#but i was setting the scene and it just got away from me...

[softscripta]

LOVE ISLAND MADNESS

episode 5: RAUNCHY BUSINESS

episode 4 here! (not proofread sorryyy)

౨ৎ thank you guys so freaking much for 100 followers :3

The villa woke to the smell of something good.

Not drama. Not Zara’s perfume. But…Cinnamon?

You turned over to find Choso in the kitchen, shirtless, carefully plating two slices of French toast with a side of fruit. His brows were furrowed in deep focus, his hair tied up half-done, and a single chain hung low around his neck.

“Mornin,” he murmured when he caught you watching, voice husky and low.

“Morning,” you replied, stepping closer.

He nudged a plate toward you. “I hope you like strawberries.”

You did. You liked them a lot more now.

Leaning against the counter, still in your oversized sleep shirt. “You keep feeding me like this, and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

He blinked, then looked away slightly, ears tinted the faintest red. “Maybe I do.”

You didn’t reply. Just smiled to yourself and took a bite.

Someone get [❀] a bib, ‘cause Choso’s serving more than just breakfast.

Elsewhere in the villa, Zara was straddling Gojo’s lap on the sun lounger like the ink hadn’t even dried on the recoupling board yet. Gojo’s hands lazily rested on her thighs as he whispered something that made her giggle.

You caught the scene from across the patio. Choso glanced in the same direction, then looked at you instead.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Of course.” You smiled, brushing a crumb off your lip.

But you were watching. You clocked how Gojo kept glancing at you. Like Zara wasn’t sitting on him. Like he didn’t just say all that firepit fluff.

Just when the tension was building…the producers said, “Let’s get raunchy.”

A text went off.

📱 GIRLS: It’s time to get messy. Head to the front lawn for today’s challenge: RAUNCHY RACES. The boys are your competition. Game on. #KissAndTell #AwkwardPairings #FirepitOrFrenzy

RAUNCHY RACES

Let the chaos begin.

Two rows of podiums were set up: boys on one side, girls on the other. Obstacle courses. Lube. Props. Costume trunks. Tongue-twister cards and body paint. A chaos cocktail.

The rules? Simple.

Perform the task. Beat the opposing team. Avoid catching feelings.

(Just kidding. You’re on Love Island—everyone’s catching feelings.)

ROUND ONE: “Kiss the Islander Who’s Most Your Type”

Screams. Whistles. Immediately, boys and girls started sprinting in opposite directions.

You didn’t hesitate—you walked with intention.

Choso’s eyes widened when you stopped in front of him.

“Me?” he asked quietly, blinking.

You tilted your head, smiling. “You gonna complain?”

He shook his head just once, before you leaned in and kissed him.

It started soft, slow—more than just a peck. His hands ghosted your waist for a second, then gripped just slightly. You kissed him like the world had gone quiet around you. When you pulled back, Choso looked dazed.

“…Damn,” Sasha whispered from the sidelines.

“Girls get the point!” the host called out

ROUND TWO: “Lap Dance for the Opposing Team”

Before anyone could breathe, you strutted across the garden—straight to Toji.

He arched a brow, arms spread like a king. “Didn’t expect you to be this bold.”

“You haven’t seen bold yet.”

You pushed him back into a sun lounger and climbed into his lap like it was built for you. The beat from the speakers thumped as you moved your hips, slowly rolling into a grind, hand resting on his chest to keep your balance. Toji leaned back, grinning like a menace.

Gojo’s jaw flexed. Sasha let out an “ooh?” and even Choso looked like he didn’t know where to look.

When the horn blew again, you stood like nothing happened and dusted off your thighs.

“Point to the girls!”

ROUND THREE: “Pass the Ice Cube”

You ended up in a line between Geto and Choso.

When it got to you, Choso bent close, eyes flicking to your lips. The ice clinked between your mouths, but his breath was warm, and for a second, you forgot it was a challenge.

Geto dropped the cube trying not to look directly at you two.

“Whoops,” you said, stepping aside with a grin.

ROUND FOUR: Lick whipped cream off the Islander who makes your heart race.

Gojo moved fast. Too fast.

You were mid-turn when he was suddenly in front of you, a grin plastered on his face, holding the whipped cream canister.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, spraying some on his neck. “You know you’ve missed me.”

Before you could retort, he leaned in, lips near your ear. “Make it count.”

You did lick it off—but you didn’t break eye contact. Let him think it meant something.

The girls screamed. Zara raised a brow but said nothing.

ROUND FIVE:“Bite the clothes off the Islander you’re most curious about.”

Toji bit the hem of your top, but you swatted him away. “Pick someone else, grandpa.”

He leaned back with a dramatic scoff. “Watch your mouth before I show you why cougars love me.”

The villa hollered.

You strutted past him with a smirk, zero apologies.

Choso’s face turned red when you stopped in front of him again. “You mind?”

He blinked. “N-No.”

You dropped to your knees with exaggerated slowness, your fingers grazing his thighs as you leaned in. The tie on his swim trunks was snug—but your teeth caught it with ease. You tugged, just enough to loosen the knot, dragging your lips along the waistband like a tease.

Choso’s entire body tensed, jaw tight, eyes locked on you like you were the only person on Earth.

Choso just… sat there stunned, ears red

After the challenge, everyone collapsed around the firepit, breathless and flushed.

The girls won.

Toji raised a bottle of sparkling water like a trophy. “Rematch tomorrow,” he said.

Laughter bubbled, but your attention drifted—Gojo was watching you again.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction. You turned back to Choso, brushing your fingers against his wrist where it rested between you. He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, quiet but sure.

“You’re really good at games,” he murmured.

You leaned in. “That a compliment?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think you’re playing with me.”

You didn’t answer—just gave him a look. Something soft. Something honest.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The villa had that hush about it — the kind that only settles once all the mess and games are over. Pillows tossed, and heels kicked off.

But you? You were curled up on the daybed outside, the warm glow from the overhead fairy lights dusting your skin like honey. Your legs were tucked under you, arms around your knees, sipping on a glass of something fruity and strong when you heard the softest shuffle of steps.

You didn’t even have to turn. You already knew.

Choso.

He always moved like that careful, quiet, like he was trying not to take up too much space even when he had every right to.

“Thought you might still be out here,” he murmured.

His voice was low, almost shy, and when you glanced over your shoulder, he was standing there with a bowl in his hands and that same little almost-smile that made your chest tighten.

“What’s that?”

He walked closer, still not sitting until you scooted to make room. “Fruit. You didn’t eat much after the challenge. Thought I’d bring you something.”

You blinked, and your heart might’ve flipped. “You brought me fruit?”

He shrugged, eyes on the bowl like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the villa. “Couldn’t sleep anyway.”

You smiled — slow and soft — and leaned just a little into him. “You’re sweet.”

His ears tinged pink at that, but he held out the bowl and looked at you from beneath his lashes. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I like sweet,” you murmured, plucking a piece and brushing your fingers against his as you did. “Especially when it comes in a six-foot-tall, emotionally constipated package.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“You did good today, by the way,” you added. “In the challenge.”

Choso’s thumb brushed his lower lip — a nervous tell. “Didn’t think I’d be the one getting my shorts bitten today…”

He looked away, ears tinted red. “…but I wasn’t mad at it.”

And there it was — that shy half-smile again, just barely curled at the corner of his mouth.

The two of you sat there, just like that — close, quiet, with the bowl of fruit between your legs and the ocean breeze drifting in off the pool. He was so warm beside you, and even though he wasn’t touching you much, you could feel him.

But then, slowly, his hand slid behind you — resting against the back of the daybed cushion — and your shoulders brushed.

“You looked good today,” he said after a long pause.

Your gaze slid sideways. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicked to your lips, then away just as fast. “Hard not to look at you.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, then leaned into his side a little more — head brushing his shoulder.

“You can touch me, y’know,” you said softly, teasing. “We’re coupled up now. Comes with the territory.”

He swallowed, quiet, then finally let his fingers drift to your thigh — gentle, warm, like he was still unsure you’d let him stay there.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t move away.

Just sat there under the stars, with your body leaning into his and his hand resting on your leg, the fruit long forgotten in your lap.

And even though it wasn’t a kiss, wasn’t a full-on confession, it felt like something.

You let out a breath, soft and a little shaky, blinking slowly as the firepit flickered behind Choso’s silhouette. The air between you both had shifted—warmer now, heavier with things unspoken.

You glanced down, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. “We should probably go inside,” you murmured, voice gentle. “It’s getting late.”

Choso didn’t move right away. Just studied you for a second longer, like he wanted to remember this exact version of you—eyes soft, expression unreadable, still close enough to touch.

Then he nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

You stood first, smoothing your dress as he followed you back toward the villa, his hand brushing against yours once, twice—until on the third time, you laced your fingers with his.

The villa was quiet when you entered, just faint laughter from another room and the hush of ocean wind through the open windows. You padded into the shared bedroom with Choso behind you, and finally released his hand.

“Give me two seconds,” you said, flashing him a sleepy smile before grabbing your clothes and stepping into the bathroom.

He waited. Sat at the edge of the bed, absently tugging the rings on his fingers while you rinsed your face and peeled off your dress. You swapped it for something softer—an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts.

“You good?” you asked gently.

Choso looked up. His eyes scanned you for a moment, lingering where your thighs peeked from beneath the hem of your shirt—but not in a way that felt heavy. It was quiet awe. Like he didn’t expect softness to look this good on you.

“You look…” He cleared his throat. “Comfy.”

You laughed. “You thought I was gonna sleep in that little dress?”

“I dunno,” he said, lips twitching. “Kinda figured you were bold like that.”

“I’m bold,” you teased. “Not uncomfortable.”

He smiled then—just a small one—and you crossed the room back to him, bonnet in hand. “Hey… you offered before. Wanna help?”

He blinked. “With that?”

“You said next time you’d help me put it on.”

His ears tinted pink. “Right. Yeah.”

You passed it over and turned around, settling between his knees on the edge of the bed. His fingers found your braids again, slow and careful. He smoothed your hair down and tugged the bonnet on with the gentlest touch.

“Too tight?” he asked near your ear.

You shook your head. “No. Feels nice.”

There was a pause. The warmth from his body pressed against your back, his hands hesitating like he didn’t want to move away.

“You always let people get this close?” he murmured.

You turned slightly. “Only the ones who actually mean it.”

And there it was again—that stillness in him, thick with something unspoken. He reached for the covers, voice barely above a whisper.

“Come lay down. I’ll be good.”

You crawled under the sheets first, and he joined you, settling behind you with an arm gently curled around your waist. His hand rested against your stomach, fingers twitching like he wanted to pull you closer but didn’t want to push.

Your fingers found his forearm under the blanket. You let them stay there, slow and soft.

And in that quiet, the air between you felt different.

Something real.

Something yours.

Choso’s not loud. But he’s consistent. And the quiet ones? They always leave the loudest marks. And just like that, another day in the villa closes with a bang—literally and emotionally. Who’s falling, who’s faking, and who’s catching feelings faster than Choso’s soft stares?

Stay tuned..

TAGLIST- @stardollwrites @not-aya @t4naiis @wettbaby @manifestingly @liyahskindaweird @exepelia-chan @socutesotall @garden0fyves

next episode will probably be a filler episode i REALLY need to get in depths with the other couples💔 (lowkey forgot about them)

[lvrspiastri]

eeeeeek the single dad arthur au is so cute? can I request a little add on of like the first they confess the love each other?

FUCK YEAH more single-dad!arthur. i love him. i love freddy. so glad you asked this anon.

reminder that requests are open just check out the guidelines :)

masterlist

pt 1 pt 2.1

Parenthesis ᴬᴸ pt 2.2

✧. ┊     PAIRING: single dad!arthur leclerc x gender-neutral!reader

✧. ┊    WORDS: 1.1k

✧. ┊    TAGS/WARNINGS: fluff, maybe a curse word here and there. kids. love.

It didn’t happen with fireworks. Not with a kiss in the rain or a dramatic declaration. No violins or candlelight.

It happened on a Tuesday. One of those weirdly warm spring evenings, the kind that smelled like jasmine and earth and the last stretch of daylight. I was helping Freddy glue macaroni to a shoebox. Some kind of diorama for school. He insisted it was a spaceship, though it looked more like a pasta crime scene.

Arthur was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a bit of flour on his jaw from the pizza dough we hadn’t even finished rolling out. He’d offered to cook, as he sometimes did now. "You shouldn't have to cook for me," he said. I didn’t even pretend to say no anymore.

“You’re putting too much glue, Fred,” I told Freddy, nudging the bottle out of his determined little hand.

He frowned. “Papa says more is always better.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Does he now?”

Before Freddy could defend his father’s honour, Arthur appeared beside us with a bowl of grated cheese. “Only with cheese,” he clarified, placing it on the table. Then, to Freddy, “Not glue, mon cœur. That’s why your robot from last week is still stuck to the dining chair.”

Freddy giggled.

I met Arthur’s soft eyes over the mess of macaroni and glitter glue and felt it again. That quiet knowing. The one I kept stumbling into, week after week, like a secret I was still learning how to keep.

After bedtime, after the toothbrush battle and two storybooks and Freddy’s usual stalling routine (“One more hug. Okay, now one more for my foot. Papa, my other foot”)—Arthur and I were left in the living room. Just us. The light was dim, the TV quietly playing some wildlife documentary no one was really watching. His feet were bare. I was in one of his old sweatshirts because I’d spilled juice on mine and he insisted. Said it smelled like soap and racing fuel. I said it smelled like him.

I'd gotten up to grab a warm drink.

No, it didn’t happen with fireworks. Not with a kiss in the rain or a sweeping declaration at the foot of the bed.

It happened in the kitchen.

And it started with a fight.

I was already in the kitchen when he came back, leaning against the counter, nursing a half-cup of now-cold tea. The lights were off except for the stove hood and the dim yellow bulb above the sink. The city outside was quiet. We weren’t.

Arthur stepped in, rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. His voice was low when he said it. Casual, almost. Like he was commenting on the weather.

“You do not have to keep doing this.”

I looked up. “Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely. “Coming over. Staying late. Pretending like you belong here.”

My heart thudded. “Pretending?”

He leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “I just—maybe it is unfair. Of me. To let you keep coming back. Like this is something it’s not.”

I blinked. Slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared past me, jaw tight. That look he got when he was trying not to say something he’d regret. Or maybe when he was trying not to want too much.

I set the cup down harder than I meant to. “Arthur. If you have something to say, say it.”

“You are not a part of this,” he said. Quiet. But firm. “You are not his parent. You are not his family. This, us, it is messy! And I see the way you are looking at all of it. Like you are waiting for the moment you regretting to stay.”

My stomach twisted. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to fix me. Or him. I never asked for that.”

I pushed off the counter. “I’m not trying to fix anything. I’m just here.”

“For now,” he snapped. “But what happens when you decide it’s too much? When you realise I’m not some charming broken thing you can save with bedtime stories and glue sticks?”

I stepped toward him. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn this into some sob story where you push me out before I get the chance to leave.”

His expression cracked. Just slightly. “I have a son. I don’t get to gamble. I don’t get to be selfish. If I let you in, for real, and you walk away, it is not just me who pays for it.”

I felt like I’d been slapped. “You think I haven’t thought about that every single day I’m here?”

He flinched. “Then why stay?”

“Because I love him. And I love you. God, Arthur, do you really think I’d put myself through this if I didn’t?”

Silence.

I hadn’t meant to say it like that. Not mid-argument. Not with my heart on fire and my voice too loud. But there it was, hanging in the air between us, raw and irreversible.

Arthur’s face went completely still.

I swallowed, throat tight. “I’ve been in love with you for months. You and your stupid overcooked pasta and your tired eyes and the way you hum when you fold laundry. I’m not pretending to belong. I want to.”

He stared at me like he didn’t know whether to yell or cry.

“I know it’s messy,” I went on. “I know you’ve been hurt, and scared, and alone. But don’t punish me for showing up. Don’t act like I’m doing you some favour just by loving you.”

He didn’t speak. Just stepped forward slowly. One step. Then another.

“I do not know how to do this,” he said hoarsely. “I do not know how to be with someone and not ruin it.”

“Neither do I!,” I said. My voice was shaking. “But it doesn't mean you can't learn! Let’s ruin it and rebuild it and get it wrong a hundred times until we get it right. But stop pushing me away like I’m fragile. I’m not.”

He reached for me like he wasn’t sure I’d let him. Fingers trembling. Palming the side of my face like he needed to feel something solid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was afraid you’d stop choosing us.”

I shook my head, felt my throat ache. “I’m afraid too. But I’m still here.”

His forehead pressed against mine, our breath mingling between the space of almost and always. The anger hadn’t disappeared—it never does that fast. But it shifted. Softened. Turned into something that could be carried together.

“I love you,” he said.

This time, it didn’t feel like panic. It felt like surrender.

I let my hands curl into the fabric of his shirt. “I know,” I said, quietly. “I love you too.”

And just like that, the fight was over. Not because everything was solved. But because we’d named it. Given the fear a shape. And then handed each other the truth, even with shaking hands.

He kissed me then. Slow, sure. Not desperate. Just real.

Not fireworks. Just light.

And it was enough.

[nikikeya]

My Highly Disjointed Ramblings About Jax and Jax Theories

JAX H. LECTER So someone over on Bluesky asked why everyone was forgiving/ignoring Jax cannibalism.

And my dude: Baby boi did not actually "eat" anybody.

We saw he just gnawed, shook, and tugged on Gangle.

He did not actually tear, or shred her. He did not swallow ever. It was all just play acting. Demented? Yes. But its a VIDEO GAME. Same with when he mauled Pax. He grabbed him, and shook him like a dog with a chew toy.

The only sounds were growling and screaming. No chewing. No swallowing. And Caine most likely just poofed the poor bedraggled NPC away in the end. Most damning evidence that Jax did not Ted Bundy his alt was Pomni's reaction tho: Pomni is a kind person, who is in no way demented. And I doubt she'd have been looking at him like this:

If he was actually sitting there ripping pieces off his twin.

So no, Jax is not a cannibal. He's a demented little hell spawn from the depths of Tartarus. (And I love that.) but he did NOT actually Hannibal Lecter anyone... ===========================

JAX.EXE

(The wtf moment that started it all. I love Jax's Toon Logic.) The only reason I even still entertain the Jax is an AI/NPC/Jax is Able theories at this point, is cause it does seem odd that while Caine's becoming more violent, and Bubble is getting raunchier than ever, Jax has seemingly suddenly become much more animalistic and emotional over all.

Also, sidenote: the Japanese distributer of GLITCH products recently put out keychains on their site, and I was kinda mind boggled about Jax's.

Everyone is holding their character items (the things they're most associated with.) So: Why is Jax holding Caine's hand? His character Item should be a KEY. (Technically Caine's should be Bubble or one of his eyes but... its still less weird then Jax.) Unless this is hinting that there's a stronger connection between Caine and Jax.

==================== RIBBUN

(These Idiots...) More than the Bunnydoll fans crashout, I am openly morning the loss of Jax and Gangle's toxic bromance. Like the 2nd most emotional scene for me was Jax worrying over Gangle picking Zooble over him at the beginning of the Stargazing adventure. I SCREAMED. SO. FECKING. LOUD. In every other episode these two were practically inseparable. And now here Gangle is off with Zooble, and Jax is alone, and so he turns to the only other option he had: Pomni** (Yeah, yeah you heard me: She's his rebound. I'm not sorry: Its true.) I am very very sad that the ONLY interaction we got with the Dynamic Duo was when Zooble SET GANGLE UP for taking the blame for the whole maid dress fiasco and then LET HIM CHASE HER AROUND... (I've ranted about how much this pissed me off earlier.) I do hope that Jax and Ganagle will get some time alone eventually to clear the air, cause I hate them just: Never interacting again ya know?

(also RIP Manic Mask, I will always miss your cuteness, and the fact that you made Gangle nearly as unhinged as Jax is now. XDD) ===================

JAXY BOY

Jax is a very immature, very conflicted character. He's a boy whose trying way too hard to be a man. He puts on shows of arrogance and apathy to hide the deeper more depressed parts of himself. He is deathly allergic to real emotions. He's built up a narrative that nothing is real, and nothing he does matters. And in that way he protects himself: both from the insanity of the circus, and the other cast members.

I don't think he was talking about Ragatha here really. Think this might have been a bit of projection about someone else. Who? Ribbit? Kaufmo? Jax's own mother? He's def got Mommy Issues, hell, he's got Mommy Volumes and a complete Encyclopedia Britannica. WARNING: Theory Suppose it turns out he was talking about his mom. Maybe she was the one who told him that everyday, and then ultimately abandoned him, leaving him with a quite possibly abusive father who instilled in him the need to "Stop being such a whiny a lil bitch, and man up." after hearing the kid cry for his mom for a week straight.

=====

Jax masculinity is something he's obviously gotten shit for, maybe cause of being scrawny or effeminate. I do not support the idea of him being Trans in either direction. (Mostly cause he's the only guy in the whole damn circus other then grandpa and the AIs. So back off please, its enough of a titty party without claiming him too.) but also cause I'm frankly sick of the fact that when anyone acts anywhere outside the gender norms, or tries too hard to act their gender, they're instantly labeled trans or wanna be trans. Like can we please CHILL?? Jax as stated by God aka Gooseworx is definitely a boy. A boy who has a clear dislike of women. So the thought of him secretly wanting to be one. after watching him crash out and look like he was five seconds from killing someone or abstracting just from being put in a dress. Yeah no... And again, before you talk about the hip sway or leg cross: Effeminate guys exists. GAY MEN exist. he doesn't need to be Trans or closet trans to act like that. ==== I really do hope we get a backstory on him and Ribbit. Somewhere maybe on Goose's twitter, there was talk that one of the episodes would be about when they all first entered the circus and how they changed. And if that's the case then hopefully we will get a full flashback of Jaxy and Bibby. (Maybe confirm the brother theory or Bunnyhop pairing.) anywho I probably will add more to this later, but I was up all night writing this. And the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak... I'll leave you with a meme I made.

meh it was funnier in my head. Ciao~!

[rinnieisthecutest]

"I WON'T NEED 365 DAYS"

『//Ehmm... Guys I did it again!!!! This is a good sweet Crowe x reader (definitely HIGHLY self-motivated! Also when I wrote it it was like 5 am and I had just finished watching 365 days si DON'T BLAME ME IT'S ACTUALLY MY REVIEW OF THE FILM PQUAHAHAH』

Type: Gn!reader x Crowe

Tw: Just some SWEET n YOUNG love!!! A bit suggestive but not nsfw. NOT PROOFREAD And there are spoilers of 365 days!!!

masterlist

MORE UNDER THE CUT

«Hi Crowe! Come inside» you smile as you greet your friend inside your house: you invited him for a movie night, as in your official first ever sleepover. He agreed right away, and now here he was: sitting on your couch, long brown hair finally set free of that loose braid he usually keeps during the day, his bright blue eyes focused on the screen as chooses what movie to watch with you.

Suddenly, his soft voice snaps you out of your trance «Hey, you're supposed to look at the screen not at me» you suddenly blush, falling deeper in the couch as you sigh «i was just looking at... Something» «Something, sure... So what do you think of 365 days? What is it» as you let out a little scream at the mention of the film you shook your head «Oh hell naw! You'll never catch me watching that film! It's so cringe!» «And that's why we'll watch it right now!» .

And that's why you're now watching one of the most cringe movie you have ever seen, the worst part? You actually like it.

As you lay on the couch, you can feel Crowe scoop a bit closer to you «You can rest your legs on mine if you want to» sometimes you wonder If he feels the same things you feel, because there is no other way a man could ever look at you the same he did. With such devotion, basically telling you how much he valued you just with his eyes. That's why you did it:, you rapidly placed your legs on top of his, humming contentedly as you kept watching with weird amusement.

«Ok wait but why is he actually a consent king?» you can feel him chuckling, his voice making your heart flutter «Why do you have to speak in TikTok terms? And he did actually try to sexual assault here... And basically kidnapped her... And-» then, you threw a cushion at him «Let the lore unfold!».

«Ok what the actual fuck am I looking at right now» you said, as you paused the movie «That was a whole fucking prop! Why the hell did they show that yellow veiny prop!» as you screamed against the paused screen: showing the main character's love interest, Massimo, getting a blowjob from a woman, your friend Crowe was currently laughing so hard he couldn't even speak anymore «Now... That was bad!» he managed to squeeze a few words out, as you kept screaming. «This was the third blowjob of the day» Crowe exclaims looking at the scene in front of you both «I swear to God if they don't fuck right no- omg yes!» you raise your fist, giggling as you watch with attention how all the sexual tension finally unravels «Hey, thought you didn't like it» «I don't, but I mean... I have waited long enough for them to fuck! Finally!» he let out a chuckle in response, slowly getting closer to you.

And then, suddenly, you felt it: Crowe was mindlessly caressing your legs, playing with them as he kept his gaze focused on the movie "I love you too" that's what Laura, the main character, just said to Massimo «Ok but why am I liking it» he smiles, finally focussing on you «And here you said you didn't like it» «Well... I mean... It's cringe, like try reenacting one of those scenes and you'll realize!» and with those words it somehow seemed like an idea popped in his mind «Oh my god... Let's do that! Won't it be fun?» «But I was jok-» you got cut off abruptly by his movements, as he swiftly got you on top of him «Now, say you love me, y/n» «Wha- Crowe!» «It was your idea!» you giggle at his actions, a faint blush on both of your cheeks made sure to remember you just how much you liked him. As you finally gave in, the scene started.

«You know... I won't need 365 days» he looked at you, with a fake confusion almost getting broken up by laughter «but... Why?» «Because two months were enough... To make me fall in love with you» then, his expression changed, almost as if he was too deep into it «Say that again...» «I love you» a deep silence stretched between the two of you, until he whispered in your ear «This is the part where you kiss me» and that's when you couldn't hold it anymore: you crashed your lips over his, as his hands found your hips holding you closer to him. When you both pulled off to get some air he smiled: a loving look in his eyes, one that tells you he's been waiting long enough for this to happen. «I love you too, y/n» with that, he kissed you again, holding you dearly against himself, the movie now long forgotten. That's too bad, you'll have to keep the grand finale for later, as for now the only thing you desire to do is to reenact a few more accurate scenes with him.

©Rinnieisthecutest

ALL ART CREDITS GO TO THEIR RIGHT OWNER.

[buckevantommy]

"Exhaustion" for type it Tuesday?

this is what happens before the hurt/comfort bath scene fic.. 👀🛁

It's been a week since Bobby's funeral. Eddie's gone back to Texas, at least for now, and Tommy came over for dinner. Because that's something they do now.

As friends.

As whatever Evan needs.

He gave Evan some space to make some calls while he took time cleaning the kitchen—

When a commotion down the hall has him rushing to Evan's bedroom to find him in a state of distraught, teary-eyed and on the brink of hyperventilating.

"Evan–"

"Everyone.. leaves me.."

Tommy's battered heart snapped in two the morning he walked out. The pieces cut into him as he watched Evan break down on that monitor and they're pressing into lungs, trying to carve out of ribcage to be closer to Evan.

"My parents.. Maddie.. Eddie.. Bobby.." Evan's breathing is harsh and too fast, his gaze unfocused as he shifts on the carpet, phone clenched in his hand.

Logically, Tommy knows the losses he speaks of aren't all on the same wavelength: Maddie is in his life now, his parents are making a concerted effort last he knew, Eddie chose to put his kid first, and Bobby..

“..You..” Evan gasps out, and it takes a second for Tommy to orient and realise what he's saying.

He snaps out of it and rushes to Evan's side where he's crumpled between the dresser and the closet, looking smaller than Tommy's ever seen him.

“Evan..” He can't help his hands going to steady Evan's shoulder and gently guide his jaw up. “I'm here– I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.” It's true. There's simply no way he could walk out of Evan's life again, no matter what they are to each other.

No matter how closed off Evan's been since the funeral, how he didn't seem to trust Tommy with the vulnerable parts of himself anymore - which is fair enough.

It's almost a relief to see behind the facade Evan's been holding up for everyone, not just for him, even as he lists forward and collapses against Tommy, lets himself fall apart in Tommy's arms.

He wants to be this for Evan, be here for him like this. It's a heartbreaking honor, and it's been so surreal: watching Evan seal off his emotions, this man who Tommy has known to always wear them on his sleeve.

Evan fights briefly between pulling away and pushing closer into Tommy's space, smashing his face into Tommy's chest as ugly sobs tear through him.

Tommy holds him tight as he garbles out something that sounds like, "Please don't leave."

The remnant shards of Tommy's heart turn inwards and scrape him up for good measure.

He drops a kiss into Evan's curls. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart.. I'm right here.. I got you.. I got you..”

It's a promise. Tommy holds him, gently rocking him through the heaving sobs until eventually they quiet into hiccups and sniffles, breaths slowing and evening out. Tommy rubs a soothing hand up and down his back.

"Bed?" Tommy asks, exhaustion likely setting in.

But he surprises Tommy, shaking his head and muttering, “Bath?” into damp fabric, breath warm over his clavicle, voice wrung out from grief.

“Of course. C’mon.”

Tommy helps Evan to his feet and together they stumble towards the bathroom. Tommy gets him seated, slumped on the closed lid of the toilet while he sets about filling the tub.

He helps Evan out of his shirt as his grip falters and muscles struggle to cooperate, and it earns him a greatful look, eyes red-rimmed and wide with sadness.

Evan plants a hand on Tommy's chest, fists the fabric a little to steady himself as he lowers himself into the tub, Tommy's hand ready to catch him if he needs it.

There's no more he can do so he turns to leave as Evan sinks into the water–

"Stay," comes Evan's voice, scraped raw and quiet but sounding so determined. It's not a question, it's a demand.

Tommy looks back to see Evan staring at him, need laid bare.

So, Tommy pulls up the little stool and takes Evan's hand where he's reached over the edge of the tub. "Okay."

[vyzoi]

Happy Pride Month!!

Here’s the fem Kaiser x fem reader!

Contains: fluff, light angst, childhood enemy to friends to lovers, Kaiser bullied reader

On the playground, you would always be bullied for no reason by this blonde haired girl. You would be bouncing a football on your knee and this girl would walk up to you and punch the ball hard. You would walk away from her to retrieve your ball. After you would pick up the ball, she would laugh and compare you to a dog.

She really hurt your feelings a lot when you were kids.

When you were soon to be teenagers, she still wasn’t any better to you. One time on your way home from school, she ran up to you and knocked your books out of your hand. She laughed, “next time, keep them in your bag!” As you were picking up your things, you couldn’t help but talk back, “your last name is Kaiser, right? Such a waste, you’re no man but you act like one. You’re no ruler either, you’re just a tyrant!”

There was a day at the park though where you did get picked on by people you went to school with. Kaiser watched the scene from a distance, but when a boy was about to grab your notebook, Kaiser sprinted full force at him and punched him in the face! She grabbed him by the collar and told him off, “only I can mess with her! Give her the notebook back facing downwards so you don’t see her writing.” He does just that and even looked away from you as he handed it over.

She let go of him and he ran away immediately. You look amazed by her, “thank you, Kaiser. I wasn’t expecting you to jump in to help me. Let alone be here.” She scoffs, “you need to grow a spine. Let me teach you something about self defense.”

As she taught you self defense over time, you became best friends!

When you were a teenager in high school, you developed a crush on Kaiser. Prom was coming up and you wanted a date! You texted her to meet you at the playground after your school ended. After school, you walked to the playground. She was already there on the swings waiting for you. As you walked closer, she jumped off the swing and slid to you. You couldn’t help but smiled and laughed

Kaiser grew impatient, “why did you want me to meet you here? I was shitty to you at this exact same spot every time. Wait, if you want me to apologize, I will.” You laughed, “no you’re fine, I forgave you a long time ago. I just invited you here because there’s something I want to say to you and I thought it’d be fitting to say it here.”

Kaiser face palmed her forehead, “just get on with it. I’m tired of waiting on you.” You nervously smiled “sorry for the suspense. Kaiser, you never got to experience what it’s like being in school. Therefore, I want to give you a taste of what it can be like. Would you like to be my prom date?” You pulled out two prom tickets out of your pocket.

She scoffed, “I can’t really refuse, you already bought me one. Yeah, I’ll be your prom date. We’ll go shopping together. I will also be the one to pick you up from your house. I’m still not letting you go anywhere near my place.” You handed her a ticket. Realization hit you, “oh wait, there’s one more thing!” Kaiser sighed, “what now?” You laughed, “I’ve liked you for a while now. As in like… a crush.”

Kaiser froze up and has this shocked expression on her face, “crush? You? You have romantic feelings for me? Are you okay? I was horrible to you up in the past! And you like me!?” You smiled, “let me guess, you like me back?” She composed herself, “yeah, yeah, I like you too.” You smirked at her, “will you be my girlfriend, Kaiser?” She took your hand, “yes.”

Today is your wedding day with Kaiser. Everything is going great. No shitty father, no shitty former classmates, just you and her in a private setting with no one else except the officiant of course. She pulls you into a kiss and spins you around. When she places you back onto the ground, she pulls you into a loving embrace. Together forever, until death do you part.

Tags: @phinksyhxhfan @laslowchan

[singularepiphany]

omg i just had this crazy story idea:

(lmk if this has been done and if it has tag me plsssss!! if this is also really stupid u can tell me that too)

this could totally be put in chapters like a book but i’m a shit writer and idk who to send this idea to…

**I KNOW HOW MUCH PEOPLE HATE AI SO SOMEONE PLEASE USE THIS IDEA OR I WILL RUN IT THROUGH CHAT GPT THIS IS A THREAT >:T**

*im not serious pls don’t cancel me*

anyway, i was thinking, it’s smokestack twins x blk female reader. obviously based in mississippi, she’s initially with smoke for awhile, but he just up and leaves for chicago without a word (maybe for war?) and she’s sad and eventually resentful but not too bad off cause she has stack with her because he didn’t go with smoke (for whatever reason) and she’s pregnant with smokes babygirl and stack helps her take care of the both of them while smokes away and stack starts to fall in love with reader and the idea of them being a family but reader doesn’t know cause she’s busy raising her baby and grieving the absence of her baby’s father and seven years later smoke returns and stacks lowkey salty cause he likes the family man role.

smoke comes back with a large sum of money and stack suggests/persuades him into opening a juke joint to which stack (suggests/persuades her into, lol) into working though she’s still trying to hate smoke at the moment. —PLEASE MAKE SMOKE WORK FOR IT PLEASE SHES GOTTA GIVE HIM THEE HARDEST OF HARD TIME— but she’s cordial just cause she’s working in the juke he paid for. stack is in PAINNN rn and mary just so happens to hear tails of a party and hook up AND PLOT TWIST SHE TURNS HIM INTO A VAMPIRE and basically imagine it as the scene from the movie🫦 and basically as a vampire stack confesses his love for the reader in front of her and smoke and everybody else that was in the juke and i’m picturing it as the same setting of him standing outside of the juke (like the cornbread scene sort of?) & he becomes a toxic asshole who has the mentality of “if i can’t have her nobody can” and tries to turn her into a vampire but smoke obviously protects her and they protect each other because stack is too far gone and will put anyone down who gets in the way of the mission.

that’s all i got so far :/

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

“You’re insane.” “No,” Tony said, “I’m invested. You three were Stark’s most promising recruits. Until you decided to start fucking each other like you were on a goddamn sex carousel.”

He might be invested but he for sure is also insane lol

“You forfeit your contracts, your stipends, and the Stark Fellows program goes down in flames with a PR nightmare I’m not particularly interested in cleaning up.” “You wouldn’t…” you started. “Oh, I would,” Tony said, suddenly sharp. 

Good god, how has he made it this far being so unhinged? (I will answer myself: nepotism lol)

“Why are you doing this?” you asked. Tony studied you. “Because I’ve seen what happens when people like me just operate on feelings instead of facts. You can help me prove a point to the world. Me, Rhodey, Pepper… we tried the denial thing. It nearly destroyed us.”

Wait but did the three of them end up together then, after almost falling apart? 🤔

A drone dipped overhead, buzzing like a curious gull. Stark’s lens, taking notes. 

Geez

“This isn’t an assignment.” Steve's tone was sharp. “It’s a trap,” Bucky said from the threshold.

100%

 “Picked it up after the lab accident,” he said, voice kept low so it wouldn’t crack. “Needed a reminder of someone who would always be a part of me, even if a part of me was missing.” “Something I can’t live without.”

🥹🥹🥹

  The villa felt too staged to settle in. It was like a set waiting for a scene.

And we all know Tony loves drama

"Didn’t feel right claiming a bed built for three."

Would not be me lol

Steve appeared in the hallway, towel slung around his neck, hair damp. He caught the end of Bucky��s sentence and tilted his head. "Well," Steve said, voice even, "maybe it’s time we stop pretending we’re not all supposed to be here." He was offering something, but not forcing it. You sighed and rubbed your temple. You were overstimulated and jet lagged. Then, “Sometimes I think I ruin things just by wanting them too much.” You shook your head. “You didn’t ruin anything. We all got scared. We made shitty choices. But we’re still here.”

Steve and his speeches 🥹

“Can we try something different?” You nodded. He lifted his cup slightly. “One apology each. One truth. No interruptions.”

Oh this is gonna be interesting 👀

“I’m sorry I didn’t think I was worth loving. That I pushed you away. Pulled Steve in, then turned on both of you. I used distance like a fix. It wasn’t.” He looked up. “Truth? I never stopped needing either of you. As friends. As more. You’re home.”

They are his home 🥹😍

“I’m sorry for managing instead of trusting. For trying to contain what we were instead of facing it.” He looked at you. “Truth is, I’m not scared of losing you anymore. I’m scared of not trying again.”

And I think om his fear they can work together

“And no re-litigating old guilt. We apologize once. We live differently after that.”

Important point!

Bucky lifted his cup. “Then here’s to living differently.” Three cups clinked. Small vow, big shift. You paused to let yourself feel the gravity of what you’d just said, of what you were choosing.

I think it's good that it's such an active choice

You reached a hand out. “Middle’s mine. Always was.” He smiled softly and stepped forward. And for the first time in a long time, sleep came easy.

🥰🥰🥰

One leg was tangled with Steve’s, the other bracketed by the heavy weight of Bucky’s thick thighs. Your head rested against Steve’s chest, his steady heartbeat loud in your ear. Bucky’s arm curved loosely around your waist, palm splayed low over your stomach. Steve shifted first, breathing a half-groan into your hair. Bucky followed, hips rolling once, barely, against your ass. You felt both of them, thick with sleep-hard arousal. There was the slow press of Steve against your belly, mirrored by Bucky’s heat at your spine. Neither of them moved with intent, just the lazy, helpless friction of sleepy bodies molded to yours.

There are worst ways to wake up 🤭

“You’re incredible,” he gasped, “...I’m not gonna last…” “Let go,” you told him. “Let me take care of you.” He did, pulsing hot in your fist, forehead pressed to yours, lips parted around a groan. Then Bucky’s hand moved faster at your core, his hips rutting against the small of your back. You reached for him and found him straining against the waistband of those grey Stark sweats. “I’ve got you too,” you whispered, and wrapped your hand around him. He choked on your name as he came, quickly, forehead buried in your shoulder, the word hot against your skin.

🥵🥵🥵

 The silence after was thick with breath and the scent of sweat and skin and sex. No one rushed to speak. You were still sandwiched between them, wrecked and warm and not even remotely sorry.

Absolutely not sorry 😌

“I’d ask to let me lick you clean, but if I put my mouth on you, you wouldn’t leave this bed all day,” said Steve, licking his lips.

I personally wouldn't mind that tho 🤭

“You two are going to ruin me." "If you let us," came Bucky's soft reply.

I hope that's a promise!

You buried your face between them and let yourself be held. Happy. No shame. No guilt. Just three hearts, still beating.

🥰🥰🥰

Honestly, it was starting to feel like surveillance kink.

Lmao he really has

You crawled out of bed quietly. Steve was starfished and blissed out on one side. Bucky was curled around a pillow on the other. Both were snoring.

So cute 🥰

 It was obscene how peaceful they looked after the way they'd wrecked you this morning, Steve’s mouth at your throat, Bucky’s hand between your thighs, both voices in your ear.

🤭🤭🤭

➤ FYI: I need data on hormone shifts across shared poly-cortisol dynamics, so you, Barnes, and Rogers need to wear biometric rings all week. Try not to break them during any… recreational entanglements.

“Does Stark sleep?” you muttered, sliding off the mattress and padding barefoot toward the en suite. “No,” Steve grumbled after you, blinking blearily. Bucky muttered something foul and buried his face in the pillow. “He recharges through chaos.”

He really does, there is no other way lol

➤ Also, the midnight balcony reconciliation? Very touching. Genuinely. Might enter it in the next Stark Industries leadership retreat video. Keep it up,team.

I can't with this man

And in New York, Tony Stark sat on his balcony, sipping espresso and smirking as he watched the biometric vitals of his three most chaotic proteges spike in sync. “God, I love science.”

“So… group mission to neutralize B.E.T.S.Y.?” You picked up the tablet again, swiped over to the diagnostics interface, and smiled. “Already halfway there.”

Dream work makes the dream work

I bet he does and chaos 🤦🏻‍♀️

Sugar Shack

Sugar High| Sugar is Sweet Masterlist | Sugar, Cubed Masterlist

Summary: Thanks to Tony’s continued manipulations, it’s you and Steve and Bucky in the Maldives. And it is hot. Scientist AU

Word Count: 4.1 K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes x Reader; Allusion to Tony x Pepper x Rhodey

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, ANGST! These three are scientists, y'all! 🤓 Employer manipulation/coercion, (Tony is an ASSHOLE) surveillance. Forced proximity/intimacy, hard talks, apologies, truths, safe word, there's only one bed, Norweigan wood and how you solve it, fingering, manual sex, polyamory, beginnings of a polycule.

A/N: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. This is related to the Sugar is Sweet and Sugar, Cubed au, but can be read alone. This comes after Sugar High. Likes are welcome, but I’ve worked really hard on this, so if you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t, please let me know by reblogging and commenting. 🥰

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You returned to New York changed.

Not healed, not whole, but hopeful.

And You and Steve walked straight into Stark’s office the Monday you got back from Tokyo, side by side.

Tony didn’t even look up from his tablet.

“We’re done,” Steve said without preamble.

“With you playing god. With the experiments. With us being your favorite fucking variables.”

Tony took a long sip of something violently green and didn’t blink.

“That’s adorable,” he said. “But also irrelevant.”

He tapped something on his tablet and slid a thick folder across the table. The label read

FELLOWS ASSIGNMENT: PHASE TWO

“Three operatives. Two weeks. One island. No oversight.”

You blinked.

“Three?”

Tony glanced up. 

“He’s already there. Got in this morning.”

You didn’t have to ask who. Steve’s jaw clenched. 

“You’re insane.”

“No,” Tony said, “I’m invested. You three were Stark’s most promising recruits. Until you decided to start fucking each other like you were on a goddamn sex carousel.”

You stiffened. Tony leaned back in his chair, all smug calculation.

“I figured, why waste good chemistry?”

“Because we’re not lab rats,” you snapped. “We’re not your experiment.”

“Sugar, everything is an experiment,” Tony said evenly.

“Especially love.”

You stared at him across the glass table. Steve’s body was a wall beside you, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“This isn’t funny,” you said.

“Didn’t say it was,” Tony replied, not bothering to look contrite.

“But it is real.”

He tapped the tablet again, pulling up a silent video feed: aerial shots of the island, heat signatures already populating the overlay. One of them, alone, glowed steady near the main villa.

Bucky.

Your throat tightened. Steve didn’t look at the screen.

“So what happens if we say no?” Steve asked flatly.

Tony shrugged. 

“You forfeit your contracts, your stipends, and the Stark Fellows program goes down in flames with a PR nightmare I’m not particularly interested in cleaning up.”

“You wouldn’t…” you started.

“Oh, I would,” Tony said, suddenly sharp. 

“You think I don’t know what this is? You three think you’re subtle? I’ve been watching this clusterfuck brew since orientation. You’re brilliant, but you’re human. And humans make messy, complicated choices. This assignment is your last clean one.”

You flinched.

Steve stared at him coldly.

“So this is a test.”

“This is a choice,” Tony said. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

Tony studied you.

“Because I’ve seen what happens when people like me just operate on feelings instead of facts. You can help me prove a point to the world. Me, Rhodey, Pepper… we tried the denial thing. It nearly destroyed us.”

He stood and circled to your side of the table. 

“So, this is the offer.”

He tapped the file.

“You get fourteen days on an island in the Indian Ocean. Doing your job: research for me. You, Blondie, and Mr. Sad Eyes. You wanna make up? Break up? Blow up? That’s your call.”

The room was quiet. Tony leaned forward.

“But let me be very clear. This is your last chance to prove you can handle what you started. Together.”

You looked at Steve. Really looked at him. His brow was furrowed. He didn’t blink. But when your eyes met, something shifted.

He nodded. Barely. Once.

You turned back to Tony. 

“We’ll go.”

Tony blinked like he’d expected it.

“Good,” he said.

“Flight leaves in six hours. Pack light. Hydrate.”

He stood, already moving toward the door.

“And don’t forget the sunscreen,” he called over his shoulder.

“Things are gonna heat up fast.”

The door hissed shut behind him and Steve exhaled slowly beside you. You stared at the silent tablet feed, the glow of Bucky’s heat signature pulsing like a heartbeat.

—--

Twenty-four hours later you and Steve touched down on the island.

The seaplane skimmed turquoise water, the sky above a blistering dome of cloudless blue that made your eyes ache even behind sunglasses.

Steve stared out the window, his clenched jaw at odds with the postcard below. 

Neither of you had spoken much since Stark’s briefing, spending six hours packing, boarding, and flying into a trap labelled research.

The dock stretched impossibly long, ending in sand as fine as sifted sugar. One modern villa rose from the shoreline, all blond wood and glass. Palm fronds rustled in a wind that smelled of salt and mango, but you felt only the stone weight of not ready.

The plane bounced once and slid to a halt. The pilot flashed a thumbs-up that you couldn’t return.

Steve moved first, grabbing both duffels. His motions were automatic, but when he glanced back, a note of apology softened his eyes. You nodded and followed him onto the dock.

Heat swallowed you whole. And there he was.

Bucky Barnes leaned against the rail, one hand around a water bottle, the other braced on wood.

His damp hair was shoved back, and he sported a shadow of stubble, an open white camp-shirt fluttering around lean muscle, and what looked like Stark swim trunks riding low. 

Blue-steel eyes, wary and hopeful, fixed on you the instant you stepped into view. He didn’t wave, and he idn’t move.

He just watched.

A drone dipped overhead, buzzing like a curious gull. Stark’s lens, taking notes. 

Steve clocked Bucky a second later. The shift in the air was small but razor-sharp. 

You kept walking.

Inside, the air was cool. There was sleek tile underfoot one long room, framed in floor-to-ceiling windows, with the ocean simmering just beyond.

A kitchen. Three bedrooms. One shared bathroom with an outdoor shower, mirrored walls, and no privacy to speak of.

A binder sat waiting on the counter, stamped in that insufferable Stark font:

PHASE TWO – INITIAL OBSERVATIONS

You ignored it. Steve didn’t.

He cracked the cover, voice flat:

“Purpose: Environmental stress calibration … Deliverables: daily logs, task-compliance footage … Hydration protocols non-negotiable.”

Page flip. His brows knotted.

"Observe specimens under stress. Test heat endurance in exposed uniform variants. Document hydration patterns. ”

“This isn’t an assignment.”

Steve's tone was sharp. 

“It’s a trap,” Bucky said from the threshold. 

He’d followed but kept to the edge of the room, shirt lifting in the breeze. The late afternoon light lit new ink over the lower sweep of his left ribs: one black glucose ring, six sharp peaks, stamped along the line of his heart.

“Hi,” his voice was quieter this time.

“Hi,” you said back, just as quiet, staring at his tattoo. 

You were frozen. That expanse of skin had been blank the last time you saw it, months and months and a thousand regrets ago.

Bucky saw the moment you noticed. He inhaled, shoulders squaring.

Steve’s gaze moved between you and Bucky. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, closing the space between the three of you. 

“Hey,” he said, voice low and even.

Bucky nodded once, jaw tense. His eyes flicked from you to Steve and back again.

“Picked it up after the lab accident,” he said, voice kept low so it wouldn’t crack.

“Needed a reminder of someone who would always be a part of me, even if a part of me was missing.”

Steve set the binder down, stepping in behind you. His palm rested lightly at your spine. Beneath his T-shirt you knew his own simple-sugar chain lay inked over his heart.

Two molecular diagrams; one research question: you.

You reached out, brushing the linen aside. Bucky’s pulse was quick, but certain.

“Blood sugar…” you whispered, eyes flicking up to his baby blues.

“That’s a statement…” your mouth turned up in a side smile.

His eyes, cautious but hopeful, softened and he smiled back down at you.

“Something I can’t live without.”

Behind you, Steve’s thumb made a silent circle against your spine as if to say: I’m here; this is right. 

The drone outside banked seaward, its buzz fading. Stark would record three elevated heart rates, but not the variable that mattered.

You drew a steady breath.

“Phase Two runs on our protocol.”

Steve nodded.

“Logs and uniforms, fine. But the methodology is peer-led.”

Bucky’s hope sharpened to resolve. 

“And peer-protected.”

The real experiment, trust rebuilt on equations of three, had already begun.

-----

The villa felt too staged to settle in. It was like a set waiting for a scene.

So you wandered. From the kitchen to the deck, the bathroom to the hallway. You brushed your fingertips along the cool teak banister.

You went past the bedrooms (only one made up with linen, the others bare mattresses) and the common room, finding a quiet hallway leading to a spa suite. It had sunken slate floors walls paneled in pale cedar and smelled like yuzu and steam.

A Japanese-style hinoki tub sat beneath an open skylight, long and deep, the wood golden and warm. Beside it was a rinse stool, a polished copper basin, and folded towels stacked neatly. Sliding doors opened to a lush private garden, lanterns flickering at the edge of the foliage.

It was beautiful, still and waiting for use.

You sighed, ignoring the silent camera-drone hovering near like a curious mosquito and avoided your reflection in the massive glass panels as you moved back to the kitchen.

Dinner was a quiet, functional exercise. You and Steve worked the kitchen; Bucky grilled. The fish was perfect, the rice fluffed perfectly.

"So," Steve said, digging into his meal, "how long have you been here?"

Bucky didn’t look up from his plate.

"Couple days."

A beat.

"Alone?" you asked.

"Obviously."

The scrape of metal on ceramic filled the silence. You sipped your wine just to keep your hands busy.

"Must’ve been nice," Steve muttered, not quite biting, but close.

Bucky’s laugh had no humor.

"Yeah. Loved the alone time. Nothing like sweating through drills while a drone drops sunscreen samples and watches you rehydrate."

You winced.

Steve pressed.

"You could’ve left."

"Could’ve," Bucky said. "Didn’t."

That shut down the conversation. You finished eating silently in the open-plan dining room, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing a perfect, burning sky.

Afterward, Bucky disappeared without a word. Steve stayed behind, rinsing dishes with too much intensity, and you grabbed a bottle of water and wandered. You walked the perimeter of the deck, watching the sun sink like an ember into the sea.

Eventually, you came back inside.

You passed Bucky in the hallway, his hair wet, a regulation tight t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, and Stark-issued grey sweatpants.

He paused like he wanted to say something. You opened your mouth to ask where he was sleeping, but he beat you to it.

"Which room did you take?"

"Didn’t," you said. "Two don’t have linens. The third’s half-made."

His brow creased, then smoothed. "Yeah."

"Is that where you slept?" you asked, remembering Bucky was terrible at hospital corners.

"No. I’ve been on the couch."

You blinked, and he shrugged, eyes unreadable.

"Didn’t feel right claiming a bed built for three."

Steve appeared in the hallway, towel slung around his neck, hair damp. He caught the end of Bucky’s sentence and tilted his head.

"Well," Steve said, voice even, "maybe it’s time we stop pretending we’re not all supposed to be here."

He was offering something, but not forcing it. You sighed and rubbed your temple. You were overstimulated and jet lagged.

"I’m exhausted. I’m taking the bed. You two can figure out the couch. Or the mattresses. Or whatever."

You disappeared into the bedroom before either of them could argue.

Inside, the cool air was a welcome shock. You peeled off your clothes and took a five minute shower. When you emerged, you changed into a soft Stark tank and shorts, brushed your teeth, and crawled under the sheets with the lights still on. 

Sleep pulled you under immediately.

—--

Jet lag didn’t forgive.

You woke sometime after midnight, overheated and disoriented, the ceiling fan ticking softly above. Padding barefoot into the common room, the tile cooled your feet. A single lamp cast a cone of gold over the couch.

Steve sat there, elbows on knees, scrolling silently through something on his phone. His profile flickered in and out of the screen’s light, showing the tension in the line of his jaw.

He looked up the moment you neared

“Hey,” he said softly.

You offered a tired smile.

“Jet lag.”

“Same.”

Through the glass doors, the deck shimmered silver under the moonlight. Out there, outlined in pale light, was Bucky. He stood barefoot, hunched over the railing, eyes lost to the ocean.

You opened the door and stepped outside. Bucky didn’t look up. You leaned beside him, watching the white curls of surf kiss the sand.

“My head’s loud,” he said, voice low.

You turned slightly.

“Talk to me.”

He hesitated.

Then, “Sometimes I think I ruin things just by wanting them too much.”

You shook your head. 

“You didn’t ruin anything. We all got scared. We made shitty choices. But we’re still here.”

The door clicked behind you. Steve stepped out with a tray, three mugs of tea steaming gently in the night air. He handed them out wordlessly, then leaned against the rail on your other side.

Bucky looked between the two of you.

“Can we try something different?”

You nodded. He lifted his cup slightly.

“One apology each. One truth. No interruptions.”

Steve blew out a breath.

“You first.”

Bucky’s voice cracked slightly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t think I was worth loving. That I pushed you away. Pulled Steve in, then turned on both of you. I used distance like a fix. It wasn’t.”

He looked up.

“Truth? I never stopped needing either of you. As friends. As more. You’re home.”

Steve took his time. 

“I’m sorry for managing instead of trusting. For trying to contain what we were instead of facing it.”

He looked at you.

“Truth is, I’m not scared of losing you anymore. I’m scared of not trying again.”

You wrapped both hands around your cup. 

“I’m sorry I tried to love one of you, then the other, like I could separate it. Like I had to choose.”

You looked at them both.

“And the truth is…from the first day in Stark House, I wanted both of you. Still do. Not because I’m confused. Because I finally know what I need.”

Steve cleared his throat. 

“Ground rules recap: Total honesty. One safeword if things spike: ‘Fox,’ from Mount Inari.”

Bucky huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh.

“Fitting.”

You nodded. 

“And no re-litigating old guilt. We apologize once. We live differently after that.”

Bucky lifted his cup.

“Then here’s to living differently.”

Three cups clinked. Small vow, big shift.

You three finished your tea in silence and then went back into the common room. On a bookshelf was a shōgi board.

Steve noticed it first.

“You remember this? We had one in Stark House.”

Bucky went over and ran a finger over the gold general. 

“You called it a bishop and stacked them like Jenga.”

“I was concussed from a game.”

“You were drunk.”

You poured more tea before they could revive the debate, bringing one cup to Bucky, one to Steve, and kept the last for yourself.

“Truth,” Bucky said after a sip. 

“I miss how close we were in Stark House. The affection, the comfort…” 

You looked at him, then Steve.

“Okay. Ground rule Number Four,” you said. 

“No pressure. No expectations. But if we want comfort, or affection, we ask. And we trust the answer.”

Steve nodded. “Agreed.”

Bucky’s voice was quiet. “Of course.”

You reached for their hands. 

“Then come to bed.”

The master bedroom was cool again. You watched as Steve claimed one side, lying back with hands behind his head. 

You paused to let yourself feel the gravity of what you’d just said, of what you were choosing.

Bucky hovered in the doorway.

Waiting.

You reached a hand out.

“Middle’s mine. Always was.”

He smiled softly and stepped forward.

Under the covers, Bucky's thigh brushed yours and you felt the slow drag of Steve’s thumb at your wrist before he pulled away, reminding you of what you once had. But when you found their hands under the covers, you reminded them of what was there now.

Safety.

Honesty.

Hope.

And for the first time in a long time, sleep came easy.

—----

You woke slowly, warm and surrounded.

One leg was tangled with Steve’s, the other bracketed by the heavy weight of Bucky’s thick thighs. Your head rested against Steve’s chest, his steady heartbeat loud in your ear. Bucky’s arm curved loosely around your waist, palm splayed low over your stomach.

You stayed still. Drenched in warmth, in memory and in want.

Steve shifted first, breathing a half-groan into your hair. Bucky followed, hips rolling once, barely, against your ass. You felt both of them, thick with sleep-hard arousal.

There was the slow press of Steve against your belly, mirrored by Bucky’s heat at your spine. Neither of them moved with intent, just the lazy, helpless friction of sleepy bodies molded to yours.

Neither of them moved with intent, just the lazy, helpless friction of sleepy bodies molded to yours.

But then Steve’s hand found your hip. Bucky exhaled into your hair. And you knew.

They were awake.

You lifted your head.

“Hey,” you whispered.

Steve blinked his eyes open, pupils slow to adjust, mouth already parted like he’d been dreaming something filthy.

“Hi,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

Bucky’s voice came next, rough against the nape of your neck.

“Mornin’, Sugar.”

You shifted between them just enough to see both faces.

“I’m awake,” you said softly. “And I’m asking. We all need release.”

Steve’s thumb brushed your hipbone. 

“Are you sure?”

Bucky’s hand flexed at your waist. 

“We don’t have to…”

“I want to take care of us,” you said.

“Like this. Just… like this.”

That quiet paused everything. Then Steve kissed your forehead.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Tell us what you want. Remember the safe word.”

“I do. Don’t think I’ll be using it.”

You reached for Steve first, sliding your hand beneath the covers and wrapping around him, thick and hot and already pulsing against your palm. He pulled a shuddering breath.

Bucky kissed the back of your shoulder before slipping his hand down your shorts, easing between your thighs.

You gasped.

He murmured into your skin, “Still okay?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Touch me. Please.”

And he did.

Two fingers, soft at first, stroked through slick warmth. His body curved tighter behind you, breath coming fast. You rocked against him instinctively, while your hand on Steve stroked tight and slow.

Steve cupped your jaw and kissed you, open-mouthed and aching. His other hand covered yours where it moved over his cock, guiding you harder.

Bucky groaned into your neck, one hand deep in your pussy, vibranium relentlessly rolling your nipple.

You whimpered as Bucky whispered into your skin.

“Fuck, you feel good.”

You tipped your hips for him, greedy for more. The rhythm he found was unhurried, circling, dipping, curling, until your thighs trembled. Your release crested like a tide, quiet but consuming, your cry swallowed in Steve’s kiss.

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, still stroking you through it.

Steve’s hips jerked in your hand. 

“You’re incredible,” he gasped, “...I’m not gonna last…”

“Let go,” you told him. “Let me take care of you.”

He did, pulsing hot in your fist, forehead pressed to yours, lips parted around a groan. Then Bucky’s hand moved faster at your core, his hips rutting against the small of your back. You reached for him and found him straining against the waistband of those grey Stark sweats.

“I’ve got you too,” you whispered, and wrapped your hand around him.

He choked on your name as he came, quickly, forehead buried in your shoulder, the word hot against your skin. 

The silence after was thick with breath and the scent of sweat and skin and sex. No one rushed to speak. You were still sandwiched between them, wrecked and warm and not even remotely sorry.

Bucky kissed the crown of your head. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, utterly sincere.

“Oh, Yes.”

Steve curled a hand around your waist as Bucky went and got towels.

“I know that wasn’t slow, but we’ll take this slowly,” you whispered.

Steve chuckled, eyes closed as Bucky slipped back into bed.

“I’d ask to let me lick you clean, but if I put my mouth on you, you wouldn’t leave this bed all day,” said Steve, licking his lips.

You shivered.

“I know,” you smiled. “But we’re going slow, remember?”

“No. My smaller brain is in charge right now,” replied Steve.

You sucked your teeth.

“Okay, Mr. All-But-Dissertation.”

“My dissertation is the only thing not hard right now.”

You giggled. Something soft came from behind you.

“Defended right before the accident.”

You turned to Bucky and looked into his eyes.

“Congratulations, Dr. Barnes.”

Steve grabbed your hips as you arched into him while kissing Bucky.

“Shit, need to get to writing…” panted Steve, eyes watering with want.

You rolled your eyes at the old competitiveness.

“You two are going to ruin me."

"If you let us," came Bucky's soft reply.

You buried your face between them and let yourself be held.

Happy.

No shame. No guilt.

Just three hearts, still beating.

—--

Your workday started with a ping.

Actually, six.

Your Stark tablet lit up in quick succession:

07:12 – TONY STARK @ STARK HQ

➤ Hope you stretched. ➤ Daily sync in Lab 3 at 08:00. Bring your brain. Bonus points if it’s caffeinated. ➤ Don’t blow anything up before I log on. No promises? Thought so. ➤ Also: I need baseline biometrics. Check the drone. Surprise! ➤ Also also: how’s my favorite emotionally repressed trio? Sleep okay?

You blinked at the last message.

The audacity. The accuracy.

Honestly, it was starting to feel like surveillance kink.

There was no use pretending he didn’t know. You could smash your tablet against the wall and it would still beep with his next message before you swept the shards.

You crawled out of bed quietly. Steve was starfished and blissed out on one side. Bucky was curled around a pillow on the other. Both were snoring. 

It was obscene how peaceful they looked after the way they'd wrecked you this morning, Steve’s mouth at your throat, Bucky’s hand between your thighs, both voices in your ear.

“Does Stark sleep?” you muttered, sliding off the mattress and padding barefoot toward the en suite.

“No,” Steve grumbled after you, blinking blearily. Bucky muttered something foul and buried his face in the pillow. 

“He recharges through chaos.”

The villa’s open-plan kitchen was quiet as you sipped water and tapped through Tony’s messages, scrolling past three new data requests, a flagged "URGENT" note about hydration tracking, and an image attachment of what looked like… a flying beetle?

You narrowed your eyes.

“Wait a damn minute…”

Right on cue, the sleek black insectoid drone hovering in the corner of the room emitted a cheerful little chirp. Its LED eye winked red, then green, like it was proud of itself. This was a different, smaller drone from last night.

“Tony,” you said aloud, already dreading the answer.

The tablet pinged again.

➤ Meet B.E.T.S.Y. 3.0! Bio-Energy Telemetry Surveillance Yielder. Isn’t she cute? ➤ She’s been recording vitals and environmental data since Bucky landed. She’s also motion-synced to detect stress patterns. You’re welcome. ➤ Oh, and I blurred the nudity. Mostly. Scout’s honor.

You squinted at the drone, wondering if it had hovered outside the bedroom earlier. Steve came and leaned on the counter beside you.

“Is that what blinked at me in the outdoor shower yesterday?”

Two more pings lit up.

➤ FYI: I need data on hormone shifts across shared poly-cortisol dynamics, so you, Barnes, and Rogers need to wear biometric rings all week. Try not to break them during any… recreational entanglements. ➤ Also, the midnight balcony reconciliation? Very touching. Genuinely. Might enter it in the next Stark Industries leadership retreat video. Keep it up,team.

You poured yourself a glass of water, resisting the urge to chuck the tablet into the surf.

Footsteps approached. Bucky padded in shirtless, his hair damp, sweatpants slung low on his hips, already scowling. 

“Why was that thing watching me stretch?”

Steve didn’t look up from peeling a banana. 

“Tony says she’s tracking muscle fatigue.”

Bucky pointed at the blinking orb. 

“She just tried to follow me into the bathroom.”

You took a long sip of water and smirked. The three of you stood in silence, staring at the drone.

It chirped. Then Steve spoke.

“So… group mission to neutralize B.E.T.S.Y.?”

You picked up the tablet again, swiped over to the diagnostics interface, and smiled. 

“Already halfway there.”

And in New York, Tony Stark sat on his balcony, sipping espresso and smirking as he watched the biometric vitals of his three most chaotic proteges spike in sync.

“God, I love science.”

——

Feedback is life! 😁

[nightmourned]

⋆ ⁺ ₊ ☾ @ren-wattanavekin.

the streets are quiet at this hour, the kind of silence that amplifies every sound. the faint noise of a car a street over. the whine of a cat in the distance. minho leans against the shadow of a rusting lamppost angled in an alleyway, his silhouette swallowed by the dark. he shouldn’t be here. should’ve stayed away, he tells himself, like he hasn’t repeated it a hundred times before. but the tug has always been stronger than his reason. two years. two long years of running, hiding, and pretending the pull of home, of ren, wasn’t enough to drag him back. but ren’s here, walking like he’s lost in thought. like he always does. he's spent enough time observing the brother he lost — had to lose, had to leave behind — to be familiar with the spots he frequents during sleepless nights and to know which of them have the lowest foot traffic, lower risk of visibility, highest chance of catching him alone. minho’s chest tightens at the sight of him, at the familiar gait, the slight tension in his shoulders that speaks of burdens too heavy for anyone to bear, as he takes the shortcut minho has become familiar with. ren hasn’t changed. not really. the world still hangs on him like a second skin and minho still feels the same magnetic pull toward him. he’s tried to stay distant, watching from the safety of crowds and shadows, glimpsing ren as he moved through the hospital, his life, the kagehito. but the distance is unbearable. and the recent development regarding the premier's death has reminded him that they're all wandering this town on borrowed time. he needs to make him leave. ren needs to get out before they do to him what they did to kane. the thought hits harder than the cold breeze whipping around his frame. his fingers curl into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening beneath the moonlight. minho knows the risk of showing himself, the risk to both of them, but he can’t let ren go on like this. he can’t lose him, too. can't bear the unmistakable claws of missing him lodged deep within his heart. he steps forward, silent as a ghost, until he’s close enough that his shadow spills across the ground in the moonlight. close enough that ren can’t miss him anymore. "…ren." his voice is low, rasping, like he hasn’t used it in days. it carries the weight of two years, of regret and longing and the impossible task of trying to say everything with just a name. minho stops a few feet away, close enough to see the moment recognition dawns on ren’s face, but not close enough to crowd him. the alley is still, the night stretching endlessly around them, and all minho can do is stand there, the air thick with unspoken words.

[mer-se]

out and about in various locations collecting pretty views. 🌾

[ssruis]

Emunene with ruikasa treated as the side pair. As it should always be.

[quietwingsinthesky]

See, the thing about the Amy episode that makes Dean’s actions so reprehensible is not only the part where he doesn’t trust Sam and goes behind his back to kill Amy or even the hypocrisy of Dean ‘you can’t change what you are so you’re going to kill someone eventually’ Winchester sparing the kid right after stabbing his mom, it’s that Amy is very explicitly supposed to be a Sam parallel. There is no other way about it, from the they’re both freaks part of it to Dean dropping the line about ‘the other shoe’ right before he kills her, she is Sam, how Dean reacts to her is supposed to give us insight into how he feels about Sam. And Dean. kills her.

The not very subtle subtext being that Dean is ready to off Sam if he goes too far off the deep end? He’s aggressive and mistrustful of Sam at every turn in the episode, lays the feet of it all at Sam’s hallucinations maybe leading him astray, but end of the day, Sam’s crimes here are A) was tortured in Hell and B) is traumatized by that in a way that makes Dean’s life more difficult.

And it is hard to watch. To spend this whole episode with Sam being completely functional on his own, making a rational decision based on past experience and on all the information about Amy he has available, and for the episode to end with, ‘but yeah, if dean thinks sam goes too far, he’s probably gonna kill him. because sam can’t change or be fixed, so it’s for the good of everyone that he be put down.’

[rivilu]

I want an origins remake/remaster so bad it's not even funny

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Tuesday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Birthday! 🎉

And Wednesday:

2:30 PM: Mother 3 - Duster

Thursday:

2:30 PM: AGE - Yves

Friday:

2:30 PM: Star Control II

Saturday:

2:30 PM: Sona daily goings-on

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Deltarune

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

[iydiamartinx]

RED HANDED

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.2k synopsis: Damian sneaks you into the manor, only to get caught red handed.

Wayne Manor was supposed to be empty.

That’s what Damian had told you when he pulled you through the back gate, hand clasped tightly in yours, voice low and insistent as he muttered about stealth and nosy family members and “don’t touch that, it’s a pressure sensor.” He’d checked the security logs himself—Bruce was at a board meeting, Alfred out running errands, and the others all scattered across the city on patrol or “adult things,” as Damian called them with no small amount of disdain.

So he brought you home. Quietly. Secretly.

To his room.

The moment the door shut behind you, his shoulders dropped that ever-present tension. His fingers found your wrist, then your waist, tugging you gently toward the bed. No words, just that look he gave you—sharp eyes softening, mouth twitching at the corners in something dangerously close to a smile.

You were the only one who ever got that version of him.

Now the two of you were curled up beneath the covers, the storm outside tapping against the windows while his arm wrapped snug around your waist. Damian’s head rested near yours, nose brushing your temple every so often, breath slow and steady.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured, tracing lazy circles along his chest.

“You will,” he replied, voice quiet and certain. “Once I find a way to keep you here without the others ruining everything.”

You giggled, tipping your head up to meet the small, rare curve of his mouth—the almost-smile he only gave you.

And then the bedroom door slammed open.

“Dami, I need to borrow—OH MY GOD!”

Both of you shot upright like you’d been struck by lightning.

Dick Grayson stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as dinner plates, mouth agape in sheer, appalled disbelief. His finger jerked upward, trembling like it couldn’t decide whether to point at Damian, you, or the fact that you were clearly in his bed.

“What the hell, Grayson?!” Damian snapped, scrambling to hide your presence by throwing the blanket over you as you shrieked in surprise and ducked under it. But the damage had already been done.

“You have a GIRL in your BED?!” Dick shouted, scandalized.

Damian looked moments away from lunging across the room. “I swear to Ra, if you say one more word I will end your bloodline—”

But it was too late. The yelling had summoned the wolves.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jason’s voice barked from the hall, followed by a clatter of someone sprinting.

“Did someone die?” That was Tim, out of breath and still chewing toast as he skidded into view.

And then, like the final nail in the coffin, Bruce appeared.

He was dressed for work—pressed suit, tie knotted perfectly, not a single strand of hair out of place—but the look on his face was nothing short of bewildered. He stood in the hallway, staring into the room like he wasn’t quite sure what he’d walked in on, and very much wished he hadn’t.

There was a silence. A very loud, very awkward silence as everyone took in the scene.

“Damian has a girlfriend?” Tim whispered like he’d uncovered an ancient secret.

Jason blinked at you, then back at Damian. “Wait. She’s real?”

Another blink. Then a wild grin. “She’s real!” He turned and punched Dick in the arm. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“I do not—!”

“You bet she was imaginary!”

“Because she was supposed to be imaginary! He’s fifteen!”

“Seventeen,” Damian growled, practically vibrating with fury under the blanket. “And if any of you take another step into this room, I swear on every god you hold dear, I will bring out my katana.”

But of course, the damage was done.

Slowly, cautiously, you peeked out from beneath the blanket. Your cheeks were burning, your hair a mess, and your heart pounding loud enough to echo in your ears.

Four sets of eyes landed on you.

Jason gave a slow, impressed nod. “Hey there. I’m the hot brother.”

“I swear to—”

Damian made a strangled sound of protest, but before he could lunge across the room, Tim raised a hand with a sheepish half-wave.

“I’m the smart one,” he offered helpfully. “Sorry about… all this.”

“And I,” Dick declared proudly, hands on his hips, “am the fun one. Also the reason you’re all about to get grounded. You’re welcome.”

“OUT!” Damian barked.

That’s when Bruce finally spoke up. “Enough,” he said, calm and quiet— almost immediately it made all three older brothers freeze.

Jason blinked. “We were just—”

“Out,” Bruce repeated, this time with the faintest arch of his brow. 

One by one, the boys started backing up like scolded dogs.

Jason grumbled something under his breath and turned.

Tim gave you a quick, apologetic smile and shuffled after him.

Dick lingered the longest, flashing you a grin and a salute. “Still think it’s adorable.”

“Out,” Bruce said again, firmer this time.

With that all three filed out with varying degrees of grumbling and smirking.

Bruce remained in the room for a moment longer. His eyes shifted from you—still half-curled beneath the blanket—to his son, who sat stiff-backed beside you, his jaw tight with embarrassment and defiance.

“I expect a proper introduction at dinner,” Bruce said coolly, turning on his heel. “Six sharp.”

Damian exhaled like it physically pained him. “Yes, Father.”

Bruce nodded once, then turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, the breath full of fire and exasperation. He muttered a string of curses in Arabic—low, venom-laced, and fast enough to blur into one hissed syllable—as he collapsed back into the pillows with a dramatic thud. One arm flung over his eyes like he was shielding himself from the humiliation still clinging to the air.

You lay beside him, the warmth of his body still lingering beneath the tangled sheets, a laugh bubbling in your throat despite your best efforts to suppress it.

“Well,” you murmured, voice edged with amusement, “at least they didn’t bring a camera.”

He made a sound—something between a groan and a growl. “You underestimate them. There will be photos. There will be memes. Grayson will narrate the whole scene on the family group chat by noon. I am already doomed.”

You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the curve of your mouth brushing the flushed skin just beneath his eye. “Guess I better dress nice for dinner, then.”

Another groan, this one muffled by the pillow he dragged down over his face.

But then, without warning, his arm slid around your waist and pulled you in—close, possessive. Like he wasn’t ready to let you go, even if the rest of the world now knew you existed.

“Remind me to kill them later,” he muttered, voice gruff but reluctant.

You laughed and burrowed into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his collarbone. “I don’t know… I kind of liked seeing flustered Damian. Might be my favorite version yet.”

He peeked down at you then, dragging the pillow just far enough to reveal a glare that lacked its usual bite. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You tilted your head and gave him a grin, utterly unrepentant, before brushing another kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft and smug. “I know.”

[angelfrombeneth]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, RIGHT? - N . CHAVEZ

Mature Content Ahead

Nicholas Chavez x F!Actress Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and Nicholas are costars in a new show - Grotesqueire. When it is time to film a sex scene, you aren't ready; awkward tension takes over, but you know what they say; Practice makes perfect.

Note: I just want to say thank you so much for 1k followers and I hope you enjoy this one - and if you are new here, check out my other works. I have new stuff coming, feel free to request in my inbox for a specific character.

If you are looking for a part 2, please read this post as it explains my reasonings behind not making a part 2.

The filming for Grotesqueire has been underway for a few weeks now, this is your first big role in any media which you are extremely excited for. The show has an extremely interesting script, which is one of the reasons you wanted to put your all into your audition - which got you here.

"Y/N, I need you on set B in 5 minutes" Someone shouted from outside the trailer.

You sat up, taking your glasses off as you put them aside as you grabbed your contact case, quickly putting your contacts. You grab your veil, before exiting your trailer and walking towards the set. Crew preparing sets around you as you pass through different hallways, so much going on in one place but somehow you still felt at home.

"I was wondering where you were" You heard Nicholas laugh behind you as you turned to face him.

You laughed, turning to him as you smiled. Nicholas was your co-star playing a weirdly odd but kinky priest - and well, he was definitely lovely to look at.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?" The costume leader came scrambling over. "That isn't your costume for this scene- come!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the set.

You laughed at Nicholas getting dragged away before walking upon the director and listening to your scene directions.

You sat upon your position on the set, the hairstylist coming to fit the veil upon your head properly, fixing your hair under it as you noticed Nicholas enter the set from the side of your view. You turn to look at him, your eye quirking up at his costume- well lack of costume.

"Nicholas why are you wearing just a towel?" You laughed.

"I have no idea- This is what Marissa gave me-" He spoke but was quickly cut off by the director on the megaphone.

"Alright! So can we get Talia on set please!"

You watched a girl walk up to you and Nicholas, smiling as she held a clipboard. "Y/N! Nicholas! I am very grateful to meet you, I am Talia your intimacy coordinator"

You blinked. You read the script you knew it was coming but you didnt realise it would be so early on. Nicholas shared a similar face to you.

"Now, don't worry, we will go over the main aspects and go over any boundaries the pair of you have" She smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with you, Nicholas and the intimacy coordinator. You were still shocked. It wasn't that you couldn't do it - Nicholas was attractive, and all, and the attraction for the scene was definitely there; it was just the awkwardness of it.

After talking Talia deemed you guys to be okay to proceed, the horn sounded round the studio as the pair of you prepared for your scene.

The tension loomed in the air as you stared at Nicholas from the doorway, reciting your lines.

"Can you dry my back sister... please" He hummed, passing a folded white towel over to you. You took it, walking behind him as he kneeled infront of the bed. You took the towel, slowly sliding it over his back full of gashes, cleaning the blood from his back as your finger ran over the bumps. You let your hand reset to his shoulder, softly gripping it as he hummed, it was what was scripted but it felt.. awkward.

"CUT!-" Shot through the studio as alarms sounded once more. Talia and the director came over, looking at you and Nicholas.

"Maybe lets take a break, you two talk through the scene and try and coordinate something. It feels.." The direction tapped his chin as he spoke.

"Awkward. It was very tense and not good tense" Talia sighed.

The pair of you nodded, walking out of the studio and towards the trailer as you groaned, flinging open the door as you tore the veil off your head yet again.

Nicholas sat on the couch looking up at you snickering as you groaned, sitting beside him, tossing your legs over his as you leaned back on the couch.

"I had no clue we were filming.. that today. It's just.. awkward" You looked at him, watching his body face yours completely as he held your full attention. The way his eyes stared into yours as you spoke.

"I mean if it makes you feel any better, I was pretty nervous. I didnt really know what to do and its just unfamilar i guess, its not a regular sex scene its gotta be.. kinky" He chuckled.

He made you feel comfortable. No pressure at all, the awkwardness was lifting bit by bit, showing the light under the fog.

"I mean what if we just.. you know" You blurted.

"If we just what?" Nicholas looked at you confused. "Fucked?"

"I mean you said it not me.." You looked around the room, trying to break the obvious tension as he laughed at your reaction. "I mean, for the scene right?" You smirked.

"Yeah for the scene." You sat up and looked at him as he spoke, crawling towards him slightly. You paused just before him. One of your hands gripping his thigh as the other held his shoulder.

The pair of you looked at each other for a brief moment, the balance of friends and coworkers about to be broken. As much as you wanted to chant in your head, 'it's for work, for work,' it wasn't, was it.

Your lips softly connected with his, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in, sitting upon his lap, your legs wrapping and encasing him between. His lips mimicked your movement, slowly moving against yours, matching your pace and rhythm.

You pulled away briefly for a moment, looking at him. "This is work right..?" You chuckled.

"Definitely work" He smirked, pushing himself up, sending you up as he pulled apart your dress, the top clasps undoing as you kissed him forcefully. Your arms flew around his neck as he tugged the dress down slightly.

Your lips interlocked as you kissed each other hungrily, your hands combing through his locks as he slid all over your torso, pinching and grabbing at the flesh.

You both wouldn't admit it, but this was a long time coming. With the subtle flirting on and off set, you both were excited for the sex scene to finally be able to 'get a taste' as Nicholas said - but you didn't expect this.

You pulled away, gripping the waist of the dress as you dragged it up your body, pulling it up over your head as you dropped it to the floor, allowing yourself to fall back against the couch, your arms around his neck as you guided him ontop of you.

"Fuck-" Nicholas groaned, towering above you as he stared down as you adored in your black lace set as you stared up at him. "Is lingere supposed to be apart of the costume.. I mean stockings? Really? The dress covers it" His hand slid down your thigh to your calf, feeling the silky sheer material covering your bare skin.

"Personal touch" You smirked at him, your hands holding his shoulders as he licked his lips.

Nicholas's head turned to the side, kissing the wrist of your hand as it held his shoulder, taking the hand as he kissed up your arm slowly, gaining closer and closer.

You pulled him down towards you, rubbing his neck softly as you pecked his lips softly. "Nick- This is mad" You laughed out.

A smile covered his lips as he kissed your cheek, to your jaw and slowly down your neck, nipping occasionally. "Its practice... for work of course"

"The for work excuse has been.. overused~" You melted into his touch, your hands resting softly upon his hips above the towel that fixed upon his body. You tugged his hips closer, noticing his lips depart from your collarbone as he peered up at you.

He licked his lips, sitting back upon his knees as he stared down at you, that cheeky grin on his face. "Now, got to act suprised in the scene, I'll give you a little preview" He snickered.

You reached forward for his towel, tugging it as it puddled at his knees. You gawked for a moment, you didnt expect him to actually be pare naked under the towel - acting and all, you'd think he'd have some sort of cover.

"The director thought it would be more authentic to be completely naked under the towel.... For gravity purposes" He winked, his hands sliding down your waist, hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your body.

"That's a terrible excuse" You laughed as you lifted your feet out of your underwear as he dropped them on the floor. You sat up, pushing his chest as he sat back on the couch.

"Calm down, cowgirl", He snickered, leaning back as he stared at you; one of his heads reached to rest upon your hip, the other clasped around himself as he gradually began to pump.

You reached back, unclasping your bra and sliding it off slowly as you threw it at him, the pair of you laughing. The sight of him leant back against the couch, hot and bothered as he stared at you while touching himself was all too much, it was making you hot and bothered.

"Fuck me, you are so hot Nicholas" you brought your hands to your face, covering your eyes as you let out a loud drawn out sigh.

"Genes.. what can I tell you" He smiled, as you leaned forward pecking his lips softly a few times. His grin seeping into the kiss as you stared at him, your noses touching eachother slightly.

You leaned in, capturing him in a soft kiss, instantly reciprocated as both his hands gripped your waist. You sat in his lap, softly grinding down against him - humming softly within the kiss at the friction.

You noticed his eagerness as his hips would occasionally buckle up against yours, one of his heads to your neck, gripping it softly as he pulled you closer - the pair of you intensely making out.

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging and stroking it as his hand tested with pressure around your neck as you hummed softly, lightly moaning within the kiss.

You pulled away abruptly, looking down as you took him into your hand as you slowly guided him into you as you let out a light and soft moan, which was sounded out by his own moan.

"Fuckkkk-" His head fell backwards as his hands fell upon your waist, guiding you slowly.

You looked down at him, your hands holding his shoulders as you slowly rutted your hips against his, grinding down against him. Watching his face twitch in pleasure as his breathing stuttered at each movement.

"You are so vocal" You laughed, pecking his lips softly as you rested your forehead against his, continuing to grind down against him, watching his body for every single twitched movement.

"Cant help it- Does it bother y-you.." He stared up at you, slightly breathless as he grinned, his eyes half lidded.

"Absolutely not.. turns me on if anything" You chuckled, kissing his cheek softly as you leaned down to nibble on his ear lobe as you continued to ride him.

Nicholas continued to groan in your ear, making you smirk as you speed up your movements, dropping your body weight down against him harshly as you bucked your hips back and forth. Cusses spewed from his lips as you continued to do so. 'Fuck' 'Shit' 'Holy Fuuuck-', continued to fall from his lips as you hummed softly, soft moans leaving yours.

You watched him intently as his eyes rolled back, his eyes staying hooded as he tried to steady his breathing. Smirking as you noticed the effect you had over him, especially how cocky he is normally.

Your movements slowed down as you panted softly, leaning against him for balance and he noticed. Nicholas picked you up, causing you to yelp momentarily as you pushed you up against a desk.

"Getting tired?" He smirked, pressing his hands against the wall behind you, as he thrusted harshly forward - causing you to gulp back a moan. Your fists clenching as you stared up at him.

"I thought-" You groaned, at each thrust he made, pressing your hands against his chest as you steadied your breathing.

"Mhm.. You thought wrong; I was definitely enjoying before, though.." He pecked your lips softly, leaning to your ear. "My turn now" He whispered.

His hands hooked under your thighs, lifting your lower body up slightly as he continued to thrust into you. You yelped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to control yourself from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, trying hard to not let go so soon. His lips harshly locked against your neck, as he sucked and bit down against the flesh.

"Nicholas-" You gasped out, moaning softly as your fingernails clawed down his back harshly.

"Shhhh" He cooed, as he licked up your neck, his hips continuing to slam against yours as the desk rocked below the pair of you.

"So fucking good- holy-" You gasped, staring at him as you laughed out slightly, his lips curling up into a smile as he continued to thrust, his hands holding your hips up just above the desk as you locked your legs around his waist tightly.

He dropped you harshly against the wood, placing a hand on your neck, kissing you roughly as you raced to reciprocate. His tongue halfway down your throat as your hands slid down his chest, your fingers feeling between the crevises of his sculpted chest. His free hand, cupping your breast as he squeezed it occasionally.

You hummed needingly into the kiss as his thumb pressed pressure against the front of your throat, causing you to tighten - which he felt. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you helplessly allowed it.

You felt his whole hand clamp down on your neck with pressure. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sheer shock as he pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, beads of sweat falling and mixing within each other as you gasped, staring into his eyes as he thrust deeply, holding himself within you.

"...Nick.." you croaked out as he stared at you, his eyes blown out with lust as he leaned in, biting your lip between his teeth as he held his eye contact with you, his thumb still pressed hard against the front of your throat.

He took his free hand, sliding his middle finger and index finger past your lips and into your mouth as you stared at him. You gave him no indication against it which caused his dick to twitch. He began to thrust against yet this time harder but slower. Your body rebounded each time, pushing yourself into the wall that you could've meshed into it. You sucked on his fingers, tugging his hair as you run your hand down his face, caressing it as you let out a guttural moan as he trusted once more.

"Good girl.. cum for me" He whispered, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and removing his hand from your neck as his face flew to yours, your lips instantly crashing upon one another as he gripped your hips, pulling you forward and roughly thrusting into you.

You moaned into his mouth, panting heavily as you drew closer and closer to your high. Your leg twitching as you threw your head back as his lips sucked and nipped at your neck as you screamed out loudly. Your hands clawing down his back as you came undone.

You were too dazed in your high, groaning and panting as Nicholas pulled out, groaning as he pumped himself watching as your whole body twitched.

Your legs flung closed as you stared at him, exhausted as he whined before he came on your thigh, whimpering and panting as he did so, his arm leant against the wall behind you as it supported his weight - his face mere centermeters away.

"Holy fuck-" You chuckled, out of breath as you stared at him.

His chest rose and fell as he stared up at you with hooded eyes. His finger swiping his cum off your thigh as he held it up to you.

You smirked, leaning forward and sucking it off his finger as you looked at him. He smiled at you before pushing himself off the wall as he stumbled back to the couch, laying back on it as he sighed - catching his breath.

"That was more of a workout than my actual workout sessions.. jesus Christ", Nicholas groaned, his arm resting up above him.

You pulled yourself off the desk, your legs slightly wobbly as you slowly approached him. You sat beside his head, lifting it and resting it against your thigh as you sighed.

"I think we've got the sex scene down, don't you.." You laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Oh, definitely" He smirked up at you.

It was safe to say, when the pair of you finally caught your breath you showered and got rechanged into your costumes. You had to cover up all the marks on your neck but for Nicholas it was fine, he was already marked by makeup so hopefully no one could tell the difference.

When the pair of you got to set, you definitely delivered the sex scene, going beyond the script. Hair pulling, finger sucking, tit grabbing, ass grabbing - the lot. Safe to say everyone was impressed.

"CUT! That was exactly what we needed, guys!" The director clapped as you and Nicholas stared at each other, panting slightly. You smirked, looking down at the tent under the towel Nicholas was wearing.

"Please don't move- it'll be so fucking embarrassing", Nicholas begged. You chuckled, patting his chest.