Slow Hands

hii! i recently saw on tiktok that elizabeth olsen lets chris write on her arm when he's feeling anxious during press so could i please request a chris evans x reader where the reader takes elizabeth's place and chris starts falling in love with the reader thanks to their help??

butterflies ⟶ chris evans

hi!! thank u so much for sending this in, the thought of chris dealing with anxiety IS CONSTANTLY breaking my heart...i mean everyone has it but like our chris 🥺 he doesn’t deserve to feel like that!!

and i saw the video for this, it was so adorable!

i’m just gonna tag @bearbear0923 bc ik how much she loves fluff

pairing: chris evans x reader

summary: chris has got butterflies for you—do you feel the same?

warnings: little bit of angst, mentions of anxiety, age-gap, really bad ending

masterlist

⊱ ────── {⋅. ☽ .⋅} ────── ⊰

sharpie ink is cold and sends a burning sensation over your skin, staining it so dark that even warm water and soap won’t wash it away, but when chris is drawing small butterflies on your forearm, it’s impossible to tell him to stop. his eyes are focused, not on the reporters shoving microphones and questions in his face, but on the small doodles he illustrated. “they could be tattoos,” he’d joke, with his tongue sticking out between his lips.

you would reply with a “maybe, chris” because the idea of a permanent picture on your skin. but unbeknownst to you, chris was serious.

robert, scarlett, and even mark had offered to help soothe his anxiety during nerve-racking moments. a few interviews had gone haywire, he’d even left a premiere in japan early, and no one had the ability to calm him down. except you. something about the way you spoke, the way you embraced him and held him in a tight hug, gently shushing him if a tear managed to escape. at first, no one else could see it.

but chris was in love. there had been countless sketches over your arms, wrists, hands, and any other bare spots that were easily accessible to chris. it had just been a friendly offer when you noticed the anxious look on his face during a press conference, and he had absentmindedly taken a sharpie to your forearm. “uh, chris?” you’d questioned, noticing that his strange actions were gathering the attention of your castmates and the audience in front of you. he’d brushed it off with his much-appreciated charm and people thought nothing of it. chris had later apologized when returning to your hotel rooms, enlightened to hear you say, “honestly, chris, if you ever need anything--including drawing on my arm,” he chuckled. “it’s alright. i’m here.”

it was not in his intentions to ‘catch feelings’. he felt immature, childish, and unprofessional to fall for his younger costar, but you were persistent on the drawings. eventually, it had even turned into holding and squeezing your hands underneath tables, but you seemed so unbothered by it he wondered if feelings were reciprocated. 

“she’s totally hot for you,” robert had joked in a hotel room one night. he had a glass of water in his hand while chris held a beer bottle, but he’d been so busy thinking about if you loved him back, he’d hardly taken a sip. yet somehow, both men were slurring their words. “but remember, man, if you go for her, people are gonna talk about it. she’s, at least, what...ten years younger than you? at least.” 

chris wasn’t being his normally chipper and talkative self. instead, he leaned back quietly on his bed and attempted to joke, “thanks for making me feel young again.”

the next day, he tried to restrain himself from anymore drawings or hand-squeezes. no more contact with you--it’d only have his heart shaking in his rib cage and he’d be falling head over heels for your all over again. unfortunately, and much to his dismay, he’d failed. all it took was one glance at you, and chris felt woozy in his stomach. your hair had been styled so perfectly, the color of your dress complimented your complexion so sweetly, and when your eyes met his, he only then noticed the smallest flecks of gold in them.

after countless interviews spent with either extremely rude or boring journalists, whose questions harshly peered into the privacy of you, chris, and your castmates, you noticed a sadly familiar look in chris’ eye. you popped open the lid from a permanent ink marker and watched as chris snatched it from your hand to scribble tiny doodles on your skin.

chris drew exactly what he was feeling. a small birdcage containing large butterflies too big to fit through the cracks to escape. they rattled around the metal, a clanking noise echoing through his rib cage with every beat of his heart. his tongue peeked through his lips, and with every stroke of the sharpie, a masterpiece was created on your skin. but, despite his adorable gaze that you noticed in the corner of your eye, you continued to speak with interviewers and answer their questions, almost disregarding chris’ presence.

little did he know, however, you’d given him permanent ink so that when you went to sleep that night, wishing he was in bed with you, you could look down at the drawing he’d made for you and imagine chris was yours.

Days Journey // Sir Gwaine

Can you do a gwaine imagine where the reader joins the knights on a quest and maybe Arthur and the others are flirting with the reader which makes gwaine jealous, so he admits his feelings for the reader? 

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Word Count: 1,218

-

“Lady Y/N.”

A gentle smile fell on your lips at the sound of Sir Leon’s voice, your head turning to the right where your eyes met his. He glanced down at you with a charming smile, and you noticed he had one arm tucked behind his back.

“Sir Leon,” you exclaimed, eyes twinkling with delight as you turned your body slightly, so your back was facing the other knights and Merlin, who sat in front and beside you. It was only mid-day, but since you were in no way a rush, Arthur thought it appropriate to let everyone take a small break. “Is there something you needed?”

Leon moved so he was crouched on his knees, instead of bent over, as he shook his head. “No, Lady Y/N,” he said softly, “I merely just wanted to give you this flower.”

Your eyes widened a fraction when you saw the flower Leon spoke of. It was a beautiful lily, the colour a bright, angelic white. You’re not even sure where Leon had managed to find the lily, given that you hadn’t seen any during your days travel.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

“I hoped you’d think that.”

Taking the flower, gently, in your hand, you smiled brightly up at Leon. “Wherever did you find it?”

“I found it along the way,” he explained shortly. “Couldn’t help but think of you when I did.”

You raised your hand, taking the flower and tucking it behind your ear. “I will cherish it,” you grinned, cheeks warming lightly as you stared up at the night. “Thank you, Sire Leon.”

“Anything for you, Lady Y/N.”

And as you sat there, smiling to yourself as you played with the flower in your hair, you never even noticed Gwaine from afar. Staring at you, his eyes narrowed, before glaring at the back of Leon’s back.

-

“Here.”

You blinked, looking to your left where you met the eyes of Elyan. He was smiling brightly at you, not unlike Leon from earlier in that day, as he pulled a particularly long tree branch out of the way for you.

With a bright smile, you slowed your horses pace somewhat, stunned by his chivalrous. “Thank you, Sir Elyan,” you exclaimed, voice delighted. “How very kind of you.”

“Anything for the Lady Y/N,” Elyan nodded, his eyes never wavering from you as you steered your horse past him.

You picked up the pace the minute you were past him, that delighted smile of yours never wavering. And as you passed Gwaine, offering him a little smile and a nod in greetings, you never once noticed the distant look in his eyes and the way his shoulders dropped with defeat.

-

“Allow me to help you, Lady Y/N.”

“Well,” you stated, allowing your hand to slip into that of Percival’s. “Don’t I feel like a princess.”

“That’s because you are, my lady.”

“Oh, rubbish,” you teased, waving your free hand. “I’m no princess, but I am thankful you think so highly of me.”

Percival chuckled at your comment, holding your hand as you swung your leg over, gracefully, so you could easily hop off the side of your horse. The moment you were situated, Percival set his hands on your waist, squeezing gently to make sure he had a good grip, before you jumped off.

With his help, you landed perfectly and steadily on your feet no problem. 

“Thank you very much, Sir Percival.”

“It was my pleasure.”

As you allowed Percival to lead you over to the camp Merlin was preparing, you never noticed Gwaine staring from afar, his body tensing.

-

“Are you cold, my lady?”

Your hands paused, left grabbing each arm as you turned your head to the right, finding the King staring at you. You blinked, surprised, before you registered what the man had asked. “Only a little,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile.

You turned your head back to the fire, trying to lean in closer for it’s warmth. But a moment later, you felt something fall upon your shoulders, and turning your head, you saw red, before realizing that it was Arthur’s cape that he’d wrapped around your shoulders.

“I hope that will suffice.”

With your lips parted, you met Arthur’s eyes, before your hands came up, grabbing the cape and pulling it closer around yourself.

“It’s more than enough,” you smiled, “thank you, sire.”

“What kind of King would I be if I left a beautiful woman, such as yourself, to freeze?”

Once again, and possibly for the last time, as you laughed and conversed, you never noticed the way Gwaine looked at either of you.

It was only when he suddenly stood, turned, whipping his own cape behind him and stormed off did you noticed that something was so clearly wrong with Gwaine. His actions caused the attention of everyone there, but while everyone looked off in confusion, you only found yourself deeply concerned.

“If you’ll all excuse me,” you spoke quietly, pushing yourself up to your feet. You never waited for a reply before you begun running after Gwaine, holding Arthur’s cape close to yourself for protective from the wind.

“Sir Gwaine!” You called, hoping to gain his attention. “Gwaine!”

Said man stopped, almost in a huff, but he never turned to look at you. Instead, he kept his back to you as you slowed to a stop behind him, before gently setting your hand on his arm, gently guiding him to face you.

Panting slightly, your cheeks reddened, you blinked up at the knight. “Whatever is the matter?”

“That,” he snapped, gesturing back to the fire, wherever everyone else was sat.

You blinked, glancing back before meeting Gwaine’s eyes with furrowed brows. “I’m afraid I do not unde-”

“I mean,” Gwaine begun, his voice harsh, “them. The way the look at you. The way they talk to you. The way they shamelessly flirt with you.”

“Flirt with me?”

“You cannot tell me you have not noticed.”

Biting your lip, you paused, rethinking the events of the day. Gwaine was quite right, you had noticed how kind all of the knights had been to you, even Merlin, but you had just believed it to be chivalry. “Oh, well they were just being kind,” you shrugged, trying to diffuse the situation.

“I know what flirting looks like, and that, was flirting.”

“Okay,” you agreed, slowly. “Well, if it’s flirting, why does it bother you so much so?”

Gwaine blinked, as if not expecting to be asked such a question. He felt lucky that you couldn’t see his cheeks warm in the darkness of the night, as he tried to find the right words.

“Gwaine?” You pressed.

“Because I like you…”

Your eyes widened, realization flooding you. It was obvious enough, but you never would’ve expected that Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot and renowned Lady’s Man would ever like you.

Biting your lip, you smiled gently. “Well, it’s a good think it was just flirting then.”

Gwaine blinked, “huh?”

“Because then I couldn’t do this.”

Leaning forward, you pushed yourself up, pressing your lips against Gwaine’s. It was just a short, chaste kiss, but you pulled back with a bright, naive smile, meeting Gwaine’s eyes who looked absolutely stunned.

“Did you just…”

“Kiss me?”

Gwaine nodded.

Smiling, you nodded yourself, “I did.”

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

requests are open for the tenth doctor!

May you give some tips on how to write about the whole castles, royalty, peasants, knights type of story? Hehe thankies!

How to Write About Medieval Europe

The Medieval times play a huge role in many forms of media today, from TV shows to books to movies. It’s often romanticized and glamorized to make for a good plot, and sifting through what’s real and what’s fake can be a daunting task. 

Not to mention that the way of life in the Medieval times is vastly different from our lifestyles now! There was a lot more rules, a lot more pomp and circumstance, and a lot more death!

In this post, I’ll mostly be covering a time period around the 1400s to 1600s, with all of the classic knights, nobles, and kings and queens that everyone has come to know and love!

So how exactly do you write about medieval times?

1.Know the People

The Medieval times attached a lot more importance to titles and wealth than we do today. The number of names and titles can get a bit confusing at times, so please try to bear with me.

All of these are ordered from lowest rank to highest rank. 

Category One- Lower/Middle Classes (Could be collectively called Peasants)

1. Slave

Slaves are bought and sold, usually owned by nobles but sometimes purchased by some of the wealthier peasants to help out with farm work. 

They are seen as property and nothing more, and their masters can do with them as they please. 

There is rarely a penalty for killing or harming one’s own slave, but one may be punished for destruction of property if they killed or harmed a slave that wasn’t theirs.

2. Serf

Not a slave, but not free, either. 

They live on the property of a noble’s manor and are bound by the feudal system to pay rent in shares of their crops. 

They must ask the nobles permission to marry and to leave, but are overall left to their own devices. 

Their lives were still hard, however, and often they starved or fell to sickness. 

They remained serfs, however, mostly because they needed the protection of the nobles’ knights from barbarian invaders.

 If the manor of the noble was sold, the serfs came along with it.

3. Peasant

Peasants may be poor, but they are completely free. 

They often live in villages together and made their livings as masons, blacksmiths, tailors, shoemakers, farriers, carpenters, and much more. 

If they were particularly good at their craft, they may just earn enough money to be considered a noble; social mobility is not as rigid for peasants as it is for serfs and slaves.

Category 2- Knights

Knights are  in an entirely different category from the peasants and the nobility, though they are more closely associated with the nobles and garner just as much/if not more respect as them.

1. Squire

Essentially a knight in training. 

They accompany a knight on their travels and serve as their attendant, learning from the knight’s ways while polishing their armor and being their cupbearer.

2. Knight

Addressed as “Sir (Firstname)” for a man or “Dame(Firstame)” for a woman. 

Knights were hired to protect and are sworn to the code of chivalry, which is a set of rules that dictates behavior on and off the battlefield. 

For instance, knights weren’t permitted to fight an unarmed man or to kill someone whose back was turned. If an enemy was disarmed during a fight, the knight is supposed to wait for them to retrieve their weapon before resuming.

 Knights were required to be expert swordsman and bowman, as well as good riders. They also needed to be good at supporting their super-heavy armor

Category 3- Nobility

All of the nobility classes can have overlapping jobs; their titles vary on account of how much land they own. 

These nobles are given a fief, or a plot of land, by the King/Queen. They are then expected to pay taxes to the ruler and provide soldiers when needed.

1. Lord/Lady

Addressed as “My Lord/My Lady.”

2. Baron/Baroness

Addressed as “My Lord/My Lady.” 

Usually the spouse of a baron/baroness does not share the title and is simply referred to “My Lord/My Lady” unless they’re a baron/baroness in their own right.

3. Viscount/Viscountess

Addressed as “My Lord/My Lady”

4. Earl(Also known as Count)/Countess

Addressed as “Earl of (Place name)/Countess of (Place name)”

5. Marquis/Marquise

Addressed as “Marquis/Marquise of (Place name).

6. Duke/Duchess

Addressed as “Your Grace.”

Owns the most land out of any of the other nobles

Princes and Princesses can be granted titles of Duke and Duchess.

Category 4- Royalty

1. Princes/Princesses

Addressed as “Your Highness.” 

In traditional medieval Europe, the heir to the crown was usually the firstborn son. In the absence of a son, the crown will be given to the firstborn daughter.

They can also be granted other titles such as Duke and Duchess if their parents/siblings who come into power offer them land

A lot of squabbles/dramas caused by heirs; some killed by siblings in order to assume the throne

2. King/Queen

Addressed as “Your Majesty” or “Your Grace.” 

These rulers own all of the land in the kingdom and simply “rent out” property to the nobles, which can be revoked at any time. 

They levy taxes and have their own personal army to protect and wage war against other kingdoms. 

The nomenclature of Kings and Queens can be quite difficult, especially when marriage becomes involved, so I’m going to try my best to help:

When a King inherits the throne: If he marries a woman, she becomes Queen. If he marries a man, that man becomes a Prince.

When a Queen inherits the throne: If she marries a man, he becomes Prince. If she marries a woman, that woman becomes Princess.

2. Do Some Research If You’re Unsure

If you need help figuring out all of the dynamics and certain duties of all of these people, it can help to surf the web! Researching kingdoms such as England, France, and the Holy Roman Empire might help, though be careful; France had emperors and empresses at one point! 

There are very specific differences between different kingdoms, and you have to make sure you take those into account, especially if you’re writing historical fiction!

 3. Some Recommendations that May Be Helpful

Lucky for you, there are a TON of other books, movies, and TV shows that you’ll be able to draw inspiration from! Here are some things that I recommend!

Just a note, many of these aren’t necessarily medieval or focus a lot on fantasy, too, so I’m sorry if some of them aren’t exactly what you’re looking for!

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer

Game of Thrones on HBO

The Crown on Netflix

The Witcher on Netflix

Reign on Netflix

Victoria on Amazon Prime

The Other Boleyn Girl (2008)

Elizabeth (1998) and Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007)

Mary Queen of Scots (2018)

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

behind enemy lines - k. brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader.

genre/warning: just fluff!

words: 1.3k.

summary: in which to anyone else, you are supposed to be enemies. however, behind closed doors, it is with you that he feels the safest.

“Fraternizing with the enemy, Brekker?” Per Haskell’s voice ran through the office as he stared down at Kaz. Somehow word had gotten out about the little visit he had paid you, and if there was one thing that moved quickly through Ketterdam, it was rumors. Well, that and stray bullets.

To be honest, Kaz hadn’t exactly been trying to hide, and he didn’t feel like he owed anyone an explanation, especially Per Haskell. However, the old man liked to feel like he could still control Kaz and he figured he could grant him one lecture to make him feel better about himself. He knew there wouldn’t be consequences for him, anyway.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but want to laugh every time someone referred to you as the enemy, or a target, or -his personal favorite- dangerous. Don’t get him wrong, he was well aware of the fact that you were one of the deadliest criminals currently roaming the city, but you weren’t a lost cause. Not like he was, anyway.

He hated it when people compared you to him, you weren't unhinged, you weren’t evil, you were just… self-serving. Yeah, he decided, that was the best way to describe you. You didn’t really follow a moral code, you just did what benefited you the most, and while sometimes you had to do things that most people would consider amoral, no one could blame you for trying to make a living in the hell hole that was Ketterdam.

“I wouldn’t call it fraternizing, I was just conversing.” he wasn't. He was definitely not just conversing.

“I don’t give a shit what you were doing, I want the threat gone.” Kaz almost snorted at that.

Sure, you could kill a man in less than five seconds using no more than just your bare hands, but he wouldn’t consider you a threat, not to his gang anyway. You were more of an annoyance, a rock stuck in one’s shoe that you couldn’t really shake and remained there the whole time you walked, but never a threat. You actually were the person he felt the safest around, and while that did make you a threat, it didn’t make you the kind of threat everyone thought you were.

Kaz didn’t say all this, for obvious reasons, and instead settled for a simple: “Of course, sir.”

The old man waves a hand at that, and Kaz took it as a sign of dismissal. Without wasting a single second, Kaz was out of there as quickly as his leg allowed him to, and as he slammed the door, he used a bit more force than he usually would.

The only person who had noticed he wasn’t spending as much time in his office anymore was Inej, and if anyone else had, they didn’t dare ask him why.

It hadn’t been that difficult to convince him to stay with you, the office held nothing but bad memories and it was rarely quiet. Kaz used to think he liked the noise, he liked hearing the screaming from downstairs and feeling like the city never slept, he thought it granted him a sense of comfort - until he met you. With you, he realized he didn’t need outside noise to distract him from the mess inside his head, he just needed your laugh and a smart comment that forced him to suppress a smile of his own right after. He didn’t need to keep up an act to make him feel like he was in control, he could let his guard down and he could share the control of the situation, knowing you wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerability.

Most importantly, he felt like he could actually be himself around you, never on edge and actually relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.

He quickly came to realize he didn’t just like your apartment because of its location, it’s height or it’s view, he didn’t care about the building or where it was located, he liked it because he liked you, and he was sure any room you set foot in would immediately become his favorite room in the city.

As he stepped into the apartment, he couldn’t smell the scent of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t hear the sound of music coming from any room, and he couldn’t find you reading on the couch like he had heard most people found their significant others when they stepped into their homes. Instead, Kaz could see dirty knives on top of the kitchen table, previously blood stained clothes that had been recently washed hanging from the closest window, and an old ripped vest of his disregarded on top of the couch.

The only light shining on the apartment was the soft glow of the moon that painted shadows on the walls, and the only sound that resonated through the house were his own words once he spoke them. “Honey, I'm home.” His words were laced with sarcasm and they received no response from you. At this, he checked the main room and there he found you, asleep with one of his old shirts on, sleeping on his side of his bed like you always did when he hadn’t been home in a while. Looking at you, he couldn’t believe anyone would ever consider you a threat. The thought almost made him laugh: the most dangerous criminal in Ketterdam, wearing his shirt to bed and hugging his pillow.

He went to the closet first and opened the drawer in which you had told him to put his clothes, and changed into something more comfortable than his armor before slipping into the bed beside you, still keeping a distance.

You felt the bed sink beside you, and spoke to him without opening your eyes. “You’re late.” you said.

“Sorry ma’am.” he replied and you smiled, opening only one eye to take a look at his handsome face framed by messy hair.

“Was it the visit you paid me at work last week?” you said knowingly, he nodded. “I warned you.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” he shrugged. “Missed you too much.” you actually opened your eyes fully at the sound of that

“You big softie. What would the city say if they knew the bastard of the barrel had such a soft side?” you smiled.

“Thankfully, they won’t find out.” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Maybe I'll tell them.” you teased.

“I won’t let you.”

“You can’t beat me in a fight.” you challenged, knowing that would get a rise out of him.

“Wanna bet?” He raised his eyebrows, almost smiling at you.

“I would, but you have nothing to offer me, I already have all I want.” you shrugged, as if what you said carried no real meaning behind it, but he knew better.

“Now who’s the one going soft" he said, as one of the corners of his mouth quirked upwards.

“Oh, shut up.” you say with a smile, closing your eyes and missing his own smile just by a second.

Moments later, he felt your pinky finger wrap around his own. Kaz’s aversion to touch hadn’t completely healed, for it was not something that would just go away overnight, no matter how much you meant to him. You didn’t mind, and you both had come up with ways of feeling close to each other without actually having to show physical affection.

However, one thing he found he was okay with, was you hooking one of your fingers around one of his own. In his mind, it was a child-like action, it made him feel like a little boy again and he hated that he couldn’t do more, but you loved the little tradition you had created, and you planned to carry on doing it until he was ready for more, not caring when that would be.

You had time, and you had each other. Everything else could wait.

a/n: requests are open for any soc character (and some s&b characters)!

👀

Laced Around Your Throat

Summary: Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it. 

Pairing: Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2.5K 

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, voyeurism,  cockwarming, oral (m receiving), fingering (x 2), choking, very brief daddy kink (mentioned once)

 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥 by the wonderful @whisperlullaby​, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵) However no permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories anywhere (reblogs are great). 

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed 

A/N: Requested. 

Steve runs New York with an iron fist, sharing his wealth and power with his best friend Bucky. His legitimate businesses are lucrative fronts for the state’s largest criminal organizations. Rumors run rampant through the boroughs about the golden hair CEO and the mysterious brunet known only to the public as the Winter Soldier, however, no one dares to say anything too loud.

No one is brave enough to risk his wrath. Louder than the rumors of the mob boss are the whispers about what happens to his enemies. 

He has the police in his pocket, the governor on speed dial, and senators begging for a meeting. 

While people know of Steve Rogers, very few know the man behind his meticulously crafted façade. 

Steve has worked hard to keep his name away from his more nefarious dealings, content to let others take credit for his handiwork. It’s easier for him to rule when people are unaware of everything that he owns. His privacy is more important to him than the notoriety that comes with his status. 

There is one thing, one person, he does claim. 

You.

Oh, Steve loves you. You belong to him. His feral need to claim you that grows more powerful each day. He’s not happy until he’s fucked you senseless, so thoroughly and deeply, that you feel him long after he’s slipped out of your tight warm pussy, his passionate lovemaking leaves you wearing his marks all over your soft thighs and chest. 

It’s a vicious cycle, seeing you marked up makes him want to mark you even more. Hearing you scream out his name as he fucks you makes him go harder until you’re wrecked, overstimulated and limp on the bed. A vicious cycle that you can’t get enough of. Neither can he. 

But nothing compares to how his hand curves perfectly around your throat, your skin painted with bruises from his thick fingers, lips, and teeth. Steve knows only one thing will look better around your throat. 

His name. 

He had the necklace designed by a French artist and handcrafted by an Italian jeweler. The black diamonds woven throughout the collar enhanced the colorful crimson rubies, his name etched in the braided tassel that could be split apart and attached to the ends of the necklace, hanging in loops over your collarbone. 

Or it can be left down, dropping between your breasts, his name twisting with each sway of the chain. When Steve saw how perfectly it fit on you, he knew it was worth every penny, he would spend millions to have more commissioned for you. His girl. 

The night he put it on you, seeing his name on against your skin changed something in him. His alpha side reaching new heights. You watched in awe and heady anticipation as he swiftly removed his clothes, ordering you to stay still. 

“Sweetheart, now is not the time to tease me, I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do.” He swore, his voice deepening the longer he stared at you. 

Steve’s hands trembled with the urge to choke you, his desire to be inside you overwhelming his senses, all he could see was you splayed on his gigantic bed, naked and ready for him. The necklace glinting under the lights; the sight fraying his barely there control. When you tugged on it, murmuring his name, he snapped. 

Keep reading

Naps

Tony x reader x Stephen

The three of you led incredibly busy lives. It was incredibly rare for any of you to get a day off, and it was a once in the lifetime experience when the three of you had a day off together.

Because of the lives you led, the three of you had to cut back on some things. Such as regular meal times, taking care of yourselves, interacting with people, and, most importantly, sleep.

There always seemed to be too much work to do. There were constant meetings, training sessions, paperwork, and so many other responsibilities to attend to. 

Sometimes you didn’t have time to sleep, but you did have time to nap.

It was a rare day. You and Stephen were at home together. Stephen wasn’t needed at the sanctum, and all you had to do was paperwork that you could easily do from home.

Tony had been bullied, by Pepper, into attending several meetings for SI. Though he was no longer CEO of the company, he still did a lot of work for it and held a majority of the shares.

While Tony had gone to do his work, you and Stephan had decided it was a lazy day, despite your paperwork. The two of you had made no effort to get dressed or leave the bed today, and it felt great.

“Ah!” You yelped as Stephen’s cloak suddenly attacked you. “Stephen, what the hell?” You exclaimed as it wrapped itself tightly around you.

“You zoned out, sweetheart.” Stephen chuckled. “I was calling your name for almost a minute.” He said, shifting closer to throw his arm around your shoulders.

“So, you set your cloak on me?” You raised a brow.

“The cloak made that decision on its own.” He shrugged, gesturing for the cloak to move. “What were you thinking so hard about?”

“How good it feels to stay in bed with you.” You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I miss spending time with you and Tones.”

“We miss you too,” Stephen admitted. “I never used to be one who enjoyed the simple moments, but now I miss them.”

“You know, I have some leave saved up.” You mentioned. “Maybe we could all go on a trip.” You suggested.

“Wong could look after the sanctum if we left.” Stephen mused. “I’d be okay with that. We just need to get Tony to agree.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything until I have another coffee.” Tony groaned, entering the bedroom. “I need to set a new protocol, one that tells me to hide because Pep’s coming.” He said, falling onto the end on the bed. 

“If you did that, Pepper would find a way to disable it and then kill you.” Stephen pointed out. “And we all know she would get away with it.”

“It was just a couple of meetings, Tone.” You smiled at him. “You do them all the time.”

“But they’re so boring,” Tony whined, rolling onto his back. “I was up all night going over Pepper’s notes. I felt like I was back in school.” He muttered, relaxing back into the bed.

“Did you get everything you needed done?” You asked, shifting on the bed so that you could get his glasses off.

Tony let out several noncommital hums before closing his eyes and going limp. Stephen chuckled as he shifted to sit next to you.

“And he’s out like a light,” Stephen said, gently raising his head so he could undo his tie.

“Let him sleep.” You said as the two of you moved him, so he was properly on the bed. “He deserves it.”

“You know I could have just bought pasta and sauce from the store, right?” You asked, raising a brow. 

“I will have none of that sacrilege in this house,” Tony said, pointing a flour-covered finger at you. “Store-bought pasta is wrong, and don’t get me started on the sauce.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you’re Italian and a stark traditionalist.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not going to respond to that,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Besides, you know you love my homemade sauce.”

“That sounds sexual.” You smirked.

“Be quiet you,” Tony said, rolling his eyes, but you could see a slight smile on his face.

“Did Stephen say when he was coming home?” You asked, pushing hair out of your face. “Or what exactly he’s doing?”

“I heard something about alien squid, and then he hung up screaming ‘love you bye.’” Tony told you as he began to shape his pasta.

“That’s terrifying.” You shook your head. “We need to tell him to work on his tact. He’s going to give one of us a heart attack.”

“Honestly, at this point, I don’t notice when either of you says stuff like that.” Tony shrugged. “The two of you give me a panic attack if I pay too much attention.”

“Rude." 

"Babe, between Stephen’s phone calls and you dealing life-threatening injuries in the bathroom, I think I have the right to say it.” Tony pointed out.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Stephen scoffed as he appeared in the doorway. “You drink more coffee in one day than most do in a month." 

"Steph!” You exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace the sorcerer. “You look terrible.” You said once you’d pulled back to get a glimpse at his face.

There was probably a better way to phrase that, but you weren’t wrong. His face looked gaunt, he was favoring his right leg, his body was covered in cuts, and you knew he was exhausted by the dark bags under his eyes.

“It’s nice to see you too, sweetheart.” Stephen chuckled, leaning down to press his lips to your head.

“Please tell me the other guy looks worse than you?” Tony asked, standing behind you.

“Much worse,” Stephen said, moving to kiss Tony’s cheek. “You’re covered in flour.”

“I’m making homemade tortellini,” Tony told him. “ Sit your ass down, you look like you’re going to pass out.” He added, pushing him towards a chair. 

Stephen took the offered seat and rested his head on the counter. Tony began rambling nonsensical stories about his day as he finished making dinner. When Tony had finished serving dinner, he turned to the two of you and was about to speak before you shushed him.

'He's asleep.’ You mouthed. 'Do we move him?’

'Leave him.’ Tony mouthed back. 'He needs his sleep. I’ll save a bowl for him.’

You hadn’t been home in five days. You’d been assigned a mission with Natasha and Clint, and it was one of the more stressful ones you’d ever been on.

It seemed as if everything wanted to go wrong. You’d barely been able to get your guy, and the information he had, Clint had broken his hearing aids, and Natasha had almost fallen off a roof.

You were exhausted. Everything ached and felt bruised. Your head was pounding, and you still had to debrief and write your part of the mission report.

You couldn’t wait to get home and curl up in Tony and Stephen’s arms.

“Hey, you’re home,” Stephen said, watching as you dragged yourself out of the elevator from the couch. “Did you go to medical?”

“Why would she when we’ve got our own doctor here?” Tony asked as you collapsed into the gap between him and Stephan. “You good there, kitty?” He asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t be weird.” You grumbled but didn’t make a move to move his hand.“I missed you two.” You sighed.

“We missed you too, sweetheart,” Stephen said, placing a soothing hand on your back. “Are you sure you’re not injured?”

“Not injured. Just tired.” You told him. “Really tired.”

“Do you want us to move you to bed?” Tony questioned. “Steph will have to carry you unless I get the suit.”

“No, I just want to stay here. You’re so warm.” You murmured, burrowing deeper into your spot and their warmth. “I love you both. A lot, a lot.” You added as your eyes began to close. 

The last thing you heard before drifting off into a wanted slumber was;

“We love you too, sweetheart.” 

“A lot, a lot.”

Taglists are always open. Requests are always open, for stories and for pairings.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @alissaginger

Imagine #313

Imagine Jack is destroying the pirates ship, who tried to kill you

Change - Sheldon Cooper

Pairing: Sheldon Cooper x Reader

Characters: Sheldon Cooper, Leonard Hofstadter, Howard Wolowitz, Raj Koothrappali

Warnings: N/A

Request: N/A

Word Count: 605

Author: Hannah

Keep reading

The Spider. «Kaz Brekker»

Kaz Brekker x Reader; Shadow and Bone [Netflix]; oneshot

SUMMARY: Having Kaz Brekker nearby comes in handy when a spider invades your room.

WORD COUNT: 960

NOTES: Pretty sure there’s no mention of reader pronouns, so can be read as gender neutral; can be interpreted as platonic or otherwise, that’s up to ye. First time writing for this fandom 🤞

“Kaz? Are you busy?” you asked as you nudged the door to his office open.

Kaz’s permanent scowl softened just barely when he heard your voice, but the subtle action spoke volumes. If anyone else had entered without knocking, he wouldn’t be as quick to brush it off.

“What is it, Y/N?” he asked.

“I need your help.”

Hearing the nervous way you were speaking, seeing the way you fiddled with your hands — Kaz’s mind immediately travelled through all the possible issues one of his Crows could have found themselves in. This was the Barrel. There were several flavours of ‘worst case scenario’ that he could think up on the spot.

“Are you in trouble?” Kaz asked seriously, eyes darkening.

“Well, not exactly. It’s sort of embarrassing.”

Kaz just stared at you, his gaze intense as always, silently imploring you to get to the point.

“There’s a…a spider.”

Kaz blinked. “A spider?” he said slowly.

If you hadn’t known Kaz Brekker as well as you did and known not to expect such a thing, you might’ve thought he was about to burst out laughing.

“I know it’s silly! But I really hate them, okay? And it’s so — saints, Kaz — it’s massive! I can’t hear myself think knowing that thing is crawling around in my room somewhere but I can’t get rid of it myself.”

Kaz raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘are you kidding me?’, but he grabbed his cane and pushed himself up to stand anyway. The chair screeched as it slid across the floor and Kaz left the room at a leisurely pace, his cane thumping alongside his footsteps all the way to your room. He did not hesitate to enter it, but you lingered outside the door.

“Where is it?” he asked, sounding completely done with this task already.

You poked your head in to look around the room, clutching the doorframe. The beast was last seen scuttling around somewhere near your desk — that’s when you finally realised you had no hope of facing it on your own and had fled to enlist the help of the one and only Dirtyhands.

Movement caught your eye. There it was, over on the floor by your bed, crawling around like it owned the place.

“There it is!”

Kaz followed your pointed hand and took three steps forward before raising his good leg.

“No!” you cried.

Kaz’s movements halted before he could bring his foot down to crush the spider.

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked. He did not even turn around.

“You can’t kill it,” you said. “Just put him outside.”

“I’ve seen you stab a man through the eye with the pointy end of a hairbrush. But this is too much violence for you now, is it?” Kaz looked back at you and gestured in the general direction of the spider.

You crossed your arms and frowned. “That’s different. That guy had it coming but the spider is just minding its own business. I don’t want to kill it, I just want it to…mind its own business somewhere far, far away from me.”

Kaz turned back around before you could see the corners of his lips begin to turn upwards slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. Nobody, including you, would ever find out how easily you could get Kaz to do something for you — he would make sure of it.

With a small mutter to himself that you could not hear, Kaz crossed the room to your desk, emptied the pencil holder, and grabbed a random sheet of paper. The spider had started to crawl up the opposite wall, and Kaz was quick to stalk over and trap it against the wall. He managed to manoeuvre the paper under the cup; then, with the trapped spider in one hand and his cane still in the other, he went to the window.

Now that the spider was in custody, you had the courage to finally enter the room. You joined Kaz at the window and opened it for him, the crisp evening air brushing against your arms.

“Alright, now don’t just throw him out into the open air because it’s a long drop. Just put him…yeah, put him there,” you said.

Kaz shook the spider out of the glass and onto the windowsill where dried leaves had collected. The second that Kaz had pulled his arm back inside, you yanked the window shut with the speed of lightning.

“Let’s hope we never have a job that might pit you against a spider,” Kaz said dryly as he returned the pencil holder and paper to the desk.

“You’re making jokes now? Did you hit your head?” You smiled and followed Kaz back to the door.

“I think you’re the one who’s hit your head,” he said, pausing in the doorway. “You said the spider was ‘massive’. That was easily the weakest spider I’ve ever seen.”

“Spider size aside, thank you for taking care of it, Kaz. That was very sweet of you.”

It should have been an oxymoron to say that somebody could glare affectionately at another person, but that was exactly what Kaz did.

“It wasn’t sweet. If anything, it’s a business transaction. You take out my enemies, I take out your spiders.”

“Right. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that I’m your favourite person in this place,” you teased.

Kaz turned away from you and began walking down the hallway with surprising speed right as Jesper appeared, headed in the opposite direction.

“And because we’re best friends for life!” you called after Kaz.

“No we aren’t!” Kaz said, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

“Yes you are,” Jesper whispered loudly to you with a wink as he passed.