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coryosbaby · 4 months

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Mascara || T. Riddle

Fandom: ‘Harry Potter’

Pairing: Young! Tom Riddle x fem! Ravenclaw! Reader

｡.｡ ♡ Content warning . Public sex, praise & degradation, cum play, sub! Reader, dom! Tom

Notes: set in modern day Hogwarts. I never thought i’d want to fuck Voldemort but here we are.

Your feet patter softly against the tile floors of Hogwarts, a book clutched tightly in your arms as you make your way towards the school’s library. It’s a rainy night, incredibly quiet and empty. The other students are at dinner, and you’ve decided to skip out to study for your OWLs. When you open the big wooden doors to the library, the smell of printed ink and old pages invites you further in.

The first thing you notice, when you close the doors behind you and take sight of the room, is that the librarian, Madam Pince, is no where to be found. She must be on her break.

The second thing you notice is the boy sitting in the darkest corner of the room.

You know of the familiar brunette— of course you do. Who wouldn’t? Tom Riddle is a popular slytherin well known for his cunningness, his intelligence, his ability to speak native tongues— and sometimes, his temper. A ravenclaw yourself, you try to steer clear of him. Slytherins usually don’t take politely to anyone outside of their house. Not to mention the fact that you scored the top of your class, with him coming in close second. You suspect that he hates you for that.

He catches your gaze, brown eyes with the resemblance of a serpent. He looks back down at his book, seeming bored.

You let out a breath of air.

You slide your book into the return bin, timidly moving to the shelf about Potions. Snape has been really hassling you lately on your grades, and you really need to turn your B+ into a perfect A. Your fingertips skim over the leathered binds, reading title after title. A voice behind you makes you jump.

“If you’re studying for Snape’s final, I’d recommend ‘Advanced Potion Making’. It will tell you all you need to know.”

His voice is an angelic lilt, though you know that is not in any way what he resembles. The fact that he’s helping you stumps you into utter confusion, and heat creeps up your neck. You nod to him as you begin searching for the book.

To no avail. Your eyes search every bind, every word, but your focus has been diluted because of Tom speaking to you. He sighs, almost annoyed.

He appears beside you, much to your surprise. You nervously bite your lip as he finds the exact book he recommended and pushes it into your hands.

“Chapter nine. I would’ve thought a girl of your ranking in our class would know this already.”

Your brows furrow, embarrassment coursing through you as he sits back down and resumes his tasks. You nervously fumble with the book.

“Thank you.” You reply, because you had been taught proper manners. He scoffs, flicking through the pages of his book. You can’t read the title, though the cover is quite off put ish and dark. Perhaps he had snuck into the restricted section.

“Don’t.”

You frown, though your mind is peaking with curiosity. He seems rude, but he was trying to help you. Maybe there’s something nice under there, after all. Your body is stiff as you sit across from him at the table, silently pleading to God that the boy across from you won’t put a nasty hex on you.

“You don’t have to be rude, you know.”

It slips out of your lips, quiet and unsure. Tom’s eyes narrow at you.

“And as well as that, you don’t have to sit across from me.”

“Perhaps I want to. Perhaps you need a friend.”

“A friend?” He chuckles dryly, his gaze travelling down to your robes. You try to ignore the heat creeping between your legs. “We aren’t going to be friends.”

His insinuation is thick, dangerous. Your heart pounds out of your chest at this unexpected turn of your study hour. You gulp, looking down at the pages.

“Very well then. But since I’ve already sat down, I might as well continue my book here.”

“Or we could continue this conversation in my dorm room.”

He says it smoothly, with no fear or utmost insecurity.

“What?” You blanch, stuttering on your syllables. Tom smirks.

“A smart girl like you, and you can’t even comprehend a single sentence,” he says, his body beginning to move out of his chair. “‘S pathetic, really…”

You breath hitches as his tall form towers over you. Your fingertips grasp the sides of your chair as he leans in close.

“Tom,” you start, warningly. He quirks a brow.

“No?” He questions, and then after a moment, staring into your doe eyes, it dawns on him. His mouth forms into a grin. “Oh, you want it here, don’t you? You want it right here.”

His lips brush just inches over your pouty lips, and you wonder how in the hell you got into this situation and why this slytherin boy is making such a sudden move on you. But knowing Tom, it’s probably out of boredom. Out of the desire for a hook up.

You don’t mind it. Not really, not anymore, because all your protests are ripped away from you when he presses his lips to yours. It’s not tender or sweet, it’s full of sharp teeth and unfiltered lust. His hands rest on your chin, gripping your head so you can’t escape his kiss— can’t escape him.

Your tongue is about to graze his lips when he pulls away. His fingers grasp your shoulder and pull you up to your feet. You stumble, your legs shaky from just a couple of kisses. You gasp when he spins you around and presses your face against one of the nearest bookshelves. His big hands wrap around your wrists and hold them behind your back.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints from you. Do you understand me?” He whispers, his hands reaching down to lift up your robes. “If I do, I’ll leave you here drenched, your clothes gone, with your holes freshly fucked and on display for the entire school to see. Do you understand me?”

You nod instantly. You know that these aren’t empty threats; when Tom says he’s going to do something, he’ll do it.

When he pulls up your robes, taking in the sight of your pretty pink thong, he lets out a sharp breath.

“Prepared, weren’t you?”

You let out a whine, knowing that no, this wasn’t intentional. Tom just caught you on a specific type of day. But looking on it now, maybe the universe was being in your favor when you decided to pick out the flimsy undergarment.

Tom slips the hem of your robes into your hands.

“Hold it.” He commands, and you’re quick to comply.

His hardness presses against you, clothed still but his robes are lifted so he can rut against you in his briefs. It isn’t long before he’s pulling them down past his thighs, his cock sprinting up into the air as he places himself against you once again. You can’t help but drip with need, canting your hips back against him. His cock presses in between the seam of your ass, and you rub against him like a bitch in heat.

And just like a bitch in heat, you purr.

“Tommy..” you let out, and his grip on your hips tighten. “Please?”

He scoffs at the nickname, though his bottom lip is caught roughly between his teeth and he’s trying to contain himself. He wraps his hand around his awaiting length, parts your thighs with the other, and slides his dick up against your throughly aroused pussy.

He’s warm, sticky. You wish you could’ve seen him before this, seen that thing that feels oh so heavy between your legs, but it’ll have to wait. Hopefully, there will be a next time.

When he slides in, it stretches you obscenely. This isn’t your first time, but there’s a burning sensation as he enters you. He’s got the perfect amount of thickness and length to pull a moan deep from your throat.

He doesn’t start slow. His hips smack against yours at a rapid pace, small grunts leaving his silky lips as he uses you like a common whore. Your hands grip your robes and the bookshelf at the same time, trying to keep steady as Tom fills you to the brim. He noses along your jaw and leaves wet, open kisses there. You mewl when he bites down harshly and sucks a mark into your skin.

“Such a tight little cunt you have,” Tom breathes, his fingertips bruising your hips. “Look at you, such a slut for my cock. Does it feel good? Tell me, tell me how it feels.”

Your thighs squeeze him, your mouth gaping open in utter ecstasy. Your words are caught in your throat, but Tom is quick to force them out of you with a spank to your ass. You moan, your forehead pressing against the bookshelf’s wooden edge.

“Yes! Yes, it feels so good…” you slur, entranced by the spice of his cologne and the feeling of his girthy length splitting you open. He grunts, bucking his hips into you with vigor.

“And I bet it’s the best you’ve had, isn’t it? All those other boys can’t do it for you. I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”

It’s true, and when his cockhead hits a spot deep inside you that has you keening, your legs quiver and your brain turns to jelly. Tom’s fingers place themselves around your neck and squeeze so hard that your vision blurs at the edges, and you’re enthralled by the fear that courses through your veins. He’s playing your life in his hands like it’s a shiny new toy.

He fucks you like a madman as you gasp and beg for air. Tears spill out of your eyes, salty and wet and Tom takes notice.

“Crying?” He sneers, pounding you so hard that you’re sure the bookshelf will leave bruises as it presses against you. “You’re pathetic. A pathetic, filthy little girl.”

“Mmmhhh..” you cry out. Your eyes roll back as you utter incoherent sounds. He growls.

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” And then, with a harsh grip on your hair, “I want to hear you say it. Beg me. Beg me to fill you, whore.”

Your eyes shut tight, and your hands clasp around his wrists as he loosens his grip on your throat.

“Please,” your voice is a gasp as you finally get oxygen unto your system. “Please, Tom, f-fill me up. Cum inside me.”

A small, throaty groan escapes his lips, and with one last desperate thrust he’s spilling balls deep inside your drooling cunt. His cum spills over the cusp of your used entrance, and when he’s done fucking it into you he pulls out with a sharp exhale.

You can feel his cum spill out of your raw fucked hole, the creamy fluid dribbling down your thigh and dripping onto the carpet below. Your clit throbs mercilessly, still devoid of any attention, but Tom is quick to put a stop to that. He drops to his knees, then, and it’s a surprising gesture that you didn’t expect. He doesn’t seem like the type to get on his knees for anyone, let alone you. But his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he spreads your knees and catches his cum into his awaiting mouth. He licks up your hole, circling your clit with practiced precision. You let out a guttural sound when you hear the obscene noises of the cum spilling out of you, along with Tom’s mouth slurping at your cunt vigorously. He works at you over and over, and you clench when you feel yourself nearing your high. It’s almost embarrassingly quick, but you’ve been denied so long that you need to do it and you need to do it now.

“I’m going to…” you gasp out, as he rubs circles into your clit. He lets out a loud grunt against you, his mouth working harder. “I’m cumming—god, I’m cumming!”

Your orgasm washes over you, hits you like a tidal wave in the middle of an incredibly large ocean. Tom works his tongue and lets you ride out your high, and he sighs and pulls away from your pussy when you come down.

He’s gathered enough arousal to fill his mouth generously, and he kisses you flat on the lips. His tongue slides against yours and you can taste your shared arousal on him. You whimper, licking desperately at his salty spend, and it’s messy and sloppy and absolutely depraved. His teeth nip at you as you swallow it all down.

You’re dizzy, on shaky legs. You turn around, finally getting to see Tom’s face coated in your slick and his cum. He grins at you, and something twists in your gut so primal you feel you might burst.

“Better get to studying, Miss Y/L/N,” he says. “It’d be a shame if this missed study session made you fail your OWLs.”

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#Tom riddle #Tom riddle x reader #Tom riddle x fem! reader #Tom riddle smut #Tom riddle fanfic #young! Tom riddle #Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter franchise #Harry Potter blurb #Harry Potter fanfic #Voldemort

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coco-loco-nut · 5 days

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Iconic

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: you make it your life goal to embarrass Oscar and annoy him, keeping things fun in his life

masterlist

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“He’s so cute,” a girl sighs in the McLaren fan zone.

“He really is,” you smile, leaning against the barrier.

“Oh my god, hi!” the girl gasps, recognizing you from your boyfriend’s Instagram. You haven’t had social media since you were cyber bullied in middle school, so you were a mystery to his fans. It also let you go to fan zone and have fun with them. You also run a fan page for Oscar on Instagram.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind that I am standing here?” you say, holding a folded poster in one of your hand and an arm full of friendship bracelets that Oscar helped you make.

“Not at all, oh my god. Sorry, it’s just that you are so iconic,” the girl says and you quirk your eyebrow.

“How so?”

“You don’t have social media which is iconic, but all the fans know how nice you are, and you are always hanging out with us here,” one of her friends say, you nod along.

“Of course I would be here, I gotta support Papaya boys,” you smile. “Wanna help me embarrass Osc?” you ask the group around you.

“It would legit be our honor,” the one laughs, you laugh with her.

“Here,” you take off some friendship bracelets and exchange them with the girls.

“You are the best WAG,” another girl says and you blush a little, dutifully putting on each bracelet.

“I really do try. I even run a fan account for Osc,” you laugh, not revealing more than that.

“No way, that’s actually icon behavior,” the first girl says and you grin.

“Want to see the sign?” you ask, excited to show your latest sign off. Oscar tried to look but you refused to even work on it until he left the hotel.

“Yes!” you are quick to unfold the sign. Your neat handwriting carefully placed each letter just large enough so Oscar could read it.

“Omg, I can’t wait to see his reaction,” one of the fans say, the area is brimming full now, ready for the drivers to come out in a couple minutes.

“Make sure you get pictures of his reaction, he’s so cute when he’s embarrassed,” you giggle, getting ready to hold the sign in front of you as Lando walk onto the stage, excited to see what you wrote this time. He reads it and laughs, turning towards where Oscar is entering. You watch his brows furrow as he reads it. Oscar- I want to eat you up like a pastry :). The Australian’s face turns bright red as he laughs and winks at you, trying to hide his awkward embarrassment at the pickup line. It wasn’t your best, but it was the perfect amount of cringe. Lando gives you a thumbs up from the stage.

“You were right, his face was priceless,” the fan says as you watch Oscar push back his mousy brown hair before putting the hat back on. You swear you might be drooling while watching him, but you catch his gaze falling on you too.

“I LOVE YOU OSCAR!” you yell as he waves goodbye to the fans, giving you a wink. You make sure all of your friendship bracelets are given away before thanking the fans for being cool about you chilling with them. You head back to the paddock, scanning your pass, and beelining to the McLaren motorhome.

“Y/n, can I have that sign?” Lando asks and you happily hand it over.

“As long as you don’t use it to steal my man, have at it,” you chuckle as the Brit hugs you in thanks before walking away.

“Eat me like a pastry?” Oscar gives you an amused smile. “You do know my parents watch that, right?” His favorite thing about you his your playfulness, you can be serious when needed, but your teasing and jests keep his life fun.

“Oh, I know, your mom helped me with that one, the fans loved it too,” you laugh. “You did look so hot up there,” you slightly exaggerate checking him out.

“Why don’t we go back to my drivers room and you show me how you’d like to eat me?” Oscar whispers in your ear, trying to seduce you, but you resist.

“Oh, I’d probably start with the thighs, best muscle to fat ratio in my opinion. Hm, now I’m kinda hungry, what is in hospitality?” you ask, moving towards the food area. Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him as he picks you up to carry you to his room.

“Nope, don’t start things you can’t finish,” he says, clearly a little hot and bothered.

“Osc, I’m not a cannibal, I don’t actually eat humans,” you tease, not giving up on what you started. Oscar clearly had a different interpretation, maybe the right one, maybe not.

“Shut up before I make you shut up,” Oscar growls in your ear, quickly turning you on and making you drop the joke.

“Yes, Mister Piastri,” you say, knowing it’s affect on him as he drags you into his room, locking the door behind him. Oscar was a couple minutes late to his meeting, Lando holding back giggles as Oscar walks into the room.

“I see the fans aren’t the only ones who love Y/n,” Lando whispers to Oscar, who shoots him a glare. Meanwhile, you scroll Instagram using your fan page, laughing as some of them post the pic of you and the sign, the comments calling on your to reveal yourself via the fan page. You make a post about it as well just to blend in, thirsting over Oscar as well. You can’t imagine if he ever finds out about the account.

“Good luck, Osc. Drive safe,” you kiss him before he puts his helmet on.

“I am always safe,” he gives you his usual awkward smile, you smile back as he puts his helmet on. He squeezes your hand before walking over to the car. You take a seat in the garage, the headphones unflattering as always.

Your stomach drops as there is a crash late in the race, but you are instantly relieved when you realize that Oscar made in through and no one was hurt. He ends up in P2 for the race and you join the team in celebrating at the podium.

“Thank you for being my number one fan, even when you run a secret fan account,” Oscar hugs you in his drivers room.

“How? What?” you play if off but he just laughs, pulling out his phone.

“My private account follows you,” oscar laughs, and you just stare at him.

“That’s actually you? I thought it was a fan,” you quickly pull out your phone and request to follow his account, which he immediately accepts so that you can see all the cute posts he makes about you.

“Stop, Osc, you’re basically running a fan account for me,” you say, admiring his posts, including one from today of you holding the sign. You quickly type a comment that has the other drivers replying like crazy claiming that they found your secret account.

“You two decent?” Mark Weber’s voice says through the door, after a confirmation from Oscar, he lets himself in.

“Why wouldn’t we be decent, Mark?” you ask from the couch.

“I used to be a driver too, and after your fan zone sign nothing is off the table,” Mark shrugs causing you and Oscar to blush. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you great race, I will see you in a few days,” Mark tells Oscar before leaving the room again. You still aren’t sure how Oscar was able to bag the former F1 driver as his manager. Oscar yawns and you notice how tired he is, sleepy Oscar is your favorite version of Oscar.

“Alright, let’s get you back to the hotel, first loser,” you tease, helping him gather his things to leave.

“Hey,” he groans at the jab.

“You could be Lando NoWins, my love,” turning your jests onto his teammate.

“That is true,” Oscar yawns, holding your hand as he leads you to his chauffeured car.

“Osc, would you marry me if I was a worm?”

“Who said I’d marry you at all?”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m deleting your fan page,” you pull out your phone. Oscar basically tackles you in the back seat as he lunges for the phone.

“I take it back, I’ll marry you right now if you want,” Oscar pleads.

“Who said I wanted to marry you? Do I look like a worm?” you retort, putting your phone away. Oscar just sighs in defeat.

“God gives is strongest people his greatest challenges, I’m not strong enough for this,” he groans a few seconds later, the tiredness setting in.

“Sorry, baby, I promise you will get unlimited cuddles when we get back to the room,” you smile softly, holding his hand tight.

“I love you,” he whispers, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into your eyes.

“I love you too.”

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #unhinged behavior

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spaghettiposts · 11 days

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It’s okay to need help

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Snapping at your wife was the last thing you wanted to do, but between the pressures of financial disputes you do. You both seek to make things right.

Warnings: arguments, slight angst, hurt/comfort, this was supposed to be way more angsty but I’m weak. Wife Wanda fluff

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Honestly just a short little drabble and writing practice, I might do more writing prompts. This little thing took a toll on me and I’m suffering through writers block 😞 reblogs are SUPER appreciated please yall 🙏

Your eyes burned and you weren’t sure if it was from the dim kitchen lighting or the tears prickling inside you.

Papers were messily scattered across the table, their contents a jumbled blur that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on. Not while your mind was elsewhere—with Wanda.

Wanda who wasn’t sitting with you like she always was when going over expenses, stroking your shoulders to relieve some of the tension, laying her head to rest on you while her lips pressed delicately against your cheek. You missed your wife, by gods you did. But you were stubborn.

Instead of apologizing, you’d gaze over longingly hoping she’d somehow see you—read your mind and spare you just one look, but her attention remained focused on the television, curled into the couch; playing her comfort show.

It drove you crazy how desperately you wanted her to see you, but you knew that wasn’t fair of you to ask.

Arguments with Wanda felt like the ground crumbling beneath your feet, threatening to swallow you whole at any moment. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks tore at your soul, and you hated the way it was your fault. Hurting her was a vow you promised never to make, but relationships wouldn’t be without their faults, no matter how hard one tried.

In those initial months of calling Wanda your wife, every moment felt like peaceful bliss, a love so pure you thought how could loving her possibly be a sin in God’s eyes? Then the bliss turned to ignorance, somewhere along the lines.

Fights became frequent, and crying did too.

And hell, you figured maybe after marriage there wouldn’t be so many. For years, you shared a room in the compound, and you knew each other's routines by heart, you knew Wanda. But in the compound, there weren't any expenses, not like now, now that you were sitting at the kitchen island with an abundance of bills that only seemed to keep stacking up. And up. And up.

Waves of stress fell on your shoulders as you stared, wondering how you got into this financial state. Never had you once felt as useless as you had now and it was only digging into you further, on the verge of crushing the sanctuary you had built with Wanda; that was threatening to crumble, and you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. Not when your heart ached so badly for your wife.

Setting aside your previous frustrations, you pushed your chair out and let the papers fall from your hands, figuring you’d deal with them later. You sucked in a breath, trying to regain some composure but with Wanda? Collecting yourself was pretty impossible.

Crossing the living room you cautiously approached your wife, slowly sitting beside her but still she didn’t turn to acknowledge you. She lay with her back facing you, tucked into a small crimson blanket.

You smiled fondly, recalling how you had gotten the blanket because it reminded you of her, one that she promptly stole, with the excuse of it smelling like you bringing her solace when you weren’t around. The sight of her like this shattered your heart.

With a sigh, you inched closer until you were pressed against her back. When she didn’t tense, you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her close. Wanda sighed as you peppered kisses against her skin, first on her cheek and then her neck. The act wasn’t sexual of any kind, but loving lingering ones you knew she loved, needed, and craved after every argument.

Knowing that she preferred your touch, you gave yourself to her, smiling when her fingers interlaced with yours. She still needed you just as much as you needed her.

A beat of silence passed as you relaxed further into each other, and your eyes momentarily strayed away from the TV to shift into a seated position. You knew you had to say something before things got harder.

Before Wanda could question you spoke up:

“I’m sorry Wanda, I never meant for things to get so…heated.” You murmured sincerely, running your fingers through the loose strands of her hair and Wanda sighed.

Leaning against your side, Wanda mimicked your position, bringing her knees to her chest.

She gave you a halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry too, I should’ve come to you first before calling Tony for money this month. I messed up.”

You denied it with your head, bringing her into a warm embrace, and kissing the crown of her head. “No no, you did nothing wrong. Your intentions were good and I shouldn’t have shouted that way. I just…it’s difficult for me, you know?” Your explanation came slowly, averting her gaze, and Wanda gripped your shirt tighter. “I don’t like asking for help.”

The confession fell flat on your lips, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth and you felt silly. But instead of ridicule, you were met with the soft touch of Wanda’s hands, cupping your cheeks as if to reassure your embarrassment. Her thumbs felt good on your skin and slowly coaxed you to look at her.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you got the chance Wanda was bringing your lips together in a slow tender kiss and you sighed. No matter how long you lived you were certain of one thing: you’d never tire of the feeling of Wanda’s lips on yours.

When the need for air became overwhelming, you reluctantly broke the kiss, shivering at her touch. Her forehead resting on yours, breath fanning your lips.

“It’s okay to need help, detka, and we need help.” She affirmed, gently squeezing your hands while stealing kisses between each word till your frown disappeared.

You rolled your eyes affectionately at her actions, not being able to frown anymore and finally pulling her into a longer kiss, something you both craved.

“I’ll talk to Tony tomorrow.” You tell her, and her lips purse in hesitation.

“Dorogaya…if you’re not ready—“

“I’m ready Wanda, I don’t want to be worrying about how much we spend anymore. I want to focus on more important things, like us. I mean you still want kids right?” You asked tentatively and Wanda stifled a laugh at how stiffened you were.

“Yes Y/n, I still want kids with you.” Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head. “But I’m serious, and kids are far from where we are now. Are you absolutely sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded.

Still, Wanda pulled away from you, studying your expression. When she found nothing, she softened, giving you a supportive nod and a big grin. Your smile widened, and you advanced on her the next second earning a squeal, peppering her face with kisses and laughing along with her.

All you could think of was how grateful you were to have a wife like her.

Change was hard but with Wanda, the weight felt easier to carry, and with time you’d learn you wouldn’t have to bear that alone anymore. There were still things you had to fix and you wouldn’t rest until you made things right with your wife but for now, you had a phone call to make. Within weeks you’d be changing jobs and attitudes. Things wouldn’t always be an easy route but you’d sure as hell try harder. For her.

#wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda my beloved #marvel #wlw post #wanda imagine

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satorusugurugurl · 26 days

Note

I know you might have one like this … but can u do a multi fic with jjk boys (gojo geto nanami and toji) where they push their girl to using the safe word.

If this is too similar to ur other fic I get it lol. If it is then can u do a jealous fic for them.

JJK Men: Safe Word

Summary: Things get a little too hot and heavy, and you have to use your safe word!

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,038

Warnings: Rough sex, mentions of blood, public sex, teasing, boundaries crossed, safe word use, after-care!

A/N: Thank you for the request, Nonnie! I hope you enjoyed it; I know I did. Requests are open!

Gojo Satoru:

“Fuck!” Satoru growled from behind you as his cock slammed in and out of your pussy at a rough pace. “Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good!”

It did feel good. God, you loved it when Gojo fucked you rough. Rough sex was always fun—depending on where you were. You loved it in bed! On the couch, the kitchen, and even the shower. But your private onsen? Yeah, this wasn't exactly it.

“S-Satoru,” You winced out, hands scraping over the rocks of the private hot spring you were in. The pain in your hands stung as the hot water started making you dizzy. “Satoru!”

Your attempts to grab your boyfriend's attention went over his head. You crying out his name meant you must be enjoying yourself. Gojo loved it when you cried and screamed his name. It made his cock throb inside of you. He grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face against the rocks.

“That’s right, say my fucking name~!! Let everyone here know who fucking you so good that you're crying, Y/N. Take it, take it~!”

Your face stung, the rocks cutting into your delicate skin. The hot water sploshed around as your breasts bounced. Fuck you were dizzy, and your palms were sore. You might pass out, and not in a good way.

“Toru!” you yelled again, tears in your eyes as black spots formed in your vision. “T-Torr—” Hot, too hot, “Toru,” Panic rose as your vision blurred. You had to use it, your safe word. There was no other choice. “Mochi!! Mochi!!”

Instantly, Satoru stopped, pulling away. “What's wrong? Are you okay?!” Concern laced his voice as you weakly tried getting out of the heated water. “Y/N?!” He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you out of the hot spring. “Holy fuck, you're burning up!”

You whine, trying to blink away the black spots, listening as Gojo runs around the room. You sighed in relief as a cold rag was placed on your forehead. The chill felt good against your heated skin, bringing your temperature down slowly but surely. After laying on the ground for a couple of minutes, you slowly opened your eyes, seeing Gojo looming over you, towel around his waist as he fanned you.

“Hey, there you are.” Tossing the fan to the side, he gently examined a couple of scratches on your face. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

You tried to get up, only to be shoved back down. “I got so dizzy, and my hands were killing me.” Satoru frowned, grabbing your hands gently and turning them over to examine the red skin littered with tiny cuts. “I'm sorry, Satoru, I just couldn't do it.” your boyfriend shook his head, kissing your palms so softly you barely felt it.

“Don't you even think about apologizing! We have a safe word for a reason.” Satoru sighed in relief, the back of his hand feeling your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I was way too rough.”

“I don't mind you being rough. Just preferably in bed. Or the kitchen. Or that time in your office.”

Satoru scoffed, shaking his head as he picked you up, carrying you into the room. “You just almost passed out ten minutes ago, and you still like it rough?” He sat you on the bed, taking the rag off your head, heading to rinse it out, and put it back in place.

“I may not be the strongest or the chosen one.” You lay down, watching his toned back flex with laughter as he shook his head. “But you chose me ~ I'm the strongest at making you cum.” The wet rag promptly smacked you in the face. The wet plop had you giggling as the bed dipped.

“Alright, chosen one, lay back down and let me cuddle you.”

Geto Suguru:

“S-Sugu~!.” You gasped out, face pressed into the corner of the small closet you were in. The tiniest fucking closet in the world. And your leggings were around your knees as Suguru humped into you from behind.

“So tight, fuck you're clamping down on me.” Suguru humped faster, pushing you deeper into the tiny constricting corner. “You like this? Like it when I fuck you when people could catch us?”

Usually, yes, you got off on it. But right now, in a coat closet, that was constricting your air, not so much. Your body was tense, legs trembling as waves of nausea washed over you. Your chest felt tight, and you suddenly couldn't breathe all that well. It felt like the closet was getting smaller and smaller, threatening to crush you.

“Y/N fuck~” Your boyfriend whispered. “Are you gonna cum~? You're getting so tight~ Gonna cum on my cock?” Suguru slid his hand up, grabbing your throat and squeezing it. “Let me help.~”

Now, you really couldn't breathe, and it triggered your fight or flight. “Red!” You barked out, clawing at his hand around your throat.

Hearing your safe word, one Suguru never heard you use, had him moving so fast. He released your throat, pulled out, and quickly readjusted both your clothes before opening the door to the closet. He watched in fear as you stumbled out, falling to your knees as you gasped for air.

“Y/N, princess?” His hand gently pressed against your lower back. “Are you okay? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

“N-No!” You gasped out. “I was getting claustrophobic. I couldn't breathe.” Your heart rate slowed down as you turned to face him. His bangs dangled in his face as his dark eyebrows knitted together. “You didn't do anything wrong. It was all me.”

Suguru felt somewhat relieved that he had not been entirely responsible for your use of the safe word. But that didn't stop him from feeling bad. He turned his back to you, motioning for you to climb on.

“Come on, let's get you outside.” You eagerly climb on his back, resting your chin on his shoulder. “This party is lame anyway.”

“Yeah, it is. On the way home, can we get boba?”

“That's a silly question. Of course, we can get boba. Watching you suck down balls would be far more entertaining than this party.”

“If I'm feeling up for it later, can I suck on your balls?”

“We’ll see how you feel later.” God, why was he so caring and perfect? You buried your face in his neck with a happy hum. “Okay, back there, princess?”

“Never better.”

Nanami Kento:

One of Nanami’s favorite things to do when he got back from a mission was to tease you. It started as simply worshiping your body, gentle actresses of skin, and kisses down your neck. The man wanted to retrace every part of you he hadn't gotten to see while he was away.

So this time around, he was paying extra close attention. He had just gotten home from a two-week mission, and he was desperate for your touch. Nanami was gently caressing your arms, your inner thighs, all the way to your dripping pussy. But he never touched your sex. He wanted to savor every inch of you. Taking in the way you whimpered and twitched as his hands trailed over your body.

He could do this for hours.

You gripped the sheets in your hands, whining as Nanami’s fingers drew closer and closer to your clit, but he never touched it. What had started as loving, longing touches had turned into an almost torturous touch. Your legs began to tremble and shake, aching for your fiancè to do something, anything!

“So beautiful~” Nanami whispered as his fingers grazed your inner thigh, all the way up to your pussy. “God, you're so wet.” oh, this was it. He was finally going to touch you! But to your absolute disappointment, he trailed his finger back down to your thigh.

It was too much; you were so turned on it hurt! Covering your eyes, you whimpered in frustration. Nanami focused on your calves, honey-brown eyes transfixed on the soft skin, reveling in the feeling of it when his world crumbled at your soft cry.

“Yellow.”

Nanami whirled his attention back to you, his hand cupping your cheek. “Y/N love, honey, what's wrong?” You said nothing; your bottom lip trembled as you clenched your thighs together. “Y/N, talk to me.” His deep voice was concerned as his eyes focused on you while you pulled your hands from your face.

“I-I can't take it anymore. I need you to touch me, like really touch me; it hurts.”

Nanami’s shoulders slumped down as he sighed in relief. “Oh love, I'm sorry. Was I teasing you too much?” Calloused fingers immediately found your clit, sending you nearly off the bed. “Is that better?” he cooed as his lips pressed against yours as you whined.

“Y-Yes!” You inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as he slid those two fingers inside of your wet heat. “K-Kento!”

“Shh, I got you know, just relax.” But it was hard to relax when he started pumping those thick fingers in and out of your cunt. “I got you.”

Toji Fushiguro:

“Fucking bitch.” You whine as Toji slams into you. “Trying to flirt with you.” your nails dig into the brick wall of the alley Toji fucking you in. Your panties dangle from your ankle as he presses your back harder into the wall. “I'll show them; all of them you belong to me.”

“T-Toji!” you whine out, “please be quiet.” Your eyes darted down the alley. People were talking and walking by. The streets are busy on a Saturday night, and you'd much rather not get arrested for public indecency.

“No.” His teeth clamp down into your neck so hard you scream. “Let them hear, let everyone know who's fucking you so good.” You winced, trying to ignore the anxiety settling in your chest. It would help if you focused on the pained pleasure instead. “You want that? Don't you want the whole city to see you getting fucked like a bitch in heat?”

“I-I—!”

“‘I-I—’ what slut? Use your big girl words.”

“Toji I—I don't—!”

“If you don't tell me what you want, I'll just have to take you to the street and fuck you in front of everyone.” Sharp teeth bit down on your earlobe as a group of people laughed yards away.

Everything hit you at once. Toji’s words, the sound of approaching laughter, the fear. “Red!” His eyes widened as he gently pulled out, placing you on the ground. Just as a group of people walked by. Gripping your dress, you shakily slid down the wall.

“Hey, hey, you okay, Y/N?”

“I—I—” you flushed, putting your panties back on, “I didn't like the way you were acting. I don't like the idea of someone else seeing me like this.” Toji’s face softened as he nodded. “That was too much. Way too much, Toji.”

His face fell. The confusion that was etched into his features was replaced by regret. You were visibly upset, arms wrapping around yourself as you took several deep breaths. You were right. He had gone too far. He was so annoyed with the guys looking at you in the bar that he took it out on you—the last person who deserved to be treated that way.

“Y/N.” His fingers graze your cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. I was so in my head I didn't even consider how you would feel.”

He was being sincere. His cheeks were flushed as you looked at him. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced down the alley; for him to apologize like this meant a lot. Toji wasn't the best when it came to using his words.

He flinched as you fell forward into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. “You dummy.” He scoffed, wrapping his arms around you and leading you down the alley to the street.

“Come on, brat, let’s get you home. I'll snuggle the fuck out of you as an apology.”

“Can I be the big spoon?” You asked, leaning into his side as you walked.

He snorted a laugh, his hand holding your hip, pulling you tighter against him. “You sure can.”

720 notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 9 months

Text

in my head, i play a supercut of us

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.

a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)

you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)

now — summer, age 18

driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming.

it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.

your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too.

it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s.

you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open.

"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!"

"four summers can do that," you note.

you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug.

"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?"

"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season."

you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.

"possibly," laurel sighs.

"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun."

the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack.

belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs.

"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours."

"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"

you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.

"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there."

with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking.

"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?"

susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.

instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.

"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well?

it was almost too much.

tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.

“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.

“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”

“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”

“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:

“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah.

"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”

“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”

“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”

you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.

“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”

your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”

you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.

when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.

after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad.

"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.

you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.

“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”

“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.”

stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.

“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.

steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing.

"yeah, well, i’m here.”

jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around.

“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”

“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”

"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.

you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting.

"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.

"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote."

“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."

then — summer, age 11

you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.

it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good.

"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat.

"no way, man. it's freezing."

you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach.

"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.

"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."

"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare.

"i'm good," conrad snapped.

"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.

"i'm not scared —"

"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him.

"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed.

"yeah, but if connie —"

"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.

"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.

conrad smiled at you softly. "right."

reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.

"ready?"

conrad nodded once. "ready."

hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind.

now

jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize.

"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet."

jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly.

"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"

the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer.

"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive.

you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay.

"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.

"like i said: intense," you answer cooly.

"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating.

"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"

jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer.

"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.

who the fuck is nicole?

nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.

the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too.

jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension.

"never have i ever gotten a tattoo."

you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink.

"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes.

"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage.

the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other.

"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.

you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach."

the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.

then — summer, age 13

"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose.

"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.

"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)

that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.

"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically.

years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course).

during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach.

the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming.

you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm.

"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word).

even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone.

"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked.

"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.

"i'll stay with you," conrad said.

belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together.

"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?"

conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"

you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs."

conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!"

you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.

"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."

"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it.

"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."

you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.

"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."

"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.

"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.

"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."

being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats?

conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks."

you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was.

"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.

"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."

you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other."

you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.

now

you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.

the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.

you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.

conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink.

“morning,” he whispers.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.

“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs.

conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”

“i thought you loved football.”

“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”

you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports.

“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.

conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well.

“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.

“do what?”

conrad scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher angst #if you can't tell i am very very excited about this series!!#saf writes

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wandasgf · 2 months

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WUNDAGORE. 18+. mdni.

pairing: villain!wanda maximoff + avenger!reader

summary: wanda gets rid of that pesky memory block of yours

warnings: angst, emotional and mental manipulation, mentions of murder, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and confused, one (1) mommy, allusion to smut at the end

wc: 1.6k~

a/n: кошечка (koshechka) = kitty

The wind that blows past is frigid and the rocks underneath your hands are sharp-edged and cold as you stare up at the Scarlet Witch or whatever the hell Wanda was calling herself these days from your place on the ground. You’re tempted to try and kick her feet out from under her where she’s standing above you, catch her off guard and send her tumbling down the cliff, but you don’t. You just glare up at her, knowing that even if you managed to catch her off guard, she would never fall that easily. She would rise up like the most beautiful archdemon you’ve ever seen and deal whatever damage you’d dealt to her tenfold. To anyone who might be watching, lurking in the shadows but not daring to interrupt either of you, the look in your eyes is one of pure hatred, disgust in its purest form that mirrors the look in Wanda’s eyes. But you both know it’s not true, that the hatred disguises something much worse. Something you’d never admit even in the emptiest of places, something Wanda would only ever admit in your dreams. Something that would destroy you both if you’re not careful.

“You’re disgusting.” You spit, icy and cold. “Destroying those universes like it’s nothing, like they’re nothing.” You finally get your bearings back, standing up and clenching your fists at your side, trying your best not to just hit her, punch her, shove her down, anything. “All for what? So you can get back a man who tried to kill you?” Jealousy. “A man who wanted to destroy the universe and start over to create the perfect humanity? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think maybe the two of you really are meant for each other.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Wanda hisses, and you think she might push you down again, but instead she pulls you closer to her by your collar. You can feel her warm breath against your skin and you have to repress a shiver. “You think that you know everything about everyone, don’t you? You think I’m doing this for that man? You think any of this is for him?” She laughs like you’ve just said the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” It’s almost comical to her that you really think that, that you’re so god damn blind that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. She knows why you can’t see it, of course, but she hadn’t always realized how susceptible you were. You can’t see that she’s been trying to find another universe, any other universe where you don’t hate her anymore, where she didn’t fuck everything up and the Avengers didn’t take you away from her.

She knows she should stop talking, she knows she should shut her mouth before she makes things worse, but she can’t stop herself. She knows how to play the role of the villain to a T now, and if the only way she gets to be close to you again is to make you cry then so be it. “You think you’re better than me because you kill people in the name of the Avengers instead of your own?” She laughs, her grip on your shirt tightening. “I have some news for you, little hero, you’re certainly no better than I am. What is it that keeps you there, anyway? You know you don’t belong there.” It’s a low blow, but she knows how true it is even if you no longer do, “Is it the Russian? Do you stay so you can see the look of approval in her eyes whenever you kill someone for her?” Jealousy. “But you’d do it even if she didn’t ask. I’d say you and I are rather the same, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!” The smirk that curls on her lips makes you nauseous and you push her away from you. You know that she let you, loosened her grip on your shirt so you could feel like you’re even half as strong as she is, but you don’t care. “I think that I know everything? What about you! Acting like you know anything about me besides what my blood looks like on your hands.” Your hands are shaking both because of the look Wanda gives you and because you’re upset that she would ever bring up Natasha. Upset at the possibility that this encounter would taint your relationship with the Russian redhead, that Wanda’s words would burn at the back of your mind like acid. Because it’s not true, what she said is not true. You don’t like killing those people, you don’t like seeing their blood on your hands or seeing the light drain from their eyes. You don’t like it. You don’t.

Wanda doesn’t have to look into your mind to know what you’re thinking, it’s written all over your face. She knows she hit a sore spot with that comment. “I don’t know anything about you?” She tilts her head, taking a step towards you as you take one away from her. “You always talk,” another step forward, “like you know,” and another, “what you’re saying” and then another, you try to take another step backward, but your back hits the jagged wall of the cave, “but you don’t, do you?” Wanda hadn’t been this close to you since she had nearly torn your heart out of your chest and it was making you dizzy. Had she always smelled this familiar and good? You’re very purposefully avoiding eye contact, not wanting to see the satisfaction in her eyes at having cornered you. Suddenly you feel Wanda’s hand gripping your face and forcing you to look at her, “No, you don’t. I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Wanda’s eyes glow red for just a minute and you feel like there’s a fog in your brain being lifted before your memories crash down on you like a tidal wave. Wanda’s eyes go back to their regular green color and her hand moves to cup your cheek, her darkened fingertips tapping against your skin. She gives you a second, knows this is going to be a lot for you. She did just unlock over 5 years of forcefully forgotten memories after all. She wasn’t going to do this, it will result in everything the Avengers have at their disposal being thrown at her for taking away their leverage over her, but they shouldn’t have let you come alone and she was growing rather tired of hearing you hurl insults at her and seeing the way you beamed up at Natasha whenever she caught the two of you together. This was poor planning on the Avengers’ part, that’s all.

Suddenly you feel nauseous, every memory you’ve ever had with Wanda hitting you with full force. You feel like you’ve just gotten a metal bat to the gut and then again to your head. You don’t know what to think. Was this real? Did Wanda plant those in your head? No, that didn’t seem right. This would certainly explain the way certain Avengers acted around you and the way you felt when Wanda was near. You were explaining that away as anxiety, nervousness over being so close to someone to dangerous and vile. You lean into the warmth of Wanda’s touch before you can even think about stopping yourself. She can see the way your mind is racing, how your pupils are blown as you try to piece everything together. Eventually, you look up at her with those doe eyes you used to use on her and she almost tears up. “Wanda?” There you are.

“Hi, кошечка. You must be so confused, huh? I know it’s a lot, but I promise things will be better now.” Your head spins at her words and her tone, that tone… everything is too much and not enough all at once. Too much information, but at the same time not enough. Why didn’t you remember any of that before? Why were you ever trying to hurt Wanda? Why was she hurting you back? Was she hurting you back? Why had she been doing all of those horrible things? Your Wanda would never do those things. Except, well, this was your Wanda, so surely that makes it excusable, right? But if she was your Wanda, why weren’t you with her? Wanda taps against your cheek to catch your attention again, noticing how unfocused your eyes are as you spiral in your own mind. “Those Avengers were so mean to take you away from me like they did, trying to turn you against me.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would they do that? I thought they were supposed to be nice, why would they take me from you? Why would… why?” You’re slowly putting the pieces together while trying to cope with the fact that for the past two years you’ve been treating your… your Wanda like an enemy. Your tough exterior is cracking and crumbling as each second goes by, no longer being kept back by the mental barrier you didn’t even know was there. “Oh, my sweet girl, because they’re not nice. They’ve been keeping you like a caged animal, using you like a weapon and tricking you into trusting them.” Wanda’s voice soothes you if only slightly, but the thought of being used like that has you so angry and overwhelmed with all the emotions clashing in your head that you can’t help but let out a quiet whimper, tears forming in your eyes. Wanda coos, bringing you closer and holding you against her chest. She strokes your hair, humming softly before she speaks again, “It’s okay, mommy’s got you. I’ll make it all better, don’t worry.”

#alice's fics !#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch smut

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papercorgiworld · 3 months

Text

Insecurities and second chances

Mattheo Riddle Fluff

Your brother gets in trouble with Mattheo and you go talk to Mattheo, but things only get more complicated. Thank Salazar for second chances and cute dates.

Warning: Mattheo says a denigrating, suggestive thing, but only once and that’s it

Today’s little cameo is Ella. She’s your friend and Theodore’s girlfriend.

Ella, I hope I did you justice. Again thanks for sending in.

A/N: not really happy about the title, so please ignore it. I’m worried it’s not that good, but I wrote it so I might as well post it. Now enjoy some fluff. Happy readings!

“You did what?” You raise your voice, but immediately lower it when you catch people staring. You grab your brother’s arm and guide him to a quiet corner.

“Hexed his shoelaces.” He whispers and your eyes widen. “You are the one that made Mattheo freaking Riddle trip over his own feet and fall face down to the floor?” Your brother nods with amusement and pride, but it quickly falters. “Yes and I’m pretty sure he knows it’s me.” Your heart starts racing. Your brother was a first class idiot, but you really didn’t want him in trouble with Mattheo. “Please tell me you’re joking?” He shakes his head, but realizes how worried you are and tries to keep you from stressing out. “Look I’ll just avoid him for a while and he’ll forget about it.” You think over his plan, if you could even call it that, and let your eyes wonder. It’s then that you see Mattheo approach. “Hurry, this way.” You whisper urgently and push your brother out of Mattheo’s sight.

You watch your brother quickly make his way down the stairs and you sigh, relieved that you had a little more time to think of a better plan. When you turn around you catch Mattheo staring at you near the door of your potions class. Gods, I’m done for it. He knows it was my idiot of a brother. However, Mattheo quickly looks away and enters the classroom with his friends. You frown, but do the same and take your seat next to your friend.

Ella looks up at you and immediately you spot a joyful glint in her brown eyes. “Merlin, you missed the funniest thing-” You could already guess what she was talking about. “My brother hexed Riddle’s shoelaces and made him trip.” A very amused laugh leaves her lips as she nods. “Hilarious.” She sings and you roll your eyes, but her joy is infectious and you can’t help but smile a little. You were so happy she didn’t change when she started dating the notorious Theodore Nott. At first you were worried that she might turn into a mean girl, but no. After four months she was still your Ella ad since Slughorn hadn’t arrived yet you lean closer to your friend. “My brother is in so much trouble.” She nods with wide eyes, her non-verbal way of telling you he was in a lot of trouble. You bite your lip and scoot a little closer to the brunette. “Can’t you, like, ask Mattheo to be chill about it. You’re Theo’s girl, Mattheo will listen, right?” You question hopefully, but the doubt in your voice is obvious.

Ella smiles. “No, he won’t, but-” She goes silent for a moment and scans the room, obviously checking what her boyfriend is up to, before continuing. “Look, apparently Riddle has a thing for you. So, maybe if you ask, you know, he’ll be nice.” Your mouth drops at your friend's words. “Riddle? That can’t be.” Your whisper comes out harsher than intended and you feel a blush creep up. Ella raises her eyebrows. When you hear Slughorn enter you look up and can’t help but search for Mattheo. You bite your lip and in that exact moment he looks over at you and gives you one of his rare smiles, making your eyes fall to your book in an attempt to hide your flusteredness.

***

Ella had convinced you to join her and Theo at the astronomy tower for a little drink and smoke. You were reluctant, but also seriously worried for your brother. So you decided to tag along and maybe try and catch Mattheo in a good mood.

You can’t help but get nervous as you follow Ella up the stairs of the astronomy tower. Mattheo… a thing… for me? When you reach the top Enzo is the first to greet you. He hands you a drink and you take a sip as you watch Theodore wrap his arms around your friend. In only a few months they had become Hogwarts’ power couple. Part of you wished to have something similar, be safe in someone’s arms like she was. You quickly realize that he’s not gonna let her go any time soon, so you might as well get comfortable talking with the other slytherins.

As soon as your glass is half Enzo fills it again and you give him a playful glare. “You should watch out, he’ll get you drunk in no time.” Mattheo chuckles, appearing next to you. You’re surprised by how relaxed and casual he is. Enzo raises his hands in defence. “Hey, I’m just making sure everyone’s hydrated.” With that he fills Blaise’s glass without him even noticing. You laugh at Lorenzo and turn to Mattheo. ‘I’ll definitely watch my glass, I don’t need a hangover when my day starts with Ancient Runes.” A sweet smile tugs on Mattheo’s lips making you instantly feel drawn to him. “There’s a reason I regularly skip morning classes. I definitely spend to much time here, but the view is worth it.” He points and for the first time that night you take the time to enjoy the view. You walk over to the railing and Mattheo follows you. You were having a lovely evening, finally getting to know Mattheo by talking about the silliest stuff, but things quickly changed when you got to discussing today’s events.

“That little moron is your brother?” That’s why she’s interested in me and laughing at my jokes. What was I thinking, that she would really care about me? You're startled by the coldness in his voice, but nod anyway. “He’s an idiot sometimes, he really doesn’t want any trouble. It’s just a prank.” You notice his jaw clench and you avert your eyes. “So that’s why you’re here? To apologize, because the coward doesn’t dare to show his face.” Now it’s your turn to startle him with coldness as your eyes dart at him with a stern glint in them. “I thought we could come to some kind of agreement, so-” Mattheo shakes his head and snorts, his tongue twisting in his mouth. “So you being all nice and interested was just because you’re worried for your brother.” You want to protest, but he won’t let you as his eyes turn unreadable and wander around, avoiding yours at all cost. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange something, (y/n)… how about you on your knees in my room?” Now that his eyes are finally back on you, you search for that softness again, but it’s nowhere to be found. Your heart breaks at how Mattheo’s soft eyes have turned dark and twisted in just a matter of moments. There’s no reasoning with him. Your hand hits his cheek and both you and Mattheo are surprised by your action. His face is still turned away from you as his hand reaches for his painful face. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees you leave with teary eyes.

”What the hell, Riddle!” You hear Ella scream at Mattheo as she follows you. Theodore watches Ella leave with puppy eyes, before turning his very unamused gaze towards Mattheo. But also Enzo, Blaise and Draco stare at Mattheo with eyes that ask: How did you manage to screw this up?

“What! She was just pretending to be interested.” Mattheo yells at his friends. Draco just stares at his drink like he’s never seen a liquid before, really not wanting to get involved. “She was just worried for her brother, who-” Enzo interrupts Mattheo with a rare stern voice. “Yeah, maybe she came here for a reason, but maybe just maybe if you weren’t such an insecure asshole she would’ve stayed for you.” Blaise and Draco are quick on their feet and keep a furious Mattheo away from a slightly drunk Enzo. Theodore just rolls his eyes, feeling like he’s the only adult.

***

”Ella, Ella!” Mattheo came running up to her, slightly out of breath. She rolls her eyes and turns on her heels. “Look. You’re Theo’s girl, so we’re kinda friends? So I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me with (y/n). Ask her to meet me later.” Ella raises her eyebrows and snorts, before her sarcastic slytherin side kicks in. “I’m sure we can arrange something, Mattheo… how about you on your knees in my room. Or what was it exactly you said to her last night?” Ella’s voice is snarky and filled with contempt for Mattheo. A little defeated, Mattheo’s eyes fall to the floor. “I know I was in the wrong yesterday. I just need another chance.”

“Another chance?” You huff and pick up your books, as Ella frowns. “I know.” You both continue walking to your next class. “But the thing is, Theo was this stupid when we started dating.” You stop abruptly making Ella stumble into you. “Started dating? Okay, but Riddle and I are never dating.” You snapped and she couldn’t help but smirk. “Exactly what I said before Theo and I started d-“ You narrow your eyes and she shuts up, but only for a moment. “Theo and I ship you two.” You roll your eyes.

***

Mattheo stares at the sky waiting for you near the Hogwarts north exit. He hated it, but Enzo was right. He got insecure and overreacted. He had his looks, but aside from that he felt like he had nothing to offer you. Why would you be interested in someone like him? Especially after reacting as nasty as he had, he felt like he had no right to be talking to you. Nevertheless a part of him hoped you would show up. He sighs and drops his head as he leans against a wall. When he hears footsteps closing in he looks up to see your anxious figure approaching. She must feel so shit after what I said.

“You wanted to talk.” You say calmly and he looks at you with that soft look he first had at the astronomy tower. He immediately pushes himself off against the wall closing the space between you. “I want to take you out to this small trinket shop just outside of Hogsmeade.” When you don’t immediately react he gets a little nervous and tries to convince you. “They have all kinds of weird stuff, but also cool notebooks, pillows, mugs and sometimes curious second hand books.” You chew your lip, actually liking the idea, but not really sure what to think about Mattheo after last night. “And if I say no, you’ll beat up my brother, or what?” It was a genuine question, but your words sound harsher than intended. With panic in his eyes he takes a step closer. “No, no. I’ll leave him alone no matter what you say. Maybe I’ll hex his shoelaces, but that’s just justice.” He sighs before continuing with a gentle and sincere voice. “I won’t punch him, I promise. I’m not gonna force you into going out with me, I respect you.” Your eyes lock with his when you hear those last words. You huff. Really didn’t sound like it last night. He knows exactly what you’re thinking and looks away from you embarrassed and angry with himself at how he had acted. He wants to explain himself, but opening up just wasn’t easy. “I really enjoyed talking to you yesterday. I didn’t pretend or suck up to get my brother out of trouble. I genuinely thought you were funny when I laughed and when I asked more about those comics you read I did so because I love how geeky you get talking about it.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt himself fall even more for the girl in front of him. “I couldn’t wrap my head around you-you liking- I mean I couldn’t believe you liked talking to me, so…” There’s a silence as you watch him struggle and search for words. Part of him just wants to walk away, but he sighs, gathering his courage. “I rather ruin my own happiness than actually be happy and lose it. I loved talking to you and I freaked. I’m… sorry.” He looks down, avoiding all eye contact, but you know his words were true. You grab his hand and squeeze it. “No need to apologize. We all freak out sometimes. And I would love to go with you, but we’ll have to walk because I didn’t bring my broom.” You say and point to his broom leaning against the wall. Mattheo stares at you for a few seconds and it’s your smile that reminded him that he needed to say something. “You could also hold on really tight.” He winks, regaining his confidence after you had reassured him.

You press your head against his back and wrap your arms a little tighter around him as Mattheo takes off in the direction of Hogsmeade. You can feel his heart race and close your eyes, feeling butterflies.

***

“Definitely a weird store.” you whisper, making Mattheo chuckle as he shows you around the bizarre but cute trinket shop, pointing at the most peculiar things. You end up spending a ridiculous amount of time deciding which notebooks, plural, you’ll buy. When Mattheo joins you holding a few rare second hand books, you sigh. “I can’t decide. I want them all.” He leans closer to you, making you blush a little. “I’ll buy them all for you.” You give him a sweet smile, before protesting. “You won’t be buying me anything, I have my own money.” He nods with eyes that mock you, quickly grabbing the three notebooks you were already holding. “Sure, little miss independent, but I still want to buy you something as an apology for my behavior.” You open your mouth to say something, but he won’t let you. “I’m all about feminism, love, but please allow me to make up for yesterday.” You huff and follow him to the cashier. “You think you can buy your way out of trouble?” You ask with a playful glint in your eyes. He offers you a sweet smirky smile as he pays. “Yeah, that’s what fines are for. I commit a crime, pay up and we’re all good.” You laugh, leaving the store. “You’ve got the justice system all figured out, Riddle.” He nods, pleased he can make you laugh so easily.

He hands you the notebooks. “Please, I prefer Mattheo.” You get flustered as his gentle smile enchants you. Gods, I’m falling for him. It’s then that you hear Ella and Theo call. “What a coincidence.” Mattheo groans when he spots them grinning in your direction. You step closer facing away from your friends for a moment. “Apparently, they ship up.” You whisper with a happy smile on your face and amused wiggling eyebrows. Mattheo feels his heart squeeze at your beautiful smile. You both walk towards Theo and Ella. “We’re on our way to the Three Broomsticks, you guys wanna join?” Mattheo feels himself heat up at the idea of getting to spend even more time with you, but just as that joy spreads a part of him tells him that you probably don’t want to. With hesitation in his eyes he looks at you, waiting for you to speak up. “If you don’t mind…” Your eyes lock with his. “I would love a drink and a bite.” He’s overjoyed by your answer, but tries to be casual about it. With gleeful eyes he slings his arm around you pulling you closer and placing a soft kiss just above your temple. While walking Mattheo’s arm stays around you, keeping you close and making you blush. Gods, I’m way past falling in love with, I want to marry him, right now!

Word count: 2635

Picture source: https://pin.it/4RWMv3rqa

#slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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wynnyfryd · 8 months

Text

the kind of charm we need

written for @steddiemicrofic september prompt ‘charm’ + 548 words | rated T | pre-relationship, fluff, flirting, boys being dumb

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

“‘Not the kind of charm we need,’” Steve mutters derisively to himself for the tenth time that day as they pull up to the cemetery curb.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin sighs, “your time and talents are sooo wasted on us, Steve, we get it.”

Max glares at him from the rearview like she agrees with Dustin, then shoves out of the backseat and slams the door shut behind her without a word.

Shit.

Steve watches her climb the hill, guilt rolling through his guts. Fuckin’ Nancy. There are bigger problems here.

Like, for example, the metalhead fugitive having a nervous breakdown in a boathouse.

“Oh, my god,” Lucas says from the backseat as the walkie crackles to life, Eddie’s quivering voice calling out for ‘Dustin? Anybody? Hello??’

He passes the walkie up to the front with a look like he’s debating whether or not to just smash the thing to pieces on the asphalt instead. “Can you maybe use your charm on Eddie before I murder him?”

“He’s in distress!” Dustin cries.

“He’s on my last nerve!”

“Seriously, anybody?? Please!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, give me that.” Steve yanks the walkie out of Lucas’ hand, hauls himself out of the car — leans in to tell the two shitheads to stay put and shut up before he closes the door.

He leans against the driver’s side, head throbbing, body sore. Can’t tell if he’s too young or too old for this shit. He pushes the talk button with a begrudgingly slow press.

“Steve Harrington’s babysitting and distraction service, how may I help you? Over.”

“Stevie!” Eddie whoops, sounding genuinely thrilled to hear Steve’s voice. Steve knows he’s just excited to hear anyone’s voice, but. Hm. “Goddamn am I glad to- wait, where’s Henderson? Sinclair? Are they—?”

“They’re fine,” Steve assures before the creep of hysteria he hears can fully take hold. He kicks his heel against the front tire. “They’re waiting in the car. I’ve been instructed to, like, charm you into calming down, or whatever.”

“Charm me?” Eddie’s voice lilts with interest. Steve can almost see the smile, the way he licks across his front teeth.

“Just a— well, not a joke, but, like…” Steve trails off, gives up trying to explain. Nance has this way of making comments that cling like cactus spines. “Never mind.”

“No, no,” Eddie says. “Go on. I’m ready to be charmed.”

And maybe it’s the way Eddie says charmed like a snake scenting the air, or maybe it’s the stress of the day; maybe he’s finally having his own little mental breakdown as a treat, because for some insane reason he leans into whatever this is, pitches his voice all low and slippery and asks, “What are you wearing?”

Silence for a moment, and then Eddie cackles, the noise so loud it overwhelms the little speaker in the walkie, bursts of laughter breaking through the static noise. Steve finds himself laughing, too, a slow thing that builds and builds, swells inside him like blown glass until he’s warm and bright all over.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes when he finally calms. “You’re— you’re ridiculous. Shit, man, I really needed that, you have no idea.”

Steve smiles to himself. Bites the inside of his cheek. Not the kind of charm we need.

No, but someone might.

🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄🪄

note: i am aware that this is canon adjacent (which is to say that i meant for it to take place in canon but i didn’t feel like rewatching the scene for total accuracy so like, canon can bite me it’s close enough)

#steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steddie fluff #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair

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kana-de · 6 months

Note

ik this is a very very basic troupe but

harbinger scara x harbinger reader and they spar and whoever wins gets to do whatever they want to the loser !!

★ summary: harbinger!scaramouche x harbinger!fem!reader. you owe him a wish after losing at a spar. what has he got for you?...

☆ cw: nsfw. cowgirl (riding). use of 'whore', 'pretty thing', 'fuck'. reader is the 3rd harbinger (yes i love this au sm). scara turns his superior into a mess (yes again). lmk if i missed anything. 1616 words.

☾ a/n: yes this is a continuation of the fics about scara x superior harbinger reader bc im a sucker for this au. first fic here. also inspired by this azeru asmr(⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

"i can't let this get serious. can't lose either..." you think, before launching another powerful - but not really - hit with your infused weapon to scaramouche's side.

yes, you're missing on purpose - but not to concede, just to not kill him by accident. "the top-ranked harbingers, up to no. 3, possess powers which can rival the gods." you remind yourself in your own head that you're 3rd, and he's just 6th. if you won't hold back, something very, very bad might happen. so you hold back, fighting not at full strength, throwing infused hits here and there, but mostly just dodging scaramouche's attacks.

the rule is simple: the first one who falls to the ground with either their front or back loses, and the loser owns the winner a wish.

it's not like you want to come off a loser and owe him that shitty wish - you don't want to lose, but you don't want to kill him or seriously injure him too. so, it's either you're fighting carefully, controlling your powers, or either he-

"ah!" you yelp, thoughts interrupting when the handle of his katana hits your back, sending you stumbling over your feet and falling on the white, snow covered ground with your front, your weapon falling off somewhere to the side. it's not long until you feel scaramouche's boot pressing onto your back to keep you pinned to the ground. "what a bastard." a thought crosses your mind, before you lift your head off of the snow just enough to breathe.

"well, well, well... if it isn't the third who owes me a wish now." he taunts, making you huff in frustration.

"i was holding back!" you protest, but he quickly interrupts your further complaints with applying now much more pressure with his foot on your back. you barely hold back an audible gasp, a grunt leaving your lips as you try to keep quiet. scaramouche smirks.

"what a petty excuse." he mocks, his boot leaving your back and letting you properly sit up, grumbling about how "not petty" it really is. "you just wanted me to win, didn't you?" he laughs right after, dissolving his own katana in the air as he stares down at you.

if it weren't for the ranks, anybody could've thought that he's just sparring with another lowly fatui soldier.

"so... a wish." scaramouche taunts, walking slowly around you, snow making a slight sound each time he makes a step. "care to know what my wish is?" he smirks.

"i always knew that you were a bastard." you mumble before shaking your head while standing up. when finished with shaking the snow off your clothes, you cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "so?"

he grins. devilishly. it looks so devilish that you shiver involuntarily, but blame it all on the harsh cold instead.

"let's say... it's a challenge." he laughs yet again, then sighing softly as he finishes, and looks up at you - eyes full of amusement and anticipation.

"we're heading to my chambers, and who cums first - loses. this is my wish, dear [name]."

scaramouche's hands are in a bruising grip on each of your hips, pushing you up and down on his cock as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head. "t-that's it, fuck... ride me like the heated whore you are." he mumbles, helping you with the pace.

you fail to make a normal response, the only sounds coming from your mouth being small whimpers and moans which you fail to muffle by biting on your lower lip. scaramouche watches as your breasts sway up and down under your almost translucent shirt - how considerate of you to wear this exact one for a meeting with him.

one of his hands, not even trying to fight the temptation, goes up right underneath your shirt, squeezing one of your breasts a few times and rubbing your nipple. you whine and let out another quiet moan, this time a bit longer than the previous one. he smirks, but it's not long before you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him in revenge for his little doings. your eyes open to look down at him as you do so, and you watch as he grits his teeth and his breathing hitches.

"f-fuck- don't do that..." scaramouche mutters quietly, exhaling shakily. you grin at him, grinding your hips up and down on his length, and then your walls clench around him once again, to make him cum first. he breathes out once more, his eyes looking up at you, completely dazed as he looks at your bouncing upper body. your legs and hips are probably sore from moving so much, but he doesn't care - not when you looked so fucked out, with your hair messy, lips swollen while biting your lip again, and even slightly teary eyes.

he knew you did your best to make him cum first - to see him finally lose.

you knew he did his best to make you cum first - to see you finally break down under his influence, letting him have his way with you.

"look at that pretty expression." scaramouche chuckles as his hand slides back to your hip. to prevent you from stopping, he sets the pace of your movements himself - or, at least, fixes it to be a bit more quick. "the mighty third harbinger trying her best not to lose again... what a pathetic sight."

"s-shit... slow down, please, scara..." you mutter, head tilted towards the ceiling as you feel him pushing your hips down on his cock in a fast pace, trying to make you lose control first.

"oh, what, are you about to cum, pretty thing?" he taunts mockingly and immediately feels you clenching around him as he calls you that. "what was that, pretty thing? you like that?" he raises an eyebrow up at you expectantly, chin prodded up as he keeps pushing your cunt down on his length.

"n-no!.." you quickly reply, trying so bad to prove him wrong, yet your voice is too weak and high-pitched due to - you can't keep denying it - how good you feel and how close you are. not too close, but close nevertheless. "i-i won't- a-ah!.."

your head throws back in pleasure as the tip of his cock proceeds to kiss your cervix, and scaramouche nearly moans himself. there's no denying that he feels just as good as you do - but he will definitely not lose. he'll do everything in his power to make you cum first.

even if it means to resort to cheating methods.

one of scaramouche's hands slides from your hip to your clit, his thumb starting to rub it in slow, circle motions, as he watches you stutter, writhe and whimper, your unsteady and shaky hand coming to grab his wrist in a futile attempt to stop him. his cock still sliding in and out of your hole, hitting all the right spots makes it even better worse.

"s-scara, nghh... 's unfair, wait, d-don't- ah!.. you- cheater..." you squeak at him, but, already now chasing your building up orgasm, can't do anything to stop him and yourself. your up-and-down moves become grinding partially, and then his hand pushes your hips down, making it thrusts again.

scaramouche won't lie - he too wants to cum, he needs to cum, but before he does he needs to see how you'll break.

and he himself won't last long.

"t-that's it, fuck- come on, cum, pretty thing, i know you want to cum..." he murmurs, hearing you whine out loud at the petname again, walls clenching around his girth once more. he notices your bouncing has become slow, showing that you don't want to lose despite how bad you want to finish, and the hand that rests on your hip starts to set up the pace itself for you, and you're barely able (read as: not able at all) to hold back a long, weak mewl that slowly becomes a moan and a shaky breath, as he continues to rub your sensitive clit.

"s-shitshitshitshit- scara, scara, scara, i'm c'mming, i- g'nna- ah-"

you cum with a trembling, long lasting whimper, head throwing back as you subconsciously continue to move your hips slightly up and down and forward to ride out the aftermath. your lips part and you pant, chest moving when you do.

scaramouche looks completely mesmerized by your fucked out expression - you even have little drops of tears in the corners of your pretty eyes. he finishes right after you with a shaky exhale, spilling ropes of his warm cum inside you, watching as it drips out of your hole while he's still inside you, creating a white ring around his cock. he pushes your hips completely down onto him to stop your movements and to not let any more of his seed spill out of you.

"[n-name]..." he breathes out, eyelids closing as he tries to calm his unsteady whiffs down. he then chuckles, eyes opening and looking at you. "you lost though. again."

"s-shut up..." you whisper, muttering a few more curses about what a bastard he is.

scaramouche laughs once more. "care to repeat that, pretty thing?" he coos, and then hear you mewl, your cunt clenching around him again.

"no. just shut up already." you mumble, falling on top of him, not caring about that you lost, or that you both need to clean up after this little... competition of yours.

"alright then..." he snickers, letting out a deep breath and putting his hands on your back as if soothingly, rubbing your skin through your shirt in circles. "didn't know you could become such a mess.."

"shut up!"

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partycatty · 1 month

Text

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk11 #marley writes ☆

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thirstworldproblemss · 10 months

Note

Favorite moon Knight fics??

Fav Moon Knight Fics you say....?

It's possible I might have a few so freakin' many, 'nonny, you don't even know...

List Notes:

Fics are Sorted by type of pairing, then alphabetically by Title

Uses AO3 Ratings: General audiences - Teen & up - Mature - Explicit

Check your Content Settings if you're 18+ and want to be able to see mature content (Settings -> scroll down to Content You See -> Community Labels -> Mature -> show)

Graphics: MK header is mine; adorable moon & stars divider by @straywords

Links sometimes misbehave on desktop–If none of the links are working, try opening in dashboard mode (click the eye-shaped button in the far top right)

— MK System x Reader — .

B-Roll by @heybluechild [ Marc x F reader, 2.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: You and Marc make a sex tape. (smut, humor)

Chocolate by @bits-and-babs [ Steven x F reader, 6.1k, E, oneshot ] Summary: After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly. (pining, soft smut)

Disaster [ao3] by @softlyspector [ Marc-centric MK system x F reader, 6k, T, oneshot ] Summary: Marc's mental health takes a turn for the worse when you give him some news. After chasing him to Chicago, you, Steven, and Jake are left to pick up the pieces. (heavy angst--mind the warnings!, angst with a hopeful ending)

The First Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional [ Marc x F reader, 3.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: The first time you and Marc catch one another in a tight spot, you both make it out by the skin of your teeth. You’re both wounded; you’re both riled up as all hell. (violence, angry smut, feeeeeeelings)

Gift of Min & Redux [ao3] by @astroboots [ Steven x F reader x Marc (x Jake), 21k, E, twoshot ] Summary: Marc brings back a trinket from his trip that may or may not contain an ancient sex god/aphrodisiac. Either way, Marc’s not telling, and it’s for you and Steven to find out. (Smut, sex pollen)

Idling by @juneknight [ Jake-centric MK system x F reader, 10k, E, in progress as of 7/6/23 ] Summary: Jake keeps having to front for Marc and Steven's new girlfriend. (angst--mind the warnings!, promises of future smut)

keep your vigils on the road [ao3] by @charnelhouse [ Steven x F reader x Marc (x Jake), 4.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: They’re on the run. It’s kind of a vacation. (smut, violence)

Killing me by @astroboots [ Jake x F reader (x Steven/Marc), 2.4k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Jake takes it “easy” on you after a long night with Steven. (smut)

Moon Struck [ao3] by @softlyspector [ MK system x dancer F reader, 43.3k, E, series ] Summary: Steven asks you out, Marc falls in love (slowburn, some angst with a happy ending, eventual smut)

No fish were harmed in the making of this meet-cute by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc Spector x F reader, 2.1k, G, oneshot ] Summary: You have a dilemma. You don’t want to sell the man any more fish. But you do want him to keep coming back to your shop 👀 (fluff, humor, angry meet cute)

Obsessed by @juneknight [ Marc x F reader, college AU, 7.2k, E, twoshot in an ongoing series ] Summary: Marc likes eating pussy and offers to eat yours. (smut, college roommates AU) ...Honestly, I probably could have listed ALL of Dorm Room Marc here. Other Favs: The Thing About Marc Spector, Pushing Buttons, Sweet Requitement

Pornstar MK Boys: Marc, Steven, Jake by @runa-falls [ MK system x F reader, porn star AU, 3.0k, E, threeshot ] Summary: as a fluffer, it’s your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences (porn star AU, smut)

Shadow of a Doubt by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc x F reader x Steven (x Jake), 7.1k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Marc was first. Steven was second. Khonshu’s never going to love you. …And you’re wondering if Jake will ever get there at all. (relationship/character exploration, some smut, angst with a hopeful ending)

Sting by @bits-and-babs [ Marc x F reader, 3.5k,E, oneshot ] Summary: Marc relies on your amateur skills to patch him up following a brutal fight. (blood, smut, pain kink)

Stone Heart by @magpie-to-the-morning [ Steven x demisexual F reader, 1.5k, T, twoshot ] Summary: Maybe Steven’s one-sided friendship isn’t so one-sided after all... AKA a Moon Knight Pygmalion AU (fluff, romance)

Take Care of You by @tropes-and-tales [ Steven x F reader x Marc, 3.8k, E, oneshot ] Summary: For Steven, it was love at first sight. For Marc, it was a slower thing. (smut, feeeeeeelings)

Where To, Miss? by @foxilayde [ Jake x F reader, E, 7.5k, oneshot ] Summary: Jake Lockley is your driver, escorting you safely in your nighttime travels. There’s something about him. Tonight, you’re going to find out what that something is. (violence, blood, and surprisingly soft smut)

— Intra-MK System Pairings — .

All this time I was just waiting for you by @nakimochiku [ Steven x Marc, E, 20.6k, complete ] Summary: Things never seem to go Steven’s way romantically. Marc helps him work on that. (pining, smut with feeeeeeelings)

in the aftermath by queenie [ Steven x Marc x Jake, E, 37.5k, complete ] Summary: Having his own body is strange (separated into their own bodies after the show AU, slow burn, eventual smut)

last night i watched myself sleep by sweaterlou [ Steven x Marc, E, 19.4k, complete ] Summary: A look into Marc and Steven's relationship progression; from sharing a body to sharing a bed. (pining, smut)

the loneliest number by unstuckintime [ Steven x Marc, 9.6k, E, complete ] Summary: The problem with Steven is that he wants so much and he’s so lonely. He’s so lonely and he asks Marc for it all the time. (smut, feeeeeeelings)

making two reflections into one by marin27 [ Steven x Marc, 101k (as of 9/22/22) , M , incomplete ] Summary: After falling into the sands of Duat, Steven is sent back in time to fix things. He may or may not end up fixing the wrong, but no less important, things. (TL;DR: The fic where Steven fixes his relationship with Marc as the Moon Knight plot happens in the background.) (back in time redo AU, slowburn, pining, feeeeeeelings)

Our Body by apartment [ Marc x Steven, 1.4k, E, oneshot ] Summary: There are benefits to sharing a body, Steven realizes, especially when getting kidnapped is commonplace these days. Or: the "you don't have him; he has you" meme, plus marc's attempts at being a boyfriend (violence, smut)

paths diverted by solarzenith [ Steven x Marc, separate bodies, 6.8k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Khonshu reanimates them, with an ultimatum: come back as one, or come back separate. Marc makes the decision readily, too easily, and Steven had no idea Marc wanted him out of their head so badly. (pining, angst with a happy ending, smut)

see through my act, tell me I'm wrong by snapdragonpop007 [ Marc/Jake x Steven, 31k, T, complete ] Summary: “Leave him alone,” Marc scowled up at Jake from the reflection on the tiled floor. Jake ignored Marc and made a beeline right towards the gift shop as The Man In The Gift Shop Named Steven got back to his feet and went back to the register. “Jake if you go in there I swear to god—” (Steven gets a separate body AU, slow burn, feeeeeeelings)

— Canon / MK System x Layla El Faouly — .

do not enter is written on the doorway (but you can stay) by FlowerCitti [ incidental Marc x Layla x Steven, 19.8k, M, complete ] Summary: When it came to heroes and other vigilantes, Marc didn’t have any interest in interacting with them. He travels with Khonshu’s will, continuing to protect those under the moon and following through with Khonshu’s severe judgments. He kills and keeps Khonshu content and fed, shielded under the darkness of night and the flickers of the moon. (Or, Marc meets the Avengers. And then gets shot in the head.) (plot-centric MCU crossover)

Marc/Layla Ficlet by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc x Layla, 0.3k, T, oneshot ] Summary: How did Marc tie the knot with Layla? (mild angst)

not quite a meet-cute by notmadderred [ MK system-centric, Marc x Layla x Steven, 8.3k, T, complete ] Summary: Layla meets Jake and things get complicated for both of them. (character exploration & bonding)

so this could be the death of me (or maybe just a better me) by @quinnathy [ MK system, Marc x Layla mention, 25k, T, complete ] Summary: One time Marc saves Steven, one time Jake saves Marc, and one time Steven saves Jake. (And so forth.) (character exploration and bonding, some angst)

To Sleep by @radiowallet [ Steven/Marc x Layla, 1.2k, T, drabble series, ongoing ] Summary: Sometimes Steven dreams. For Marc it's a nightmare. Layla El-Faouly does not sleep. (angst, yearning, mentions of canon-typical violence)

— Canon / Gen (no Pairing) — .

Jake's not very good, very bad day. No worse than that by Beyney [ Jake-centric, gen (no pairing), 6k, T, oneshot ] Summary: The Avengers think Moon Knight just has no marbles left to lose. The system is not amused. Khonshu is gleeful, and Jake just doesn't want to deal with this shit anymore. At least the god will keep bringing him back if this mission goes way more sideways than it already has, right? ...Right? (MCU crossover, Jake whump, violence/death mention, does some of the MCU crew a little bit dirty for the sake of the story)

That's all I've got for you for now, 'nonny, but this is definitely a non-exhaustive list. I've read so many wonderful MK fics, I'm sure I've missed some that should've been on here and will no doubt discover even more amazing stories in the future. Chances are I'll wind up coming back to add to the list, and you all should feel free to reblog/reply/send me an ask with your fav MK fics!!

Thank you for the ask, dear anon friend! And thank you for being patient with me—it turns out I have a lot more fav MK fics than I originally thought, and it took me a little while to get this list together. Hopefully they'll be something new-to-you here for you to enjoy! 💕

🧡 twp

Want more to read? Check out my other Author, Fic, & Fanwork Recs

#oi stuff #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #marc x layla #steven x layla #marc x steven #fic recs #fic rec list #thirstworldproblemss #twp rec list #q

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

Text

When Nico asks him out, there is vomit on his scrubs. His hair is disgusting. The bags under his eyes are actually the size of Texas, and he was born there so he says it in good confidence.

Also, it goes right over his head.

“Gods, yeah,” Will sighs, relieved. “Yeah, I could —” He laughs, a little hysterically, scrubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink the sudden onslaught of dizzy away. “I’m starving. I am — tired of this stupid room. I could use dinner out.”

“Great,” Nico says, rocking back on his heels. He twists his skull ring around his finger, like he does when he’s nervous, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that Will has learned, in the past few weeks of his help in the infirmary, is a smile. “I’ll — um, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Will glances down at the rapidly-drying splatter of vomit spreading from his right shoulder all the way down to his belly button. The nasty brown-yellow colour of it clashes so violently with the mint-green of his scrubs that it might be a felony, actually. The one whole spaghetti noodle smack in the middle of it does not help.

“Yeah, I’ll need at least that long in the shower.”

Nico’s face goes through a very complicated string of emotions. “I think you look nice,” he offers.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nice’, di Angelo,” Will snorts. He gestures behind him. “Bye, Nico. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Right. Bye, Will.”

“Hey, first name status!”

“Shut up, Solace. Go change your shirt.”

Will snickers, jogging down the Big House stairs with a backwards wave. He hustles past campers jogging towards their daily activities, ducking into the Apollo cabin before someone can ask him for something.

It’s been a busy few weeks.

The Giant War was…well. It’s over, now, is the point, but it was not without casualties, and it was not without injury, and injury, and injury. Plus the flu that just had to hit right before the Romans were about to head back to California. Will has spent more nights in the infirmary in the last few weeks than he ever has, including after the Titan War. Understaffed does not begin to cover it. He had to beg Cecil for his secret Redbull stash after his third straight day on his feet, praying to his father, his aunt, and any other god who was listening to keep his hands from shaking. Without Nico’s help — well, he doesn’t want to think about how things would have gone without Nico’s help.

He’d slept through his promised three days in the infirmary. Will had restitched his werewolf scratching (—his werewolf scratches his fucking werewolf scratches his fucking shitting goddamn werewolf scratches that he stitched with sewing thread and left for gods know how many days and Will is going to quit his job, he is, he is going to live in a hut in the Florida Everglades and chase questers away with a fucking broom—) as he slept on the first day, then spent the next days glaring at him in seething jealousy.

He had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to sleep so godsdamn badly. And yet. He was plastering salve on the translucent fingers of a dumbass who pushed himself too hard.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will had mocked, ignoring the yelled you’re losing it, Willy! from Kayla as she passed by. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I can shadow travel wherever I want. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. Catch me I’m about to pass out. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

“I never asked you to catch me,” muttered Nico, groggily, and Will had screamed.

Not his best moment.

Luckily, his string of colourful cursing had killed any idea that Will was scared of him, or something, and the list of chores he’d doled out the second he made sure Nico could walk had put the idea in the grave.

He still can’t quite believe that Nico actually, like…listened. But he’s a good bandage cutter (very accurate) and, as a super fun bonus, the Romans were all scared of him, so when they tried to get out of their cots while their limbs were literally hanging onto them by a thread, Will just had Nico stand behind him and glare at them until they sat their asses back down.

(“You are without a doubt the best nurse I’ve ever had,” Will had grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Austin, who lazily tried to trip him. Nico had rolled his eyes, huffing as if he thought Will was joking.)

“Wow,” says Cecil, sitting in Will’s bed for some reason. He rakes his eyes up and down his body, whistling appreciatively at the towel around his waist. Will rolls his eyes and starts digging through his dresser drawers. “Look at you! So human-like! No zombie eyebags to be seen!”

“Showers don’t erase eyebags, dick for brains.”

“True, but you’re so hot when you’re not covered in blood and vomit that I can overlook them.”

“Kiss my ass, Cecil.”

“Really? Is that permission?”

Will laughs, admitting defeat. He tugs on a pair of boxers, then tosses a few clothing options on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be out, Zeus’ beard. Nico’s taking me to dinner; d’you know if it’s cold in the city? And I should probably wear real shoes, right, Annabeth mentioned something about New York bacteria —”

“Woah, woah, hold on, William, pause there for a second.”

Will looks up, frowning. “What?”

“Nico’s taking you to dinner?”

Cecil’s eyes are wide. Reflexively, Will pats his chin, paranoid he’s got something on his face.

“…Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing.” Quickly, Cecil schools his face back to its usual smirk, leaning casually against the bedpost. (He misses. Mercifully, Will decides to let it slide and wait for him to straighten himself. He’s a good friend, like that.)

“Well, obviously something.”

“Nope! I’m just —” He softens. “I’m glad you’re taking a break, Willy. We’ve been worried about you. Remind me to send him a lock pick set.”

“Most people send fruit,” Will suggests gently. He cuffs Cecil playfully on the jaw, rolling his eyes when Cecil catches his hand and presses a loudly exaggerated kiss to it. “Or flowers. Also, don’t call me Willy.”

“Sorry, Willy.”

“Gods, you’re infuriating.”

“Mhm. And yet you adore me. Oou, wear the grey plaid shirt, it makes your eyes look bluer. And for the love of Hermes, do not wear shorts.”

———

At seven o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?”

“Nico!” Will says brightly. “Hi! You don’t have to wait by the door, dorkus. Come in.”

With a second of hesitation, Nico steps in. The usually creaky floorboards are silent under his black Chucks. Will chooses to believe that’s on purpose, because it’s cooler.

“You can sit if you want! Unless we gotta leave right away. I wasn’t actually sure, are we just going to McDonald’s or something? Also, I told Cecil he couldn’t come, I figured three would make it a party or something but lemme know if we’re bringing friends along and —”

“We’re not,” Nico interrupts.

“—tell them.” Will blinks at him, then smiles. “Just you and me, then.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah.” He glances up at Will, and away again, like he can’t hold his gaze for too long. He looks a little flushed. “You, uh. You braided your hair.”

“What? Oh!” Will touches the French braids on either side of his head, smiling. “Yeah, I finally had the time. Keeps my hair back better than much else. Hey, Nico, you good? You looked flushed, maybe you should —”

Nico catches his hand. He smiles.

“I’m fine, Solace. You just look nice, is all.”

Will snorts. “No kidding. Anything’s better than the vomit shirt.”

———

Nico refuses to answer any of his questions about where they’re going.

Or, well. Will asks him and endless string of questions and receives only hums or nods in response, except for the odd huff of laughter when Will pouts.

“C’mon! Can’t I just know where we’re going?”

“You’re about to.”

“I mean now, Death Breath.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

“Ugh.”

Nico places a fleeting hand on his elbow as they reach the base of Half-Blood Hill, stalling him.

“Wait.”

Will pauses, listening. His heartbeat picks up. Monster? Monsters?

He glances over at Nico, noticing the tension in his face, the twist to his mouth, the —

Oh, no he doesn’t.

“Hold it, Gerard Way!”

Nico startles.

“What?”

“I know that face! You are not shadow-travelling us to the city, no way, no how, do you want to dissolve —”

“Will,” Nico interrupts, laughing softly, “Will, trust me for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Nico blinks. Will flushes.

“That was fast.”

“Well! Well.”

“I’m not shadow-travelling,” Nico promises, changing the subject when it’s clear Will has nothing to say. “I’m just summoning our ride. I promise it won’t drain me.”

“…Fine.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nico screws up his face again. The tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose are more obvious when he wrinkles it. Will has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from touching them.

One moment, there’s nothing but empty road in front of them. The next, there’s a massive fucking limo, driven by what Will can only describe as a ghoul.

“There,” Nico says happily. “Our ride!”

He jogs over to the sleek black limo, leaving Will gaping. With a quick hand to keep the driver from getting up, he opens the back door, gesturing broadly.

“C’mon, Sunshine.”

Will recovers quickly. He’s never been in a limo before — hell, he’s hardly ever been in cars. He slides into the black leather seats, gaping, barely noticing Nico ducking in and closing the door behind him.

“Cleveland and Merrick, please, Jules-Albert.”

Limos are crazy.

If hotel mini bars were, like, physical places rather than tiny bottles in mini fridges, they would look like limos. The windows are tinted, so the interior is dark, illuminated a softly glowing red by strips of LEDs. There is an actual TV screen, although it’s not on. Will feels like James Bond.

“Gift from my dad,” Nico explains. “He knows he can’t always be there to drive me around, so he got Jules-Albert to take me places. He’s cool. He even answers to me, technically, and not my dad, so if anything happens back here he won’t snitch.” Nico gets so violently red he damn near goes invisible under the LEDs. “Not that — I mean, it’s more like —”

“That is so cool,” Will breathes. “Oh my gods, Nico, you are literally the coolest demigod in the world.”

“Hah,” says Nico weakly. The limo (!!) slows to a stop. “We are — here, let’s go!”

Nico practically throws himself out of the limo. Will takes one last look, thanks Jules-Albert, and hurries out after him.

———

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Nico looks at him defensively. The corner of his mouth twitches. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Apollo Restaurant Diner, reads the garish, flashing yellow sign. Seniors half-off!

Will nudges Nico’s side as they walk in. “You should ask for the discount.”

“Keep it up and you’re paying for yourself, Solace.”

Nico guides them into a booth by the window before he can say anything. In seconds, a server is strolling up to them, popping their bubblegum and grinning.

“Welcome to Apollo’s, where if we don’t predict your order, it’s free! I’ll get you guys some sodas, and…hm. Fries to share, I think.”

They’re off, ponytail bouncing, before either of them can say anything.

“Well,” says Nico after a moment. “I guess we’re having fries.”

Will snorts. “You love fries. You love anything fried and battered, because there is nothing you love more than poor decision making.”

“Caught me, Solace.”

“Aw. I thought —”

Their server pops back in with their sodas, nodding as they thank them.

“— I thought I was bumped up to first name status! You called me Will earlier.”

Nico slurps obnoxiously at his cherry coke.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Not a jury in the world will believe you, Solace.”

Will blows his straw wrapper at him. Nico barely dodges, laughing — a real, open laugh, where some of the guard drops from his shoulders, where his smile is wide enough to show his teeth, where his dark eyes cringe near shut.

“You’re so lame. Get your stupid straw wrapper away from me.”

Will feels like he doesn’t respond for ages, mesmerized by the crooked curve of Nico’s smile. There’s mischief in that smile, and oddly it makes shyness bloom in Will’s chest, it makes the tips of his ears red, makes him duck his head.

Will’s saved from trying to come up with a comment by the massive — truly gigantic — platter of fries set between them.

“Holy shit,” breathes Will, alarmed.

“Holy shit,” breathes Nico, eyes wide. The smile grows wider. “Holy shit!”

Will’s stomach growls. He’s reminded how truly hungry he is, and without another word, the two of them dig in.

They end up ordering another platter. Will theorizes that, in total, they eat at least seven whole potatoes.

“How many fries do you think is in one potato?”

“A yukon?” says Will. “Like, twenty-five, at least. Wait, hold on, pass me your napkin, lemme do the math.”

“Gods, you are such a nerd.”

Will loses count of how many times they refill their sodas. Too many. Camp food is usually very healthy — as head medic, Will has to set an example, but it’s just Nico, here. Will eats himself into a minor food coma and relishes in it. When Nico asks if he wants to order one of the giant milkshakes, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Duh. Strawberry.”

“Gross, Solace. Vanilla or nothing.”

“Basic ass bitch.”

“At least I’m not vying for strawberry!”

By the time Nico gets up to go get their bill, the sun has long since set. Will realises he forgot to put his watch back on after his shower, and has no idea what time it actually is.

“Nine-thirty ish,” Nico says, opening the limo door for him. “We’ll be back at camp at ten.”

Will grimaces. “Fuck. Will Jules-Albert chill overnight? If we try to go back to our cabins, the curfew harpies are gonna eat us.”

“Scared, Solace?”

Nico’s eyes are bright and teasing. Will wonders how the hell other campers find him so frightening — the little twitches of his mouth are so obvious. Some people are just oblivious.

“Of course I’m scared, you dickhead. What am I gonna do, sing a hymn until they go away?”

Nico snorts. “You worry too much. They’re afraid of me, you know. They’ll steer clear.”

“You have a lot of confidence in how much you scare people, which is crazy for someone who’s five eight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Will grins. “Never.”

The drive back to camp feels shorter than it is. The limo’s seats are stupid comfortable, and Nico is a warm presence beside him, and more than anything, Will is exhausted. Last time he slept was — Thursday? He’s pretty sure? He definitely slept on Wednesday, and he’s pretty sure Kayla locked him in the back office with a pillow on Thursday. But maybe that was this morning.

“Will, hey.” A cool, calloused hand brushes over his forehead, and he leans into it, humming. “Get up, you loser. We’re here.”

Will groans. “Five more minutes.”

The soft, gravelly chuckles are the most musical things he’s ever heard. “Up you get, Sunshine, or I’ll let the harpies eat you.”

That gets Will up fast. He shoves Nico away, who’s still snickering at him, grumbling as he crawls out of the limo.

“It’s like you want me to die of stress.”

“Nah.”

They wave goodbye to Jules-Albert, who disappears in a blink. Halfway up the hill, a hand closes around his. Will glances over to Nico in surprise, but he looks resolutely ahead.

“I can feel you freaking out.” He clears his throat. “I told you, Solace. I’ll protect you.”

“That’s not what you said,” Will grumbles, but it’s hard to get his attitude across when his cheeks ache from smiling.

Nico ends up being right — the harpies steer clear of them. He looks very smug about being right, smirking all the way up to the Apollo Cabin door. He walks him up the creaking steps, pausing at the door. He lets go of Will’s hand, which is kind of a bummer. Will had liked holding his hand — physical proof that Nico was becoming more comfortable with him.

“So,” Nico says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” Will parrots, grinning. He grins wider at Nico’s scowl, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the Apollo cabin. “I had fun tonight, Nico. I needed that.”

Nico’s whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Will smiles at him again. “Thank you.”

For a second, Nico’s slight smile melts into a more serious expression. Will finds himself lingering, searching Nico’s face. Waiting.

Quick as a dart, Nico leans up and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“Oh,” Will breathes, eyes wide. His fingers come up and brush the spot Nico kissed, skin tingling.

Nico looks at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

It takes Will a solid few seconds to answer. Even then, it’s not any recognizable words — more of an embarrassing hnnnnngh wha.

Nico grins. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Nico — wait.”

“Harpies, Sunshine.”

Will could swear he sees Nico’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks away. Which — huh! Pardon! Excuse.

“Nico! Was! Was this a date!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Will.”

“Nico!”

Nico disappears down the bend without answering. Will manages to catch the curve of his smile before he goes.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

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