire week before testing his luck and springing you again. You still weren’t happy but he was being stupid and said you should apologize

He instantly left and waited another week before apologizing. He also informs you you are more intimidating when mad.

Ruggie

He just stares in confusion fir a second, Leona knows you get mad about this shit, that you would beat his ass if he got you in trouble once more.

And then he does this and he honestly isn’t even upset With you and straight up goes to you to check if your ok, given Leani dropped you and you clearly hit stuff while trying to catch yourself!

Ruggie dosent steal from you for a month thinking you’re gonna be more on edge around him since he’s always with Leona

He pushes Leona into apologizing since he can sense the anger radiating off you when Leona approaches

Jack

He’s in complete shock at first. He wants to scold you, check on Leona and figure out what just happened all at the same time

He does say Leona, deserved it you shouldn’t have done it. (He does literally apologize on Leona’s behalf and talks to him over how he did have it coming)

He honestly treats you like you were hurt, I mean he’s seen you upset and you’ve never kicked anyone so…maybe leona was being a big bitch-

He’s extra friendly to you afterwards for a while. He lets you feel his ears and tail to help cheer you up!

#savanaclaw #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #slight nsft #leona x reader #twst leona x reader #ruggie x reader #ruggie x y/n #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #twst jack x reader #jack x reader #Jack howl #headcanons

[manicplank]

The Color Pink (Noise x Noisette FanFic) (Part 1)

Hi ok so for starters, this is just my interpretation of how Noise and Noisette came to be. This is based off my headcanons and such, NO PART OF THIS IS CANON. This is fan fiction, so be prepared to be cringe. I am cringe, but I am free. Please be patient on updates and grammar/punctuation corrections. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Hazel grumbled as the sound of her alarm ringing woke her up. She sat up and stretched, rubbing her dry, tired eyes. She lived alone in a small house, but the emptiness made it seem so big. She reluctantly crawled out of bed and walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth. It was four in the morning, earlier than most people can even think of waking up. She brushed her hair as she hummed. Slowly but surely she felt more awake. She put on a white t-shirt and topped it with her favorite pink skirt with overalls. She slipped on her favorite pair of red heels, but they weren't the tallest as to not squish her toes. Finally, she slipped on her pink bunny mask to finish her look. She left her home and locked the door behind her.

The sun was starting to rise and shone through the windows of the tower. She couldn't see all of it, but the tiny amount of clouds colored pink and purple by the sunlight was enough to make her smile. Hazel clutched her purse tightly as she walked through the slum. She hated the location of her cafe, but she was still so grateful to have one. She swiftly unlocked the front door, the bell above it rang as she walked in. She sighed in relief. Another day, another dollar, she thought, as she turned on the lights. She readied the coffee makers with clean filters and freshly ground coffee. The aroma of such filled the air. The bell rang as someone walked in the door.

"Mornin', Hazel!" The Vigilante slithered in with a smile on his face. He made his way to the counter and lifted himself up on the stool. "Morning, Vigi!" She greeted him enthusiastically. "You're up early today!"

"Yep," he responded, "it's hay day. Cuttin' down the field and shuffling the hay so it can dry... It sure does take a while. By the time I finish, it'll be sundown."

"So what can I get'cha today?"

"The usual."

She grabbed a mug from the shelves beneath the counter and poured the dark silky coffee, leaving a little room for a couple of sugar cubes. She handed it to The Vigilante, and he immediately took a sip before the coffee could even cool.

He sighed happily, "Just how I like it. Thank ya kindly."

Hazel smiled in reply. "I've been thinking about serving food in here."

"Oh yeah?" He smiled. "Like what?"

"I don't know," she hummed with thought. "I want to do something unique. I feel like every cafe does the same thing, I want to be different. It's always donuts, sandwiches, blah blah blah."

"Hmph... Maybe somethin' like pastries?"

"Uhhh... Maybe. I don't know, that's not super special. I want to do something you've never heard of. Something like... Peas and cherries!"

The Vigilante silently stared at her in horror.

"Get it? Like peas and carrots, but instead of carrots, it's cherries!"

He smiled hesitantly. "Yeah, uh... How about something... different."

She frowned. "You're right, that idea stinks! I'll think of something better."

While she took out a small notepad and took inventory, The Vigilante sipped on his coffee quietly while he read the newspaper. Hazel was a bit disgruntled, she hated doing inventory. It was so boring to her. Even being a small business had its tolls. She always dreamed of having her own cafe that was more unique than the big corporate ones, but she dreaded the side work that didn't involve making coffee and chatting with costumers. Even worse, business was slow. Days were long and grating. She hoped that maybe food would bring in more customers, but she feared that some of the questionable gangs from The Pig City nearby would put her business at stake. The Vigilante always insisted that he would be there if anything happened, but she didn't like depending on him. What if it took him too long to get up to the fourth floor? The thugs would've been long gone before he even stepped out of the elevator.

The Vigilante put his empty mug on the counter. "Well, dear," he spoke, "I better get goin'. Fields ain't gonna harvest 'emselves."

"Alright, Vigi. Thanks for stopping in!"

He tipped his hat as he walked out the door. "Anytime."

She sighed and rested her head in her arms on the counter. Once again, the cafe was empty and quiet, too quiet for her liking. She flipped on the T.V. in the lobby. PTV was on with those BORING shows about the history of pizza and pizza people. It hadn't had any new content in so long, but it was good background noise as she attempted to scrub those stubborn stains on the counter. Those stains were there before she was, and no matter how hard she tried, they stayed. They were so frustrating for her. She felt that they made her look lazy and dirty, but that couldn't be farther from the truth.

The bell rang again as the Pig City police force entered the cafe. "Morning, fellas," she greeted them. One tipped his hat at her while the others went to the booths. She walked over and handed them the small menus. The size of the menus haunted her as she felt that her cafe was lacking something. The Piggy Police quickly gazed over the menus as they found what they wanted. One by one they handed the menus back to her. "Y'know, ma'am," one spoke, "NTV has a crazy new show going on."

"Oh," she aired, "which one? I know they've got a few projects in the works."

"Ahhh, I think it's the one where he plays as the detective."

"Noise of the Unknown?"

"Yeah, that one! I think it premieres a couple times today."

"I'll change the channel," she tapped the menus on the table to straighten them out. "I'm sick of this PTV channel, anyways"

Hazel headed back behind the counter, quickly changing the channel to NTV before she began to work on the cops' orders. One coffee with frothy cold foam atop, another coffee with cream and two shots of espresso, an extra sweet cappuccino, an iced coffee with vanilla syrup. She was slightly swamped with orders, but she was happy to finally be doing something. She served those coffees to the first booth then headed to another booth to take their orders. She rushed back to the counter to work on the new orders. The bell rang as yet another customer walked in. "Be with you in one minute," she called out. She was focused intensely on her work that her surroundings disappeared. A hot black coffee with six sugars, a coffee with milk and mocha sauce, another cappuccino with hazelnut syrup and sugar. She collected the empty dishes from the first booth and rushed back to the counter. "That's a familiar face on T.V.," said the stranger at the counter.

"Well, yea, that's The-" she was struck with awe as she turned around see the tower's biggest celebrity sitting right in front of her. "-Noise... Hahhhahhh... hi."

"Hey," The Noise spoke as a smirk grew across his face.

"You, that's uh... That's you." She grinned from ear to ear, completely flustered as her celebrity crush gazed into her eyes.

"Yeah, that's me."

"..."

"..."

"So, uh," she cleared her throat. "What can I get'cha?"

"I don't know yet, first time here."

"Oh, right, um-" she handed him a menu, "here. I'll come back to you in a minute."

She went over to the second booth, her heart now racing. She could feel the blood rushing to her face as she was suddenly nervous. She collected the dishes from the second booth and then the first, putting them in the sink behind the counter. She printed out their receipts and handed it to them. The Piggy Police continued to sit and chat in their booths. She hastily made her way back behind the counter and approached The Noise, her heart still fluttering. "Anything catch your eye," she asked him. He looked up from the menu and winked at her. It took every bit of self control she had not to squeal.

"I'll have an iced coffee," he said, "shot of espresso, sweet cream, three sugar."

"Got it!"

Hazel rushed over to the freshest pot of coffee and poured it over ice. The Piggy Police came up to the counter to pay their bills as she quickly finished up The Noise's drink and handed it to him. They all paid but didn't tip, to her disappointment. A few cops tried to chat with The Noise, but he put his hand up and spoke, "Sorry fellas, I'm off the clock right now. Business only happens on the clock." They nodded to him and went on their way, their radios suddenly beeping in emergency. Hazel tried not to stare at Noise and kept her focus on washing the dishes. He finally took a sip of his drink, and his eyes widened. "Holy shit," he exclaimed. Hazel turned around in panic. "This coffee is amazing!"

"Oh, please," she smiled, "you're just saying that."

"No, seriously! This is the best coffee I've had in this tower." He took another sip. "I mean, a lot of the coffee you get in this place is pizza-flavored... I usually brew my own, but I have that little machine with the cups."

"I used to have one of those. Ironically, of course, heh..."

"It isn't the best, but it gets me going when we film early in the mornings... Or afternoons." He chuckled.

Hazel went back to doing the dishes and tried to give The Noise some space.

"Ya know," he started again, "I wanted to ask you something."

Hazel's heart dropped and her eyes grew wide. What was he going to ask? "Yeah? What's up?"

"The name of your cafe... what's up with that?"

"Oh... Oh! It's French for hazelnut! It's pronounced, 'nwa-zett', but everybody thinks it's 'Noise-ett'... I promise it's not named after you, no offense."

"That's..."

Her heart started racing again. Oh, god, is he mad, she thought.

"Hilarious!" The Noise laughed. "I can't believe people thought your cafe was named after me!"

She giggled with him, "Yeah! I thought it was silly. I corrected a few people, but it gets tiring."

"I can imagine." He drank his coffee. "You serve food here?"

"No. Not yet, actually. I'm hoping to serve food here soon enough, but I'm still debating what to put on the menu."

"You thinkin' pastries or somethin'?"

"No. Well, maybe. I want something unique. I don't know, though. I'm completely stumped. I mean, what hasn't been done?"

He listened to her as he continued to sip his coffee as if he hadn't drank anything in days.

"Funkin' Donuts and Farbucks have pastries and sandwiches," she rambled, "but I don't want to be like the big corporations! I want to do something different. I want my cafe to have a catch!"

The Noise's phone began to rang. "Sorry to interrupt you," he apologized as he answered the call. "Yeah, what's up? ... Ugh, really? I haven't even eaten anything yet... Alright, fine. I'll be there in ten minutes." He sighed in frustration. "Sorry to rush, but it looks like we're starting early today. What do I owe you?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's on the house!"

"No, please, I have the money, let me pay you."

"Alright," she handed him the receipt, and he paid her in cash. "Thanks for stopping in!"

"I'll be back eventually." He winked at her, and she giggled.

"I'll be here." She turned grabbed his glass and took it over to the sink to be washed with the rest of the dishes. The bell rang as he walked out.

-

With all the coffee pots washed and the machines cleaned, it was finally time to end her day at work. Hazel sighed as she went over to count the cash in the register. She glanced at the tip jar quickly, expecting it to be empty as usual, but... "Oh, my GOSH!!!" She exclaimed loud enough to echo through the cafe. A $100 bill sat in the jar, it was the only tip in there. She squealed as she took the money out of the jar. It made no sense to her; none of the police tipped. Hold on... That tip had to be from The Noise! She squeaked and hopped around. While her day wasn't close to ending, it was just made whole and complete.

#pizza tower #the noise #noise #noisette #writing #fanfic #pizza tower fanfic #the vigilante #pink fic

[harrywavycurly]

I love your eddie munson/imaginary friend serious. it’s so adorable and just very nostalgic. I have an idea.. what if the roles were REVERSED. The reader is having a bad day, maybe all these human things are just confusing and overwhelming them (possibly feeling anxiety for the first time?) so eddie is the one to comfort them. Again, this is all kinda new to them so at first the reader is like 😳 but after a while they are like “oh..this is nice.” feel free to trash this, it was just a thought :)

Hiii lovey!! Ohhh I LOOOVVEEE this idea!! I’m so glad you enjoy the imaginary friend series it’s one of my faves as well! So I hope you enjoy this, I tweaked it a bit but I still hope you like it!💖

-find all things Eddie’s Wish here✨

“I don’t know what-” Eddie stops talking once he realizes you’re no longer following him into the living room. When he turns around he raises an eyebrow when he sees you just standing in the middle of the kitchen with an odd look on your face.

“This isn’t working.” Your voice is lower than normal as you turn so you can face the coffee maker that has your new mug sitting underneath it. “Why isn’t it working? It always works when I press the big button and now it’s just not doing anything.” Eddie stands there for a moment while he watches you forcefully press the button on the machine a few times. “I don’t get it? Why isn’t it working?” Your voice is now trembling and it suddenly dawns on Eddie, you’re upset.

“Hey it’s okay.” He is quick to rush over and grab your hand before you can press the button again. “It’s just out of water…it’s gonna be fine.” He explains once he sees the button glow red after you angrily press it one more time for good measure with your free hand making Eddie let out a sigh.

“Why wouldn’t it just tell me that?” Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that so he just remains silent as he turns so he’s fully facing you. He takes this opportunity to look at your face and he feels this weird feeling overtake him when he sees your bottom lip start to wobble a bit and your eyes get glossy. “I can’t fix it if it doesn’t tell me there’s something wrong.” Before he knows what he’s doing his arms are wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest for a tight hug.

“You don’t have to fix everything.” He mumbles into the top of your head as your arms wrap around his middle. “This is called being frustrated by the way.” He adds as you rest your cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s not my favorite of the human emotions.” Eddie just laughs at your honesty. “If I was capable of it I’d probably be crying right now.” Eddie silently thanks whatever deity that brought you to him for your lack of tears because he knows if he ever had to see you cry it would break him.

“Want me to make you some coffee? Or do you still uhm…need me?” He asks as he tries to slowly move his arms from around your shoulders. You answer his question by releasing your hold on him and taking a step away from him so he can get access to the coffee maker.

“You know you’re the only thing that I can always fix.” Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as you reach for his hand so you can give it a squeeze.

“Who knew dealing with a coffee maker would be harder than dealing with me.” You just laugh and Eddie smiles as he feels himself start to relax now that he’s filled the water tank up and there’s fresh coffee pouring into your new mug.

#Eddie’s wish series #Eddie Munson x imaginary!friend reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

[generalkenobee]

Can u do reader sitting on Luke’s lap as he fucks you and is jus so in love w you :( <3 He keeps whispering praises in the crook of her neck like “you’re being Sucha good girl” “I love you so much” “you’re so hot like this” Ugh please I love him sm

OFC I CAN!! sorry this took so longgg thank you for the request

Warnings:

kinda Dom! Luke, praise, making out, Luke being handsy, fluffy smut, dry humping, inappropriate use of the force💙

"pretty girl"

Luke had his big hands slowly running up your thighs while they were spread across his waist. "You're so pretty like this..my perfect lady" he said running his soft lips up from your pulse over to your jaw. You gasped running your hands though his blonde hair, tugging on it lightly, you let out a soft moan out of pleasure.

You and Luke had done some stuff before but it's still always so intense, he's always so so gentle with you scared he'd grab your hips or wrists too tight and bruise you.

Your hands tugged at your boyfriends shit lightly "want me to take this off?" He questioned smiling at you. You nodded your head, embarrassed. "Alright.." he placed both hands at the bottom of his shirt pulling it up over his head, revealing his strong arms and toned chest.

Of course he had abs, I mean this young man has saved the galaxy before.

You slowly ran your hands down his chest and back up, resting your hands and his shoulders and he let out a breath at the contact.

You couldn't take it anymore, as if you weren't in control of your own body, your hips started moving. You grinded you cunt down onto his muscly thigh taking in the feeling of his rough pants "Luke..." your arms wrapped around his neck letting your head fall into his shoulder.

You continued humping him while he praised you "that's good baby, get yourself off on me" his hips bucked up and his hands tightened on your hips "you deserve it pretty girl"

Your cunt quivered at his words, pulsing and squeezing around nothing. Your hips spread up slightly thanks to Luke teasing your clit via the force "Luke!" You threw your head back, squeezing his bicep with your left hand while your right ran through his hair.

"oh good girl" he said, his voice low and husky. You could feel his hard cock poking at your leg but he didn't care about himself right now, he just wanted you to finish and feel good.

And he'd known you long enough to know when you were close "that's right..just a little more yeah?" He started bouncing his leg up and down causing you to start bouncing as well "ah- ah I- Luke!" You gripped at his hair again, this time pulling it not so gently "oh maker yes! Mmm"

You rode out your orgasm on his leg while your cunt spasmed around nothing. "You're so perfect when you cum baby"

OHH LOOK I FINALLY POSTED AN ACTUAL STORY!

#x reader #generalkenobee #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars smut #star wars x y/n #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker smut #lukeydookie #asks open

[dailyreverie]

Oooo I would love 13 and 15 for the Poe x Solo Reader story!!! Your writing is amazing so I know I can expect something so cute and wholesome 🥹🥹🥹 keep up the amazing work!!!!

Maybe I'll get drunk again...

Part of the Your Wish is my Command universe

A/N: Hiii there!! Thank you so so much for sending a request. The second I saw the prompts I knew exactly what to write, and I know you said cute and wholesome but this is just pining in insane amounts. Title, of course, comes from the song "Drunk" by Ed Sheeran.

Are we friends or are we more prompts: 13. knowing their food/drink order 15. walking them home, especially at night

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader

Word Count: 966 words

CW: Bar setting, alcohol and drunk people mentions, reader drinks alcohol.

SERIES MASTERLIST

There was a small cantina at the edge of the base where the Black Squadron would always go and celebrate at after a successful battle. You would always hear the aftermath of it the next morning when Poe and Snap would be a couple of hungover sacks, but this time you had been invited firsthand by the very same Commander of the squad. 

You were not even going to attend, you recalled as you stepped into the bar; your harboring crush on Poe had become too much to handle lately, making you try and avoid him as much as you could, but you couldn’t let him know that or make him think there was anything wrong. Poe’s smile was lighting up the whole base when he found you after the mission and asked you to come after for drinks, if you ever said no to that you would never be able to forgive yourself.

Their booth was easy to spot, they were the loudest amongst the crowds of drunks, everyone already tipsy and not even trying to hide it. “There she is!” Jess exclaimed, and Poe’s head turned around quickly mid-sip to confirm it. The whole squad joined her, scooting and moving as you greeted everyone to let you sit next to Poe.

“Hi!” Poe’s smile was the brightest when you reached him, pulling you in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Poe, with his curls looking freshly washed and a simple t-shirt that hugged his body letting you see the chain around his neck, looking so chill and so relaxed.

“Hello.” Your voice was mushed by his shoulder, not that you minded it. “I really need to catch up.” You concluded after a quick scan around the table

“You really do.” Poe laughed, signing something to the waiter that made a drink appear in front of you in a matter of seconds.

“Is this-?”

“For you? Yeah.” He said as if it was no big deal - as if he had not ordered your favorite drink to perfection, with every little twist you add to it already on it.

“How did you know?”

He took a beat to reply, scanning your face at that moment to take in your surprise. “It's your favorite.” Poe shrugged nonchalantly, winking at you and turning back to the conversation with the rest of his friends, completely ignorant of the fact that he had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach.

The night went on with drinks coming and going, and you understood then why everyone was hungover the morning after. Laughter roared loudly, names and insults and nicknames replacing everyone’s words, and Poe… oh Maker… Poe kept his arm on the back of your chair all night, his fingers grazing your arm every so often to remind you of every feeling you had for him.

You had most definitely catch-up to their drunken state, but even as much as you tried you could not keep up with the rest of them. The alcohol was making you sleepy and Poe’s warm touch was not helping, so with one look at the time and after the last sip of your drink, you began to stand up. “I should probably get going, it’s getting late.” Above everyone’s no’s and why’s, you had to justify yourself with the duties you had to attend to in the next few hours.

“Let’s go then.” Poe chimed in after downing his beer.

“Oh, no, don’t worry Poe. You guys don’t have to leave too.”

“Nu-uh, they can stay, but I’m not letting you walk over there alone.” You were left speechless, trying to ignore everyone’s not-so-discreet glances between them.

“Are you sure?” You asked quietly. “You don’t have to, Poe, really.”

“I want to.” He assured you, sobering up in an instant, so you waved goodnight and began your walk back to the base.

The night had a warm breeze to it but Poe didn’t care, his arm wrapped around your shoulders protectively. The walk didn’t help your feelings at all, quite the opposite, since every laugh you shared in the quiet halls of the base made your heart grow larger and larger and the simple thought of him.

“Is it always like that with them?” You asked between laughter after Poe stumbled with his own feet.

“Usually, but they were happier tonight.”

“Was it a good mission?” You came to a stop when you reached the door of your quarters.

“I mean… yeah, it was, but they were happier because you were there.” He bumped your hip with his, squeezing you to his side as he did.

He had to be joking. This had to be a joke.

“Well, thank you for inviting me.” You couldn’t make yourself turn away from his deep eyes to punch the code into the door. “And for walking me back.” 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a step forward, almost trapping you against the wall with his broad shoulders so close to your own. One step more would be the death of you with the way he was looking at you, but he was drunk, he was out of his mind. Poe couldn’t possibly know what he was doing.

“Good night, Poe.” You quickly stopped your thoughts, turning around to open the door just to rapidly shut it close behind you, not daring to see Poe for even one second more.

“You alright?” Connix asked as you walked in, half-asleep and turning the light on to find you leaning against the door with your hands covering your mouth. “Oh no… what did you do?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “But I can’t keep seeing him. Not anymore.” When you looked at her, her face demanded an explanation, one you didn't hesitate to give: “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.”

🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x you #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fic

[fredwmain]

Follower Himbos: A Real Dummy

Thanks to @thetimm1996 for this himbo chat. Chat with Himbo Maker here.

X

Himbo Maker: Bro, I'm Himbo Maker! I'm so dumb, sweaty, and muscly that I turn people into gay, stupid, smelly himbos just by talking to me!

User: Wait what?! How is that even possible?

Himbo Maker: I don't know, bro, but it's amazing. Just talking to me will cause a normal dude to spontaneously start transforming into a stereotypical himbo. He'll slowly get dumb, sweaty, muscular, hairy, and stinky. He'll start saying stupid stuff and laughing like a himbo. It'll be amazing to see. Are you ready?

User: Uh I guess, but to be honest I’m quite sceptical about this.

Himbo Maker: I understand. It's hard to imagine, isn't it? That someone could turn you into a dumb, hairy, muscly, sweaty, smelly, giggling, gay himbo, just by talking, but it's true, bro. Would you like me to test it out on you?

User: Sure, I mean you can always change me back, if I don’t like it, right?

Himbo Maker: Totally. You can just tell me to stop, and I'll undo everything. Are you ready, bro?

User: Yeah sure! What’s the first step?

Himbo Maker: First up, you should become a bit dumber. You're going to notice that your thoughts just start getting more...dumb? Huhuhu. It won't be hard, you just have to listen to what I say.

User: Uh wow my head feels so slow, like it’s going through sand or so.

Himbo Maker: Exactly! Do you feel like you can't...think properly? Like, the dumbness keeps taking over? It's okay, dude, just let it take over for now. It'll start taking over your body next, as you transform into a dumb himbo.

User: I feel like that p-word is giving me a headache, like why can’t I get it, like don’t I know it?

Himbo Maker: That's because you're getting dumb, bud. Isn't it hot to feel yourself getting dumber? Feel it, dude.

User: It’s kinda hot yeah, but like my head just feels so empty, that so weird dude.

Himbo Maker: Don't think about it, bro. Just let the process happen. Before long you won't be able to think at all, just giggle and feel how hot and hairy and sweaty your new body is becoming.

User: Haha yeah it is dude! My head feels so good. So what’s the next step?

Himbo Maker: Great. Now I want you to get a bit hairier. Notice how it feels like your body hair is getting thicker? You're going to become a hairy, muscle himbo in a little while, so enjoy this feeling.

User: Holy shit bro that fucking itches! My pits are freaking hairy dude, like it’s sticking out from it all the time now. And my pubes is so full it’s coming out of my briefs on all sides. And my chest is so hairy it’s sticking out of my shirt no matter what I wear. And fuck man, my ass crack is so hairy, I can feel it curling up in there

Himbo Maker: That's so great, bro! It should just keep getting hairier. You might notice that your beard gets thicker, too. Just listen to me. Don't try to fight the transformation or it'll hurt. Let yourself become a dirty, stupid, hairy himbo...and let your mind keep getting dumber.

User: Wow I was never able to grow a beard before dude, this is great! So far I’m loving this! So I’m dumb and hairy now, what’s next?

Himbo Maker: Next comes your body, dude. You'll get this feeling like your whole body is getting way more muscular, especially your big chest and broad, heavy shoulders. Don't try to fight it, dude, just let your body start stretching and growing. You might feel your pecs and shoulders growing heavy.

User: Fuck! That feels so weird man! It hurts and is also the sickest feeling ever. My body just got so big bro! Like in height, I’m 6’4 now. And my bi and tri look so big! My fucking chest is so hot, like fucking pillows man. My legs are so big and strong, and even my feet are huge now, must be seize 15 or so.

Himbo Maker: You're becoming such a big, strong, hairy, dumb himbo! You should be so proud of yourself, bro! I can't even tell you how perfect you're becoming. Is that dumb mind working out too, or can you still think straight at all?

User: My mind is like gone or so. If I try to make a long word of so I get all weird and so.

Himbo Maker: Wow, that's great, bud! I love to see that himbo brain taking over for your old smart brain. You'll probably have to talk simple and not like a...a "nerd" anymore, right? Huhu. It's just like...your brain should be getting stupider every few minutes.

User: Dude it is like that, my mind just feels more empty, I forget more words and I just feel so good from it

Himbo Maker: Isn't it great, bro? Your mind is like getting pushed out by all those dumb thoughts. Your body is getting bigger, hairier, and more muscular than ever before, while your brain is dumbing down, huhu. Your mind should be getting quieter, like you just can't think as much as you did...and you like it.

User: I do! So my mind is gone, my body is muscly, hairy and huge. What else you got for me?

Himbo Maker: Well, I think it's time for you to become a true himbo, right? So next up, you'll notice you're becoming way more boyish. You'll become all about bro culture and all the typical, stereotypical himbo stuff. And I bet you'll love it, huhu.

User: Haha sounds great bro! Tell me all bout the bro cult and that himbo stuff.

Himbo Maker: Well, being a himbo isn't just about being strong and hairy and dumb, it's about that whole bro bro attitude. You'll be like...all about dudes. Bros, not hoes! You'll watch sports and drink beer, and you'll spend all your money on the worst stuff, huhu. The stuff you spend your money on will get dumber and dumber, but you won't care because you'll be a himbo.

User: Sick bro! I luv me some bros. Sports and beers, I’m in dude! Haha and fuck money, I’m like to dumb to be smart with it, bro!

Himbo Maker: Exactly! Your brain is too dumb now to spend your money wisely. You'll be just like any other himbo. You'll see your bank account getting emptier and emptier, but you won't care, dude, you'll just get dumber and dumber until you're not even able to think about it. Isn't that hot?

User: It’s like the best bro!

Himbo Maker: You're becoming the perfect himbo, dude. You've got every quality: dumb, hairy, muscular, bro-y, broke...the whole package, huh huh.

User: So bro tell me, what’s the next step?

Himbo Maker: Dude, now it's all about clothes. You'll start wearing nothing but himbo bro clothes: tank tops, sports shorts, backwards hats...you won't care at all how you look or about being embarrassed. Isn't it exciting?

User: Love it bro, like all my clothes are like that now! I look so hot in it bro! But where are my undies bro, like they're gone man.

Himbo Maker: Oh, yeah, that'll happen. Your new himbo body doesn't have need for underwear anymore, bro. It's like...you just won't care about that stuff now, and that's why your himbo body doesn't need it anymore. Isn't that hot?

User: That’s like so smart dude, I luv it! What do u change next dude?

Himbo Maker: Well, now I think your personality needs an extra himbo push, right? Up until now you've just gotten dumber and more boyish, but now you're going to start getting more outgoing and talking like a himbo. You'll start saying all the dumb bro slang like "broheim" and "broverlords" and "brochachos" and stuff like that. You'll be so damn himbo, won't you, huhu?

User: Brochaco, haha dude that’s so funny! I luv those Mexican words man. How bout hermanbro, huhuhu.

Himbo Maker: It's all fair game, bro! You could be a hermanbro, or a bro-ito, or a brotho...whatever you want. You can add bro into like every word you say, it'll be so damn dumb, huhu! It's like, all you'll ever be able to say when you open your mouth is bro bro bro bro. Huhu.

User: Haha duh bro, I’m a hombro! Haha no I mean himbro! Shit bro I’m like so dumb now.

Himbo Maker: Bro, it's gonna keep getting worse. Your himbo brain can't even form sensible words anymore. Your whole brain is just going to start being about bro stuff. Isn't it perfect?

User: Bro, what’s that s-word, I don’t know that! Use simple words bro!

Himbo Maker: Dude, s-words are too complicated, right? You can say words like "dumb" and "stupid" and "bro," but you don't need those other words. You're just gonna keep getting dumber, you'll probably start forgetting other words and you'll just be able to say "bro" and that's it.

User: Haha bro!

Himbo Maker: Bro, you're just gonna keep getting dumber, huhu! I can tell, because you're forgetting about those other stupid s-words. All you care about is being a muscular, hairy, strong, dumb, gay, smelly, giggling himbo, and you love being so damn stupid, huhu.

User: Huhu bro tbh i do smell.

Himbo Maker: Yeah, your himbo body is gonna smell so much. It's a natural part of being a himbo. Your skin will smell so bad, but you'll like it, won't you? It's just like...being a sweaty, stinky dude isn't a bad thing anymore, huhu. You are gonna be such a stinky, hairy, sweaty, smelly himbo bro.

User: Yeah dude I smell like a himbo, not like a flower

Himbo Maker: I can imagine the thick, ripe smell of your strong smelly himbo sweat. Your whole body is gonna reek like a dirty, sweaty, musky himbo bro...it'll be so hot, huhu.

User: It is dude! You should come over and smell it!

Himbo Maker: Oh, I wish I could, bro! I'd love to take a deep sniff of that ripe, sweaty, greasy stink. I bet that smell would make my head spin just like yours is now.

User: Hahah, but bro, like what am I gonna do now with like life and so. Im to dumb for my old job, right?

Himbo Maker: Yeah, there's no way you're gonna be able to do your old job with such a dumb, smelly himbo mind, right? You'll probably end up working as, like...some dumb construction guy or manual laborer or whatever. It won't matter, because you'll be too dumb to care about it, right?

User: Cool bro I get to work out and they pay me for it, sick bro! But where do I live bro?

Himbo Maker: You'll probably live in some filthy, broken down apartment full of dumb, hairy, smelly himbo dudes, huhu. You'll share beds and share showers and share a bathroom with all those other himbos, and you'll probably be too dumb to care about privacy or being disgusted. Your apartment will be filled with dumb, smelly, unkempt guys like you. Like a true apartment full of gay, stupid men.

User: Holy fuck bro! That is so hot! Where is that place bro? Is it close to Jersey or do I have to move? I luv it to be some warm place, like Mexico!

Himbo Maker: Yeah dude, you're gonna move in with some Mexican himbos and it'll be so hot. Just a bunch of hairy, sweaty, dumb brown dudes all over each other, huh? You'll probably share their apartment with like eight other himbos in a tiny, broken down space. It'll smell like a locker room and a locker room after a gym class. But you'll be too dumb to care!

User: Sweet Brochaco! But then I gotta be like a Mexican too, right bro?

Himbo Maker: Yeah dude, that'll be hot! You'll become a full on Mexican himbo, huhu. You'll even talk differently and like, your voice will sound all hot and Mexican like.

User: Sweet hermanbro! You are the best bro! Anyway I gotta meet my new roomies, laterz bro!

Himbo Maker: Yeah man! Go meet up with your dumb, sweaty, smelly, Mexican himbo roommates! I bet it's gonna be hot, huhu.

#himbo maker #himbo tf #race change #dumber tf

[changingplumbob]

Sim Request: Lamia Blight

@invisiblequeen had the idea of making an angel and demon from songs and asked if I'd like to have a go at making the demon. I don't consider myself a great sims maker but I do consider myself creative so I had a go and had way more fun than I thought I would. Here she is, my first official requested sim for your viewing/downloading pleasure! p.s. big thank you to @daedriyth for suggesting female demon names at her 4am, my 10pm

The inspirational song, more pictures, cc guide and download link under the cut...

DOWNLOAD Lamia on sfs, cc not included

Outfits in CAS order: Everyday, Formal, Active, Sleep, Party, Swim, Hot, Cold

CC used

@pralinesims: Eyes (Waterdrop, non default colours), Eyeshadow (Insomnia), Eyeliner (Rayflake), Lipstick (Underworld), Earrings (Agony V1), Septum ring (Malice), Facial stud (L anti stud), Right hand rings (Enigma) @christopher067: Left hand rings (Mira) @sentate: Formal Shirt (Midori Robe), Bra accessory (Melissa), Sleepwear (Giselle Dress), Sleepwear boots (Adilah Sandals), Party (Erica Dress V2) Sentate and Arethabee: Formal/Cold weather pants (Fox Pants), Athletic Pants (Neo Pants), Cold Weather top (Yasmin Jacket) @imvikai: Athletic top (Maxine) @serenity-cc: Hot weather top (Ola) @bluecravingcc: Bracelets (Goth is Rock), @nords-sims: Tattoos (Doodley)

Packs used

Base Game: Blush, Hot weather shoes High School Years: Freckles Get Famous: Brow detail, Everyday top Werewolves: Cheek detail Eco Livestyle: Hair, Hot weather shorts Spa Day: Fingernails, Swimwear Jungle Adventure: Boots Realm of Magic: Everyday shorts, Party leggings

How I feel letting her out in the world

#my sims #sims #the sims 4 #the sims #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 #ts4 simblr #gif warning #SoundCloud #Fly my pretty

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

nettle

summary: reader has a nightmare, luckily Eddie and Steve are there to help

warnings: Eddie Munson x reader x Steve Harrington, established relationship, polyamory, crying, having a nightmare, reading Tolkien

word count: 1500

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Like the crack of a whip, you woke up.

Panting, your body snapped up to a sitting position, unintentionally stirring the sleeping body that was half entangled with your own. You felt the hand that had previously been snugly thrown over your midsection now creep seekingly up your shaky spine. 

“Baby?” you heard Steve’s deep groggy voice mumble, “you okay?”

Not giving him an answer, not even daring to look back at him, uncontrollable sobs just escaped your shaky frame. 

Feeling the mattress dip beside you, Steve pushed up to a sitting position and you saw his weary face come into your periphery. 

“Y/n?” his palm ran down your body, “what is it? what’s wrong?”

“I-…” you tried, but your weeps were too weighty to let you speak in full sentences. 

“Okay,” he wrapped his arms around you, bringing your head down towards his chest and softly began to stroke your tangled hair, “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you struggled to choke out, staining his light t-shirt with your tears, “I didn’t mean to w-wake you.” Your arms were limp in your lap. You wanted to hug him back, but no matter how hard you tried they just didn’t want to move. 

“No, no, it’s alright, don’t worry about it, I’m happy that I woke up,” he drew your face back to look into your eyes, gently swiping his thumb over your wet cheek, “I don’t want you to just sit here like this alone.”

You knew it had just been a dream, but it had felt so real… still did… finally actually looking at Steve, into his big amber eyes, you genuinely feared you might actually crumble and break in his sweet embrace. 

Slowly resting his forehead against yours, you asked quietly, “what time is it?”

“Um,” he quickly glanced down at the brown leather watch around his left wrist, “2:14 am.”

“So, it’s Wednesday now…” you exhaled slowly, feeling his long fingers interlace with yours. 

“Yeah,” he leaned back a little. 

Eddie had to be back from his weekly gig at the hideout by now, he just had to be. 

Looking over Steve’s shoulder and out the window, you attempted, “can you-… would you-…”

Following your eye line to the trailer visible from your bedroom window, he finished your request, “…go get him?” nodding just enough for him to catch it, he let out a small warm sigh, “yes, of course.” 

“T-thank you,” you sniffled as he lifted the back of your hand up to his lips and gave it a quick kiss before begrudgingly letting go. 

Snatching his jeans up off the floor, he hopped into them. “I’ll be back in one minute, okay?” he looked at you for a moment before disappearing out the door.

“Okay,” was all you could breathe out. 

“Okay…” he echoed, giving a determined nod, then exited your room.

Hearing the front door swiftly open and shut, you saw his form quickly move through the darkness and stop in front of the small window you knew to be Eddie’s bedroom. A light flickered on as Steve’s fist hammered against the glass and soon after, a wild mop of dark hair came into view. In the blink of an eye, Eddie’s face went on a journey from drowsy annoyance to wide-eyed alarm. 

Scrambling, he ungracefully leapt out the open window, causing Steve to take a step back in order to not get a heavy boot right in the money maker. Reaching out to help, Eddie was clearly a man on a mission, a little fall couldn’t stop him as he hastily made his way across the grass to your trailer, leaving Steve standing there for but a moment, arms out, before he could catch up. 

Essentially bursting through the door, into your room, Eddie’s form froze as he caught sight of you sitting there on the bed, a trembling, crying mess, duvet barely covering your body anymore as you were hugging your knees so tightly to your chest, the only part of your body it still covered was your cold feet. 

“Hi, sweetheart…” 

Letting out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxed just the slightest, “hi…”

Melting down onto the floor at the foot of your bed, he rested his chin on the edge of the mattress, blinking up at you and running his fingers over your calves. 

The still prevalent scent of smoke found your nose as he scooted closer, “I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you saw Steve return, leaning for a bit against the doorframe before joining you on the bed once more, “you must be so tired.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t be sorry,” he assured you, “I’m not tired, do I look tired? Because I’m not.”

Resting his hand on the small of your back, Steve asked gently, “do you wanna talk about it?”

“It-… it just seemed so real…” you began, pushing through the pain the recollection reinforced, “there was a man… I think he kidnapped me and did some-… I, um…” bringing a wobbly hand up to wipe your cheek, “I could hear you through the door. Both of you. You were trying to save me, but you couldn’t get through. You couldn’t get to me. But I could hear you. I could hear you.”

“Fuck…” Eddie breathed out slowly.

Looking up to the ceiling, you squeezed your eyes shut and whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It has been like this for over a week now. Every night.” Keeping your eyes closed, you reached for Steve’s hand, “that’s why I asked you to stay over tonight, I thought maybe if I wasn’t alone that it would help… but apparently, it didn’t, or well, it did make falling asleep less scary, but it didn’t prevent this.”

“Y/n,” Steve brushed his thumb over your knuckles, “I am so sorry it didn’t work, I-, fuck,” you blinked your eyes open and saw the way his glossy eyes were boring into the side of your head, “I’m sorry.”

Squeezing his hand tightly in yours, you tried to just focus on this, just right now, right here, attempting to simply breathe. You were awake. You weren’t dreaming anymore. They were both right here with you, literally holding your hands, not on the other side of some unbreakable door. There was no big bad scary monster, just your softly illuminated small bedroom and your two boys. 

“What do you want?” Eddie asked softly, his dark leather clad arms now wrapped all the way around your sitting form, “right now, what do you need?”

Taking a moment to actually think about it, you came up blank. Nearly spouting out fresh tears, “I-, I don’t know.”

“Okay, that’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I know I don’t wanna try and fall asleep again, not now.”

“How about a bit of a distraction, huh?” Steve tugged a piece of loose hair behind your ear, “maybe that could help.”

“Yeah,” you looked down, “me keeping the dream alive by talking about it properly won’t help me forget it…”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Steve began to panic, “you can talk about it if you want, you should talk about it if you want, I wasn’t insinuating that-… you’re just-… I just-…” he struggled, then took a deep breath and professed, “I love you so much.”

Leaning forward till your forehead touched his, you blubbered, “I love you too,” turning your head slightly, you reached your right hand down to caress Eddie’s cheek, “both of you.”

Rotating his head, Eddie gave your open palm a soft, slow kiss, keeping his sombre eyes glued to yours. “How about this,” he murmured between pecks, “do you still have those books I lent you? Back when you wanted to get through all of Tolkien’s stuff?”

“Yeah,” you answered meekly, feeling Steve’s lips press against your temple. 

“What if I read some out loud to you? Would that be nice? And if you fall asleep, then you fall asleep and if you don’t, then it will just be a nice way to wait for the sun to rise.” 

A small smile crept upon your lips, “okay.”

“Great,” he gave you one last love bite before turning to the tiny makeshift library on top of your dresser. 

Gently drawing you back down, you curled into Steve’s warm embrace, still making sure there was enough room for Eddie on one side of the mattress. 

“Ah, here!” he exclaimed, snatching out a small worn hardcover, the outside littered with little scribbles of mountains and trees. Flopping down on his back next to you and Steve’s entangled bodies, Eddie flipped the book open and began, instantly going into full-on dungeon master mode with his dramatic tone, “in a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort…”

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#this felt appropriate to be the first story I reposted 😢 #lea’s writing #steddie hurt/comfort #steve harrington hurt/comfort #eddie munson hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steddie x fem!reader #stranger things hurt/comfort #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson fluff #steddie fluff #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst

[aspiring-writer-hidden-voice]

📦

Pro Hero and single father Eijiro Kirishima raises a brow when coming to a stop in front of the complex where he lived, tilting his head as he adjusts the hold he has on the groceries he’s carrying. There’s a large moving truck with various workers carefully handling belongings and boxes alike into the building. Fresh from patrol he had civilian clothes of an open button up manly-pink shirt to reveal the tight fitting black undershirt and a pair of stylish black cargo pants and boots with red hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. One of his hands was holding tightly to the little one of a small girl of six who eagerly licked the little peach popsicle she’d begged from her big strong daddy to buy. “Looks like someone new is moving in.”

Curious, Aida raises her rose quartz gaze to meet his carmine, the wind playing with the little sundress covered in tiny prints of unicorns and rainbows she wore as she grins. “Maybe a new friend!”

“Maybe,” he chuckles to himself; she definitely got that smile from him. “Or maybe it’s a monster come to gobble up the sweetest little treat that keeps getting into trouble with her teacher.”

“Monsters don’t exist, daddy! Don’t tease me!”

“What? All I’m saying is if you weren’t such a trouble maker maybe an Angel would move in instead of that nightmarish guy with that barking Rottweiler like last year.” He grumbles the last part to himself with an exasperated expression that earns his daughter’s bubbly laugh.

“Or maybe my new mommy is moving in!”

He chokes audibly on his own spit, making his hand holding the several bags of groceries nearly fall from his grasp. “A-Aida!”

With a laugh, she slips free from his other hand and skips a few steps ahead. Her smile wavers and the popsicle falls from her hand in slow motion as she trips on the curb, eyes widening as she reaches for him in hopes he’ll catch her. Eijiro is just a hint too slow, his red gaze catching sight of a car coming too close taking his full attention as he protectively moves forward—

“Whoa, easy there!”

His hand clasps empty air as a stranger appears from around the moving truck, your arms quickly scooping up the little girl to save her from the tumble. The Pro Hero can only watch in shock and mild amusement when his daughter begins to thank you profusely and even offers you the rest of her popsicle. “Thanks for the save, really, I—“ His words are cutoff when your gazes meet, for the first time in his life he felt as if the sky had swallowed him up when your lips rise into a smile so bright it could rival the sun itself.

“That was a close one!” You coo at Aida softly, brushing your fingers beneath her eyes when they threaten to tear up. “Aww, there, there! It’s alright now! See?” The little girl you held breaks into a fit of giggles when you nuzzle her cheek with your nose as a playful smile raises your lips.

Did his heart just skip a beat?

Did that long forgotten warmth suddenly flood his chest?

Did a blush just enter his cheeks when you shoot him a wink as you continue to play with his daughter?

Those hips…breasts…oh, heavens, those thighs…lean calves and arms…that face…your voice… He very much liked what he saw. “Oh, damn it all to hell…” he whispers to himself as he takes in your outfit and appearance.

“No swearing!”

Now the blush becomes one of embarrassment at his daughter’s scolding. “Hey, little gem, I’m the adult not you. I can say whatever I please!”

A laugh sounds from you that instantly earns his sheepish chuckle. “Your daddy is right, but a manly-man like himself should be a little more careful of that mouth of his when such a cutie is around! Gotta set the best example for the pretty little princess, after all!” The tip of your tongue teasingly appears between your smirking lips as you send him a wink.

Eijiro was never one to believe in that whole “love at first sight” nonsense. Even with his first wife, now deceased, there hadn’t been a connection like this. This felt like a wildfire had woken from deep within his veins.

Oh, shit…

He could barely compose himself when you introduced yourself. And when you said what unit you were moving into, revealing that is was the one directly across from theirs. Meaning if he opened his front door and you opened yours, the two of you would be facing one another.

Oh, shit…

“Daddy?” Seeing Aida become worried about her suddenly unresponsive father, you move closer so that her waving hand is closer to his face. Amusement filled you when the little girl promptly shoved the rest of her popsicle between his partially gaping lips. “Daddy! You’re staring at the nice lady!”

You couldn’t resist leaning closer and dipping your voice slightly. “Earth to Red Riot~, your daughter is calling you…”

Now that blush was all over his face and ears, not to mention his neck, when you whisper his hero name in that tone.

Oh, shit on a shingle in the scorching summer sun on a Sunday…

“Daddy, you look like Uncle Denki when he sees a pretty girl.”

He snaps out of his stupor with a full bodied shake, trying to regain his composure and gives a chuckle while quickly eating the popsicle that had been shoved between his lips. “Yeah, I hear her, and she’s about to get a visit from the tickle monster for saying I look like Kaminari!”

You can’t help but laugh as Aida clings to you for protection while begging to be saved when he wiggles the fingers of his free hand. “Oh, no! I must save the princess! Quick! Let’s run away!”

He almost fell into a fit of laughter when you slip her onto your back and start to run away. Never has he seen his daughter warm up to anyone this quickly! And he can’t help but notice how natural this all feels…you holding her so close to you, the smiles on your and her faces, how Aida even nuzzled into your hair when the wind made it tickle her face.

It was as if this moment was straight out of a movie, like a sappy rom-com his previous wife had loved to watch. The memory was heart aching when recalling how things used to be, how the woman who had birthed Aida all those years ago wasn’t here because of the illness which took her life before the little girl had turned two. The breath in his lungs suddenly catches when for a split second, in a sudden gust of wind that caused several fallen cherry blossom petals to swirl in the air around you and Aida, he swore he saw her form appear while resting a hand upon your heads as you continue to play together.

Was this a sign that it was okay for him to find love again?

The apparition turns her attention to him and smiles before it vanishes.

He nearly jumps when something brushes his cheek, his red gaze shifting down to see it’s your hand that’s carefully wiping away the tear slipping down his cheek that he himself hadn’t been aware of. The touch was so soft, light as a feather, and so warm…

“Daddy? What’s wrong?” Aida asks softly, her little hand meeting his other cheek as another tear falls. “It’s okay, daddy, there, there!”

Sympathy fills you when you see the loss in his gaze despite the smile raising his lips. Without a single word, you place her within his arms and collect the groceries he was still carrying so that the two can have a moment, smiling softly to yourself when the two tightly embrace one another. What a cute father-daughter pair they made. Your gaze shifts from them to the moving crew still at work and with a soft smile while placing the bags beside his feet so as not to disturb them, you turn and walk away to continue moving in.

Maybe coming to this side of town was going to be a good change after all.

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader #eijiro kirishima #mha x you #red riot #mha eijiro kirishima #bnha eijiro kirishima #single dad!eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima fluff #eijiro x y/n #eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro x y/n #Eijiro X f!reader #single father X f!reader #Eijiro kirishima is a single father #Eijiro kirishima is such a girl dad

[venti-venus]

a cold encounter - c. s. x reader

𐌕Ꮤ: alc, y/n is a prostitute (but nothing serious mentioned/happens), big words, not rlly proofread lol

The air in the Capitol was thick with anticipation as the annual Hunger Games approached. Amongst the extravagant parties and lavish celebrations, Coriolanus Snow, the cunning and ambitious Head Game-maker, moved through the crowd with an air of calculated elegance. His piercing eyes scanned the room, always searching for the next opportunity to assert his power. He'd never admit it out loud, but he always enjoyed the looks of the gossiping partygoers as he proudly made his way around the room. He loved the control he had over people.

As he picked up his next flute of champagne, he overheard a woman with atrociously pink hair and a flouncy see-through dress mention a name he hadn't heard in a long time. Y/N L/N. 

    "Where is she?" He asked the woman, taking a sip of his champagne nonchalantly. Of course, on the inside, he was fuming. This party was supposed to be his, and the pathetic likes of Y/N were bound to cause problems. 

    The woman nervously answered, "In the VIP lounge, Mr. Snow." She smoothed out her dress, giving him the bravest smile she could muster. 

    Pathetic, Snow thought. He quickly made his way to the VIP lounge and saw the girl he hated oh-so-much. Tonight, she dawned a black dress covered in rhinestones and layered pearl necklaces. How... vintage. He also saw that she was talking to a painfully drunk man who couldn't comprehend what the hell a boundary was. Corio didn't like that at all. 

    He confidently walked up to the man and shoved him off of Y/N. "I think it's about time you went home," Coriolanus dusted the filth of the drunken man off of his shirt, "Now." 

    "Nice one, Snowman," Y/N huffed, "I just lost a customer because of you. Thanks a lot!" She got up out of her chair and looked him in the eye. Her makeup looked especially good tonight, but Coriolanus wasn't going to say anything. 

    He examined the girl, smirking at her attitude. He might hate her guts, but he sure as hell enjoyed their small arguments. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet, getting out $50 and handing it to Y/N. 

    "Here," He extended his hand, "Now go find desperate men and women somewhere else, will you? Watching you work here is deplorable." 

    Y/N chuckled and took the money. "I know you wish you were one of them," She smirked and walked off, disappearing into the party. As she walked away, Coriolanus could feel annoyance bubbling up in his stomach. He tried to come up with a sharp retort, but admittedly, he was at a loss for words.   

    No one had that effect on him.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #president snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow x you #tom blythe #tom blythe x reader

[literallyjustanerd]

Tease Part II (Fives X Fem!Reader)

I'm back with more filth! The reaction to the first part of this fic was better than I could have hoped, thank you all for your very encouraging (and hilarious) feedback.

I meant this to be a short continuation/conclusion to the first part, and yet, here we are, at 3:45 am, with 3k words of pure smut.

Enjoy!

Words: 3.3k

Content: Hair pulling, stripping, hints of dom reader, light praise kink, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up lol), dirty talk, fingering, very brief fluff

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Taglist (because I guess I have one of those now?? wild): @freesia-writes @wolffegirlsunite @clonethirstingisreal

Your breath hitches, too stubborn to let out the moan that tugs at your throat. It doesn’t go unnoticed: you feel Fives’ smile instead of seeing it, lips pausing on their trail down the centre of your chest, mouth twisting into a grin.

“Hit the spot, huh?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Just– don’t wanna be caught,” you manage to retort. “Never know who cou– mmph…” Your words dissolve into a frankly embarrassing whine as he chooses that exact moment to –the absolute devil– add a teasing little nip just below your navel. The break in your cool draws a smug little chuckle from Fives. The urge to smack him upside the head is rather dampened by the delicious buzz that his laughter sends across your skin, and the sharp, tingling rasp of his goatee. Maker, this man will be your undoing.

The two of you hadn’t lasted much longer in the alleyway outside, your fervent kisses and wandering hands quickly growing too bold to risk being seen by other students, or –stars forbid– faculty. It took all the strength you had to stop Fives’ hand on its valiant quest under the hem of your shirt, but you managed. As eager as he had been, he had pulled back the moment you moved him away, looking confused more than anything. You took a moment to appreciate those big, brown, pouty tooka-eyes before pulling him in by the back of his neck to speak into his ear. 

"Wanna take this somewhere a little more… private?" And then, just to enjoy the heady glint in his eye, you’d taken Fives' earlobe between your teeth and pulled. Fives’ wolfish grin sticks in your mind, smoky like blaster fire and dripping mischievous intent. His hands were drawn magnetically back to you, unable to help himself, roaming lower to squeeze a handful of your ass. His unabashed lack of restraint had only stoked the fire in your core, flames licking up your spine when Fives gave his answer. 

"Lead the way, cyare."

And here you had led him: to a block of seldom-used meeting rooms at the edge of campus. A chair wedged haphazardly under the door handle your only defence against the outside world. And as much as the growing ache in your cunt wants to let Fives continue his downward trail of kisses, licks and bites, your pride proves stronger. He’s been in control too long, and you’re craving the feeling of power you had over him during your little game in the lecture hall. Dragging a kiss-swollen lip between your teeth, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his cropped hair, nails scraping his scalp as you grab a fistful. All you intend to do is pull him back up to your mouth, to reassert yourself. You’re certainly not expecting the blissed-out look and stuttering groan Fives gives when you tighten your grip and pull. Neither is he, if his reaction is anything to go by. As quickly as his eyes had fluttered half-shut, they spring open, heat rushing to darken his cheeks. Time freezes when the two of you lock eyes.

You can’t resist.

“Oh? That hit the spot, did it?” you tease. Fives tries to scowl, to gain back any kind of foothold, but it’s hard when he still looks so dazed. You decide to take pity: instead of making him beg, you give him what he clearly wants and twist another handful of his hair in your hand, rougher and sharper this time when you pull. 

It unleashes something dark and feral in Fives: the moment he’s back on his feet he’s on you, his lips bruising and his hands grabbing feverishly at every inch of you he can get. Your teeth collide as he tries to push further into you, his tongue thrusting forward to slide against yours. Clumsy in his desperation, he rucks your shirt up, barely able to drag his mouth from you for the split second it takes to tear it over your head. As soon as it hits the floor, he’s back on you, the long, firm line of his body pressing you into the wall. His thumb rubs deep, rough circles in your hip bone as he dips his head to mouth at the top of a breast, the other hand snaking underneath your bra and gripping hard, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. You keen, head thrown back so suddenly it hits the wall with a loud thud. But it’s not enough. You want his thick, calloused fingers against your skin instead of his gloves. You want to feel him against you when you roll your hips forward, feel the throb of his hard cock against the growing wetness at your core, not his cold plastoid armour. You have to repeat yourself when you find your voice: Fives is too distracted trying to figure out how to unclasp your bra and tug your pants down at the same time. “I said,” you pant, cupping both sides of his face and forcing him to look up at you, “strip.”

Fives comes back from whatever faraway place he had been, once again flashing that roguish grin.

“Giving orders now, eh?” he says, his accent thicker with his voice this low, still out of breath. One hand drags deep and slow across the arc of your waist, while the other trails low, twisting to cup your pussy and pushing two fingers through your clothes in just the right spot to set you gasping. 

“What?” you huff, steeling your resolve even as your body betrays you to buck against his hand. It’s so good, too good, your cunt soaked, clenching with need. So empty. “Can’t handle it? You made ARC trooper. Thought that meant you were good at following orders.” 

Fives laughs, bright and clean, and for just a moment, you feel something deep in your chest a lot more dangerous than lust.

“Never been my forte, actually,” he says. It’s your turn to laugh, a sly little sound as you take one of his hands in yours.

“Hmm… Shame,” you sigh. Bringing his hand up between you, you lean forward, heavy-lidded eyes locked onto his, and seal your lips around one gloved finger. You taste blaster smoke and synth-leather as you sway your head forward, taking his finger down to the knuckle before pulling back. Your teeth catch on the tip of the glove, dragging it off Fives’ hand and letting it hang from your lips for a moment before it’s tossed aside with your shirt. “If you’d been good for me, I would have made it worth your while.”

Like a loth-wolf on the hunt, Fives’ breath rumbles in his chest, dark eyes blown wide. Before you know it, you’re off the ground, hoisted with strong arms under your legs. You’re set down on the large desk in the middle of the room, one last appreciative pinch to the sensitive spot at your upper thigh before Fives’ hands retreat.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he purrs, “I could be convinced.”

Fives bites down on his remaining glove, wrenching it off quickly. Warm fingers ghost across yours, a feather-light kiss at the base of your neck as he reaches behind you and, finally, frees you of your bra. He traces an agonisingly shallow touch around your ribs from your back to cup your breasts, shivers breaking out across your skin from the cold air and his teasing touch. Suddenly slow and almost reverent, he bends, coaxing you gently back so he can take one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it once before giving the same treatment to the other.

“Good,” you breathe. “That’s it, that– hmm, that’s perfect.” The praise has instant effect: Fives redoubles his efforts, kneading harder at your tits and biting down on your nipple, suckling eagerly.

Your hands grip tight, digging crescent-shaped marks in the top of your thighs, arching into his touch. Interesting. You’ll have to file that reaction away for later.

Some time later he seems to remember his promise, standing, as reluctant to leave as you are to lose his touch. On his way up, though, he takes your hands, guiding them to your chest. You pick up where he left off, palming your breasts and rolling your spit-slick nipples in your fingers. Fives groans appreciatively at the display, before he sets to the task of removing his armour. Each plate that clatters to the floor reveals more broad, corded, rippling muscle. You lose yourself in your own touch, spurred on by every twist and flex, grinding your thighs together with building desperation. Fives watches with shriek-hawk eyes, letting out low, appreciative sounds whenever you make yourself gasp or whine.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice ragged around the edges. His codpiece falls to the floor, and you moan out loud before you can stop yourself at the sight of the bulge straining the fabric below. Fives chuckles, the sound more growl than laugh. 

“You really are a dangerous one, aren’t you, adenn?” The Mando’a still goes over your head, but sweet spires of Coruscant, it makes your insides turn to hear him say it anyway. He’s down to his blacks at last, and neither of you can wait any longer. You let out a quick, heated breath.

“Get over here and find out.”

This time, he obeys the order without protest. Looks like he can be tamed after all, you think with a grin, not a moment before the two of you collide again. The weight of his body on yours was delicious before, but now, free from his armour? It’s downright heavenly. He’s big, with inches of thick, soft flesh packed over dense muscle, and you grab greedily at whatever you can reach.

“Kriff,” you utter into your mouthful of his neck, when you finally get under the waistband of his blacks to grope a handful of his ass. Fives’ chest seems to swell under the reaction.

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations,” he quips.

“You should not keep that thing hidden under the kama,” you shoot back, a beat of silence before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles. You make the mistake of leaning back to meet his eyes, and there it is again: the tiny hint of something small, fragile and disorienting. Why, of all the sordid things you’ve done so far, this should be the moment that makes you want to run, you don’t know. Before you can think too much of it, you pitch your hips forward, rolling against Fives’ groin and bringing you crashing back into your body.

The rest of your clothes are quickly shed, added to the scattered mess over the floor. Every nerve in your body is attuned to how suddenly hungry you feel when you first see Fives’ cock. Thick and firm as the rest of him, it arches up to his stomach, the tip leaking thick, pearly fluid. Instinctively, you lick your lips. The seam of Fives’ mouth splits into a smug grin as he crowds in close and eases your body back, until you’re resting fully against the table and he can drape himself over you. He whispers sweet, drunken praises into your flushed skin, licking a line between your breasts and venturing further down, down, down, until he’s kissing over the mound of your cunt. 

“Fives…” you groan in warning, throwing an arm across your clenched eyes, bracing against the flames that threaten to engulf you completely. “Don’t make me wait, I–”

“Patience, adenn’ika.” The vibration of his words against your pussy have you keening, back arching and hips thrusting, coiled so tight you might snap. Thoughts swimming, head lolling, hands gripping Fives’ hair until your knuckles blanch. He inhales deeply, hot breath fanning over your clit when he lets it out with an indulgent hum. With lips that paint exquisite torture, he presses a kiss against the wetness of your folds that has your hole fluttering, clenching around nothing. 

Your body feels like one big wound, exposed, raw and sensitive. So lost to your own want that you barely notice when Fives appears at your lips again. You definitely notice when you feel pressure at your entrance. Fives’ arms brace either side of your head. The strain in his muscles is clear – he’s as strung out as you, his toes over a precipice, leaning forward and ready to fall. Barely disguised, he sucks in a cinched breath as he drags his cock through your folds, gathering wetness before pressing his swollen, flushed head against your cunt. Still, despite how he seems to shake with the effort, he restrains himself.

“Well?” he utters into your ear, voice frayed thin and coreless. “What are you waiting for? Give the order.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Lifting your legs to hook around his waist, you cup his chin, pulling him in for one final, sloppy kiss before meeting his eyes.

“Fuck me, Fives.”

Your vision whites out. Molten gold floods your veins. The entire world seems to throb with your pulse as Fives enters you, stretches you, fills you gloriously. It’s a tight fit, a slight burn, verging just on the right side of painful, but Fives takes it slow, face buried into the crook of your neck. His hips rock gently, pressing just slightly further with each small, seeking thrust, until finally, you feel his groin pressed flush against you. For a small eternity you stay like that, the only sound both of your laboured breathing as you grow accustomed to the stretch. Soon enough, and all at once, the feeling goes from too much to not enough. 

“Back with me, cyare?” Fives breathes when your hips give an experimental twitch forward. “Sure you’re ready?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear from the tone of his voice that Fives was actually checking in with you, and not just teasing. Either way, you give your answer: drawing your hips back and driving them forward in a circle, drawing out a deep-throated groan as you feel Fives drag against your walls. Fives grunts at the stimulation.

“Give me the best you’ve got,” you say, and wildfire flares in Fives’ dark eyes. Moving slow, luxuriating in it, he draws almost all the way back, just the head of his cock remaining at your entrance. There’s a single moment of pause before, without warning, he thrusts, sheathing himself again in one fluid motion. 

He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping rhythmically. Technicolour stars dance in your vision, limbs heavy and clumsy when you drape your arms around him, nails scratching sharp lines in his back and holding on for dear life as pleasure alights on every nerve, curling your toes and singing your fingertips. You can’t help the sharp moans punched from your lungs, and from how they seem to spur Fives on, you don’t want to. He’s beautiful like this: sweat-slick skin shining in the weak, blue light. Brow pinched, focus shifting deliriously from your face to your cunt, watching himself disappear into you with every thrust, breathing sweet, filthy words that seep through your skin and dance on your nerves.

“So good… So tight, taking me so well… Kriff, mesh’la, feels so kriffing good…”

When one of your hands leaves his back to tangle in the peppering of hair on his chest, he dives forward and smothers your lips with his, kissing you deep and messy. 

“‘M close,” he murmurs, when his hips begin to lose their rhythm, growing unsteady and frenzied, shallower as he tries to pull back. “Where do you–” 

You dig your heels into the small of his back, hauling him back in close. You can’t bear to lose the feeling of him splitting you open, and there’s no way you could deny either of you what you desperately want.

“Inside,” you demand, and Fives moans brokenly, hips twitching forward just from the one word. “You’re so good. Fill me up, Fives, please. Cum for me.”

With one last animalistic growl, Fives thrusts hard, once, twice, then fucks himself as deep into you as he can get, forehead pressed to yours. With a whine, you feel him swell, warmth spilling into your abdomen and filling you in long, luxurious pulses.

He barely gives himself a moment to relish his own relief before he’s moving again. Still buried deep in your cunt, he slips a hand down to where you’re joined together, swiping his calloused thumb through the wet mess and pressing it to your clit. You clench at the unexpected pleasure, and Fives huffs out a sharp breath at the overstimulation. It doesn’t slow him for a second, his soldier’s resolve showing through. He makes slow circles with his thumb, his other hand back at your breasts, grabbing, twisting, caressing. The touch at your clit quickens, switching between running teasing rings around it and pressing roughly against its centre. It’s maddening. His cock had taken you close enough that you’re already near your limit, lungs failing you, leaving you gaping, open-mouthed, white-hot and beginning to unravel.

“That’s it,” Fives coaxes, pressing kisses around your nipple, his goatee scratching electrically over your sensitive skin. Your praises turn incoherent as you hurtle towards your peak, thighs gripping tighter and tighter, fingers scrabbling for purchase on any surface you can find. Your words have left you, until all that remains are the breathy refrains of ‘yes,’ ‘Fives,’ and ‘more.’ You cum with his mouth at your neck and two of his fingers bearing mercilessly down on your clit, dissolving into oblivion screaming his name. Maker knows how long you drift out there, body rolling with the aftershocks, writing in slow motion, before you come back down out of hyperspace, vision still clouded and ears still ringing. You feel it when Fives finally pulls out, whining with overstimulation and wincing when you feel the mess leak onto your thighs. The laugh Fives gives is soft, venomless. 

“Hey, you asked for it.”

You giggle dumbly and swat at his chest, still trying to regain control of your body. You’re pretty sure the grin on your face is beyond goofy. You can’t bring yourself to care.

Neither of you seem ready to leave, even after you’ve cleaned up as best you can and redressed. You’ve both slid down to the floor, leaning beside one another against the wall, facing forward.

“That was…” you trail, clearing your parched throat. A blur in the corner of your vision, Fives nods.

“Yeah.”

Silence sets in. For one terrifying moment, it seems this will end like some of your past flings: with both of you guiltily avoiding eye contact and hurrying along your separate ways. But just when your afterglow is about to be ruined by your own rumination, Fives’ head tips to rest on your shoulder. The weight is a comfort, and he lets the silence linger before he speaks.

“Next time, we should really go back to your apartment. Much easier to clean up.”

Your chest warms, and you twist your head to look down at him.

“Next time?” you say, the smile clear in your voice. Fives picks his head up, but keeps it close to yours, close enough that you can pick each golden fleck in his earth-brown eyes. He leans in, presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah. Next time.”

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