#it's too good of a prompt in this setting to pass up on

[finniestoncrane]

Pleaseeeee can I have a softer Cooper who worries a lot about his girlfriend having to deal with people looking at them weird all the time, but who would be happy to yell "THIS IS MY MAN!" to anyone who would listen?

Willingly

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.5k i am already on the soft cooper train oh no lmaooooo just a little bit of soft boyfriend cooper, or as soft as i imagine he can get, being defended by his partner 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: guns, blood, violence, good old fashioned trope fic!

Cooper struggled against your gentle grip, his gloved hand pulling away from yours, fingers no longer entwined with yours. You looked to him, noticing he was avoiding your inquisitive gaze, and then noticed the crudely painted sign on the wall ahead of you. The gates to the nearest settlement were just ahead of you. Your last stop before you headed on to the next job.

“What? Are you embarrassed to walk in here holding my hand, Coop?”

His easy, charming smile seemed a little off as he spoke to you, still looking straight ahead.

“You kiddin’? Darlin’, this is for your benefit. Not many settlements are alright with folks like me at the best of times, but with you on my arm? We’d both be in danger, and I can’t keep spendin’ all my time savin’ you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I can hold my own. You know that.”

There was no response, but you knew better than to keep fighting your corner in this particular arena. So instead, you sighed, placing your hands which now felt so incredibly cold and empty, back into your pockets to keep them from mindedly grabbing Cooper’s hands again. You couldn’t be too annoyed. For someone as stoic and cold as he could be, the fact he tolerated holding your hand at all was a pleasant enough gesture. But his willingness to offer up any form of physical affection dwindled completed when there was a risk of running into people. He became reserved, quiet, well-behaved almost. It was something you hadn’t expected from him, to be shy or to allow someone else’s opinions to hold him back. And admittedly, a lot of the time, you had worried that it was because he didn’t want to be seen with you. But you knew it was the other way around in his mind. He was afraid of how people would look at you.

As though he could hear your thoughts, knowing you well enough after all this time together, Cooper spoke finally as you sidled up to the gates.

“You wake up to this face smiling. You call me handsome. You say I’m charming. Good lookin’ I might be in your books, but there ain’t a lot of charm left in these old bones, sweetheart. I couldn’t talk my way out of an argument, and since you keep remindin’ me that I’m not allowed to cause problems everywhere we go…”

He tapped his thumb against the barrel of his holstered gun.

“… Then I just better not give anyone any more reason not to like me.”

“Well, I like you, Coop.”

“And I will forever question your judgement on that, kid.”

Smiling, you both passed through the open gate of the settlement and separated with a nod to get the supplies you needed. Quicker, and safer, to go separately. But still, you kept your head down, Cooper with his ragged mask up and his hat brim tipped to cover as much of his face as possible. Quiet, subtle, nondescript.

It didn’t stop them though, three of them. Pointing towards you, setting their beer bottles down on the stained and rusting bar top as they rushed to follow you.

“Hey! Hello there, pretty lady! You all alone?”

Turning, you spotted the colour of the uniform first, immediately recognising that you had made a mistake in even acknowledging them. That telltale burnt orange jumpsuit. The arrogance in their smug smiles. The Brother of Steel.

“No. I’m not alone.”

“Sure looks like you are… you know, maybe you could come on over and we’ll by you a cola?”

They laughed amongst themselves as you walked on. That one answer and a quick disappearing act was all you were willing to give them, turning quickly back and trying to lose them in the crowd as they slapped each other’s backs and spat to the ground.

And you thought you had been successful. You found a trader with everything you needed on your list before you returned to wait just beyond the gate for Cooper, no further interruptions to your day from the louts at the bar. But the entire interaction had out you on edge, so much so that when Cooper appeared behind you, leaning in without you noticing to whisper in your ear, you jumped out of your skin. Luckily, he was quick, and managed to grab your wrist before your fist struck the side of his face.

“Jumpy, aren’t you? Maybe you don’t think I’m so handsome after all.”

His wink made you blush, it always did, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning like a fool.

“You surprised me is all, smartass.”

Cooper smiled, tightening the grip on your wrist and pulling you closer to him. You feigned some resistance, pretending to put up a fight against his grin, his charms, his strength. But you were following his pull, your lips almost touching his before the blow was landed.

Cooper’s body was knocked completely off balance, his body falling to the ground in a cloud of dust. Turning in the direction he was hit from, you found yourself staring down the three members of the Brotherhood from the market. Holding back some of the choice words you had for them, you managed to narrow it down to one question simple enough for even them to answer.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Shocked by your ungrateful attitude, one of the men, the largest of the three, stepped forward and pushing your shoulder with his finger.

“We’re saving you from assault, lady! This monster had its hands all over you, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. And you’re welcome.”

You scoffed, face going red with rage as you knelt to help Cooper up.

“You’re not saving me, asshole! You’re ruining the fucking vibe, you dweebs.”

Again, a far more polite term than you had wanted to use, but that didn’t seem to make the men any less aggressive towards either Cooper or now you. The largest of the men grabbed your arm, pulling you back up and away from the hand that Cooper had held out to you.

“Oh… you’re one of those freaks! No wonder you turned down some good old-fashioned heroes like us then.”

One of the others nudged you to the side, the other pushing Cooper back down to the ground with a kick, turning around as all of them converged on you until your back was against the wall. Nowhere to go. Trapped by them as they made their disgusting comments.

“Why would you waste your time on some abomination like that, huh? You into freaky stuff? Cos I could sure show you a thing or two. What’s he got? Like two cocks or something weird like that?”

You spat out your retort, well aware of the repercussions, but not caring.

“He could be feral and I’d still let him touch me before I even thought about letting any of you near me.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed your eyelids shut, opening them again moments later when you realised you hadn’t been hit yet. Instead, all three of the Knights were on the ground, Cooper kneeling over them as he tightened the lasso and added the long length around their wrists for measure.

“Oughta keep ‘em long enough for us to make our escape, hm?”

You nodded, smiling, surprised still at how effective he was at handling anything the Wasteland threw at him.

“And I did it all without too much violence and noise, like you asked.”

“My hero.”

You swooned playfully, watching him as he made his way to stand beside you, both of you looking down without an ounce of pity at the men who writhed before you in the dirt.

“And look at you, shouting all those kind words about me for anyone to hear.”

“I keep telling you, Coop. I can hold my own, and I don’t care what people think.”

“You sure about that, darlin’? The likes of these fellas don’t put you off none?”

His eyes darted towards the Knights, now trussed up and struggling against each other on the ground, straining their necks to move their heads out of the line of Cooper’s gun.

“What? You think I’m put off by the Brotherhood? Yeah… and the rads put me off stuffing tin after tin of delicious cram down my throat.”

Cooper grabbed your hand in his, initiating the contact for the first time, and pulled you away back onto the cracked road. He knew he’d let go before you hit the next settlement, but he felt a little bit better about the risks associated. Especially since he had to admit, you could hold your own. And you were determined to do so when it came to him. It was nice to feel like he could let the affection be reciprocated.

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

[kitchenisking]

Day 3

The Pot Of Gold At The End Of The Rainbow by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving - (Rating: T, Words: 8,881, sterek)

Stiles meets his first Hale when he's seven, and the most important Stilinski-Hale twenty years later.

~

In which Derek's family meets the love of his life years before he does, but Derek still gets the better end of the bargain.

As You Lay Dying by FelOllie - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9,360, sterek)

Seven excruciatingly long days since Mexico: Take Two, and Stiles still couldn't get the sound of Derek's breath rattling wetly in his lungs out of his head. He heard it in his sleep, over the the pounding rain and the sound of Malia breathing softly beside him. He heard it when he was wide awake, over the din of crowded hallways and classrooms, cutting through the noise of the last lacrosse game of the season and the bustle of the locker room.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours, give or take, and Stiles had yet to wipe the sight of a bloodied and dying Derek from behind his eyelids. He saw it with every blink and sometimes even when his eyes were open and each time it made his chest feel like it was caving in.

Soulsick by theroguesgambit - (Rating: T, Words: 3,476, sterek)

Derek loathes this idiot of a soulmate, whoever they are. For not coming to Stiles’ call, for being too useless do just to this one simple thing, for failing Stiles, proving how utterly unworthy they are before they’ve ever met him. -- Stiles is cursed with a disease that will eventually destroy his soul unless his soulmate helps strengthen it. The pack performs a ritual to call his soulmate to his side. But days pass and no one appears... 

Maybe they're already here?

Making love is how we'll pray by lanalua - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,742, sterek)

Stiles and Derek perform a ritual in the woods.

In a Moment of Vulnerability by cloudsarefluffy - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 87,097, sterek)

While in New York City to visit his aspiring and success-hungry friend Scott, who left for an internship he fought for over several years ago, Stiles runs into an alpha with a devilish reputation and a dark, tantalizing look that precedes him. Couple that with horny loneliness and failed suppressants, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a one-night stand that will set the bar forever.

But what if forever isn’t something that the one person you’ve given yourself to wants? What if a forever is somehow growing inside of you after a few months pass and a planned heat is missed? What if you don’t know what to do and there’s only so much chocolate that can soothe an aching heart before you feel like you've got morning sickness all over again?

This is a story about how Stiles loses his virginity alongside himself, and somehow, he manages to find something he never thought he’d ever have along the way.

Looking forward by Smowkie - (Rating: T, Words: 6,953, sterek)

Derek’s cabin was small. Tiny, even. He liked it, sometimes he missed having a big house, like the one he had grown up in, but the cabin was good, comfortable, and he, well, it was somewhere to hide, somewhere no one would find him. Somewhere no one would bother him.

He was happy, though, sort of. Happier than in a long time, he had a comfortable little home, lots of land he could run on—and he did, shifted to his full wolf form and ran for hours, it was wonderful—and his life wasn’t bad at all.

Then one day, the 21st of December on his second year living there, Stiles came to visit.

Written for the prompt cuddles in a power outage.

I Want You to be Happy by lvmehtme - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13,851, sterek)

Stiles' dad has finally founds someone and the way he looks at her like she hung the moon and the joy in his every smile after all these years is worth everything that she does to him in the dead of night when no one's looking.

I'm giving everyone a fair warning right now, there's statutory rape and psychological trauma in this fic. It ends happy, but it does get graphic. Please proceed with care.

loyalty. courage. integrity. by redhoodedwolf - (Rating: G, Words: 707, sterek)

“Derek what the fuck!”

“Hard first day?” Derek guessed. He pushed himself forward and extended a hand towards Stiles. “You can vent, I have time to listen.”

Little Kid Crush by orphan_account - (Rating: T, Words: 5,052, sterek)

“What’s your name?” Derek asks, wiping the last of the tears off the kid’s face with his sleeve.

“’tiles,” the kid mumbles, and Derek frowns, wondering if he heard correctly.

“Tiles?” Derek repeats.

“Stiles,” the kid repeats, pouting at Derek slightly, defiant even though his eyes are still puffy and red and his cheeks tear-stained.

Witches Wrath by alikatastic - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,063, sterek)

Derek is cursed by witches giving him a hard problem. Nothing works, not cold showers, not his hand. He goes to Stiles for help, and the great friend he is Stiles won't turn him away.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs

[unholyhelbig]

I for one would not mind more werewolf kate

Title: Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot [6/?]

Summary: After reader is attacked by a strange animal in the woods, her world is flipped upside down. Now she must navigate a new life filled with strangers and myths.

Trigger warnings: Hunting, the actual werewolf transformation, restraints (hands, legs, neck), bloody & Gore, pet names, let me know if I've forgotten anything pls.

[Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six]

[A/n: I was really fucking sad when I wrote this, and for that, I apoloigize. This isn't a gentle chapter, so please read with caution. And as always, I did not proof read].

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts

A rot of leaves coated the forest floor, filling your lungs with an unsettling pungent scent. The world had blurred edges, somehow caving in on itself with each passing second. The trees whizzed past you, an ache that once covered your entire being had ebbed away the faster you ran.

There was such an intoxicating scent that led you blindly. It was floral and sweet and screamed above all the deteriorating vegetation. You’d run so far, so fast and without hesitation. What was that? You needed to sink your teeth into it, to taste it. You would simply die if you didn’t.

It was a girl. Yes. A girl.

She was running too, but not nearly with enough speed as you. She stumbled over fallen logs and branches dug into her skin. They created gashes of dripping red that made you salivate. She was cornered against a fence, fingers curling around the chain link.

You regarded her, taking a moment to register the hot pain in your chest. How far had you followed her? It was ways from home, you knew that much, but none of that seemed to matter. No- because she was right in front of you, and she was captivating.

In your excitement, you took a careful step forward and a small noise escaped her throat. Her eyes were frantic as she took in your hulking and animalistic stature. She was afraid, and part of you was too. Something had led you to her, to this sadistic chase that had cornered you both.

Her blood tasted sweet just like her scent. Your teeth crushed bone, tore through tendons with such a simple ease.

She was yours.

Sweat had soaked through your sheets and clung to your bare legs, even as you shot up and pulled in a helping of air. Your skin buzzed as if it were set ablaze with fever.  The waning moon cast a sickly pale light against the room. Your heart pounded ruthlessly against your chest.

That dream had left you antsy, and horrified. You never remembered your dreams but this one was vivid, almost like it was a memory. The coppery taste made your mouth dry. You were restless, wide awake despite the red numbers on the clock indicating that it was just past 3:00am.

You couldn’t hear anything through the walls that had been doubled down in strength despite your enhanced senses. The house was as good as silent, though you figured it statistically impossible for everyone to be asleep.

The hallway was dark compared to your room, filled with moonlight. You padded a few steps before you stopped in front of Kate’s door. It pained you to be here, begging for some type of comfort. The dream had left you rattled. Afraid.

It was getting closer to the full moon and your thoughts had been plagued with the pain that you’d read about so diligently. Scanning the inked words on a yellowing page was nothing compared to the experience of it all.

Swallowing your pride, you knocked twice, knowing that she could hear you. It took Kate a few moments to untangle herself from her blankets. You could pick up on her stumbling her way across her room until she swung the door open.

The girl tried to be suave, giving you a tired smile as she leaned against her doorframe. Her hair was sleep-worn and springing in various directions. She wore a pair of boxers with little purple arrows against the fabric and a tank top that was riding up enough to expose the smooth expanse of her stomach.

“Hi,” You swallowed the dryness in your throat, pulling your eyes from her muscular frame. Her cheeks were blooming with a fond pinkness. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were freezing, that the sweat you’d produced during the odd dream had dried taught against your skin. A shiver worked its way through you, and you crossed your arms over your midsection, trying to preserve what warmth you had left.

Kate lilted her head and stepped to the side without a second thought. She beaconed you into her room. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the light of the moon. Her comforter was drawn back, pillows scattered against her bed. She must have been engulfed in a deep and comfortable sleep, one that you had broken.

It helped, not being able to see the looming structure of the moon. It made you squirm, but the scent that engulfed you, the pure warmth of Kate’s mere presence, calmed your nerves. When she shut the door softly you knew that you were safe with her.

The wolf, that’s what Wanda had called it, knew what it wanted. She said that there was a blind trust that would flow through you with the girl that you’d crawled to and that feeling was only multiplying as the full moon got closer and closer.

“Don’t… say a word.” You turned to her, crossing your arms over your chest.

Despite your warning, she smiled wolfishly at you, lifting both of her hands with an innocent shrug. She looked adorably miffed by exhaustion, and that thought annoyed you more than anything. God, you really should hate her. But she looked so warm, so accepting and every inch of your body was howling for her skin against yours.

Kate settled back into bed and peeled back the duvet with an expectant look on her face. Why were you fighting her so hard? Clearly, you were tired. You’d knocked on her door and you hadn’t done that without reason. If you wanted conversation, you would have found Peter and interrupted his late night gaming.

Or maybe even Natasha who couldn’t sleep, just like you. But you did value your life, just a little bit. So Kate it was, a magnet that drew you in. The more exhausted you got, the harder it was to pull away. And really- she had been trying. Right?

Almost as if on instinct, you took her up on her offer and slid into the encompassing warmth of the duvet. There was the scent of lavender, of freshly washed sheets and the metallic breath that she drew in, almost as if she was just as shocked as you were at the action.

Kate cautiously lowered the blanket and the two of you stared at the little glowing stars on her ceiling. You hadn’t seen them since the fifth grade. America didn’t’ have the deep green celestial patterns, but instead a garden of pulsing orange and purple, and yellow flowers.

You could feel the heat of Kate’s shoulder close to yours. You were so cold, even under the blankets and she seemed like the only source of comfort from the dream that lingered so heavily on your mind.

“Do you think…”

The words died in your throat. She turned her head to face you, and after a few moments of building up the courage you turned your cheek against the pillow too, staring into a cloudy grey stare that was marred with sleep, pockmarked with questions.

“Will I ever be able to see them again?” your voice was pinched with emotion. It was fear, the both of you recognized it. Her eyes glossed over, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth to stop it from trembling. You felt emotion well up in your own chest. “I know things will never be normal again, but do you think there’s a chance?”

Kate swallowed the thickness in her throat, voice barely a whisper. “I do.”

You nodded and dislodged the tears that were fighting for dominance. Kate didn’t’ hesitate to reach up and wipe them away with her gentle touch. Her thumb was calloused, but soft. A whimper escaped you as you leaned into her touch. Kate shivered at the contact herself.

“I get why I’m here and I’m grateful for it. The last thing I want to do…” you trained off, listening to the shuttered sound of her breathing. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, ever.”

“You won’t, y/n.”

The immediacy of her statement brought you comfort. It wasn’t necessarily a reflex, but a belief that she felt deep in her core. You clenched your eyes shut and scooted closer until you felt the full effect of Kate’s presence.

The movements were gentle as you slotted yourself against her, hand laying on her stomach and moving over the softness of her shirt. She held her breath for a moment, instinctively wrapping her arm around you. You pressed your nose against the naïve of her neck, slick with tears of her own.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She quivered with guilt.

You were starting to understand, against your better judgement, why this had happened. Kate found you for a reason, and that tension, that discomfort, that was your wolf fighting for a way to get to her. And you had.

The tears that wet her shirt, the ones that coated your cheeks, they were those of relief. You curled into Kate, taking in her scent, the two of you gripping onto each other like a vice, eventually drifting towards a fitful sleep, shadowed by stars.

There was no such thing as privacy in a house with eleven people. Not when so many of them had a strict regimen of exercise, and healthy eating. There was a stark difference from life at the dorm where people rarely arose before twelve in the afternoon unless they had class, and even that was a gamble.

Instead, you stirred to the sound of a blender and the hushed voices of an indiscernible conversation. That was followed by a very discernible sound of a cell phone camera. Even without advanced hearing, you clocked it in moments.

A small groan escaped you. It was much too early to wake up. You had never been more comfortable in your life, your nose pressed flush against the crook of Kate’s neck. She shifted in her sleep, pulling you closer with an adorably tiny breath.

“Go away,” she grumbled, the words vibrating against your palm.

 You tightened your grip on the fabric of her shirt. God, it was so bright. They’d pulled the curtains back and the sun was in full force. Despite the comfort, there was no way you’d drift back into sleep. That fact alone was solidified when you bolted up at the clearing of someone’s throat.

An odd hurriedness shot through your spine, forehead knocking against Kate’s chin and leaving a throbbing spot in its wake. The girl that was under you let out another small noise at the back of her throat, rubbing her jaw while depriving the world of her stormy stare.

Natasha Romanoff leaned against the doorframe of Kate’s bedroom. Wanda had been very clear about the rank in the house, and it was of no shock to you that Natasha was pretty high up there. It was why her simple sound of alert had made your entire body tingle. You knew- your wolf knew- that she was in charge, and that she was there for you.

“I checked your room first,” She stated matter-of-factly. “Obviously, you weren’t there.”

Your cheeks reddened at the predicament you’d found yourself in, and the fact that you were sure you’d heard the click of a cell phone camera. It was almost like your parents walking in on a sleepover that got a little too cozy.

Kate sat up groggily, testing her jaw a few times, “Good morning, Nat. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You can go back to sleep. I’m here for y/n. We’re going on a run.”

The wary look you got from the girl in bed next to you wasn’t exactly easing your nerves. She must have gone through this before, and she would truly object if she thought it was something you couldn’t handle. Instead, her hand found yours under the safety of the duvet and gave your fingers an encouraging squeeze.

You knew better than to object to Natasha, so you followed her orders and changed into the closest thing to workout clothes that you’d packed; a pair of royal blue gym shorts and a t-shirt that was from your last trip to the west coast. Sun, fun, and Sand.

She waited by the edge of the front yard, lifting a perfectly sculpted brow at the shirt, but didn’t say anything in acknowledgment. “We’ll do six miles up, and six miles back.”

“Up?” You squeaked out, finally earning a genuine grin from her. She started to jog ahead of you, and it took you a few moments to register that you were meant to follow her. “Back?”

The two of you kept a steady pace under the heavy hand of the sun. You felt sweat slick the back of your neck, legs screaming out in protest. You weren’t much of a runner, and had admittedly eaten one too many boxes of instant mac and cheese. But your body seemed to mold to the pace with no problem. Your muscles strained for just a moment before relaxing into he burn.

“I’m sure you’ve heard from everyone in the house how they handle a full moon.”

“No, actually,” You panted out, “everyone seems to be keeping their distance.”

“We haven’t had anyone new join our pack for years. Certainly, never this violently. Can you blame them?”

No, you really couldn’t’. They had all been so welcoming and understanding. Even Kate to a certain degree. None of that eased the fear and you figured it wouldn’t’ until you actually lived it, until every single bone in your body rebroke and reshaped until you were this insatiable creature that would seek nothing but blood and carnage. It was inside of you now, you felt it just below the surface, and that terrified you.

Your chest was beginning to burn viciously, but Natasha was showing no intention of slowing down. There was an odd need within you to please her, to make sure that you kept up with her pace despite how hard it was getting as the slight incline became a little less slight.

The woods had thickened around you both and you let out a relieved breath when she trotted to a stop on the dirt trail. The collar of your shirt was damp, and you pulled your arms behind your head to fill your lungs with more sticky air. Natasha smiled fondly at you.

“Kate tapped out about three miles back.”

“This some sort of test?” You asked, working your hand through your hair.

“A test, a tactic. Whatever you want to call it. Some of us believe that if you wear yourself out before a transition, it’ll be less excruciating on the day.”

“I read about that the other day, though, they didn’t use the word excruciating.”

“That’s what it is. Don’t let anyone sugar coat it for you, kid. It’s going to hurt and you’re going to feel every second of it.”

You plopped down on a fallen log, pressing your fingertips to your temples. You clenched your eyes shut and felt your heartbeat pulse through your entire body. Never in a million years would you figure you’d be here. Natasha’s scent strengthened when she gave your shoulder a squeeze, prompting your eyes to open.

She was rimmed in the early morning sun, ringlets of russet hair fell over her shoulders. “Come on, I didn’t make you run all the way out here for the hell of it. I want to show you something.”

Before you could object, she started down the path again, this time in a brisk walk. You let out a groan and hauled yourself off the log. When you got to where she had been, you saw nothing but a thick wall of greenery and wood. Natasha was nowhere in sight.

You closed your eyes and tried to pick up the scent of her, the detergent and the lavender and the sandalwood. Upon your second inhale, you picked up in a general direction and frowned. This was all too surreal, you were physically sniffing out a near-stranger that had led you deep into the woods.

Still, you felt a blind trust as you went off the path and continued to track her down. She was about thirty feet into the woods, standing over a pile of leaves, arms crossed over her chest. You felt yourself warm at the proud half-smile she gave you.

When you reached her, Natasha knelt and pushed back the mix of muck and leaves. It revealed two metal doors that reminded you of a summer you spent with your aunt in Alabama. It was unbelievably hot and muggy, and they had a storm shelter that was carved from the earth, the walls damp and stocked with different canned food, though you had never seen a can opener. You didn’t think to bring it up as the two of you huddled close and listened to the howling wind and rain.

“This was a long-game murder plot all along, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not into the long-game.”

Her words weren’t exactly encouraging. The hinges of the doors screamed loudly from disuse and a musty scent washed cruelly over the both of you. Your nose scrunched and Natasha grimaced but didn’t say a word. An automatic light buzzed on, allowing you to see the opened space below.

It was exactly like the storm cellar, and it’s cool interior was a brief solace from the heat of the day. There was a divide a few steps into the space, a steel wall with a door in the center, sloppily welded but with enough strength to stop a beast the size of a mid-sized Sudan.

This door creaked too, and Natasha let it linger open for a moment, staring softly at you, and then back at the room. There was safety in her stance. You knew that she had the full ability to slam it shut and lock you in, but had a deep realization that she wouldn’t.

Another light was on the ceiling, casting a circle of deep yellow. There was a deep smell of dust and dirt, but there was something hard and metallic under that. Your eyes darted to the chains that were attached to the wall, large iron things that were screwed into extra support.

More than that, were the stretching claw marks that pockmarked the walls. They went deep, past the dirt and into the cement. The pads of your fingers ran over the one closest to you. Each mark stretched further than your touch. Chills shot up to your elbow, a breath lodging itself into your throat.

Your other hand clenched your stomach, digging into your ribs. Something significant had happened here. Several significant things. Tears started to form against your eyes and the worst part was, you had no idea why.

“Those are Steves,” she said quietly, joining you within the confines of the cell, lifting her chin to another set of marks. “And Tonys.”

There were dozens of markings, all different shapes and sizes. Some were digging into the clay walls, and the floors. There were distinct scent markings on each one and you found yourself able to identify ones that belonged to Yelena, and Peter, and even Bruce. They’d all changed here at least once.

Natasha crossed the room and shifted the door until it was only slightly ajar. You straightened up, heart pulling against your throat. The door was minced with deep slashes. You shoved your hands into your pockets to keep them from trembling. They almost ached.

“You feel something, don’t you?”

Words didn’t form, couldn’t. You couldn’t pinpoint the emotion that tore through you. It was akin to longing, but it was more than that. It was like the creature that was so restless within you wanted nothing more than to claw its way out and find the person who had made those marks. They were desperate and sad, and horrifying.

You closed the distance between them and pressed your touch against the deep gashes and fought back a pained cry. You dug your teeth into the back of your free hand to quell it, but a pathetic sound still escaped you.  

“Kate knew that something was wrong a few months before she escaped. She was experienced, knew as much as one could know about their wolf. But there was an unrest”

“She doesn’t like places like this.”

Your words were small. You remembered what she had told you, about how she had turned the first time alone and, in a room very similar to this one. You got the stark impression that she would never want to do something like that again. So, it begs the question of why these marks were so fresh. So fearful.

“No, she doesn’t. They scare her, make her panic before the moon has any effect. But she was conscious enough to know that if she wasn’t here, then she would end up hurting someone. It just proved not to be strong enough of a failsafe.”

Kate had felt an unrest weeks, maybe months, before she had escaped and sunk her teeth into your flesh. A wash of guilt pulled at you. You’d been giving her such a hard time, pestering her and fighting her every step of the way. She’d been in immense pain.

When the pads of your fingers touched the scratches, you felt only a fraction of the longing she must have. Grimacing, you turned away, crossing your arms over your stomach to shield you from the reality of your harshness.

You needed Kate.

“Is this where I’ll be tonight?” You asked, so softly Natasha almost didn’t’ hear it.

She nodded in response, the silence mulling between you both. A small breath escaped you, pained and held within your lungs for an abnormal amount of time. You crossed the room, picked up one of the leaden chains and weighed it against your own strength.

“I can be here with you, if you’d like.” Natasha said, filling the quiet “Or if you’d rather Steve… Wanda.”

You turned to face her, grip tightening on the chain. “Kate?”

“Kate.”

Her eyes were no longer shrouded in their silver, sullen beauty. As the sun began its descent, there was a strange tangerine glow that overtook them. It started at the center of her pupil, small whisps of neon color, and then started to ebb into the confines of her iris.  

You focused on them. If you thought too much about the days leading up to this transformation, then you would work yourself into a panic. You were taking things one at a time today, and that included jogging back to the compound and shyly admitting to Kate that she was the only one you wished to have in your vicinity tonight.

Though, you hadn’t thought much about the logistics. The two of you trapped in a single cell. Yelena had walked all the way out here, keeping a silent eye on the tension that lingered against both of your frames. It wore your stance down, mind racing with the ‘what if’s’.

“Once I close this door, neither of you will be released until daybreak.” Her thick accent carried a sharp edge to it that made this finite. “There is an emergency radio, Kate knows where it is.”

They’d thought of everything, really. Yelena had handed over a sheathe of needles and a small vile that you knew had to be tranquilizer. It smelled acidic and nitrate in nature. Even your rational, human side, cringed away from it.

With a final nod that conveyed good luck, and a strong, ‘I’m rooting for you,’ Yelena exited the cell and slammed the metal door behind her. From there, she retreated, and another lock was put into place after she’d slithered a coil of chain around the outside doors. Your heart picked-up it’s pace, never one for confined spaces.

Kate seemed to hear the uptake and closed the distance between the both of you. One hand found your waist and you allowed her to give it a reassuring squeeze. The other cupped your cheek, guiding your stare. “Hey, listen to me. I know this is scary, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You believed her partially because you had no other choice. Her eyes were mostly orange now, glowing enough to cast a strange shadow against her face. You wondered dumbly if yours would do the same. Something was boiling inside of you, making your entire body sweat. It felt like you were in a sauna, breathing in the hot steam after water was poured listlessly over black coals.

“I’ll talk you through everything, until neither of us can talk. Then we won’t have to.”

“Okay, alright. That sounds good.”

She nodded at you and began to unzip her sweatshirt until the teeth of the zipper released their hold. She was wearing a black sports bra and matching bike shorts, stretchy material that hadn’t set her back too much financially. They would be torn to shreds by the end of the night, regardless.

Kate’s stomach was toned. It was tanned and showed all the stamina of a beast. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long, tried to ignore the small trail of hair that dipped below her waistband. Despite herself, Kate smiled at you cockily, but moved her hands to your own jacket.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed the dry metal taste in your mouth. “I don’t think my fingers will cooperate right now.”

 She let out a small noise in response and pulled your jacket from your shoulders, leaving you in much of the same. She’d promised earlier that the two of you would go out and get clothes that you were more comfortable in, but this suited you just fine. Her pupils dilated, rushing them in more sherbet color. A stuttered breath escaping her and fanning against your bare collarbone.

“What? Oh my god, is it starting?”

You didn’t feel any different, still extremely hot to the touch and a little riled up after getting a look at Kate’s mostly-bare form. Color petaled her cheeks. She was actually blushing. Even in the dim lighting of the cell, that much was clear.

“No, no. You’re just…” She shook her head, trying to clear it “really beautiful, is all.”

“Oh,”

More blush, her eyes slipping down to the floor. “Yeah. I should probably get you secured, though. It’ll be more comfortable to sit.”

You understood exactly what she meant. Your heart was thrumming through your entire body at the compliment, though you both welcomed the distraction of a task. This task was securing locks around your wrists, and your ankles. Large iron things that could stop a lion. They were bolted into cement, digging into the foundation.

You kept your back against the damp wall, allowing Kate to fiddle with the mass of restraints. She fastened the first cuff on your wrist and looked at you expectantly. “Is this too tight? We want it to be a little loose. You’ll fill out when the transformation is done.”

“It’s alright,”

Kate diligently fastened the other three; one more around your opposite wrist, and two around your ankles. The only thing left was a chain that was intended to click smugly around your throat. She stared at it warily, eyes meeting yours.

“This one isn’t comfortable, and after tonight, you won’t need it.” She stated, using her hand to brush a stray hair from your eyes. Something was coiling in your stomach now, an unrest. A parasite that seemed to want to bubble out of your chest. “Your body will be in fight or flight mode. All of your senses will be heightened more than they are now and you’ll want to get out of these.”

“And if I do?”

“If you do, you’ll have to go through me.”

She fastened the chain around your neck, listening for the heady click. Just like the others, she adjusted and pulled on it until she was satisfied with your capture. A slight noise pushed past your lips. It felt like you had a stomachache, a cramping that would send you straight to a heating pad on any other day.

“I know, baby.” She soothed, the pet name slipping past her. She frowned, then lightened her stare. “I know it hurts. I’m right here. I’m with you.”

Her words soothed you. She backed up and sat cross-legged in front of you. There was an admiration of her control. Sweat prickled against her upper lip and at her hairline. It was an indication that you weren’t alone in this. Though, Kate Bishop had more practice, pain was eternal.

“You said I’d have to go through you,” your words were trembling. It took a few moments to force them into existence, but Kate was patient. Your legs and arms were starting to ache, just a dull thrum that reminded you of destroying your muscles to wick them back together again. “What… did you mean?”

Kate smiled and you swore her teeth were pointed at the end. Your vison was starting to blur, and you blinked away tears that dripped from your chin. “We’re not going to fight, or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I think our wolves- well, I think they’ll get along just fine.”

“Kate Bishop, are you insinuating something?”

“Me? No. Never.”

She let out a grunt, her hand going to her ribcage. There was a dull pop that jolted through her body and you clenched your eyes shut for a moment. Not wanting to see her in pain. Not wanting to see what was next for you.

You didn’t have to wait long. The pressure started to build in your forearm first, a tight pain that shot from your fingers all the way to your elbow. Almost as if your bone was straining against itself, and it was. The crack and splinter of it threw you off your balance with a dizzying amount of discomfort.

A scream tore through your throat, toes digging into the soft, damp floor. Kate let out another grunt of discomfort, dropping her elbow to the ground. Her chest was heaving, pulling air in greedily before releasing as if she never wanted it in the first place. Her efforts were punctuated by a deep and primal growl that took you back to the night in the forest.

All of your limbs were tightening now, two pops from your ribs and an extra one in your ankle. You were doubled over in a blind torment. Your cheek was pressed to the ground, the scent of dirt filling your senses. There was blood here too, so thick and potent that it was if it gurgled against your own tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you thought you heard her through your own strangled cries of pain. Her voice deep and words miffed by the growing teeth pressing against her gums. “I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck!” You cried out, the last bit of human semblance you could form. Your own words were minced with agonizing cries and a rumble from the center of your chest that sounded anything but human. It was feral. It was hungry.

Your vison pulsed around the edges, darkness creeping in. You shakily lifted your hand, watched as your flesh became shrouded with gore. It was shredded, dark gray fur sprouting over your knuckles as your skin fell away entirely. Once human nails had been replaced by claws, dripping with your own blood and muscle tissue.

They shined as if you had been baptized once more. Teeth- your own teeth, filled your mouth as they were pushed out to welcome new ones. You’d spit them to the ground, relished in the sweet taste of the blood that filled your mouth, only for you to spit again.

There was a howl, one distant that made your entire body stiffen under its command. You weren’t wailing anymore, and neither was Kate. The two of you had silenced, breathed hard and tried to find your bearings. Your collarbone widened, seemed to stretch like the rest of you. The restraints were tightening as you grew. As you changed.

Another howl cut through the air, this time you had the urge to answer with one of your own. At least, that was the last humane thought you had, before everything went black.

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #kate bishop x female reader #wanda Maximoff #Natasha Romanoff #Wandanat #Steve Rodgers #Tony Stark #thor odinson #bruce banner #peter parker #yelena belova #Werewolf au

[hannie-dul-set]

hi i'll get to a few more blurbs after my event tomorrow mwa.

#my schedule is getting busiers again hsudjsjsja makes me ANGRY bcs there are so many good prompts in my inbox rn hushshshsjs #i have another debate next week. a research abstract due. an lgu profiling due. two long quizzes. kill me now 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯👩‍🦯 #anyway watched the latest zb1 mafia ep while working ricky looked as pretty as ever 😔😔 #ppl in the comments praising wook and hao and yes they played smart but give my man gyuvi some credit too he hardcarried. #have to review a few more documents for tomorrow (later's) event then pass out bcs i have to get up at 7am to set up our stage design 😭😭😭 #november u r so mean 2 me

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 30 / 31 * SUNSET 」

July 31, 1992

❝God, Doc, I'm so nervous. Am I supposed to be this nervous?❞ Marty has been pacing back and forth for the last ten minutes, his anxiety spiking, and none of Emmett's previous attempts thusfar have managed to still his feet or calm the storm brewing over his head.

He understands the nerves, having felt them when he had decided to propose to Clara, fearing he may have been too forward and misreading the entire situation or she would, when presented with the opportunity, turn him down for his age or his appearance or the fact that the life he currently had was nothing glamorous, certainly not for a brilliant woman who had her entire life ahead of her.

Clara had quashed every single one of his own worries the moment they arose.

❝Marty. Marty!❞ Emmett stops him in his tracks with both hands on his shoulders and when Marty finally looks up, clarity returning the sharpness to the blue of his eyes, he looks exactly like his seventeen-year-old self again, far younger than his years. ❝Of course it's natural to be nervous, but try and relax. Take a few deep breaths. I can assure you that everything is on schedule, Jennifer is not going to stand you up, and things will go just fine.❞

Marty throws a look at him that says how can you be so sure? when he's feeling so uncertain about everything, and Emmett is certain he's running through possibilities in his head that are so highly improbable they could never happen in this timeline.

He squeezes his shoulders and when Marty follows his advice and takes a few long, slow breaths, Emmett switches to straightening the tie his worry has knocked askew.

❝You two love each other. There's nothing that's going to change that. Everybody is nervous on their wedding day and before other pivotal moments in their lives. The sun is setting on this chapter of your life as you take the next step forward. But I promise you that once you step out there and you see Jennifer walking down the aisle, you won't feel nervous anymore.❞

❝You're right, Doc, I know you are. It's just; it's really happening. I'm about to marry Jennifer. She's going to be Jennifer McFly. We're gonna spend the rest of our lives together.❞

❝So then what's the problem?❞

Marty shakes his head and fumbles for the words to explain the frenzy stirring in his chest. Emmett is unflappable even in the wake of the torrent of Marty's emotions and Marty doesn't know where he'd be right now without him. ❝I—the rings?❞

❝Safely in the possession of the ring-bearers.❞

❝The music?❞

❝The band is all present and accounted for.❞

❝My family?❞

❝Seated beside Detective Parker.❞

❝The photographers? Jen wanted to make sure we got lots of pictures.❞

❝Marty, you already spoke to them, remember? They had taken photos of us not long ago.❞

He shakes his head. ❝That's right; it feels like it happened yesterday or in a dream or something.❞

Emmett gently guides him over toward the long mirror and places him directly in the centre of it. Marty takes a moment to look them both over, dressed sharply in their well-pressed black suits. His hair is freshly cut and styled and Marty smiles at the way his best friend had gone through the trouble of wrangling his hair into something neat and well-kept rather than the wild mane it often was.

Clara almost certainly had a hand in that, he thinks, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he hopes she can hear his thank you.

❝Doc? Can I, uh, ask you something?❞

Emmett nods, using the mirror to now fuss over his own appearance while he still has the chance. As best man, it was important everything be in place, and the setup and smooth operation of the wedding was far more important than his own personal appearance. Clara reminded him time-and-time again of his tendency to get too-caught up in whatever endeavour has his attention, and she had reminded him before they left to make sure his appearance didn't suffer as he ran about aiding in the day's proceedings.

Now that they have a moment and less than an hour until it all begins, the last thing he wants is to add even the slightest bit more to Marty's plate for him to worry over.

His black suit is still wrinkle-free, his hair has yet to adopt a life of its own and begin to fly every which way, and no matter how hard he looks, he can't find any part of his appearance that needs fixing.

❝I think maybe I'm also afraid that once we get married, everything's gonna change, you know? That things are going to have to be different now that we're husband and wife. I guess what I'm wondering is after you and Clara got married, did things feel all that different between you? Did things change a lot when she became your wife?❞

Emmett hums. ❝There was an adjustment period after the fact when it came to calling her my wife. As you know, I never imagined such a thing for myself. As a scientist, I was already married to science, as it was, and the idea of falling in love, let alone at first sight, was simply nonsense. The stuff of romance novels.❞

Marty actually finds himself able to manage a grin as he thinks back to the memory of seeing the doc wide-eyed and tongue-tied in a way he never imagined possible. ❝No kidding. I've never seen you look the way you looked at Clara before. You had it bad, Doc, right at the start.❞

❝Not unlike the way I've seen you look at Jennifer over the years. In fact, I think I still recall the way you looked when you mentioned her in 1955.❞ Marty's cheeks tinge pink.

❝But even after being officially married, our relationship didn't change. It became a little more proper for us to be together the way we were—as you may or may not know, perceptions were very different back in the nineteenth century, and as Clara was Hill Valley's only schoolteacher, it was necessary for her to maintain a very good image, as she was a role model for the children—but we didn't treat each other any differently.❞

They had already been married in all but name by the time their wedding day came around. All that was left was to make it official, sign the documents, and appease everyone else's old-fashioned sensibilities.

❝By that time, we were already practically living together. I wasn't rich by any means, but we had Clara's home and the stable which I had converted into living quarters, we were both working, and I occasionally assisted with some of the school lessons. She was my confidante, the one person with whom I could share the truth of my existence with, and she had embraced the idea of time-travel and life in the twentieth century so quickly that even I was astounded.❞

Emmett turns away from the mirror to properly look at his friend.

❝So I suppose that was a very long way to say no, nothing changed after the fact. Other than the entire town openly wondering when we would finally start a family of our own.❞

That prompts a groan out of Marty. ❝Guess I'll have to be ready for my parents to start asking when we'll be giving them grandkids. Got another question for you, Doc.❞

Emmett checks one of his wristwatches. ❝Sure; we still have a little time before the ceremony is scheduled to begin and we have to get into position.❞

❝What was your wedding day like? Since I didn't get to see it, I'd really like to know.❞

#doctober 2023 #GOD THIS IS THE SECOND TO LAST PROMPT THIS IS *WILD* #i almost didn't think i'd be able to get this challenge done but y'know #fuck yeah; i made it #and i'm very proud of myself and i had a lot of fun doing it #all these prompts were such a good time and definitely pushed me to think/be creative which i loved doing #i imagine marty proposed probably some time in '89 and they had a somewhat long engagement before the wedding to deal with life and #careers and getting themselves set up and all that #doc is obviously the best man and marty and jen would've had it no other way #if this was still tp timeline he might've proposed earlier but he needed that adjustment period as well to start figuring out this new #reality he (and doc ig) created #but anyway i chose to interpret sunset as the sun setting on a chapter of one's life to rise on another #rather than an actual sunset (though i had ideas for that too) #the idea of marty being all nervous for the wedding just gets me though #jen is also def stressed because she wants everything to be perfect but what can you do #i just really wanted to write some of this and as the last established prompt i thought it was too good to pass up #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」

[fatedevour]

anyways wishlist item is dottore with the other harbinger(s) mid-conversation when the reality change happens. And either they all know and sharing a look or only dottore does and his abrupt mad laugh raising eyebrows because it makes no sense in this reality for the conversation they were having. But it’s Dottore so it’s not THAT weird and the exasperated sigh before asking wtf is going on with him

#♢ — ❛ chitchat to pass the time ❜ ( ooc ) #genshin spoilers #LISTEN ITS GOOD OKAY #esp if they dont know (but also if they do) #also not related (well is but just general) #how the traveler was like 'things cant permanently be erased' even with 3.2 #that means that whole corruption isnt either #esp bc traveler is in the world and remembers it #and its mere existence was what caused it #even if the traveler is from somewhere else so is the forbidden knowledge #and they're still IN the world ergo by remembering its still there #at least how 3.3 sets it up which means withering too #ANYWAYS YEAH WISHLIST IDEA #or i could send inbox prompts if ppl want? hM

[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #cod simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader

[teyamsatan]

➸ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ ʟɪᴇᴜᴛᴇɴᴀɴᴛ!ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ

pairings: simon "ghost" riley x female!reader

a/n: i wrote this for the "praise/degradation" kinktober prompt and it could fit both jake sully and ghost so i decided to publish it for ghost. is it self-plagiarism to just copy paste it and post it for dilf!jake, too? asking for a friend

warnings: pwp under the cut (18+ mdni), pet names (doll, love, princess, kid), implied age gap, slight degradation, some praise, semi-public i guess??

wc: >400 words

ghost masterlist (x)

“Feels… so… good… fuck!”

Bouncing on your lieutenant's cock in a hidden bush after excusing yourself from target practice was not on your list of things to do today, but then again… it never was. But you just couldn’t help it, not when there he was, so fucking hot, giving orders, showing trainees how to shoot all the different guns in the army's arsenal, not when your underwear was uncomfortably sliding against your swollen folds, dripping in slick. The people will be fine practising on their own for a while, right? After all, the target was right there, all they had to do is… aim at it… right? 

“Fucking hell, kid…” Ghost's voice was gravelly and low, the thick accent mixing beautifully with the gritty groans that escaped him as you twitched around his length with every thrust that threatened to bruise your already aching cervix. It was maddening, the pace he set, the way he couldn’t help but buck his hips upwards to be even deeper in your tight, soaked pussy, the need to be closer, to feel you, to fill you, ever present and ever growing.

“You look so good taking my cock. So good.” 

The best you can do in response is a faint moan, so focused on maintaining the pace he set, thoughts overflowing with how good he felt, how much it all was, how when he pulled the mask slightly upwards and captured your nipple in his mouth, sucking while circling your sensitive clit with his thumb, it all made tears prick at your eyes painfully and free flow down your face as the orgasm drew closer and closer with each passing moment. 

“Couldn’t even wait 'til the end of practice, could you? My desperate, needy slut. Always have to have all your little holes stuffed, eh?” 

HIs words always had such power to bring you to your knees, or to your orgasm, the feeling overtaking all of your senses, white noise all you were able to see and hear as he continued abusing your convulsing cunt. 

“Squeezing me so well, gonna make me cum all over this pretty pussy. But I’m not done yet, love.” 

It took no effort on his part to pull you off him and manhandle you in a new position, barely managing to hold your own weight on all fours, so spent and overwhelmed from the onslaught of sensations he was so good at eliciting in you and for you. 

“Come on, doll. Face down, ass up. Gotta make sure to fill you up until everyone on that field knows how much you like being fucked until you’re dripping from all sides.”

#simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you #modern warfare 2 #mw 2 #mw ii #ghost #ghost mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare

[moondirti]

cws: creepy behaviour that leads into future dubcon. you’re not enthusiastic but don’t hate it either? idk how to tag this

a home loaning system where civilians (who pass a thorough vetting by the military) can sublet their home as a safe house for any soldier who might need it.

you’re no patriot. when you sign up, you aren’t doing it to serve those who serve your country like the website suggests. in fact, it’s a last ditch attempt to keep yourself afloat after your roommate moves out and leaves you with a rent you can’t feasibly afford yourself. sacrifice your space in exchange for your housing fully paid for and a headache gone – it’s appealing, certainly, a little too good to be true. you’d suspect it a scam if the url didn’t end in .gov.

they ask for a lot, of course. a photo. your national insurance number, passport details and travel history from the past 10 years. occupation (student, which prompts a second question asking for your school and university ID). a ‘robust’ paragraph about your living habits. family history, health details. you must black out at one point, as you find yourself hitting submit hours later with no knowledge of what to expect.

that is, if you should expect anything. a confirmation email arrives moments later, and that’s the last you hear of it.

until 4 months later. a hefty sum hits your account, set to the exact amount you specified your rent + utilities to cost. the sender is the only indication you get that you’ve been accepted: the royal army pay corps. on their dime now, and expected to act with the utmost discretion – for your sake as much as theirs. you spend that night fighting sleep on the couch, waiting for a knock by some zealot in fatigues.

no one shows up.

not immediately, at least. gratefully – and a tad surprising given your infamously cheap government – you’re paid regardless of whether anyone requires your service or not. for weeks you treat it as passive income, gauze against bleeding finances, tamping your stress so you can focus on your studies instead. life begins to look up. the air smells a little crisper every morning. you sleep deep and well.

but the knock comes. belatedly, but it comes.

at 12 am, no less. you had resolved to pull an all-nighter to study for your midterm, so you don’t miss the low rap of knuckles against your door. though at this point, you’ve long forgotten of the expectation that can be delegated to you at any time. your apartment’s a mess: laundry unfolded, dishes stacked in the sink. what’s more, your spontaneous guest scares you out of your right mind. a quick look through the peephole is enough to tell you that he is not the pizza delivery man, but a figure towering over two metres, dressed in a balaclava and plain hoodie.

“who is it?” you call out, scrambling for an offensive weapon of any sort. you end up with a broom from the nearby cleaning cupboard.

“lieutenant riley.”

oh.

you crack open the door, poking your head out to give him a thorough once over. “you don’t look very military-like.”

“wha’ a shame.”

lieutenant riley then gives you no choice but to step aside, driving himself through the entryway through brute force. your instinct is to react with pure terror, tripping backward until the broomstick crosses firmly over your chest. yet flight rapidly switches to fight as he dumps his duffel bag by your shoe rack and rummages through your fridge.

“hey! don’t they teach you manners in basic?”

“wouldn’ last a day if they did, pet.” he tucks three water bottles under his arm, then picks his stuff off the ground once more. amidst the warmer light of your home, he stands as a herculean anomaly. shoulders that fill the foyer, each hand as large as your skull. his eyes – shadowed, framed in isolation from the rest of his face. and when he stares, unease bleeds into you. as black and void as his civic garb, forming a tightening grip over your heart.

this strange man is in your home.

this strange, large, dangerous man is here to stay for however long he needs.

he lacks all propriety and unabashedly ogles at your bare legs, adjusting himself in plain sight – and to make things exponentially worse, he isn’t uninvited. you brought this man here.

(which means you’ll have to put up with the strange violation already settling in your chest.)

“your… your room is on the left.”

he says nothing, disappearing to where you point him.

so, the lieutenant is a fucking nightmare.

whatever benefits came with having your rent paid for are immediately negated by the amount of food he consumes. groceries that last you a fortnight are gone in a matter of days, which is perplexing given that you never see him cook. you imagine he slips whatever he can down his throat before going back into hibernation, like some beast too primal for preference.

you call it hibernation because that’s what it is. he knocks out for hours, door locked, no sound or light coming from the gap underneath. you once spent half an hour just listening in after he hadn’t shown face all day, wondering whether you’d be making a call to corpse control for the dead body in your guest room. the effort had been purely motivated by concern, you swear it, however hard that was to explain when he stepped out a few minutes later to find you on your knees, cheek pressed against the floor.

the look he gave you is impossible to forget. hungry, amusement palpable behind the eyes that immediately fix onto your raised behind. you stopped wearing pyjama shorts that day. partly due to your discomfort, but mostly because the pair goes inexplicably missing from your laundry basket. a voice tells you to check under his pillow when he steps out, but the possibility is far too upsetting to seriously consider.

not like he’s above it, though. he crosses so many boundaries, you’d think they weren’t common courtesy.

of such instances: in the months since your roommate moved out, you’d gotten into the bad habit of keeping the bathroom door unlocked. while that is your fault, the terror himself isn’t blameless given his address of the situation. he should be able to hear the water running as you brush your teeth or wash your face, and yet he walks in anyway, pulling his heavy cock out to piss as you try to ignore the way it heaves between his legs, even when completely soft.

“doyewmind?” you hiss one morning, mouth still full of foam. it looms in your periphery, fat and ruddy. a trail of wild hair leading down to–

riley shoots you a blank look. “no’ at all.”

then tucks himself back into his pants, hand smoothing across your lower back as he slips out. it occurs to you to be grateful that he keeps away when you shower, up until the absolute absurdity of your standards hit you like a killing blow.

the bar is in hell.

(yet you sneak a finger between your legs sometimes, only when you’re absolutely sure you’ve locked the door, and imagine how things would unfold if he were to infringe on your most basic of rights.)

it doesn’t take long before your quiet fantasy is realised. all it takes is for you to come home particularly late one night – heels in hand and makeup a mess after letting yourself loose at the end-of-term party – to find riley waiting on you, unmasked.

#sorry ive been really into mean creepy nasty man simon lately #ill edit in the morning💤 #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #x reader #cod #call of duty #fanfic

[pizzaapeteer]

𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Hello, it's been a while, but I finally got a burst of inspiration in light of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge. I used the prompt 'or is it because you're not in love with me?' almost 3k. Mattheo x female reader, fluff, with a hint of lewd thoughts He knew you were off limits, a line he wasn't supposed to cross. She was A forbidden desire, and maybe that’s what made him want her so badly. Despite these feelings, ones that he couldn’t seem to suppress, Mattheo knew it would never end well if his best friend Theo found out he’d developed a crush on his bloody sister. He’d sure have him thrown off the astronomy tower before he could even so much as utter a word of apology.  But how could he not, when she was always around, always taking up room in his head. Although she was a year younger than Mattheo and the others, she shared a close bond with her brother. Meaning she spent a majority of her time cooped up in Theo’s shared dorm. She fitted in so well, always making the group laugh, leaving Mattheo often with sore cheeks after spending time with her. It’s not like Mattheo would ever act on these emotions, doubting she even thought about him past another brother-like figure. He cared for his relationship with Theo too much to do anything stupid. Though the temptations were there, whenever she would ask him a question, the sound of her voice like honey setting the butterflies in his stomach on a rampage to where he felt sick. Her smile was so captivating, drawing his attention towards her even on the gloomiest days. 

Even away from her, his mind was constantly consumed by thoughts of her. He’d sit at home, running his hands through his hair. It was fucking him up. Doing his best to keep his feelings to himself, always aware of Theo’s eyes on him supervising. His threat constantly on repetition in his head, “If you ever even look at her past platonic, I’ll feed you to a horntail dragon”. His words drive him to act nonchalant around her, treating her like one of the boys. Like a friend who he had absolutely no interest in. Little did Mattheo know, Theo had repeated the near-to-the same speech to her. Theo knew what his friends were like, and while he appreciated the close relationship his sister shared with them, he didn’t want to see her get hurt. His protectiveness for her blinded his view on the way Mattheo seemed to truly care for her. She, on the other hand, had assured her brother that he needed not to worry. Though she didn’t admit it to Theo, she was convinced Mattheo only saw her as his best friend's sister. His demeanor had always been apathetic, showing no other interest in her other than a friend. She was good at hiding her true feelings, but her heart felt contused, hating how he’d deftly crawled his way in. He’d probably done it to countless girls before her, and that fact stung her deeply. That was the hardest part about being around him, knowing she couldn't have him and he'd never want her. 

_______________________________________________

It was currently Friday evening. The classic group of your brother's friends had been lounging in his dorm before you had challenged everyone, to who could create the best muggle fort. The room filled with tipsy laughter, everyone having passed around the firewhiskey Enzo and Blaise had sneaked in. The group was divided into two, with you being partnered with Blaise and Theo. You had thought the three of you were doing well despite your disadvantage of one man down, Mattheo's absence due to another detention. But your optimism was dropping as you watched for the third time as the fort collapsed, with Blaise accusing Theo again of being a useless twat for misplacing the pegs. Across from you, you eyed the way the others had worked, laughing as Daphne and Pansy practically ordered Draco and Enzo into working together well. Though you could see the firewhiskey in the boys' systems wasn’t helping, as they had started arguing about the best way to create the fort. You rolled your eyes, giggling at the stupidity of how the night had unfolded. Taking another drink from the bottle, you clapped your hands and explained your game plan to your team, eludicating to them. “Right, you two idiots, I’m going to connect the fort together from the inside, while you two hold it together from the outside. Make sure you pass me a peg when I yell.” You eyed your brother, laughing slightly as he held his hands up defensively. Mattheo made his way down the Slytherin dorm corridors, hearing the sounds of his friends vibrate off the walls. He shoved open the door, readily expecting the ruckus he was about to be greeted with a grin cracking. “Wassup fuck-”, his mouth dropped, brows raising as he takes in the current commotion happening in the crowded room. His eyes are first drawn to the loud bickering occurring between Theo and Blaise. “How long have you been putting pegs on me!? That’s bloody why we can’t find any more!” Blaise complains, reaching around his back to take them off his shirt. Theo struggles to steady himself against the wall as he hurls over, cracking up, gripping his stomach, deep laughter exploding from him. Mattheo’s brows remained raised, watching in amusement as Blaise struggled, spinning around himself like a dog to pry off the pegs.

Mattheo’s gaze shifts as he steps further into the room, dropping his bag on the floor, the sounds of Draco complaining in the mirror. His hands moving in an aggressive action, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles he created during the fort building. Daphne sits beside him, filming his displeasure with her own enjoyment. Mattheo rolls his eyes at his cousin, losing his tie, as his attention is swept once again. This time by Pansy and Enzo, who seem to have moved on after the success of their fort by now throwing lollies into one another’s mouth. He spins around again, his curiosity peaks as he wonders where the last member of the group is. His heart drops at the thought of you being absent from the night, the expectation of seeing you having pushed him through his boredom in detention. His curiosity is cured when the faint sound of your voice is heard calling out from inside your fort. “Would you two stop bickering and cooperate! I need another peg. I'm literally holding this thing together from the inside!” 

Mattheo chuckles deeply, being the only one to hear you over all the commotion. He takes a peg off Blaise’s back, bending down to pop his head into the fort. He grins at the awkward position you seemed to have put yourself in, finding it amusing and also stupid that you left the two most difficult sheets to be pegged together last. His eyes drift down your figure, taking in the cute loungewear set you had on as you puffed a piece of hair out of your face, sighing irritably. He knows he should just hand you the peg, but his impulsive thoughts and the fact that you two were actually alone for once made him act. As he leans over your shoulder, reaching forward to peg the two sheets together, making the fort stabilize. Your body shivers slightly as his body retracts back, his curls brushing against your cheek, causing your body to warm up. You let go of the sheets, turning now to face him, unaware of how close he still is to you. You hadn’t even heard him come in, leaving you unprepared for his now close presence. He shifts back, allowing reasonable space between you two, and you let out a small sigh out, brushing it off as just an act of kindness, nothing more than platonic. You smile casually, “Oh, glad you could finally join us. What was the detention for this time, Riddle?” You tilt your head slightly, teasing him. His mouth pulls in a half smile before he rolls his eyes at your taunt, “This one wasn’t actually my fault, the guy was just asking for it. Fucking first years.” He scrunches his face in fake annoyance, watching you laugh at his grumble. His eyes meet yours for a moment, taking in the way your face is lit up before he shifts his attention to the fort. He was quite surprised with the fact it was actually staying up considering how intoxicated the others actually seemed. “Let me guess, this was your idea Ace.” You let out a light laugh, averting your eyes to the interior of the fort. Praying your cheeks were keeping their composure, feeling the rush of heat hit them at the nickname. You’d always had a soft spot for the nickname, though you doubted it was only being used in a friendly manner. Nodding your head to his question, your eyes still gazing at the roof of the fort, feeling something was missing. “Yeah, I thought it would be a fun competition. Not too late for you to help out though. I still wanna hang some fairy lights so we can see. Can you grab them for me?” Mattheo nodded, lazily leaning only his upper body out the fort entrance, posing himself in a way that gave you a good view of his ass. Unsure if he had done it on purpose or not, you tried not to stare too long, but the way it curved nicely in his pants was making your mind run wild. As Mattheo stuck his head out the entrance, spotting the others in a discussion, catching the end of their conversation about sneaking into the kitchens. “Oi, grab me a pack of MnMs,” he calls out to them, as they head out the dorm door. He spots the fairy lights reaching out his outstretched hand, grabbing them before retracting back into the fort. He twisted around, noticing the way your eyes darted around before meeting his gaze. His chest thumps at the realization that the two of you are alone, chuckling to himself that your brother must be too far gone to have noticed. He passes the tangled lights to you with a sly grin. “What did you do with these last? Tie someone up with them?” You roll your eyes at his joke, your cheeks definitely blushing now. You move closer to grab a fistful of lights, slowly untangling them, “Ha ha”. Not bothering to actually reply more than that, the two of you work in a somewhat comfortable silence despite your heart practically pumping out of your chest. His hands work skillfully, untangling the knots down the string. He was clearly good with his fingers. You bit your lip as your mind started wandering off as lewd thoughts swarmed through it. Merlin, what would your brother think, if he knew the ideas Mattheo was unawarely filling yours with.

You spun around feeling your body relax now that you were no longer in his direct eyesight, as you squatted to peg the lights up around the fort. The sound of your friends returning allowed a breath to be exhaled, one you didn’t know you were holding. The temptation of just being alone with Mattheo was proving to be difficult. You grinned, beaming at the finished success of the fort, the lights twinkled giving off a cozy and relaxed ambiance. Mattheo’s felt himself crack a grin at the appearance of your happiness. He’d never get over the way it made him feel as if sunshine was being shone brightly inside him. He patted your thigh gently, “Looks good Ace.” Before you can react to his touch, the others burst through, chucking pillows and blankets in a multitude of places as they all arrange themselves. You move out of the way watching as Pansy sets up a projector for you all to watch a film.

As the movie started, you rotated quickly to find a spot, coincidently noticing only one left beside Mattheo. He had made sure not to make you uncomfortable, leaving enough space between you both, as you squeezed in beside him, laying on your stomach. Laying side by side, your shoulder grazing him as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Throughout the movie, you couldn’t stop fiddling, slipping your thumb in and out of the makeshift hole you had made. Mattheo lay his hands out in front of him, his eyes drawn to the movement of your fingers fidgeting. He played with his own thumbs trying to focus on the screen, the urge to reach out and embrace your own hand in his. Though with you distracted, he inched closer to you as stealthily as possible, as to not scare you away or draw any attention to himself. His eyes moved to check out for Theo, who was deeply engrossed in the movie, probably having taken an edible. His eyes moving back up to yours, as you offered him some Mnms, graciously accepting. 

Moving to put the chocolates back in the middle, you used the moment to peer at him, noticing him distracted by the movie. You were trying to act as normal as possible, feeling the way his heat flowed onto yours from the closeness of your bodies. The illumination of the lights were cast upon him, allowing you to make out his appearance under the soft glow of the fort. Taking in the pretty colour of his mahogany eyes and the sweet shape of his rosy lips as he licked the chocolate off them. You couldn’t help but imagine what they’d be like to kiss. You had thought you were doing a good job of being discreet when Mattheo leans into you to whisper, “You're staring Ace.” His voice was quiet enough as to not capture the attention of the others. You froze momentarily, your heart beating, not realising how close he was to your face. Before you whispered back, “You’ve got chocolate on your face.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you pray, your response was quick and clever enough to cover up that fact that you had been caught. You kept your eyes glued to his, trying to give off the appeal that you were being serious.

His face spreads into a cheeky grin, whispering back. “Sure it’s not because you’re in love with me.” He had said it as a joke but realised as he watched your eyes widen that his whispering may have made it come across differently. His own brows scrunched in realisation as he makes out through the dim lights, a faint tint of redness creeping up your cheeks. You averted your eyes back to the TV, your heart hammering as you repeated his words over in your head. You were panicking, your eyes darting over to your brother. If anyone else heard and saw your reaction, you totally would have given away your feelings for him. You chewed on your lip before you cursed at yourself, for now realizing by not replying you were making the situation look worse. You look back at him, the small amount of firewhiskey flowing through you. “That’s very cocky of you to assume, Riddle”. Your initial reaction to his comment gave him the confidence to nudge your shoulder slightly. “Am I wrong though?” he challenged, keeping his voice low. Though he didn’t get to hear your response as Pansy shushed the two of you, making you both look away from one another. You could hardly concentrate on the rest of the movie after the latest turn of events. Your brain was working on overdrive to calm your anxiety. Of course he’d be the one to make your brain melt, turning you back into your fourteen old-self reminding you of when you first met him. He must think you’re insane. He’s probably laughing it up that Theo’s sister is in love with him. You felt trapped, wanting to escape, feeling like a joke. Caught up in your own panicked nightmare, the soft feeling of fingers pulls your attention, brushing against your hand.

Mattheo had rolled his eyes at Pansy, shushing them, watching the way you averted your eyes from him. His mind was buzzing at the possibility of you actually being into him. He pinched himself, harder than he expected flicking his hand in pain before resting it beside yours. In the fort's darkness, he took the impulsive decision to rest his fingertips against yours. He made the action gentle, not wanting you to react badly. His pinky brushed against yours, and his heartbeat quickened when he felt the sudden movement of your reciprocation. He glanced up at the others, noticing no one paying any mind to the two of you, moving his gaze back to you. A small smile rested on your lips, though your eyes were glued to the movie. He couldn’t help but risk taking it further and slid his fingers into yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

Mattheo’s mind filled with only thoughts of you as he blankly stared at the projector. Your hand in his felt like the most natural thing, and he couldn’t believe the way he was feeling. How could such a small action reduce him to feeling like a giddy schoolboy. He couldn’t remember the last time he held someone's hand. As the movie progressed, the two of you didn’t break contact, fingers staying intertwined. You finally turned to look at him, your eyes studying his sweet brown eyes. It was a quiet moment, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They knew they were crossing a line, treading into dangerous territories if Theo ever found out. But the emotions shining in Mattheo’s eyes, a sly smirk playing on his lips, inflamed a desire that you knew was too good to ignore.

Masterlist

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo reader x f reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin boys #theo nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #pansy parkinson #hogmarch challenge

[oops-all-concrete]

Okay, you lovelies voted for fluff, so you're getting fluff! Welcome to:

BG3 companions react to: Tav drawing the companions in their sketch book! (Romance implied)

Beware spoilers and cuteness ahead, please enjoy!

Lae'zel -

Eventually she gets irritated of being stared at, while Tav is sat pencil in book and puts down her sword from being sharpened, and paces over. "Chk. You've been ogling at me like a child for at least ten minutes. Is it with purpose or are you simply bad at keeping to yourself?" She asks, head tilted with wide eyed threat. Once she gets a glance at the page, she softens, jaw unclenching, shoulders dropping. She admires the sketch before she realises she too, is staring. "Hmm. Acceptable. Continue" Before she returns to her tent, and totally doesn't stay stiller on purpose.

Shadowheart -

Shadowheart doesn't suspect a thing, until she passes by them and totally doesn't take a glance in the journal from over Tavs shoulder. She pauses and appreciates the work long enough for Tav to realise they're being watched. "Oh don't mind me. I'm just appreciating my good side from your point of view." She smiles. "Oh, we should draw each other! I haven't sketched in so long, but I'd like for you to see what I see too." She offers, going and grabbing her own sketch set, sitting beside Tav, comfortably drawing them.

Wyll -

He allows Tav their privacy, even if they stare sometimes. He needs to be physically shown because he is too polite to snoop or look over their shoulder. Upon being shown, he smiles, but winces a little. "Oh, I love it, don't get me wrong. You've captured the Blade of Frontiers in all his glory...just, all his glory with horns and the devil's details" He chuckles, trying not to seem dissappointed. But upon another look, his eyes become wider with wonder. "...you know what, if thats what I look like to you, it's not as bad as I thought." He smiles.

Karlach -

She's nosy, okay? So when Tav puts down their book to help Gale with dinner, she sneaks a little peek, grabbing the pages with a clean cloth. She however, gives herself away immediately. "WOAH??" The whole camp turns but Karlach does not take notice. "SOLDIER?? YOU DREW THIS?? THIS IS AMAZING!" She yells, eyes bright, brows up, grin wide with teeth. The camp settles while dinner happens, but later in the evening, she pulls Tav aside to show them something. Upon a large empty plot of just dirt, Tav finds their face messily drawn with a stick into the dirt. "Can't quite draw right now, or ever really, but I wanted you to have a portrait too. Not bad, eh?"

Gale -

"Oh, and who's that handsome fellow?" He smirks, catching sight of the page one day. He asks for a better look and takes a moment to admire the sketch, before frowning. "Did you...draw me with gray hairs? Am I graying??" He asks, a hand combing through his so well maintained mane. "You didn't know?" Astarion weighs in, finding an opportunity to bully the wizard. "For a human, you are at that age, are you not, Gale?" Lae'zel adds. The wizard makes an almost theatric gasp, crossing his arms. "Gray suits you Gale!" Karlach insists, taking the drawing from Gale and admiring it. Gale pauses, looks again, and grins. "Now that you mention it..."

Astarion -

"Okay, so, that's clearly not any of the imbeciles over there, what handsome young men have you been seeing without me?" He jokes. It takes a minute, but the way Tav looks between Astarion and the book, gives it away. "...oh. That's me?" He seems to entirely lose his ability to speak. He gestures to take the book and have a better look, running his hand over the sketches, and then over his face, seeming almost confused. When prompted, he clears his throat. "Well, it's- ah, certainly flattering. Nice to have such a flattering mirror" He smiles, slipping back into his more confident persona. "In fact, I'd love to keep such a flattering masterpiece, if that would be quite alright with you?" He smiles confidently, but the way his eyes stray to the sketch tells all.

Bonus! The older generation

Halsin -

"I cannot recall the last time I have received a portrait in such likeness." He smiles fondly when Tav shows him the piece. "Might I take this back to the Grove? I'm particularly fond of anything you do really- but especially this" He asks, warm smile spread over his face. Should Tav allow it, he gives the best hug in thanks, promising to return the flattery in kind. (Yes, it will be whittling)

Jaheira -

Of course she gets a look while Tav is distracted. "Not bad. Better that bard songs, that's for sure" She smiles, nodding at the adventurer. She takes a second look and thinks for a moment. "...When did my face get so wrinkly?" She asks in a vaguely dissapointed wonder.

Minsc -

"Oh, my friend, you have a talent of flattery!" He claps and grins when he sees the work, but seems to be looking for something. "Oh- Erm, might I ask a question...where is Boo? You cannot have the great Minsc without his tiny, fluffy brain on his shoulder!" He asks, proudly producing the hamster in hand. Tav turns the page to reveal quite a few sketches of Boo. "What?? Did Boo pose for these?? How is he so accurately cute?? BOO, YOU LOOK ADORABLE! WHY DID NOBODY TELL MINSC IT WAS PORTRAIT DAY??"

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you'd like to read next. I have another poll coming soon as well 👀

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #karlach #shadowheart #astarion headcanons #bg3 headcanons #karlach headcanon #shadowheart headcanons #wyll headcanons #gale headcanons #bg3 minsc #minsc and boo #bg3 jaheira #jaheira #halsin headcanons #bg3 halsin #x reader #x tav #and sorry for the wall of text

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #fluff #lando norris fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 one shot #f1 one shot #daniel ricciardo #f1 requests

[augustinewrites]

when the kids had first moved into the apartment, the first thing you and satoru sat them down and established was that you were not going to be their new parents. satoru, and eventually you, were just their legal guardians. 

then a year later, megumi had shyly asked if you’d come to his mother’s day lunch at school. 

after that, everything you’d said that first night had gone out the window (especially after tsumiki had given satoru a mug that said ‘my dad is rad’ with his face on it).

and you were both okay with that, because they were cute kids, and over the years you’d grown to love them like they were your own. everyday you spend with your little family is a special one, especially days like today.

instincts, perhaps, are what prompt you to get up much too early on sunday, a day where you typically sleep till…well, at least 8am. but there’s noise coming from the kitchen that concerns you. 

satoru has no such instincts, still snoozing away next to you. you shake his shoulder, hoping to pass off responsibility for whatever’s transpiring to him, but he simply nudges his face deeper into his pillow. 

so you take your own pillow and smack him with it. 

he wakes up with a start, eyes still heavy with sleep as he looks around. “what? what’s happening?” 

you point to the door, where the sound of the record player’s soft tunes are accompanied by something almost foreign to your household.

it takes him a minute to process the sound, but once he does, he looks just as confused as you feel.

“is that the sound of laughter coming from our two moody teenagers?” you ask, genuinely bewildered. “do you think they’re laughing at each other?” 

satoru sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “i think we should probably get out there. someone’s definitely holding them at gunpoint.” 

he slides out of bed to grab and hand you your robe, very obviously hiding something behind his back while trailing out of the room after you. arms crossed, you step into the kitchen to see the two teens working together to set up the table.  

“what is going on here?” you ask, eying the mess on the kitchen counter and prompting them both to turn around. “i hope you both know that i’m not cleaning this up.”

“of course not, babe. it’s your day,” your fiancée tells you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a bouquet of flowers into your hand. 

“my day? so that means you’ll be cleaning up?”

“obviously not. that’s what the two freeloaders are here for. as for how i’ll be treating you today…”

the kids roll their eyes as he pulls you in for a longer than necessary kiss, stealing your breath away. megumi coughs loudly, prompting you to pull apart so you can start breakfast.

like every year, your spot is already set up with a plate of fluffy pancakes, eggs, and a steaming cup of coffee. 

“what, nothing for me?” satoru pouts as the kids load their own plates up and get settled at the table. 

“you’re not our mom,” megumi huffs. 

“yeah, but i’m your—”

“don’t call yourself daddy or i swear to god—”

you hide your smile behind your mug as you glance between the two. it wouldn’t be a family meal without satoru and megumi’s petty snipes. 

it also wouldn’t be mother’s day without gifts. satoru would never let them hear the end of it if there wasn’t. 

there’s a very…abstractly wrapped book from megumi, a perfectly knitted sweater from tsumiki, and classic ‘do the dishes’ coupons and the promise of a spa day.

“we really are grateful for you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the backs of each of your fingers before entangling them with his own. “i could never do this without you.”

“well, it’s a good thing you’ll never have to,” you tell him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before slapping a coupon onto the table. “except when it comes to the dishes.”

(and after he gets sealed, you realize you’d never thought you’d have to do any of it without him.)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

[sashiavi]

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

this has been rotting in my documents since October </3 abandoned kinktober prompt I just couldn't get out of my head :((

•·············🍑·············•🍑•·············🍑·············•

♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Wriothesley x Reader - wrio finds you stuck in a wall

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴾʳᶦˢᵒⁿᵉʳᵎ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᵖᵘⁿᶦˢʰᵐᵉⁿᵗ | ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʷᵃˡˡ | ᵖᵒʷᵉʳ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐᶦᶜˢ | ᵈᵒᵐ/ˢᵘᵇ | ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ʷʳᶦᵒ ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³.⁵ᵏ

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵀʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᴼᶠ ⁻ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ|ᴰᵘᵐᵇᶦᶠᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ|ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏᵃᵍᵉ| ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Well, well. What an amusing predicament. Wriothesley certainly didn't expect his morning to turn out so… Interestingly. 

The Duke makes his rounds through the Fortress of Metropide twice a day. Once in the morning and again during the young hours of the night, right when the sun sets. Not that its rays could be seen so far down under the surface of the sea, but the sentiment was there. Wriothesely would often be seen passing through the establishment's pleasantries, always making a stop by the inmate sleeping quarters, he ought to have an idea of exactly whom he had in his Fortress.. Right?

He ventures further than the guards are assigned, boots clicking coolly against the metallic flooring, echoing through the high domed ceilings of the holding pods. The Duke makes an effort into personally peeking a look into each isolated cell, sometimes striking up a small conversation with an inmate or two. The man knew all-too-well just how lonesome time in prison was, he could at least acknowledge their existences. 

Speaking of, his mind wanders as he approaches a specific cell, isolated and cold - Away from the rest, segregated by the Fortress’ rule of separating cases, depending on their verdict - Wriothesley flitters back to a conversation he held the night before -

- “Now, what's a girl like you doing here in my Fortress?” Wriothesley leans himself upon the bars of your cell. The area was quiet, isolated with little inhabitants, even more so during the day time, while inmates congregated within the public area of the fortress. You jump slightly, whipping around to face him. 

“Oh, you know.. Stuff..” You reply, looking a little shameless towards him. He had an inkling that you were up to no good. But he’d bite.

“How’s the Fortress treating you? Despite the whole prison aspect,” He chuckles to himself, earning your own laugh, dancing in his ears.

“It’s.. a little boring in here,” He watches your eyes wander around the cell.

“Well- At least you have that poster there, plenty of fun to stare at, I’m sure.” Wriothesley lets his eyes crinkle. The poster was large, stuck to the wall haphazardly, crooked and torn on one corner. “That thing could cover up anything,” He side comments. He watches your interest pique, head tilting in what he could only describe as thought - A stupid one he thinks. 

“I wouldn't try it, you just might escape. I can't have that happen, now can I?” He winks, finally continuing his evening round throughout the section of the fortress.

All of that circles back to the now, as Wriothesley approaches your cell on his morning patrol. Something stirs in his chest, a tickling inkling. He nearly half expects you to have followed his gracious ‘advice’ - If you could even call it that. 

Lo and behold, the Duke spots a special individual poking out from the cracked cell wall. Your lower half nearly dangles from the partition, practically on tippy toes, ankles surely close to giving out from the awkward position. The poster from the night before lays perfectly on the floor next to your frame, comically outlining just how bad you had messed up. He nearly chuckles at the sudden jolt of your body as he unlocks the cell door, craning it open with an obnoxious creak.

“Well.. Aren’t you something?” His heavy boots resonate through the near barren cell, echoing as he makes his way towards your predicament.

You helplessly squirm, whining out of your throat as you fruitlessly struggle in your impromptu confines. Wriothesley stares down at you in utter bemusement, his face cracking with an audacious downturned smile; not that you could see his face through the thick prison wall. Poor You. All lodged and stuck.

"Y-Your Grace! It's not what it looks like-" Your voice manages through the wall, a little muffled to the ear. However, Wriothesley was sure you hadn’t even broken into the adjacent room.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Who knew you'd actually try it." He almost laughs. It wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere - Last he checked, the Fontainian Ocean was right outside their door.

“Seemed like a decent idea..” Wriothesley has to strain to hear your mumble.

“We’re far under the water dear.. Or did you forget in your haste?” This time, he makes no effort to stifle his laugh, chuckling out loud when your form visibly slumps - Whether out of embarrassment or defeat - He was thoroughly amused.

“Hmm.. Now, what do we do with you?” Wriothesley teases. He cranes his body, bending his back with purpose, inspecting the damage you had added to the already faulty wall. How you had managed to wiggle your way in this far, he hadn't a clue. Your body noticeably tenses, you make an attempt to find a proper footing, easily failing from the height of the hole.

“P-Please Your Grace- I’ll do anything, really! Anything you want just- please don’t add time for this..”

“You’ll do.. Anything…?” Call him confused, what were you on about?

“Yes, anything- ch-chores? Solitary? I’ll be good I swear, really- Or you could..” You trail off, leaving the Duke to sit with his whirring brain for a moment. “You.. Can take me… Use me how you want- Please~ Y-You’re stressed right? U-Use me.. Do whatever you wanna-” You sounded nearly delirious. Your pretty ass shakes, brushing up against the front of his pants, a feeble attempt to press back into him.

Were you trying to bargain with him? Wriothesley was more than ready to pull you out, maybe give a little slap on the wrist and send you on your merry way. But now? The Duke couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his pants tightening around his groin. The idea of taking your pretty self, stuck helplessly in the wall. He couldn't refuse your offer, right? Not when you sounded so eager. Not when you begged for him, for his body, for his thick aching cock, threatening to burst the seam of his trousers. 

Before he can properly stop himself - Not that he was really going to - Wriothesley finds his hands on the soft swell of your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms. You jolt under his touch, footing slipping slightly against the floor that barely brushed against your toes. Wriothesley breathes hard from his nose, hooking his fingers into the cut of your waistband, pulling the fabric over your form. He hears a whimper from beyond the wall.

“Y-Your Grace…The wall..” Your voice wobbles, body tensing against the brush of his hands.

“What? Having second thoughts?” He can’t help but tease you, squishing his fingers into the soft meat of your ass, digging his hands into your half-on pants. You did say anything. You gasp out, voice cracking with muffled little pleas. ‘Never’ you say ‘Want it bad - so bad’.

Your pants come off quickly, thrown to the floor in a crumple. Wriothesley’s hands are on you again, spreading the fat of your ass apart, marvelling at the pretty swell of your pussy hugged against your panties. He watches your plush thighs squish together, rubbing and squirming in his hold, he couldn't tell if you were wiggling away or keening into him. Not that you could go anywhere. The thought irks a chuckle out of Wriothesley. His fingers wander again, caressing over the soft skin of your ass, digging them in and jiggling cheekily. His thumbs slide over and hook into the elastic of your panties, hugging around the thick of your legs. He meanly tugs at the snappy material, pulling it up and taught, forcing the fabric to cling achingly against your cunt. His tongue instinctively pokes from behind his lips, itching to lap at the pretty wet spot that had formed over the fabric. 

Wriothesley swallows thickly, eyes locked on your pretty cunt, head swimming with the short, hiccuped whines that cut through the wall. You babble and cry, repeating his title over and over - Your Grace, Your Grace - begging him to just touch. To do anything - Anything. 

Your pretty voice gets to him and he finds himself nearly ripping your drenched panties off of you. He pulls them down, leaving them dangling off of your legs, showing off your wet cunt just for him. Gods, he wasn't disappointed. Your pretty pussy peeks from behind the swell of your thighs, already dripping wet, all over yourself. He swears he twitches, breath hissing through his teeth, cold on your core. The sweet jump you make - as best as you could - sends him reeling. 

Wriothesley’s thick fingers tentatively poke at your dripping pussy, catching your sweet, dribbly slick on his fingertips. He awes at how it webs between his fingers, how you’d managed to work yourself up with your own babbling. Perhaps the wall aided a little - Showing off your bottom half, on full display just for him to enjoy, your own vision obscured. You wouldn't see anything coming. The thought runs straight to his cock, making itself well known again against the fly of his trousers. 

Wriothesley licks against his lips, enamoured at the pretty string of your slick on his fingers, sticking between his digits like a lattice. He needs more. He wastes no time, easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole. Gods, you felt so soft. Silky to his touch, pussy pretty and plushy and warm. The squeal that muffles through the wall forces him to sink his teeth into his own bottom lip. Toying with you came to him naturally. Ever so easy with you all snug and stuck, silly enough to try and swindle him and escape your commitment to the Fortress. 

“W-Wriothesley… your g-grace..” He ignores you, fingers digging into the sweet, supple curve of your cunt. He curls them downward, earning the prettiest, muffled cries through the wall. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Wriothesley thrusts his fingers hard. Pressing meanly into the achy swollen bump in your core, getting a kick out of the lewd suckling squelch of your pussy on his fingers. Your poor legs practically give out, ankles going limp, your body holding itself up thanks to the wall hugging your body. Your voice crackles through the cement, whiney and keening, babbling dumb nonsensical begs and pleads to him. Your slick pools against his knuckles, threatening to overturn the snug fit of his rings on his fingers. He can't help but stare, locked in, mind reeling with the way your cunt wrapped around his digits. He couldn't help but wonder just what that pretty little thing would look like, all red and puffy, hugging on his thick cock.

He shamelessly lets out his own groan. Finally managing to remove his fingers, watching in awe as your slick drips off of them, connecting him to you with a thin, dribbly line. 

Just a taste…

The thought zaps through his brain, tongue shamelessly poking its way past his teeth, running over his lips with a quick tilt of his head.

Wriothesley wastes no time. Wrapping his lips against your slick cunt, eyes rolling hard into the back of his skull. Fuck. Your taste on his tongue, sweet and tangy, oh so decadently coating his throat. Archons, he laps and suckles, nearly sinking his teeth into the heat of your core, into the puffy swell of your pussy lips. You keen back into him, whining never-ending, absolutely ceaseless, voice managing to pierce through the heavy material of the wall you’d stuck yourself in. That thought charges through his mind again. Poor little you, all stuck and lodged in the wall all for him to play with. The man was sure he would cream in his own pants if he kept up. He barely registers his knees beginning to ache under the heavy pressure of his own body meeting the floor. Since when had he managed to sink down? Finding his hands back on your plushy ass cheeks? Chin dribbling slobber and slick, sticking wetly to the scratchy stubble shadowing over his face? He couldn't take it anymore. 

Wriothesley stands with a start, ignoring the stiff crack of his knees in favour of unbuckling his godforsaken pants. His hands are clumsy, large palms pawing at the metal of his trousers, his belt suddenly too intricate for his rough, fervent body to figure out - Not with how his mind reels, with the sight of you stuck in the wall, pretty pussy drooling, on display all for him. He barely shoves his pants to his thighs, the material wrapping around his legs in a mess. His cock weeps as it's free, slapping up into his stomach, heavy balls hanging over the waist of his trousers. He leaks beads of sticky pre, messing up the surface of his dress shirt. Wriothesley groans out loud, hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing it up and down to ease the hot tension pulsing through his thick cock vein. 

He was sure you heard the cold clink of his belt, the only inkling of what was to come for you. He can't help but jerk his length off to the sight of you, shamelessly stalling just to mess with your head. No matter how much you squirm and beg, crying out as best as you could, stupidly asking for a reply to gather any kind of indication of what he was about to do to you. He stays silent.

Wriothesley meanly slaps his cock over the sticky, wet folds of your achy cunt, he chuckles when you jump again, going absolutely crazy for your every little reaction. Your pussy sounded so pretty on his tip, all wet and sticky as he slapped and rubbed against it. His fat tip slides over your warm, slick folds, craning his hips forward, catching against your sopping hole, earning him the softest gasps from within the wall. Your little jumps all but spur him all the more on.

“M’ not even in yet.. Pussy’s already tryin’ to suck me in,” Wriothesley pokes his tip against your hole, catching it against the warm, supple squeeze of your cunt. He growls through his teeth, head quickly draining of any cohesive decision making. Your babbling continues through the wall, your hips crane up into his own, wiggling and catching back on the thick head of his dick. Gods, that does it. You were insatiable, all stuck waiting for him to come along and ravage your pretty cunt with his cock. 

It all urges him to dive in, give your poor cunt no warning for his thick, dribbling cock.

And so he does.

“Fuuuckk” Wriothesley can’t help but groan, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock. He has to bite into his thumb, just to slow himself down, let himself relish in the sweet squeeze of your cunt on his cock. Gods the way you wrapped around him, silky soft walls hugging on his length. He can't help but awe at the way your achy pussy squeezed on him, all puffy and sore from neglect. His hands find your hips, one of the only parts free from the wall.

“Your Grace~.. So big- so biiig… Filling me up- please please… please” Your silly voice cracks through the wall. Wriothesley digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, purposely lifting your poor legs off of the floor, leveraging your body just for him to use. You squirm in his hold, easily forcing him to grip you tighter.

“Fuck, stay still. Gonna make me go crazy..” Wriothesley finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky cunny, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of dog in rut. Archons, he could get used to this. His own personal little wall slut, always there for him to use and abuse. His eyes roll at the idea, his snapping hard, earning a loud hiccuped cry from within the thick wall. The hot squelch that follows has him nearly drooling, mouth dropped open in a soft frown, eyes locked on to his heavy cock sliding in and out of your dumb cunt. He fucks his hips hard again, cock head smacking into the deepest parts of your pussy.

Wriothesley doesn't remember speeding up. But he sure as hell won't be slowing down - not anytime soon. Your gushy pussy squelches on his cock, dribbling down your thighs, messing all over your poor aching legs. Wriothesley’s fingers keep a hold of your hips, rocking them slightly to meet his brutal pace. He doesn't have to crane his ears to hear your pretty moans, effortlessly reaping through the solid wall, barely muffled by the sheer loudness of your voice. 

Fuck, he didn’t care about the noise. Let everyone hear them. What were they going to do about it? What were you going to do about it? About getting all stuck in this wall, going against the Fortress’ protocol? Seducing the Duke of the Meropide, forcing him to fuck your dumb brains out to teach you a lesson? A growl resonates from his throat, hips snapping hard, clapping into the sweet swell of your ass cheeks as he fucks up your cunt. 

Wriothesley’s eyes wander, locking down on the sweet jiggle of your ass and the puffy red throb of your cunt on his cock. A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, slowly leaking its way on to his pants. An ache builds in his pelvis, thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Your moans don't stop, legs continuously squirming in his grasp, body stuck in the juncture of your silly wall. He thinks you beg, maybe you scream, crying out for him to keep going, to fill you up to cum hard and deep and mess up your insides. 

Wriothesley drops your legs, forcing you to dangle, his hands press into the wall above, grinding his hips upwards, stabbing your pussy impossibly deeper with his length. Sweat beads off of his nose, his calves cramp and ache with every thrust he makes, but Gods, he wasn't going to stop. He finds himself moaning out loud, complementing the pretty noises that creak through the wall. Your pussy hugs on his length, squeezing nice and tight, wrapping around his fat tip every time he slams it back into you. 

His teeth grit hard. Eyes still locked on to the messy slide of his length, in and out, in and out. He was coming close. So fucking close.

Wriothesley’s brow scrunches, relishing in the aching squeeze of your messy pussy on his cock. He couldn't take it anymore. The creamy ring he’d fucked out of you, the pretty ripple of your ass on his hips, how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. Gods, it was all so much. His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated staccatos, dragging his length out and slamming right back in with a hard smack. You cry with every thrust, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over. 

He finally spills with a deep, hard fuck. His thick tip spurts hot rivulets of cum into your silky pussy. He messes your insides with white, fucking himself through his orgasm, humping up on your cunt, mounting your pussy with his cock. His throat growls with every fuck, sweat beads off of the tip of his nose, he watches his hot spurts leak steadily out of your hole, leaking around the base of his length. He can’t help but nestle right into your cunt, relishing in the sweet squeeze of your milky walls on him, he cranes his hips every so often, teasing his aching tip with your soft insides.

You kick and whine as eventually, he pulls out, dribbling his hot white cum down your thighs. 

“No~ need more! More more!” Your muffled voice cries, pitifully wiggling within the hug of the wall, attempting to squirm your way out.

Wriothesley chuckles hotly, eying off the sweet gush of cum that drools out of your puffy pussy. His mouth waters, salivating like a dog. Surely he could take you out of the wall a little later? You’d understand. You’d been a great little wall slut for him so far, so why not indulge for as long as he wanted? Maybe he'd let you cum, spray and mess all over yourself - He could even let you out as a reward.

His finger comes up to caress over your spent hole, scooping up the leaking slick that coated your poor pussy. The cry he earns makes his half-hard cock stiffen, bobbing to life with a flex.

Archons, weren’t you something?

hnnnnnng gg g wrio wooof wOof - my longest fics are always wrio </3

Idk what possessed me to create this- I hope you enjoyed ;3

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always, Always Appreciated! Ilysm <333

♡ᵀᵃᵍˡᶦˢᵗ♡

@madsw9 @pvbbyb0y @heath-sama @shiningpaint-marbleheart @the-massive-simp @tericula @a-random-weeb @mechalily @mydarlingdahlia @finnie9479

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Do Not Translate Or Repost - Property Of SashiAvi ♡

#ʚ•*°SashiAvi Writes°*•ɞ #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #afab reader #genshin impact smut #wriothesley x you #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley #wrio x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin x reader #genshin impact

[cozage]

Coza!! Congrats on your 2K followers. 🥳🎉🥂

I like your smuts and I’m having a hard time choosing what scenarios to request!! I’m so excited for this event you have no idea. May I request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy+ Sanji+ Zoro+ Law+ Eustass Kid + Killer to you reading smuts/hentai please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi :) I wasn't able to do everyone, but I did a few! Minors…OUT! go on! Get! Scram! Also I won’t lie Zoro’s is based loosely off of the funniest comic I’ve seen in my life that stays living rent free in my head Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law Cw: smut and suggestive, NO MINORS ALLOWED ON THIS POST PLS GO AWAY Total word count: 900

Scandalous Reading

Luffy

Luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his eyes lazily skimming the page that you were reading. 

“Woah!” Luffy grabbed the book out of your hand and put it up to his face to get a better view of the words. “I didn’t even know this was possible!”

“Luffy!” You reached for the book, but he held it just out of your reach, still reading. 

“I didn’t even think about trying-”

“Luffy! Give it back!”

His wide eyes peered over the pages, but he refused to hand it back to you. “Do you like this stuff?”

“I mean-I don’t-I just-” Your face turned beet red at the implication. “It’s just written really well!”

He gave you a mischievous grin and took off back toward his room, book in tow. “Come on!” he called. “I want to see if it really can work this way!”

Oh, you were in for a rough night.

Sanji

“My love, did you-” Sanji stopped, his eyes fixated on the book cover you were reading.

“Sanji?” you prompted, trying to get his attention.

“I know that author,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Where do I know that-”

“You probably don’t!” You slammed your book shut and shoved it behind your back. “What did you need?”

“Oh! Right! Would you like gelato or ice cream?”

“Surprise me!” you said, trying to get his mind off the book. “I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing!”

Sanji was in the kitchen when he finally placed it, and he almost collapsed from the realization of what he had caught you reading.

He brought you out the finest gelato he had ever made and set it down next to you. “So, my love,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “How is your book?”

“It’s good,” you said. You set it down to grab your gelato, and Sanji lunged for it. 

He skimmed the pages, confirming his suspicion, and tried his hardest not to pass out from the filth his eyes found. “You’re reading book porn!” he whispered sharply. “You always get on me for staring at-”

“That’s not the same,” you hissed. “These aren’t real people! It’s different!”

“It is not!”

“What am I supposed to do!?” you snapped back, glaring at him. “You’re busy in the kitchen, I have to entertain myself somehow during the day!”

Oh, that was a bad way of wording things, because the second the words were out, Sanji’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you want to do something like this? Because I would love nothing more than to treat you like the royalty I know you are.”

Zoro

“What are you reading?” Zoro asked, looking at your book cover. 

“A book.” You tilted the book slightly to shield him from seeing any of the words.

“What’s it about?” He seemed strangely interested in the cover. “Swordmaking?”

Oh right, there was a sword on the front cover of the book. No wonder he was so interested in it. 

“It’s called Swords and Snakes. It’s a book about…royalty, love, and betrayal.”

He scrunched his face in disgust and went back to resting his eyes. “Not really my kind of book.”

You grinned. "No, I don't think it is." You set your book down and stood up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to go get a snack.”

“Riceballs.”

You nodded and went to the kitchen to grab food. What you hadn’t been expecting was returning to Zoro staring wide-eyed at the page you had dog-earred. 

He looked up at you in amusement, smirking at your anxious body language. “You weren’t joking about love and betrayal.”

“That’s mine!”

“More like love-making and betrayal,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know they wrote books like this. I didn’t know you would read books like this.”

“Well to be fair-” you snatched the book from his hands. “I didn’t know you could read at all!”

“Don’t be too bratty now,” he teased. “Or I’ll give you the same treatment that knight gave the princess.”

Law

You had only left your book laying on the bedside table for a minute while you ran to the bathroom. But damn that Trafalgar Law, he was so nosey. 

“Quite the fantasy world you read about,” he hummed as you walked back into the room.

“What do you-” your words died in your throat, seeing him flip through the pages. “Oh, that.” You gave a nervous laugh, striding back over to your bed. 

“Yes, this.” He slapped the book shut, peering up at you with such a predatory and lustful look that you almost took a step backward. 

“I just picked it up at the last bookstore we went to,” you lied. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing you. 

He handed the book back to you, and you quickly grabbed it. “Thanks,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Sure.” He stood to take his leave, heading back to the lab. He stopped on his way out, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“If you ever want to make it a reality, all you have to do is ask.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #cozage #✧˚law✧˚ #✧˚sanji✧˚ #✧˚zoro✧˚ #✧˚ luffy✧˚

[thefreakandthehair]

apollo, who?

prompt: beach day | pairing: steddie | wc: 1.5k | rating: teen & up | tags: eddie munson pov, athletic steve, post-canon fix it, pining, reciprocated crushes | written for @pearynice for the @strangerthingswritersguild April Fools exchange! 💕☀️🌊

There are three absolute truths when it comes to Steve Harrington: 

The first is that Steve is a gifted athlete. 

The second is that Steve was born to thrive in the summertime. 

And the third, much to Eddie Munson’s chagrin and horror, is that the combination of the first two truths will be his undoing. In public, no less, because the universe has apparently concocted a plan to let Eddie live but to make him suffer nonetheless. 

Unloading the van had been easy enough— Steve grabbing the cooler stacked to the brim with soda, water, and snacks and Eddie watching as he’d trekked through the sand to where Robin and Nancy set up their chairs and beach umbrella. Most of the kids were long gone already, staking their claim with blankets and towels a few feet away from Robin and Nancy, leaving Eddie to snag the sunblock he’s basically been made to swear a blood oath to Wayne that he’ll apply generously over his scars. 

He leans back over the passenger seat to grab it from the center console, along with his walkman and sunglasses, and when he turns back around, he stops dead. 

Steve’s shirtless.

In the span of ten seconds, Steve’s already shirtless on the beach, nothing but swim trunks hanging from his hips, and Eddie realizes he’s underestimated how fucking beautiful this sight might be. 

The edge of Lake Michigan laps at the rippled sands as Steve reels back and tosses a football that Eddie’s pretty sure materialized out of nowhere to Lucas a few yards down the shore. All of his freckles and moles and scars out on full display, the sun beats down on his tanned skin and uncharacteristically messy hair that Eddie’s watched slowly morph from chestnut to ash brown over the course of the season. 

As Eddie applies his stupid sunblock, he lets himself stare unnoticed. Lucas throws what Eddie assumes is a good pass if Steve’s celebratory, “Great spiral!” means anything and when he puts on his sunglasses, it’s more to shield the blinding light of Steve’s smile than the sun. Maybe it’s cliche, maybe it’s overdone and contrived, but Eddie can’t stop himself from comparing Steve to a Greek fucking God. 

Apollo, who? 

El appears next to Steve and Eddie continues to watch— about three layers of sunblock in at this point because he’s lost track— as Steve demonstrates something. Holding the football in one hand, he points at the laces and seems to check in with El for understanding before handing it over to her and adjusting her grip slightly. When she attempts to throw it to Lucas, it falls short and lands in the sand just a few feet away from where she and Steve stand. 

Eddie’s chest fucking swells as Steve trots over to grab it and simply hands it to her again, smile in place to counteract El’s pout. Three or four tries later, the ball flies straight enough for Lucas to catch it and Jesus H. Christ, Steve cheers like she scored a touchdown, or whatever the fuck it’s called. 

He can’t leave the side of the van. If he makes his way down to the beach, it’ll be all over for him. He’ll have to hide in the water the entire time, and now there’s too much sunblock on his face to blame the inevitable flush on sunburn. It’s fine, he can hang back. Everyone looks preoccupied anyways and with any luck, no one will notice he’s not enjoying the surf and sand with everyone else until it’s time to leave�� 

“Eddie!” 

Right, he thinks to himself. I have no luck. 

Steve waves at him to come join, turning that sunshine smile directly at him and it’s a direct hit. Apparently, even on the opposite side of the sands, he’s still a goner. 

“Eddie! C’mon, what’re you waiting for?” He calls out again, both hands resting on his hips. 

It does nothing to quell his urge to stare at places friends aren’t supposed to stare at. As far as he knows, the only person to have picked up on his unfortunate crush is Nancy, who’d seemed to understand the importance of discretion and hasn’t said a word. If he can leave this beach day with his secret intact, he’ll chalk it up as a success. 

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” 

With a deep breath, he locks and slams the passenger door to the van and walks out onto the hot sand, barefoot with his sneakers in one hand, SPF 70 in the other, and sunglasses hung over his nose. Distantly, he recognizes the grittiness of the sand beneath his toes and the earthy scent of the freshwater stretching out for miles in front of him but more acutely, he just keeps his eyes on Steve. 

Please let these glasses be tinted, he thinks. 

“Finally, what the hell were you doing up there?” Steve asks when he makes it down the narrow path lines with tall grass. 

“Aw, did you miss me, Big Boy?” Eddie drones with a smirk. If he just acts normal, no one will know the difference. It’s not like Steve ever flirts back—

“And if I did?” 

He hasn't planned for that response. All he’s prepared for is a gentle eye roll, maybe a flustered laugh or furrowed brow, and now Steve’s shirtless, sun-baked, sweat dripping from his temple and suggesting he missed him. 

What the fuck. 

“Heads-up!” Lucas yells and Steve turns just in time to take two steps backward and catch the football coming in their direction. 

There’s no way for Lucas to have known he’d just saved Eddie from something horrendously embarrassing, but he’ll find a way to thank him all the same. 

“Ever throw a football?” Steve holds the oblong ball in one hand, wiggling it at shoulder height with a grin. “I taught El how to throw a spiral, so I think I can teach you, too.” 

Okay, actually, he’s still being subjected to something humiliating. 

“Sports have never really been my—”

“Don’t start with that, c’mere. It’s easy.” Steve gestures with a nod of his head for Eddie to join him further out on the beach and like a satellite to its orbit, he follows. 

It takes way more attempts than it did El— something Max was all too quick to point out loudly— but he does eventually throw something that Steve considers a spiral. Maybe it would’ve taken fewer tries if Steve hadn’t insisted on standing directly behind him, adjusting his stance and grip with his chest damn near pressed against Eddie’s back. 

Of all the unfair cards life has dealt him, this has to be the worst. More than once, he makes eye contact with Nancy who raises an eyebrow and smirks before returning her attention to whatever she and Robin are talking about. 

Probably him. Him and Steve and his dumb, dumb, dumb crush that’s ruining his life. It’s fine. 

When he finally throws the ball at an acceptable angle, Steve claps him on the shoulder and stands next to him, effectively draping an arm over both shoulders. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He swallows and turns, breath catching his throat. All of the sun has brought Steve’s freckles to the forefront, a shade darker than usual with new tiny pinpricks of color appearing along his nose with a faint pink hue along his cheekbones. 

If they weren’t in public, he’d do something very, very stupid. Instead, he clears his throat subtly and finds words. 

“Sure, yeah, I’m a regular sports guy now, Steve. Guess I’ve gotta find something to teach you, huh? Y’know, return the favor?” 

“I’ve always wanted to learn guitar. You can show me the basics some time. Or uh,” Steve grins and lowers his voice. “I’m sure there are some other things we can learn together.” 

Eddie’s fully lost track of how many times he’s been caught off-guard so far today, but this one takes the cake. Steve’s fucking flirting with him. Actually flirting with him. Beating him over the goddamn head with it, really. 

“Yeah! Yeah, uh, yeah,” he repeats, smooth. “To both, I mean. Yeah, to both.” 

Steve squeezes his shoulder and unravels his arm with a hopeful expression. 

“We’ll talk more when we aren’t surrounded by nosy shits, especially those two,” Steve nods at Robin and Nancy who wave with their fingers. “In the meantime, race you to the water?” 

“What is it with you jocks?”

He barely has time to get the question out before Steve takes off, plunging into the water a solid foot before Eddie even reaches the shore. 

“That’s cheating, Harrington!” He bellows, running through the sand to join him, heart thundering between his ribs and head still spinning from what just happened. 

“Sounds like what I’d expect from someone who just lost,” Steve shoots back, taking a breath and submerging himself before popping back up. 

Hair slicked back with the freshwater of Lake Michigan, Eddie watches as Steve runs both hands through it, then down his face and back into the lake. Water droplets glisten off his skin and Eddie wades a little closer, finding Steve’s hands once they’re submerged enough to disguise it. 

“Oh, contraire,” Eddie muses. “I feel like I just won.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs