Decription: you and Tsireya have a playful rivalry together—but this time—you let her win on purpose.
Tags: fluff, friendly rivalry
Word count: 740
Written for the Jealousy in June event made by @junebugonjupiter
Prompts used: #14 (“You are cute when you are mad.”), #16 (“Are you happy now?”), #25 (Rivals to lovers)
Neither of you knew when your rivalry began, but one thing was for certain.
It was surprisingly fun.
Every single time, it starts the same way—a challenge set by the other. No matter what time of day or what’s agreed on, it happens.
— —
Behind Ronal, Tsireya walked cheerfully with a bowl of fruit held at her hip. Meanwhile, you were busy untangling a net, your lips pressed together with focus.
As she passed you, her hand brushed softly against yours, whispering, “I bet I can race my ilu faster than you.”
For a split second, the contact made your mind short circuit. Then, registering what she said, the corner of your mouth twitched amusedly.
It turned out that Tsireya and her ilu were indeed faster, but you knew you’d be able to reach the bottom of the reef first—without jumping from the dock.
That you did win.
Months passed with other miscellaneous competitions, some resulting in losses and wins, some even ties (though you both made sure to rematch for a winner).
What made it the best part, was that it was something you both had for yourselves. Your own little game—something to look forward to with the monotonous life that came with repetitive chores.
— —
Today’s match had been agreed on the day before: “who can catch the most fish by the end of the day.”
You were the one that suggested it, since you were confident in yourself that you’d do well. While Tsireya usually helped underwater, tending to the reefs, your main duty was to stand at the shore and catch fish.
In short, this was practically a win just by suggesting it.
Both of you found yourselves this morning—just as the other villagers of Awa’atlu were starting their day—with the sea at your knees and equipment in your hands.
You dug your toes into the soft sand and turned to her. “Ready?”
The orange glow from the rising sun reflected off Tsireya’s face in a way that made her look radiant. She nodded, giving you a playfully smug grin.
On the count of three, the competition began.
Throughout the day, you both reeled in countless of fish. Your basket filled steadily, and Tsireya’s, thankfully for you, wasn’t.
She clicked her tongue again, for what may have been the third time her net tangled. Her face scrunched with frustration, muttering insults to the inanimate object.
Relishing her annoyance, you smirked and teased, “you look cute when you’re mad.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes, fingers working at the knot.
“You want help?” You asked rhetorically, dumping another load of fish into your basket.
“I want to win,” she said frustratedly, “how are you getting so much fish?”
“I must be the best.”
Cue her eye-roll.
The day continued, and you still surpassed her.
For your challenge, you both agreed that it would end once the sun fell past the horizon. And that moment was coming soon—as only a little sliver of stark gold was left.
“These fish don’t like my net,” Tsireya groaned, defeatedly dropping the net to her knees.
“They must not like you very much,” you ribbed. She gave you a side-eye.
Having a big win on her gave you a big ego boost. And yet, a little part of you wanted to give her some fish.
You didn’t know why—just a feeling. Eywa, maybe.
Than sparked an idea.
“Hey, is that an otterfin?” You pointed out further away.
She glanced eagerly, “where? They’re so cute!”
Just as she turned away, you dunked a load of fish into her basket, leaning the winning scale in her favor.
It was then that the sun fell past the horizon line.
Tsireya turned back to you, “you tricked me,” she muttered, although not seeming surprised. She then made a double take at her basket.
“You happy now?” You asked.
She glanced at you with a look of shock. “But I was loosing—how—“ she paused, “did you put your fish into my basket?”
You shrugged.
“Why?”
You shrugged again, collecting your net into a neat mass. “Doesn’t matter why. I suppose I’ll win another time.”
You began wading through the water to put the net away, when suddenly Tsireya pulled your shoulder down and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“Thank you.” She said softly.
You held back a smile.
Even if you didn’t win the challenge, you sure felt like you won the whole game.
Description: Tsireya gets a little jealous of you being with Kiri (but ofc she has nothing to worry about)
Tags: small misunderstanding, jealously, fluff, Tsireya may be a bit ooc
Word count: 472
A/N: Happy pride month everyone!!!
Written for the Jealousy in June event made by @junebugonjupiter
Prompt(s) used: #20 (“Did that really make you jealous?”)
Tsireya braided thin tendrils of dried seaweed with familiar ease, yet she frowned as if she was learning how to do it for the first time.
The frustration wasn’t because of the premature bracelet resting in her hands, though. She glanced down below at the sandy shore, her lips pressed together once again.
You and Kiri had been spending a lot of time together recently.
Before the Sully’s sought uturu with the Metkayina, you and her always spent time together. Tsireya never considered herself to be someone who got jealous. And yet, as she saw you spend more time with the Omatikaya, ‘jealous’ seemed quite fitting at the moment.
Lost in her stewing thoughts, she suddenly registered footsteps approaching her. Her head snapped embarrassingly quickly, hoping it was you, and indeed it was, walking towards her with a light skip in your step.
Smiling softly in greeting, you knelt down and glanced at her bracelet. “It’s coming along beautifully.” You remarked kindly.
She smiled appreciatively before noticing something new on your arm, which made her expression strain a bit. “Is that from Kiri?” She asked, trying to conceal the bitterness in her tone.
You nodded happily, “yes, isn’t it gorgeous? Look at the way she organized the shells,” you pointed at the armband enthusiastically. “I’m sure I can ask her to make one for you, if you’d like.”
Tsireya shook her head, “I have my own.” She glanced at her bracelet. Soon, anyway.
For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence. Tsireya lost the motivation to continue crafting her bracelet and just held it in her hand, her finger stroking a lock of seaweed.
“Are you alright?” You asked, leaning forward to get a better view of her expression, your own one concerned.
“I’m fine.”
“‘Reya,” you started knowingly, softly nudging her, “I know when something’s bothering you. Tell me.”
After a few moments of consideration, she sighed defeatedly, “you and Kiri are getting quite close,” she said quietly, eyeing your gifted armband, “I suppose I’m a bit… jealous…”
You glanced at the adornment, “does me being with Kiri really make you jealous?” You asked, in partial disbelief. This coming from Tsireya surprised you.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not my place to decide who you spend time with—“
“Tsireya,” you interrupted, placing a hand on her arm, “you have nothing to worry about.”
She finally looked up at you. “I don’t?”
You shook your head, “Kiri is just a friend,” you assured, placing a hand on hers. “If I had eyes on anyone, it would be you.”
She looked down at her lap bashfully, flustered yet also greatly relieved. “Thank you.”
You continued, shifting closer to her, “want to finish the bracelet together?”
Holding the piece of jewelry from her palm, Tsireya nodded with a smile. “I do.”
For my namesake month, I wanted to celebrate my favorite trope; Jealousy! All prompts on this list are directly or indirectly catered to this theme!
(Click on the images for better quality!!)
Open to anyone who would like to participate!
I am posting the announcement early so people can plan and schedule accordingly!
You can contact me if you would like to be assigned a prompt or character! Otherwise, you are welcome to select your own!
I will begin accepting requests for this event, but only for Jake at the moment. I will open up requests for Tarsem, Tonowari, and Tsu’tey at a later date!
helping hand.
⤷ natasha romanoff x fem!reader x bucky barnes ⌇ 1.3k
✶ ― SYNOPSIS. nat knows her precious sorority sister is always eager to lend a helping hand… well, in this case, take a helping hand.
wharnings. mdni! no use of y/n, wlw, sorority sister!nat, loser!bucky, smut (fingering, voyeurism, virgin shaming, hints of male masturbation, fauxcest?? (nat calls herself the reader's big sister in russian bc, yk, they're in a sorority).
ᯓ★hyde𝄒s input. is it obvious i know nothing about how sororities work?
follow @houseofjekyll + turn on notifications to know when i post a new fic!
Parties at the Kappa Widows’ house are always noisy.
Students, as close as down the block and as far as across the state, clamber through the front door and gather to celebrate in the way any good sorority knows best: booze and boasting. Even now, hours into the night, you can still hear one of the head girls, Wanda, screeching on about her latest nefarious bedroom affairs, entertaining the crowd until whichever meat-head fratboy tires of his lack of spotlight and interrupts her to recount the tale of how he once scored the winning point for his high school basketball team... It’s perfect, really, providing a blanket of noise to cover the debauchery taking place in the four posters of your bed.
Everything started with a simple request, “Hey angel, you mind lending me a hand? I promised to show my friend something.”
You’re starting to wonder if Natasha had worded her question correctly, for both of your hands are helplessly gripping on to the frilly pink sheets of a princess bed while her’s busy themselves guiding your hips down against a pillow, teasing your clit with dull friction.
“See how she’s so wet, it’s seeping through her panties?” Natasha’s words sting your cheeks with blood-curdling embarrassment, despite the assertive casualness she presents them with, the controlled demeanour of a tenure professor teaching a lesson. “That’s how you wanna get them, Barnes. Desperate. Dripping for it. Whatever girl you get your hands on should be on the brink of crying before you even think of pulling her panties down.”
You can’t see either of them from the position you’ve been forced into, laying face down on the mattress with your skirt bunched around your waist and a pillow placed between your thighs.
Maybe seeing them would be worse, watching the eyes of your sorority elder, and the boy many on campus refer to as Loser Barnes, as they swallow in the sight of you desperately rutting against the pile of feathers.
You feel your breath hitch right as Nat peels your underwear off. Before the cool air can greet your cunt, however, there’s the press of her index finger to spare you as she drags it up the seam of your core.
“Usually, they won’t get this wet so easily, but you know this little angel… She’s always been an overachiever,” Nat muses, and you feel a rush of pride roll down your spine and her finger press against your aching clit. “Haven’t you, baby? Always top of your class, my smart little girl. Now look how dumb you’re acting over my hand rubbing your pussy. She’s begging me to fuck her, keeps trying to suck my finger in while I’m trying to teach poor Buck over here about how to touch a woman.”
“She really is soaked,” Bucky interjects, voice full of wonder like he can’t believe his eyes. “You ever seen her like this before?”
“She thinks I don’t know how our little pillow fights get her panties all sticky, or about how she keeps helping herself to my vibrator… But no, I’ve never seen her this bad before.”
“Then can we- Should you help her?” You could just about scream at Bucky’s plea, mouth long dropped open while Nat continues to rub slow torturous circles around your clit. “Think it’ll help me visualise how to, you know-“
“Actually touch a pussy so that you don’t die a loser virgin? Sure, Barnes, I’ll finger her pretty pussy. But remember, I’m doing this for you,” Nat stains your skin with your own arousal as she slides you onto your knees and forces your ass up into the air. “C’mere, want you to spit on her cunt for me. Not because she needs it, because she wants it. Look at her, practically winking at us with how hard she just clenched at the thought. D’you like that, angel? Like the thought of him spitting on you, all so he can slide into your desperate, slutty pussy?”
Before you even get the chance to question how she knows your dirtiest secrets, you feel a warm drop of Bucky’s spit hit your asshole.
“So you have shit aim. Good to know, Barnes,” Nat, your sweet caring elder, makes good with what she has and resorts to spreading his spit over your cunt, the tip of her finger teasing at your entrance. “Like I said, not all girls are going to be as desperate as my angel, so spit can help get them extra lubricated, and then you can just… Oh, look at that Buck, swallowing me like she was made for me.”
One finger is enough to have you mewling, eyes rolling back while you wrestle with all sorts of thoughts. How pretty Nat’s lips have always been, how you often get lost staring at her hands, how you lay there, your own digits buried inside you, while listening through the wall as Nat let some sweaty fratboy have his way with her.
“See how I’m fucking her? Nice and slow. You wanna ease them into it, not ram full speed ahead before they even get a chance to properly feel you,” true to her word, Nat slowly retracts her hands only to feed you the length of her dainty finger again, teasing you with an upward press against your gummy walls. “Fuck, she feels so warm. And tight. Like she’s barely even been touched. ‘S my angel a virgin too, huh? Should I give you both a lesson in touch?”
You’re mid-nod when she decides to bless you — or is it a curse? — with a second finger, feeding it into you with little protest from your body.
“You should see how hard you’ve got our poor Bucky back here,” she’s torturing you both, feeding her own ego with the pathetic noises her actions rouse out of you and Bucky. “Go on, Buck, it’s okay. Touch yourself, let yourself feel good while you watch me make my angel cum for her старшая сестра (big sister).”
“Nat-” Her name falls onto your sheets, just in time for you to hear the rustle of clothing and the unbuckling of a belt.
“Shit!” A groan tears through Bucky’s throat and within the moments the room fills with the soft shlick of his hand working over the length of his cock. “Your girl, she’s- Ah! Her pussy’s so pretty. So so fucking pretty, ‘s just like the rest of her. Wanna- Ugh- Wanna know what she tastes like. Wanna fuck her until she’s crying-”
“I know, I’m the luckiest girl,” Nat curls both fingers, giggling at the way your thighs tremble the more she works an ache into her wrist, slowly building a rhythm that is sure to bring you to a crescendo. “She’s always trailing me around on campus, the others all call her my prettiest accessory. Now she’s spreading her legs and letting me stretch out her little virgin cunt. Not some loser like you, but me, her sorority sister, the only person on this campus who can guide her through the real college experience.”
“Natty!” You cry, eyes rolling back while a warmth begins to spread over your lower gut, the threat of something on the precipice of happening.
“She called me that when one of those fratboys tried to grope her, now look at her, crying for me to make her cum,” her thumb teases over your clit. “Hmm, am I your Natty, yeah? Gonna let me show Bucky how to make a girl cum, angel?”
+ extra hyde!
· this has been in my drafts for a few days. i was going to make it longer, originally, but i caught covid unexpectedly and feel bad that i've had to delay my first christmas fic, so i decided to post this as a treat (for myself, truly).
· this is literally just the product of me being horny and needing nat, i’m so sorry 🥀
· pls laugh at the meme i made.
Description: You keep touching Ben's shield and testing his patience. So now he has to punish you.
Tags: spanking (w/ belt and hand), dom/sub dynamics if you squint
Word count: 567
A/N: Proofread but shitty (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
Something about Ben's disapproving eyes made you want to annoy the hell out of him. You liked the way he reprimanded you in his mid-Atlantic accent, his voice slow yet deliberate.
His shield was leaned against the wall. And not too far away, he was sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread. At first glance, you'd assume he was relaxed, but really he was getting riled up.
He was oddly protective of the shield. In a way, you found it amusing. You extended your hand, pointing your index finger in a provocative manner, a cheeky smile on your face, anticipating a reaction from him.
"Quit it," he warned, giving you a stern look.
"Ooh, so shiny," you taunted, relishing his annoyance. You dragged your finger over the golden grooves, irritating him further, "look at how many fingerprints I'm leaving."
"Do I have to repeat myself?" He growled, "hands off my shield."
"But it's so pretty," you cooed, feigning innocence, “I wonder if I can pick it up…”
“You want to be that way? Fine, be that way,” he rose from the bed and began unbuckling his belt.
You huffed amusedly as you watched him. Your fingers now idly remained on his shield, your curiosity outweighing your need to madden him.
“Come here,” he ordered firmly, gesturing to the empty space in front of him.
“You can’t be serious,” you started, a disbelieving smile tugging the corners of your mouth, gauging his expression and the black leather belt in his hands. You wanted to laugh in his face. “You’re bluffing.”
“Far from it,” his reply was quick and sharp. “Get over here.”
You hesitated for a moment too long, because within seconds he stormed towards you and took your arm, holding it with a steel grip. He pulled you over his lap as he sat back on the bed, pinning your wrists behind you.
With your ass sticking up, he pulled your pants down and cracked the belt to your right ass cheek.
You gasped at the sharp sting and squirmed, but to no avail. It was useless against his unimaginable strength and his unforgiving manner.
“Y’know, I did tell you not to touch my shield,” he began, lashing the belt again. You whined, biting your bottom lip. “It’s a shame you don’t listen.”
Your ass stung with each forceful smack.
“You gettin’ sore, baby?” He asked, being the one to feign innocence this time, like he wasn’t willingly punishing you. Cue another crack.
By this point, you stopped squirming. He wasn’t showing any sign of mercy any time soon. Beneath you, his thighs were solid, the only supportive thing against every whip on your soft ass.
Another smack, and another mewl leaving your mouth.
Then, a faint jingle of the belt buckle rustled as he placed the accessory beside him on the mattress. You felt his fingers curl around the waistband of your underwear, and pull the garment down in one swift motion.
“Not so fun now, is it?” He taunted, caressing the soft flesh of your sore ass.
With a forceful pinch, and a strong spank with his palm, he delivered the final message.
“You ready to say sorry?”
“Yes,” you cried, a beg for him to stop. All you could think was one thing as he pulled you upright and sent you off with one final tap on the ass.
Description: Inspired by this headcanon i saw on tiktok about how Ronal and Tonowari met and made it x-reader. Basically: Tonowari repeatedly trying to court tsakarem!reader but she keeps rejecting him, until she doesn't.
Tags: Reader is the tsakarem, reader is stubborn, Tonowari is a romantic, fluff, brief description of injury (but nothing graphic), reader has parents but they're not named, no use of y/n
Word count: 1.5k
A/N: Lowkey never thought I’d write something for Tonowari but I guess it’s the will of Eywa so hope you guys enjoy!!
Tonowari was not getting the hint.
You could feel his attention on you as you wrung saltwater out of your hair, studying you with those big, blue eyes of his.
He was a promising hunter—determined, helpful, supportive—with a rising reputation in the clan. Your father, the olo’ektan, occasionally remarked with approval on him.
But no matter how long Tonowari stood there, across the beach, admiring the way you diligently repaired nets along the shoreline, you were the tsakarem, and couldn’t let yourself be distracted from your upcoming role.
You wore your title with honor, keeping yourself busy around the clan; teaching children how to make songcords, helping warriors gather their gear, handling the ilus, preparing healing tonics and herbs. The list could go on.
What time did you have for menial things? You wanted to show your people the meaning of being a leader.
No matter how many times you caught Tonowari staring, you wanted nothing to do with him. You made that much clear.
That is, you thought you did.
Once, after a hunting expedition, he approached you, brushing past other na'vi until he was right in front of you. With a sheepish expression, he held out a gorgeous scallop shell. “For you,” he smiled.
The shell dwarfed in his big hand, and a small part of you was rather flattered by the gift. It was beautiful, a sandstone red with some hints of yellow. It would make for a breathtaking headpiece.
Yet, you became aware of the clan members around you, watching the interaction with anticipation.
What would they think of their next tsahik if she could be easily swooned? By a shell no less?
You scowled, “put it back where it belongs,” you snapped, promptly turning away.
Pushing past a few na'vi, you stormed towards your marui pod, crossing over the woven bridges.
You wondered if you had been too harsh, that maybe you would’ve set a better example if you rejected his offer calmer.
But all Tonowari could think about was how your hair bobbed with the rhythm of your steps.
——
Today had begun like any other day, with you overseeing your typical responsibilities. The ocean was particularly calm, with bright sunshine sparkling against the turquoise surface.
Waves lapped at the golden shore in a slow, rhythmic fashion. The ilus clicked contentedly. Everything was good.
Inside your marui pod, you carefully sliced strips of seaweed with your crystal blade. Wooden bowls were strewn around your bench, each holding another healing herb.
You were peacefully engaged with what you were doing, especially on such a nice day like today.
Until you heard footsteps creaking the woven ropes in front of your pod.
“Tsakarem,” the voice was deep and resonant, and irritatingly recognizable. You didn’t even have to turn around to know it was him.
Instantly, your mind snapped out of its focused state. Taking a deep breath in, you replied evenly: “I am busy.”
“Please.”
Something in the tone of his voice made you reconsider. Turning around, you observed Tonowari and his puppy-eyed expression.
Standing in the entryway, with his massive frame, he lifted his forearm—marked with a bleeding cut.
Your eyes widened, “Tonowari,” you clicked your tongue, concern lacing your tone. You got up from your spot and ushered him inside, motioning with your arms, “you should have lead with that,” you reprimanded.
He followed you inside, giving an apologetic smile.
You turned around and began preparing a remedy back at your bench. "Sit," you ordered.
Obediently, he did so.
Scooping up a few bowls and placing them on a tray, you approached Tonowari and took his hand.
Carefully, yet moving with practiced ease, you tended to his injury; wrapping his arm with the freshly cut seaweed, coated with a special plant-made gel to help close the wound.
The pod fell quiet. Neither of you tried to start a conversation. Between you absorbed in your task, and Tonowari being a good patient, the silence was surprisingly peaceful.
“There. And don’t be so reckless next time,” you huffed, your voice cutting through the tranquil atmosphere.
Smiling softly, as if not perturbed by your bluntness, he gave one, single promising nod, “of course.”
You returned the nod, watching him leave.
He made his way towards the entry, but lingered at the entrance. “Tsakarem?”
“What is it?” You asked, placing the items back on the tray.
“Will you ride ilus with me later?”
There was a brief pause. For those few moments, only the distant shouts of other Metkayina could be heard, carried by the soft breeze that made its way into the pod. It circled between you two, but it made your answer no less sharp.
“No.”
His ears briefly flattened at the rejection. Pressing his lips together, he stoically nodded and left.
Just as his frame was out of view, your mother entered the pod next. "Daughter, what is the meaning of this behavior?"
Startled, you turned and gave her a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“With Tonowari.”
"I helped him with an injury, mother," you sighed. “I fulfilled my duties.”
She scoffed, "Tonowari is a proud warrior of our clan. Part of being tsahik is learning about your people.” Her hands rested on her hips, and a stern expression marked her face. “There was no need to dismiss him so quickly.”
“But—”
She raised her hand, implying no room for arguments. “Go. I will finish preparing these herbs.”
——
Later in the evening, as the sky faded into a dark gradient of pinks and purples, you dipped into the water. It wasn’t warm, but not freezing either. Your ilu clicked as it circled playfully around you.
Connecting your kuru with your ilu’s, you gripped the saddle handle and went forth towards one of the docks.
The water flowed around you like a thicker wind. By this point in the evening, the bioluminescence of the reef began shining; lights of pinks, blues and greens reflected against your eyes.
Slowly, you surfaced.
Tonowari held a crystal blade and sharpened the end of his harpoon. His frown was deeper set than usual. You could only guess why…
“Tonowari,” was all that managed to come out of your mouth.
He looked up and immediately paused what he was doing, his knife midway along the harpoon head.
Your ilu chirped in greeting as you halted it. You continued, “I don’t suppose… you’d still like to ride ilus?” You asked.
“But I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I changed my mind.” You shrugged, giving a small smile.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes softened. He placed the harpoon on the dock and slid the blade back into it's sheath. Letting out a whistle for his own ilu, he dived into the water, resurfacing shortly on it's back. "Lead the way," he grinned.
——
By the time the two of you were done racing through the reefs, the sky had darkened completely to a deep navy. The two of you were sat on the dock from before, looking up at the magnificent sight of Jupiter illuminated in the night sky.
Droplets of water beaded down your skin, and a few stands of hair stuck to your forehead.
Beside you, Tonowari turned to you, his voice soft, "did you have fun?"
You kept your eyes on Jupiter. Truthfully, you enjoyed your time with Tonowari more than you'd like to admit. But you couldn't be cruel and so no... again. Breaking your eyes away from the looming planet, you turned to him. "I did."
"Good, I'm glad."
A small pang of guilt gnawed away at you. As if sensing your troubles, Tonowari looked at you.
"I'm sorry," you began.
"For what?"
You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how bitter the words tasted. "For how I treated you before. I had been so focused on my duties as the future tsahik that I didn't want the clan to think I was being careless. So I never accepted your advances, but I never considered how it might've hurt you."
"There is no need to be sorry," he assured softly. You regarded him cautiously, thrown off-guard by his understanding. You expected him to think you were pathetic. He picked up on your confusion and elaborated, gesturing with his hand, "it is one of the things I like about you. Your drive and diligence... it is inspiring."
Somehow, his words sparked something within you. "It is?"
"Very much." He nodded.
You smiled, flattered, and averted your eyes. All of a sudden, there was this newfound sense of security in your goals. You weren't a disappointment to your clan, but the very leader you hoped you would be. "Thank you, Tonowari."
Carefully, he placed his hand on top of yours. The gesture was unexpected, but after your heart settled, you finally welcomed the advance. You intertwined your fingers with his.
Smiling at each other, you both looked out into the horizon, enjoying the peaceful night together. As the waves gently caressed the sand with slow, rhythmic sloshing, and the rest of the clan were in their hammocks, you took in a breath of seaside air.
After all this time, Tonowari wasn't the one who needed the hint. The one who need it, was you.
Okay I have a couple of Avatar fics simmering in my drafts box ever since fire and ash came out, but I don't know if posting them is the right move. That being said.
How would y’all feel if I started writing Avatar fics???
Description: When Clint and Laura need a babysitter, Natasha usually steps in to help. This time though, she finds that she’s been replaced by a new sitter. So what better to do other than investigate?
Tags: brief Avengers movie and Age of Ultron references (because I can), Clint’s kids are in their Age of Ultron ages, Nat falls for reader, gn!reader, not really proof read
Word Count: 741
Natasha stared at the two with a betrayed look on her face. Her best friend and his amazing wife dropped a bomb bigger than the nuclear missile Tony threw into the wormhole. “You got someone else?”
“Told you she’d take it bad.” Muttered Clint.
Laura shot him a glare, then looked back at Natasha apologetically. “We thought you were busy.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“We thought you would be.”
“But I’m not.”
Laura sighed, leaning over to her husband. “I don’t think I’ve seen her this upset since she found out ‘Natasha’ was going to be a ‘Nathaniel.’”
“How does the saying go again? ‘I told you so?’”
Cue the other glare. “Nat, we’re sorry. It’s just this once.”
The redhead raised a skeptical brow at the two, assessing them for any sign of dishonesty. “You promise?”
Laura nodded firmly, “promise,” then sharply elbowed her husband.
Clint winced, “right—yeah, we promise, Tasha.”
The two parted ways with their friend. Laura sighed knowingly, “she’s not going to drop this, is she?”
Clint huffed in amusement, “hell no.”
——
Natasha just wanted to scope you out. You know, because if Laura and Clint chose you over her, it’s because you must be a world-famous, five-starred babysitter. One that doesn’t let Cooper and Lila have spoonfuls of Nutella or show them how to dismantle a SHIELD handgun.
She took a sip of her to-go coffee, watching the Barton household from a distance in her car. No kids on the roof is a good sign. Sadly.
Stepping out into the cool spring air, Nat tugged down her Henley top and shut the car door, beelining towards the entrance. Time for inspection…
As she got closer to the front door, she heard the familiar, heartwarming squeals of Clint’s kids—namely Lila and Cooper. The corners of Nat’s mouth twitched at the sound of them happy.
She rang the doorbell.
It didn’t take long to be greeted, but to her surprise, she came face to face with you.
“Hi,” you smiled, “sorry, Clint and Laura are out right now. I’m their babysitter.”
Natasha opened her mouth, but the words dissolved on her tongue as she stared into your pretty eyes.
Lila gasped excitedly and ran past you, "Auntie Nat!" She jumped into the avenger's arms.
“Hi, hon.” Natasha laughed, lifting her up.
“‘Auntie’? Whose sister are you?”
“Oh, I’m not a biological aunt. Just a really good friend of Clint’s. We met years ago. We work together.” Stop it Nat you’re rambling.
You nodded, “got it. Nice to meet you, Nat.” You gave her a wry smile. “Would you like to come in? You’re just in time for breakfast.”
“Pleeeeease, Auntie Nat?” pleaded Lila, giving puppy-eyes to the redhead.
Natasha sighed reluctantly, knowing she couldn’t deny anything from her favorite niece. “Just for a little bit.”
Natasha set a joyous Lila back on her feet and walked inside the familiar home. You shut the door behind the two, “coffee?” You offered.
Natasha held up her to-go cup, “no need—I’ve got my own.”
“Oh, please. That cheap stuff?”
Before Natasha could protest, you took the cup from her and immediately began preparing a freshly-brewed one for her. She mused internally, good hospitality, what a shame.
The coffee machine groaned as Natasha walked further into the Barton household, the waft of freshly-made pancakes filling her nose. Were you also a good cook?
“Cooper! Lila! Breakfast is ready!” You called out.
The Barton kids giggled and sat in their seats at the kitchen table. You placed a plate of stacked pancakes in the middle. “Have a seat,” you told her with a smile. Lila also waved Natasha over excitedly, making the redhead smile fondly.
As Natasha indulged in the breakfast, she watched you coo at Nathaniel, who excitably drummed his hands atop the high chair table as you fed him his baby food. He babbled in his infant way, and you grinned at him enthusiastically.
Meanwhile, Lila and Cooper talked amicably through enormous bites of pancake about their lives. Natasha smiled warmly as she listened to the two.
She glanced back at you as you wiped the dribble off Nathaniel’s chin. A homey feeling overcame her; from the cozy atmosphere of the Barton household, the delightful smell of breakfast, to the carefully brewed coffee you made just for her.
In the center of it all: you—carrying the conversation with all the right questions, making the kids laugh, making this morning’s breakfast feel less like ‘the one time mom and dad aren’t here’ and more like ‘having fun with Auntie Nat and Y/N.’
The hard discovery dawned on Nat like a bullet, her soft expression fading into one of realization.
Description: Natasha listens to you as you accidentally call her during your ‘alone time.’
Tags: Iron Man 2 Nat (or office!Nat if you really want), masturbation (r’s and Nat’s), phone sex, voyeurism (I think?), Tony Stark and Pepper Potts cameos
Word Count: 608
A/N: aaaaaaaaaaaand I’m back with another Nat fic (about time fr). Anyway lol happy reading!
Natasha found herself sitting in Tony’s Stark’s billionaire version of a living room, spending yet another late night making phone calls and doing other miscellaneous tasks. The TV in front of her broadcasted the opening night of a gala Tony was attending, which after so long became background noise to her focused mind.
The ambiance was coupled with the sound of her fingertips clacking against her laptop keyboard—steady, rhythmic, and precise. The echoing sound of heels approaching temporarily brought Natasha to the surface.
“Miss Rushman, you’re still here,” Pepper stopped at the doorway, her brows furrowed in a thoughtful manner. An overcoat was slung over her arm—which after all this time—Natasha knew it meant she was going home.
She regarded her supervisor with a polite smile and replied in a level tone: “I’m just finishing up.”
With a courteous nod, Pepper wished her goodbye and left, leaving Natasha alone again. She carried on as if nothing had changed, hoping that she really could complete all her tasks soon.
When her work phone rang again, she accepted the call immediately and put it to her ear. “Stark Industries, this is Natalie Rushman speaking.”
“Nat—“ the moan was soft and unexpected. Natasha instantly withdrew the phone from her ear and checked the ID. It was your name stationed at the top of the screen. Natasha read it over to confirm it was really you, then, tentatively, put the phone back to her ear.
She wanted to say your name—present it as a question—as if to confirm just one more time that it was really you. But she stayed silent, because something inside her made her want to hear this more than an embarrassed explanation.
On the other side of the line, she could hear your short, lewd breaths. She pressed speaker phone. Suddenly, everything else around her didn’t need attention. She switched the TV off, shut her laptop screen and sat stiffly in her chair as you carried on, unknowing.
“Fuck, Nat—“ your voice came in strangled, as if you’d been waiting to say her name so salaciously. Between her thighs, Natasha’s core throbbed.
She listened to your sweet moans, chewing her bottom lip with committed attention, pressing her legs together to soothe her aroused clit. God, you sounded so hot.
Slowly, she raised the hem of her skirt.
“Fuck yes, right there!” You let out another pleasured moan, “Nat—“
Natasha’s core screamed when she finally gave her clit the attention it was begging for. To every needy cry you let out, she choked hers back.
Your gorgeous voice drove her crazy as you came closer to your release. The seconds ticked by, each more delightfully maddening than the last. Natasha sucked in a breath as she neared her own orgasm, till finally, she cried out your name as she coated her fingers in her slick.
She was too busy coming down from her high to notice you’d gone silent on the other line. When Natasha peered back at her phone, the call had been ended. Before she had a chance to even think about the implications of what just happened, someone spoke up from behind her.
“Word of advice.”
Natasha forced her skirt back down at the sudden voice. She whirled around, both startled and guilty, her gut twisting at the thought of being caught in such a raunchy act.
Behind her, leaning against the wall, was a drunk Tony Stark—hair disheveled, shirt untucked—clearly, she missed a lot with the TV off.
He took a swig of the bottle in his hand, raising a finger, “word of advice,” he repeated, his voice slurred, “it’s better with the camera on.”
Synopsis : “Batmom, official Bat soother” is the ridiculous nickname your friends from the League gave you because…Well. That’s what you were. More often than not, when your husband or your children were upset, only you could sooth them. And this story ? It tells that tale exactly.
Popping up here to drop this story. Sorry for not being around much my dudes, life just…happens, you know ? It happens, in the best of way. Hope y’all are good (and some are still around), and hope you’ll enjoy this :
Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.
My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives
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BRUCE
Bruce was upset.
So upset.
And he had every right to be, of course. The League had just came back from a big mission, which almost turned into a catastrophe after a mistake someone made. His son, HIS SON, almost got killed.
Listen, when it was about his own safety, Bruce never really thought twice before jumping into danger. As long as he could save even just one life, he wouldn’t hesitate.
But his kids ? And because of someone else’s mistake ?!
“He does NOT have powers like you ! You don’t even realize how reckless this was, don’t you ?”
And sure, some people might say : “Maybe…don’t put your kids into harms’ way if you don’t want them to get hurt ?”. And, fair enough. But Bruce and your family ? Your children ? The need to protect, and to not let anyone feel the same trauma you all went through was strong. Bruce always thought the choice was your kids’. They needed to be here, too. And he usually would make sure to always have an eye on them, and never bring them to such dire situations.
And that was the problem. Dick did end up in a dire situation, a place he was never supposed to be. And all that, because of someone else’s mistake.
Tags: fem!reader, not proofread, tickling, ooc Mark probably (cut me some slack I haven’t finished season 3)
Word count: 360
It was a long time since Mark last had his haircut—the sides of his hair started to catch up with the length at the top, making it gradually morph into a soft mop of black.
The two of you were on his bed; you laid on your back, head hanging off the edge which he sat on. From the angle you were at, you studied his look more. You liked it, truthfully, the way his bangs fell over his eyes, the velvety look when it shone in sunlight. It gave a sophisticated appeal. But that was far from what he was.
“What if you left it alone for a change?” You asked. He side-eyed you, like all the other times you asked the very question. You knew his answer—he wanted it gone. Always did.
“No.”
“Please?”
“I’m not growing my hair out.”
You raised your leg and poked him in the shoulder with your foot. He shot a look at it, but didn’t push your limb away.
“Most guys do what their girlfriends want, you know?”
“My girlfriend isn’t a spoiled brat.” The corners of his mouth twitched, making you huff in response.
“And whose fault is that?” You joked, poking him again, this time in the cheek. Grinning, he swiped your foot with one hand, and began tickling the sole of your foot.
You yelped immediately, trying to yank your foot away. You hated that, and he knew it, because he didn’t stop.
“Mark!” You laughed, your defensive efforts futile against his alien strength. An evil smile was plastered on his face as he persisted, his fingers digging into the sensitive spot.
“I’m spoiling you with my love,” he argued innocently.
“You’re full of shit!”
“What?” He leaned forward, grabbing your waist and started to tickle your sides—which were more sensitive than your soles. Even as he pressed you firmly into the mattress, you squirmed desperately, writhing beneath him, laughing from the torture.
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