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loveinhawkins · 10 months

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Every so often, Eddie will get the bus to Starcourt Mall (because what else is there to do?) and watch the world go by.

It’s not like he’s above a cliché or two—maybe he wants to indulge in being a lone figure within the crowd. Maybe he just feels like wallowing in the aimlessness of it all, damn it.

This is where Wayne would point out that Eddie is exactly the opposite of aimless, what with how he’d stormed into the trailer last month, failed test results in hand and snarled, “Next year. I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em.”

But there’s a long time between now and the new school year starting, the summer stretching out before him like taffy. He’d tried to start his reading list early again, but that’s never done him much good; this time he’d gotten through one chapter of Moby-fucking-Dick before despairing.

So. People-watching at the mall it is.

It’s surprisingly not all that terrible an activity, apart from discovering which teachers are suddenly very passionate about jazzercise—a sight Eddie could’ve blissfully lived the rest of his life without seeing.

There’s also the confirmation that the Starcourt commercial he saw was not a vivid hallucination—that Scoops Ahoy is, in fact, real.

And so are the ridiculous sailor outfits.

Well, I’ll be damned, Eddie thinks.

Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are an incredibly unlikely duo. It’s like the universe abandoned all sense, spun a wheel and paired them up just for the fun of it.

When he joins the line for ice-cream, Eddie initially thinks he’ll find the whole thing laughable: seeing people forced to work together when usually the laws of the universe (and Hawkins High) would keep them as far apart as possible.

But then he discovers that the ice-cream parlor is packed, one hell of a bottleneck forming right up at the counter, where folks are waiting for a seemingly never-ending amount of floats to be poured.

It takes a while for Eddie to near the front of the line; enough time passes that he honestly feels kind of bad for even taking up a spot, for adding to the workload that has Robin shouting herself hoarse with every, “Next please!”

He strongly considers just leaving, but he hesitates for a moment too long, and unintentionally meets eyes with…

“Hi,” Steve says, pleasantly enough, if a little distracted as he prods at the soda machine. He smiles apologetically. “Be with you in a sec.”

Eddie almost wants to tell him you know it’s me, right? He doesn’t.

It’s not that he expects Steve to be mean, exactly; it’s just that he’s getting more than familiar with the whole post graduation routine. It’s like there’s a secret page in folks’ yearbooks, instructing them to look at anyone still attached to high school with either indifference or embarrassment—or both.

Steve must not have got the memo.

“Next!”

Robin beckons Eddie forward with a sweeping arm gesture, looks somewhere behind him and sighs in relief, puffing out her cheeks.

“Oh, thank God. You stopped the tide.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder; sure enough, he’s the last person left to order.

“Don’t think I’ve got that power, Buckley.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Eddie almost laughs. There was a rumour in his first attempt at senior year that he could curse people: it only came about because he ominously whispered some Pig Latin he’d once overheard Robin herself use during History, and Molly Pritchard crossed herself in horror.

“I’ll have a vanilla cup.”

“Ooh,” Robin says dryly, “adventurous.”

“Nothing wrong with a classic,” Eddie says.

Robin smirks as she rings him up. They don’t know each other that well, but there’s admittedly something nice in the distant familiarity they share; at the very least, she’s not gonna add to any potential awfulness when school starts again.

While Robin hands over his change, Steve is filling up a cup—Eddie would say he’s uncharacteristically quiet, except for the fact that he doesn’t actually know what truly is characteristic of Steve Harrington.

Plus he’s stuck on the fact that he only paid for one scoop, but the amount of ice-cream Steve manages to cram in is almost double that.

And he does this ridiculous little twirly thing with the scooper before he even reaches for the tray of vanilla.

Eddie tells himself he notices just because the move is so stupid; it’s definitely not because he’s noticing Steve’s hands in general. It’s just… eyes get drawn to movement. That’s all.

“Syrup?” Steve asks, nodding his head at the dispensers.

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Strawberry.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Oh, don’t do that, man. Get it with butterscotch.”

Robin’s eyes rise to the heavens, as if some longstanding argument has begun once again.

“And why should I do that, Harrington?” Eddie says.

“Because,” Steve says, like he’s patiently explaining that two plus two equals four, “butterscotch is better. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Robin parrots mockingly. She closes the register drawer and says, “I’m taking my break, Popeye. Try not to judge the customers too hard.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he hears Steve mutter under his breath as she leaves, “Seriously? You’re worse than me.”

His cup of ice-cream is under hostage, apparently. Steve still hasn’t pressed down on the damn syrup pump.

“This your usual sales technique?” Eddie says. “Browbeating the customers?”

“Only the lucky ones,” Steve returns mildly.

Eddie scoffs. “Fine. Gimme the damn butterscotch then.”

“Knew you’d come to your senses,” Steve says.

He hands the cup over without any more quips; just as he’s done with the syrup, a large family swoops in with multiple sundae orders.

Eddie eats the ice-cream while waiting for the bus back home. He grudgingly has to admit that the butterscotch isn’t bad.

But that’s not really what’s bugging him.

He has to know if it’s a fluke—if maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington only deigned to talk to him because he was, like… delirious or something. Maybe the flood of demanding customers scrambled his brain.

Of course, when Eddie goes back to the mall, it’s purely to test his theory. Strictly observational—educational, even. Like… summer school. (Take that, O’Donnell.)

The bus drops them off a little bit before the mall actually opens, but they’re allowed inside anyway. Eddie inwardly cringes at the sight of grown adults tapping persistently on the windows of still closed stores. Jesus Christ, they’re worse than zombies.

Scoops Ahoy isn’t open yet either; Eddie’s soon witness to a very stressed looking Steve striding over to unlock the place.

He flits in and out of view for a while, taking mops round to the back, filling up the jars of toppings.

Eddie actually considers heading over to Waldenbooks to check if it’s open (it’s not like he’s coming here for one store in particular, obviously), but then he hears metal clacking against the tiles.

When he looks back at Scoops Ahoy, he spots a set of keys on the ground right at the entrance, Steve nowhere in sight.

Goddamn it. He’s gonna have to be a Good Samaritan. Ugh.

Eddie briefly looks up to the ceiling as if he can condemn the ways of the universe from here. Then he sighs, picks up the keys and steps into the store.

“Harrington, you dropped these—”

“Shit,” comes Steve’s voice from the back, followed by an almighty clatter.

Eddie hesitates before his curiosity inevitably wins out.

He goes behind the register, through the door and finds the aftermath of complete disaster: Steve standing in front of an entire vat of ice-cream that’s been dropped onto the floor. It’s splattered all up his legs, cookies and cream clinging to the hairs.

Holy shit, stop thinking about his leg hair, Eddie thinks.

Up until this point in time, he’d believed it was physically impossible to look anything other than comical in that stupid sailor outfit.

(Well. Almost.)

But right now Steve looks absolutely tragic. Like he’s a crew member on the Titanic levels of tragic, and he’s about to deliver the news that there’s simply no more lifeboats.

Steve meets Eddie’s gaze.

“That was limited edition,” he says pitifully.

They both look down at the floor.

“Well,” Eddie says. “It definitely is now. Still, uh, what’s the phrase? No use crying over spilled… ice-cream.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna cry over it,” Steve says. “I’m gonna scream.” For a moment he looks murderous. “Robin’s not coming in.”

“Is she sick?”

Steve snorts. “Sick my ass. No, she’s keeping The Hawk in business—gonna see a movie about an ice-cream parlor, something like that.”

“An ice-cream parlor,” Eddie echoes. “Um. Are you sure she didn’t just make it up?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s one of those foreign—never mind.”

He cuts himself off, lifts up one foot, as if he’s become aware of his predicament all over again.

“I was fine with her ditching, she can do whatever; it’s not like we have managers checking up on us. But I forgot a huge delivery was coming, and it’s Saturday so it’s gonna be crazy, so I’m not gonna have time to put all of it in the freezer or check the stock chart, so it’s all just gonna become fucking soup, Jesus, maybe I should just throw everything on the floor and—”

“I could help,” Eddie interrupts, because apparently a little alien has burrowed into his brain and now he just says things.

Steve stares at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Eddie says. He wishes his brain-invading alien an immediate death. “Bad idea, just—”

“No, I mean why would you do that? Dude, it’s not like I can pay you or—”

“I don’t really have plans,” Eddie says—oh great, the alien hasn’t died! “Uh, you can pay me with, like, a name tag?” What? Stop talking. “Like a souvenir?” Stop! “Oh sorry,” Steve says, as if on automatic pilot. He pulls at his shirt. “We don’t have—our names are stitched on.”

I was kidding about the name tag. Actually, maybe you should just murder me instead.

By some miracle, Eddie’s expression must somehow still look fairly normal because Steve continues, deadly serious, “Munson. Are you sure?”

This is the time to back out—

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Look, man, it’s no big deal. I can clean this up and—”

A bell starts ringing from the front, being struck over and over again in the most obnoxious way possible.

Something in Steve’s eyes flickers, a shift from panic into planning mode, and Eddie has the sudden bizarre feeling that this is what the basketball team saw whenever a crisis timeout was called.

“You sure you’re okay if I leave you back here?” Steve asks, and the gravity with which he says it threatens to send Eddie into hysterics—Christ, you’d think they were in the goddamn trenches.

“Think I’ll survive,” Eddie says. “I’m basically cleaning up, and putting everything into the freezer?”

Steve nods. “And, um, a stock check too, if that’s okay? There’s a chart pinned up, you just gotta count the flavours and put, like, tally marks next to—”

“Oh my God, not tally marks,” Eddie drawls. “The horror.”

Steve huffs. “I was just—”

The bell rings even more insistently.

“Uh, think you’re needed on the front line,” Eddie says.

He nearly chokes on his own spit when Steve turns to just march right on out there.

“Harrington, wait! Your—your legs,” he says weakly.

Steve has the audacity to look puzzled. “What about them?”

They’re very long.

Eddie gestures silently to the ice-cream on the floor, then attempts a vague hovering motion in the direction of Steve’s legs.

Steve’s eyes go wide in realisation. His cheeks turn slightly red. “Oh! Yeah, um, thanks. Um. I’ll just…”

He disappears into the world’s tiniest restroom, comes back free of cookies and cream before heading out to the front.

Well, Eddie thinks to the mop he finds, this is definitely a situation.

It’s not the worst way he’s spent a few hours, apart from having to listen to a Sailor’s Hornpipe on loop through the speakers (he briefly wonders how Robin and Steve stay sane). He cleans up, gets the rest of the delivery into the freezer, even jots down some tally marks, wonder of wonders.

Steve will occasionally slide back the shutters and pop his head in, passing over a soda.

“Employee perks,” he says, then has to hurriedly retreat to keep serving.

Eddie keeps waiting for the stiltedness to set in, but it seems Steve’s far too busy for there to be any awkwardness.

At midday the shutter slides back again and Steve says, “Hey, can you do me one last thing, and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again, I swear.”

“Harrington, you’ve technically never asked me for anything. Gimme the mission.”

Turns out the mission is just to use some employee only coupons at Burger King so Steve can take his lunch.

Eddie returns to Scoops Ahoy with two burgers to find that Steve’s strategically placed a pile of chairs and wet floor signs at the threshold to deter people from entering.

There’s also a hand-drawn sign on top of one of the chairs: Out for Lunch. Underneath, there’s a horrendously bad drawing of a ship on choppy waves.

Eddie tries very hard to not find it endearing.

He gives Steve a burger, hops onto the table in the back and starts eating his own.

A quarter of the way through, he realises that he could leave now—he’s done everything Steve’s asked, and Steve’s already said he can manage the remaining shift on his own now that the delivery’s been put away.

Huh. Well, he’s already gone to all the effort of sitting here…

Steve’s quiet for most of his lunch. Eddie doesn’t mind; he enjoys his free food, comes up with a half-baked campaign idea before discarding it, counts every tile in the room…

Looks over.

Steve’s sat with one leg hunched up to his chest, a book resting on his knee—the cover’s folded over the back as he reads, the spine broken. Eddie doesn’t know why on earth it’s attractive, but it is; he feels like some mooning middle schooler, entranced by the way their stupid crush eats spaghetti or some bullshit like that.

But then again, there’s always been an easy grace to Steve Harrington.

A beeping noise; Steve checks his wristwatch with a sigh.

“Ugh.”

He leaves the book on the table, at just the right angle for Eddie to read the title: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.

“Is it good?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m only a couple chapters in, so…” Steve shrugs. “Honestly, it’s the most I’ve read since starting high school.”

And Eddie gets that: the senior years he’s suffered through have left him each time with a brain like a wrung out sponge, not even having the energy for Tolkien.

God. At this rate he’s never gonna read for fun ever again.

His face must do something because Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, a little hesitant, “Hey, I’m sorry you never, uh… made it through, y’know? You—you were so close, man.” Eddie doesn’t bother wasting time on being pissed that Steve knows some of the details: ‘test results’ and ‘confidentiality’ don’t exactly go together in Hawkins High.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks. Here’s hoping third time’s the charm.”

Steve claps his shoulder. “You’ll do it, it was just tough this year. Like, I scraped through, trust me.”

Eddie snorts—he would literally kill to have a handful of Steve’s grades.

“Think my definition of ‘scraped through’ is different to yours.”

He helps Steve disassemble the mountain of chairs, and now it really is obvious that he could just leave; he only has to take a few steps, and then he’s out of there.

But he pauses.

The store is still empty.

Eddie shuffles back from the doorway. “Ice-cream for the road?”

Steve laughs. “Sure. Least I can do.”

He doesn’t ask Eddie what he wants, just serves a vanilla cup with butterscotch syrup.

Eddie suddenly feels himself fighting a smile. “Think you’ve got an agenda, man.”

“Nope. Just giving you the superior choice, Munson.”

Then Steve picks up an empty cup and pours more butterscotch into it, nothing else. He knocks it back like a shot. “Gross,” Eddie says.

Steve flashes him a syrup-streaked grin.

It’s so… juvenile.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they’re in a mall, Eddie would almost think that he’d gone back a few years, made an unexpected temporary friend that goofed off with him in the back of the class.

He finishes his ice-cream as more people flock to the counter; in what seems like no time at all, Steve’s ushering Eddie out, pulling down the security grille.

It feels a bit like a soap bubble has burst. Like the bell’s unexpectedly rung at the end of last period, in a class he was actually enjoying, against all odds.

Steve does say, quite sincerely, “Thanks, Munson. You didn’t have to… you really saved my ass.”

Eddie’s about to clumsily work his way through some reply about how it was nothing, but then they really do have to go, because some stern-faced security guard’s staring like he might vaporise them.

It’s just one day, Eddie thinks. A… what’s-it-called. An anomaly.

But he goes back to the mall the next afternoon. He doesn’t bother to make up an excuse even in his own head.

Scoops Ahoy is somehow even more packed this time—Steve’s serving up samples while Robin’s back at the register, and when she sees Eddie coming, she points at the vanilla, mouths, “The classic?”

He chuckles, nods. “How was your movie, Buckley?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she says serenely. “I was very sick.” She coughs delicately.

“Praying for your miraculous recovery.”

He gets vanilla with butterscotch syrup (just because Robin’s the closest to that particular dispenser, that’s all).

It’s so busy that once Robin’s finished at the register, she starts filling orders alongside Steve. When Eddie picks up his cup, they barely look at him, surrounded by other cups and plastic bowls laid out for ice-cream.

Figures. Eddie knows it’s not personal. Just. Soap bubble’s burst, and all that.

He’s almost out the store when he hears a whistle.

“Hey, Munson! Go long!”

“Fuck off, no,” Eddie says automatically, a response drilled into him from many a compulsory Phys Ed class.

But he turns, just in time to see Steve throw something at him. He catches it—it’s plastic, round—somehow manages to keep a hold of his ice-cream, too.

Steve gives a brief thumbs up, before he’s back to scooping. He still finds time to do that stupid twirl move again.

Once outside, Eddie opens up his hand. Snorts.

It’s a shitty white badge, chipped in several places. His name’s scrawled on it in red marker, a cartoony anchor in the upper right corner.

On the bus home, Eddie mulls over the thought of flicking through a couple chapters of The Hobbit, something like that. No pressure, no notes—no imagining the year ahead, a teacher looming over his shoulder. Just for fun.

There’s plenty of time.

He puts his souvenir in his pocket, takes another spoonful of ice-cream.

And he has to admit that butterscotch is pretty damn good.

#my second scoops fic! such a fun setting #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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black-dhalias · 8 months

Note

Hello? Are you willing to write about Jasper Hale x human female reader where they keep having inappropriate thoughts about each other and Edward cannot stand it any longer? It is completely okay if you are not interested in writing such a thing. Have a nice day :)

Lacks Control

Jasper Hale X Human!F!Reader Warnings: contains/mentions sexual content, light swearing

In most ways, you thought similarly to most humans and thought you understood how the world worked. You knew that there were balances in place, checks that keep the universe from overreaching a little too far. You believed in energies, and how people interact with each other often impacts what they receive unto themselves. You were absolutely sure that you understood yourself, but that was a year ago--before the Cullens arrived in Juneau, Alaska. Your home.

It was before Jasper arrived.

Now, a year later, you could hardly believe how different things have become; in many ways, you don't see the world in the same way. You see the world as brighter, and intense, and more mysterious than its made out to be. You glance at the alarm clock, shocked to see only minutes left--the night got away from you faster than you expected. It felt like you had just laid down, and now slanted morning light is streaming in from the partially open window—unbelievable.

You hardly understood what you heard that night, and if they wouldn't have reacted so brashly—you probably would have written it off, and left without another thought.

However, upon hearing Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella talking about Jasper's control—you almost left right there, but no—they kept talking. They said too much to just write off, and when they turned that corner to see you pale white pressed against the wall. They realized just how much you had heard, and its not like they could just make you forget—so there. That's how you found out the newest members of Juneau community were vampires, and that humans knowing their secret is not exactly accepted.

Despite Jasper being the topic of conversation that night, his control specifically, you almost forgot it entirely every time you saw him. Admittedly, Jasper was terrifying and in the right lighting, his scars were very visible even to a human. His eyes were often dark, and his expression stoic and tight. Most of the time, you tried to avoid him entirely, but being near him was exhilarating. It felt like gravity pressing against you, everything impossible, felt possible.

Now that left you in a precarious position, with an undeniable attraction to probably the most lethal Cullen.

Maybe that's a bit of an understatement, half the time you were in the same room with him—all you could think about was the possibility of undressing him. Images of your fingers dragging down his body, and it wasn't like you had to use your imagination—you had caught him changing once and that was it. All the fuel your mind needed to keep you interested, practically drooling at the thought.

"Darling?" You hmm, sitting up straight in your seat, you mentally curse yourself for letting your mind wander so far. Remember that whole thing about how you thought you were normal before, now you know you think differently because who else loses time like this? Who else could go from their home, all the way to their University; just thinking, just itching to think about him.

Once more, his eyes were in that in-between shade—not exactly amber, but not bright either like his unofficial siblings. You were shocked at the beginning of the semester when he walked into this class, because what was a vampire doing at the University of Southeast Alaska? No reason, but Jasper must had his because it takes a real psychopath to spend their time in an Animal Physiology class. Yet Jasper fit right in, and you have to admit the company is much nicer than others might think.

However, it was also incredibly distracting and in some distasteful ways, you spent the better half of class time enamored by him. His thick southern drawl, the way his blonde curls moved when he spoke, but especially with his hands. God, what else can those hands do? Per usual though, you feel warmth spread to your cheeks and look at your hands, you really need to get a handle on yourself if you plan on passing this class.

"Yes?" You ask, practically cursing the very ground you walk as you pretend to scribble down some notes on the cellular makeup of artic mammals—only it wasn't information the professor was saying, but rather verbatim notes of the last line you wrote. In fact, it is the same thing you've written at least ten times on the paper, but you just couldn't help your wandering mind.

"Class ended five minutes ago..." You perk, eyes widening as you look around the room and see that no one else is here. Just you... slowly, your eyes turn to Jasper. And him. Just you and him.

Perhaps his words shouldn’t have affected your demeanor, or maybe it had more to do with being alone with him, but something inside you snapped. Not only did you clearly feel an urge to take his face in between your palms and kiss him—you also had the inherent urge to bury your face into your arms and hope you got sucked away.

“Fantastic…” You kind of murmur into your skin, before sitting up with a sharp inhale and glancing over at the smirking Texan. His accent always seemed so out of place in Alaska, his honey like drawl always stood out when he spoke. It’s what got your attention in the first place, you couldn’t help yourself when you heard it.

You shut your notebook, sliding it into your bag with your laptop and pens—zipping it before Jasper tossed it over his shoulder. This was the routine, he showed up and you spent more than half of class imagining a million different ways you could take him on the desk.

Was that wrong? You hardly think it’s a good thing, but when you glance over at him. The way he held open your doors, and always close enough to catch you if your feet bumped each other. How could you not have those kinds of thoughts?

“Carlisle and Esme are still asking when you’re coming over again?” You hmm, before looking forward again—processing what he said, it just always takes a second.

“Oh yeah, we can head there now. I don’t have anything to do today.” If you weren’t too busy trying to ignore the throb of your chest, you would have seen the smile. The one that Jasper only reserved for you.

“Well then, after you…” Jasper holds open the door, letting you pass before leading you towards his car.

The Cullens were happy when you came around, Alice had told Jasper that he’d find someone eventually. She knew you were coming, but no one knew the effect it would have on him. The way he seemed to control himself, he didn’t feel like a runaway train anymore. The way Jasper seemed to smile more often, especially when he spoke of you.

“Y/N!” Esme exclaims as you enter the Cullen home, embracing you close as she smiles brightly. She always seemed so excited to see you, more than the others—what you didn’t know, was she had wished more than anything for Jasper to have someone. They all had their person, and well, finding you just fit into the puzzle so well. “Oh it’s so good to see you.”

You follow after her, Jasper watching as you go before heading into the living room. While he knew you’d be preoccupied for the time being, he couldn’t help, but sit in a spot where he could see you.

Today you seemed extra beautiful, not just beautiful—ravishing. You weren’t doing anything different, but something about the way you were looking at him earlier. If he were human, his heart would have been racing and his breath caught up.

What did you look like naked? The thought caught him off guard, it piqued his interest as he admired you from afar. Jasper did his best to not rush into things, to let you take the lead when it came to your relationship.

Did you have any birthmarks? He wondered how long it would take to count every freckle and mark upon your skin, if he could kiss each and every one. He’d even been in the room with you before, when you decided to stay over and you changed into some of his clothes. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

You could feel his eyes on you, even from across the room. Even as Esme spoke to you so earnestly about something, you glanced over.

Jasper seemed to be looking at you, but also into you—you could feel the intensity. The sensation of him, again thoughts from class came to mind.

What would it feel like to be between a wall and his body? You purse your lips, trying not to linger on the thought—but they seem to always come in twos. And if you were, what would he do? God you wanted to know so bad… To feel what it felt like to be under him, pleading with him to take you right there.

“That’s it!” Jasper moves quickly as Edward appears at the bottom of the stairs, “You two need to go!” It wasn’t angry, but Jasper was at your side.

“Edward?! What’s wrong?”

“These two! They need to go, I can’t take another minute of them having mind sex.”

Your eyes widen, looking over at Jasper who seems to be looking everywhere except at you.

“You could just—not read our minds?” Edward shakes his head at your assertion, pushing you both towards the door.

“Nope. Your thoughts are too loud to just ignore.”

“I-” Edward gives a final shove out the door, as you bump into Jasper. Feeling his hand brace against your waist, steadying you as the mind reader gives a smile.

“Go to their house. And, think whatever thoughts you want. Just not here.” The door shuts and you look over at Jasper, then away as quickly as possible. Cheeks flushed warm.

Perhaps you should have saw that coming, Edward practically avoided you like a plague when you were over.

“So mind sex, huh?” You groan, glancing up at Jasper—the playfulness of his tone suppressing the obvious curiosity you note in his eyes.

“It takes two…” His smile broadens as he unlocks the car door, “Two people.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’…”

#twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight #imagines #short imagine #requests are open #fandom request #imagine #imagine requests #x reader #requests #love #jasper hale x reader #jasper x reader #jasper hale imagine #jasper cullen imagine #jasper cullen x reader

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wakeup01 · 4 months

Text

Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

#transformation #gay #jock #brainwashing

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angel-of-the-moons · 5 months

Text

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

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Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

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A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

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Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

#moon knight #moon boys #moon boys x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley

857 notes · View notes

celestialwhoree · 7 days

Note

Hi Angie!

I was wondering - if you have the time and will - would you write some more poly stuff?

Could be whatever you want.

Thank you!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

One Xtra large helping of poly fluff coming right up 🤭🎀

Weekends are your favourite. When all the boys are home and you've got the time to just be. It's the little things, like how you go padding downstairs barefoot long after the sun has risen, stomach rumbling impatiently at the smell of freshly fried bacon and hot coffee, the kind from the expensive machine Kyle had bought you this Christmas just gone.

You can't help but grin when you feel Johnny's hands looping loosely around your waist, your head rolling back onto his shoulder with a contented sigh as he noses your jawline affectionately, murmuring about how lovely you look in the morning, how pleased he is to have a weekend with no plans. You, however? Oh, you've got plans. Having your four, massive military boyfriends home can only mean one thing.

Furniture shopping.

More specifically? Antique furniture shopping. Trawling the local thrift stores for anything that piques your interest, and might find its perfect place in your home. Seeing as the boys are back with the truck, and the the weather is just on the cooler side of summer, today is the perfect opportunity. Simon, John, Kyle and Johnny are also perfectly happy to indulge you in all of your roosting ways, just as house proud as the day they'd all met you.

Fortunately, it takes all of fifteen minutes to find the boys and be on your way, the perks of military men, you suppose. Punctuality is engrained into their very person. It's unnerving sometimes.

They're happy if you're happy, even if Kyle does have to hold in his sneezes until Johnny can subtly slip him an antihistamine, all whilst you're fawning over old paintings with an unenthused Simon (he's trying) and a pensive John, who thinks he's getting old and needs to learn how to enjoy a melange of meaningless paint splotches on a canvas. You just like the colours.

Admittedly, you've also been watching all sorts of antiques programmes on the TV during their last deployment, hyper fixating on the promise of buying some cool, vintage piece for the house only to find out that it just so happens to be a lost furniture piece from Versailles, or maybe a Picasso drawing gone missing from a collection. The dopamine is also nice. Almost as nice as spending time bobbing around with the boys, laughing at the way John reaches for his wallet the moment you so much as look at something for too ling, or how Kyle keeps staring at your ass, getting distracted and almost knocking stuff over.

It's not so much the shopping, you realise, upon going home empty handed, it's the getting out with your favourite people, and getting to spend the with not a worry in the world (except for Kyle's obvious dust allergy)

Short! But! I'm back on my grind! Now that visitors are gone (hallelujah)

I've been literally scrolling endlessly through Josh & Matt's tiktok as some weird form of self soothing and it's made me miss thrifting so pls enjoy this until I can get my little secondhand purchase fix 🎀

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 20 days

Note

hi hi covey!! 💋

can i request a blurb of my sweet boy jason with his stressed & overworked, academicvalidation! gf? i just know he would be so caring and precious and jskjsksh i could just melt

✮⋆˙ take a break, catch a nap, have a snack!; jason grace x reader blurb

content: jason grace x reader blurb warning: none! author's note: howdy guys!!! it feels like i've been gone but i know i really haven't, ya know??? i had a BLAST on my trip and am so so grateful i was able to go on it. but also, it was a nice break that has me missing writing, so hopefully more stuff is gonna be coming out soon...which will HOPEFULLY lead to me opening my request again. (not that some of yall deserve that frfr im looking at you, illegal anon's) ALSO KJ MY BELOVED YOURE LEGIT THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND YOU COULD PROBS DO THIS PROMPT SO MUCH MORE JUSTICE THAN ME BUT I APPRICIATE IT NONETHELESS POOKIE!!! anyways with all da love, from covey at the boston airport!!

jason, of all people, understood seeking validation. someone confirming that you were doing good and that you could be good. but, even he felt this was a bit extreme. you'd blocked him! something about even his profile picture being distracting.

he was determined to have you take a break. get some food, get something that wasn't coffee to drink, and perhaps jason could somehow cuddle you to sleep. he was plotting alright as he marched to the library, almost certain that's where you could be. when take came up fruitless, jason huffed his way out of the library and waved the librarian's offers of help off. you thought you could outsmart him, but jason knew you better than himself on most days.

"how the hades- you know what? don't answer that," you hissed as jason stood in front of you with his arms crossed. you pouted as your secret study spot had been discovered - well, it really wasn't all that secret. it was the rooftop of your apartment but still! it was supposed to be a space undisturbed by the son of jupiter that was eager to steal you away from your studies.

"c'mon," jason replied, nodding his head towards the door of your bedroom. you simply gave him a pointed look before returning to your laptop. your fingers reached for the keys but then it was slammed shut by a suspiciously strong breeze. you frowned up at the boy who hadn't moved an inch but his foot was starting to tap like an angry mother.

"jase," you whined, dragging out the last vowel in hopes the longer you held the note, the more likely he was to give in. you were wrong as jason simply raised a brow at you.

"just thrity minutes," jason offered but you squinted at him in suspicion. jason then held his hand out to you, gentle and welcoming. you sighed but took his hand into yours, allowing him to pull you up and out of the homework mountain you've created. he helped you pack, muttering about the weather getting too cold soon and how you should study inside your apartment. you let him, knowing your backpack wouldn't be unzipped until the next day but continuing to play the part of 'opositional girlfriend.'

you let him lead you into the apartment and fix you up some snack as you curled up on the couch, your favorite movie play suspiciously at just the right time. you didn't need to ask questions as you knew this wasn't some accident or twist of fate based off the little twitch of jason's scar, a sure sign of scheming.

the sweet boy served you without even needing to be told what you wanted, somehow he always had a knack for just knowing. then he sat down next to you on the couch and you rolled your eyes as he could read him like a book. but, you let the roman boy have his fun. over the next ten minutes, he slowly inched closer to you. then, he threw his arm over the back of the couch, still yet to look in your direction. and to finish off the theatrics, a chill drifted through the apartment, which did, admittedly, have you leaning into the boy's warm side.

next thing you knew, a blanket was pulled up to your chin and your eyelids were drooping.

"homework cockblock," you muttered into jason's chest but cuddled closer nonetheless.

"you'll thank me later," jason mused back in reponse before running his hands through your hair and gently scratching at your scalp, the final nail in the coffin as you fluttered your eyes shut to sleep against your roman boy. and you didn't dream of late assignments or failing classes, but rather of the stunning blonde boy you was always looking out for you, college drop out or not.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa

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helluvapoison · 1 month

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Hi!!! For the injury promts, could i ask for prompt 6+dialogue 17 with Lucifer? Im down so bad for this man-

you make it easy

warning: blood, violence, ooc(?), angsty and dramatic

Stars, he should’ve accepted your offer when you asked to join him on this morning’s errands. He was a fool to think his good mood would last.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Believe it or not, there was a time when Lucifer noticed everything. The sky is brighter than it was yesterday, he would say to no one, he simply noticed. Nowadays it was harder, a struggle to live outside his own mind. There was a passing thought every now and again. Hey, that lamp is new or Charlie’s nails match Maggie’s. But even those came at the worst times and he never pointed them out when he should, be it in the middle of an argument or entirely different conversation. Determined, he kept trying. More than that, he tried to see his world through his daughter’s eyes, to see that there could be good in the strangest places.

It was hard when the looming cloud of misery and evil followed him every time he tried to leave the hotel. The only time it didn’t was when he was accompanied by you. Charlie, as good natured and pure as she somehow was, was biased. Lilith’s doing, of course. His ex-wife made it seem like Lucifer’s decision was a gift and not the curse that it really was. But you… you were magical. You held an umbrella he couldn’t see that kept him safe from the endless troubles he made with his own two hands. While he knew he had every capability to protect himself physically, the inner workings of his mind was an entirely different story. Besides, it was, admittedly, nice to have someone else do it simply because.

You didn’t want anything from him. You just thought he was worth the effort.

If only he could think the same for himself. Not even two blocks into town did the thick clouds gather into a storm above his crown. It whipped and raged in his mind, hissing what he already knew. He wasn’t. God was punishing him for a reason and that reason stared him in the face every waking moment in Hell. Piles of bodies, gallons of blood, drugs, sex, etc. Not an hour could go by without seeing it all. So who could blame him when he lost sight of Charlie’s dream in the fog of guilt and self pity? How was he supposed to notice anything other than the deplorable sinners and their heinous ways?

He rounded the first corner he could, gasping and clutching at his vest. Whistle leaning against the cool bricks, a shadow stretched toward him. He saw. He saw the demon, he saw the jagged knife and he saw the intent in their eyes. Going against the King of Hell was a suicide mission but Lucifer saw exactly what they wanted from him. Retribution.

In all but a moment it was over. Red blood splattered on the alley wall opposite to him, merely adding to the number of stains it had worn over the centuries. Golden blood though? WItnessing that was a treat indeed. Through the tear in Lucifer’s ivory suit he could see it dribbling down his arm. As his eyes traveled over his attire he could see it was also blighted by the demon’s blood. That took precedence over his own injury but at the time he was grateful for the distraction. The news would lap up a scandal with the Morningstar name on it–

He needed to leave.

Lucifer attempted to summon his wings but they refused to budge. The sky was unsafe to them. It felt as if a thousand eyes were judging him from above. Fuck the news— Heaven was judging him.

He needed to hide.

The man slammed the end of his cane against the ground, instantly conjuring a portal that dropped him unceremoniously into your room.

A guttural growl ripped from his throat as he took in his surroundings of your belongings, “No! No, you stupid–!”

“Lucifer?”

You performed magic once again; turning gold into ice and freezing him in place with his back to you. He begged the wall for answers. What should he say? What should he do? Why the fuck did his magic bring him here when he just wanted to–

“Is that– Fuck! You’re bleeding!” You gasped

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed! Funny story, I didn’t mean to intrude– you know me, a gentleman should always knock– so I’ll just get out of your hair.”

As he spoke you’d scrambled over and stole any chance he had of absconding out of there. His voice got smaller and smaller until it was nonexistent. You reached not for his arm but for his coat, pulling it back to reveal a bigger patch of gold seeping through his vest.

“Oh that can’t be good.” He muttered, more annoyed than anything.

“Ok, uh, fuck. Fuck. You stay here and I’ll get—”

The second he felt you withdraw he whipped around and snatched your wrist like a lifeline. Your chest puffed with a smaller, quieter gasp as you drank in his appearance. Covered in more blood than just his own, he looked utterly panicked. Less than few had seen the king this way.

“No! No, I-I-I can’t have anyone see,” Daring to look down at himself, he foolishly thought maybe the gorey reminder wouldn't be there. And like a fool he winced when it was, “this. Please don’t tell anyone— Especially not Charlie.”

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in you, just a firm nod that filled him with relief.

“You’ll do everything I say then.” You bartered, though it wasn’t much of an option.

Lucifer’s heart threatened to plummet to his stomach. He tried desperately to blink away the fog of doubt that lingered. You wouldn’t blackmail him… would you?

“I… Yes? W-Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything—! Er. I mean, I guess I want you to listen and be still while I clean you up? I’ll probably have to burn this before Al sniffs it out. And Nifty’s been going through my shit again so it’ll take me a minute to find…”

You began talking to yourself and Lucifer tuned your voice to background noise when he heard all he needed to. Of course you wouldn’t blackmail him, he felt horrible he even doubted that!

The word ridiculous came to mind as he looked up to try and spot that invisible umbrella you always seemed to be holding for him. While Lucifer searched the air, you got to work. He was malleable for your gentle hands, allowing you to strip his upper half and discard the evidence in the fireplace of your room (he didn’t complain, you’ve seen his suit collection) You diligently cleaned both cuts with utmost care, surpassing what he deemed acceptable and ignoring him when he said exactly that. Only when his skin was porcelain again did you bandage them with a nearly depleted first aid kit you kept under your bed.

“Here, it might be big on you but it beats freezing. The sixth floor has a vendetta against working heaters so it gets chilly here. That's why I keep the fireplace on all night.” You rambled as you pulled one of your own shirts over Lucifer’s head. He noted it was one of your favorites as he had seen you wear it often. Sometimes days in a row! He was more than honored; he was on cloud nine! If this is how you felt when you wore it, he’d never take it off.

“Thank you.” Lucifer said softly. For everything, he didn’t add.

“Anytime,” You replied dutifully. Then casually killed him with, “You can have my bed, by the way. I’ll take the sofa.”

“That-That’s much too generous. You’ve already done so much, I—“

“If it were me, would you let me leave?”

His eyebrows nearly shot up and off his head. The very thought of you bruised and bleeding in his room had flames licking the back of his throat. He needed to expel the smoke through a sigh, covering it up with a fist to his mouth, mumbling,

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“My sentiments exactly. So get your royal ass in the bed… Your majesty.” You bowed low and perfectly, keeping eye contact with him all throughout your bit.

A minuscule laugh escaped him and you beamed seeing your efforts were not in vain.

“Fine. Well… we could, ah, both fit in your bed. If you wanted! I-I’m just looking at it a-and that sofa is not an adequate sleeping area for you. Much too small.” He squinted at your couch disapprovingly, pursing his lips as he pretended his heart wasn’t about to leap out of his chest.

You stood to your full height, seemingly considering the offer, “Only if you’re sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Already pulling back the covers for both of you, he scoffed and actually tried to shoo your worries away with a wave of his hand.

“Hurt me? No one can hurt— Oh. Hm. You caught me on a bad day, I can’t say what I normally do.” Lucifer tucked his hooves under the blankets as he spoke, waiting for your cue of laughter that never came.

The bed dipped beside him, much closer than he was anticipating. Your forehead melted against the top of his fluffy, blonde hair. He watched your hands twitch, longing to embrace him but too cautious for your own good. If he wasn’t such a coward he would close the distance himself.

“I didn’t know you could get hurt.” You sighed heavily, finally releasing what had troubled you since you saw him.

Lucifer’s brows dipped in concern but he kept his eyes trained on the burning fireplace across the way, “Anyone can get hurt down here.”

“That shouldn’t be possible. You’re the king.”

“You’re going to give me a big head, darling. Being a king doesn’t exempt me from pain. There’s quite a few ex-kings down here that could tell you that,” He attempted to laugh. Subconsciously his hand landed over his bandaged side, rubbing the soft fabric of your well-loved shirt. “I’ll be alright. Besides it wasn’t an angelic weapon so it wasn’t a serious assassination atte—“

“What?” You reeled back with wide eyes, kneeling beside him and gripping his shoulders lightly, silently begging him to focus, “Wha-What do you mean!? People have tried to kill you before!?”

He stared at you like you asked him why the sky was red. He didn’t understand your panic but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Well… yes? Yours truly isn’t only hated by Heaven. There’s plenty of people down here that pray for the royals' downfall, Hellborn and sinners.” Lucifer tilted his head, confusion had his brows furrowing, “But they can’t kill me.”

“But-But you said it probably wasn’t serious? How do you know? Who did this to you; what did they look like? I-I’ll go find them and—“

“Good golly, breathe! Just let it go, it doesn't matter.”

Your eyes flashed red to let him know the fire of your fury you was blazing. But your eyes glassed over as well, pupils shrinking and jumping across his face like you were memorizing every detail. You held him so gently, like he was going to disappear if you let go.

“Yes it does! It matters to me because you matter to me, Lucifer!”

You were scared.

“I-I—“ He was dizzy with euphoric disbelief. You could tell him every day that you cared about him and he would become breathless every damn time. “I killed them.” He managed to choke out.

You didn’t immediately relax like he had hoped you would. Exhaling through your nose you nodded once that hit him with another magical wave of pride, solidifying his choice and making him sit slightly straighter.

“Good.” Your voice dropped dangerously for a moment. He was presented with the terrifying reminder that you are a sinner, you’re down here for a reason. He couldn’t linger on the fact when the red wisped away from your eyes and returned to the lovely shade he remembered and adored. “That’s why you didn’t want Charlie to know.”

“Anyone,” He corrected softly before his voice turned almost bitter, “No one can know. It might give people the wrong impression if their king did the opposite of what his daughter’s hotel represented. Not-Not that I care what they think but… I don’t want to let her down. Again.”

You practically pulled him in your lap, tucking your chin against his shoulder and sighing heavily. Your warm breath tickled his skin and sent every hair he had standing at attention.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” You promised.

“How.. is it so easy for you to say that?”

“I dunno.” You said all too honestly, pulling back slightly to rest your forehead on his, “Some people make it easy.”

Content with that answer, for once his mind quieted and stilled. He melted against you until he was safely tangled in your embrace.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #poiboiwrites #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar headcanon

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thatsokayy · 1 year

Text

tighnari x afab reader (nsfw) | you did say that you would help me

Summary: Tighnari's in his rut and you decide to come help him this time.

Tags: Rutting, Creampie, consensual somnophilia, established relationship

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29984235/chapters/108752505

full fic under cut

Tighnari leaned in close to your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin.

“Are you sure?” He said, his tone hesitant. “You can back out now if you want. I won’t be hurt.”

“It’s okay, really.” You snaked your arm around his as you walked, holding him close. “I’d feel worse staying home and knowing what you’re going through.”

While in the past Tighnari always declined your company, for reasons he never shared, he finally let you join him this time. You knew why he left for a couple of weeks at a time, but he avoided talking about the specifics of it even after being together for so long.

The only thing he told you about it was “I’d keep on working to distract myself if I could,” but it seemed it was too extreme for the hard-headed Tighnari to ignore. You didn’t know how bad it could get, but the few times Tighnari detailed it he seemed to be disturbed by how much it affected him. So much so that when he did take his trip away from the Forest Watcher’s camp, he made sure nobody came with him.

It would also be nice to take a break away from your occupation on a short private trip with your partner. And, as the predicament implied, Tighnari would have his way with you for a while. It was a dream come true.

You soon arrived at a quaint house, deep in the woods. You’d patrolled the area several times but had never encountered the house. It seemed only Tighnari knew of its whereabouts. The interior was nicely decorated and you could see Tighnari’s influence on how it was decorated.

In the back room, there was a decently large bed, the curtains shut to hide any sunlight.

“Do you stay in the house the entire time?” You asked.

Tighnari rubbed the back of his neck, his ears slightly lowering due to his bashfulness. He did want to open up to you, but he was worried that with you added to the picture he’d find it very hard to control himself.

“No, I go outside for walks when I can. But there’s not much I can do when it starts,” he replied.

“Don’t you get lonely? Wouldn’t your rut be over sooner if you had help?” You questioned him.

Tighnari set his backpack down, beginning to make himself at home. “Admittedly, you’re the first person I’ve ever been with during it. I’m not sure if it’d help or make it worse…” He turned to you, cupping your cheek. “But it’d be interesting to find out, don’t you think?”

A slight twinge made your stomach clench with excitement, and you followed his lead as you got your own belongings out of your bag.

Limits and boundaries between the two of you had been discussed in the past, but Tighnari still hesitated as his hand hovered over your sleeping figure, your back facing toward him. You had told him that if his urges started while you were asleep then he should wake you up, but he’d dismissed you by telling you it wasn’t that bad during the first day or so. The scenario of you sleeping and him having his way with you was discussed as well, and you were all ears, but Tighnari was nervous about it nonetheless.

What he didn’t expect is how having company would affect him. He felt hot all over, his other hand palming his erection gently through his pajama pants. Your chest rose and fell as you took in deep breaths, unaware of the struggle your partner was having beside you. Maybe had he been alone then the first day would have gone on as usual, but being in the presence of his partner only made it much stronger.

They did say it was okay, Tighnari rationalized. Swallowing heavily, his hand moved to your waistband, slowly working it down to your thighs.

You hadn’t worn underwear tonight, presumably due to the heat. Tighnari didn’t care for the reason, and his hand moved to push between the meat of your thighs and drag his finger along your pussy.

Every passing second got harder for him to bear. He rutted slowly against his palm as he worked a finger into you, nose pressed against the back of your neck to take in your scent. You hadn’t roused much, except for the occasional murmur in your sleep. It became unbearable to only just feel you up and imagine what he’d do to you, and soon he reached for the lube he had left next to the bed, taking a moment to shift his pants down. His cock sprung up after the waistband slid over it, the tip glistening with precum.

Squeezing a dollop onto his hand, he was careful to not go too fast when he applied the jelly down his shaft. Anything could set him off, but he wanted to take it slow while you were asleep.

He dragged his slick shaft against your folds, but he soon found himself unable to keep up the motion.

He desperately wanted to be inside of you, fuck you to ease the evergrowing tension between his thighs. He knew it was a bad idea to let you come along, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back once his rut started… But hearing your enthusiasm to help him earlier eased his worries, and he wouldn’t rather have it any other way.

The head of Tighnari’s cock pressed into you and he immediately let out a harsh sigh. He hadn’t prepped you enough and you were oh, so tight, but he couldn’t back out now even if he wanted to. Couldn’t stop until he had pumped you to the brim with his seed. His hand moved under your thigh to raise it slightly. With his lip bitten to the point of bleeding in an effort to silence himself, he pushed in until he bottomed out in you.

While he was naturally keen on various sensations, his rut seemed to emphasize them drastically. He could feel your gentle, feathering squeezes around his cock and hear how your heartbeat quickened even in your sleep. The compounding factors were too overwhelming. He thought he could handle it, it was just the first night, and he was sure he would have some self-control. He told himself all of this, but none of that mattered at that point.

His sharp nails dug into your thigh as he fucked into you, barely giving any build-up to his increased pace. You awakened from the motion, but you couldn’t tell what was going on at first.

“Tighna—” You tried to call out, but your mouth was quickly covered by his free hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered into the back of your neck, not faltering his pace for even a moment. “I know you told me to wake you but it got to be too much, too much,” he replied, his voice faltering at the end of his sentence.

His cock dragged along your walls, slipping in easily due to the excessive amount of lube. You weren’t used to such a frantic pace, however, and with the way he was angled he directly thrusted into your spongy frontal wall. Heated gasps escaped through your nose, quiet whines being forced out by the intensity of his pace. His balls slapped against your outer lips as he rutted in, only making it easier for himself by positioning your leg higher. His tail could be heard thumping lightly against the bed, barely audible had you not been listening for it.

You had no idea why he was saying sorry. It felt so incredibly good to be fucked with no remorse, and the idea that he was using you to help himself through his arousal turned you on more than you’d ever admit. Soon he began to lay bite marks and hickeys on the back of your neck and shoulders, his canines digging into your flesh and breaking the skin. The painful sting of his teeth made your cunt throb, and while it wasn’t unusual for him to bite you during sex, he always made sure he was gentle, constantly leaning back to check if he had seriously hurt you. He didn’t seem to care, or he was too caught up in what he was doing, and each hickey and bite aroused you more than you anticipated, although it hurt like hell. You tried your best to keep from crying out. You were afraid that if you did, he'd ease up on you... and that was the last thing you wanted in that moment.

You hadn’t been awake long before an orgasm threatened to spill over as Tighnari’s cock nudged and dragged against your slick, squeezing walls. No matter how loudly you whined and cried into the palm of his hand, he continued to fuck you with reckless abandon, muttering apologies and compliments about how good you felt.

With a harsh thrust and a stinging bite on the side of your neck, you clenched around him tight. Your back arched without your control, pushing your ass back against him as you clenched your jaw with a muffled cry. His thrusts didn’t falter, but he became much noisier, your cunt throbbing around his shaft.

“I’m gonna cum… Can I… Is that okay?” Tighnari muttered, finally moving his hand away from your mouth only to hug you closer to him, your back pressed against him. “Can I finish inside you?”

You whined as his thrusts were beginning to hurt with how rough he was going, but he didn’t seem tired at all. “Please, Tighnari, please,” you sighed.

With breathy groans, Tighnari rutted into you and you could immediately feel him twitch inside you. He was hugging you close, making sure he was in as deep as he could go with the subconscious desire to breed you. He moved back and forth at a slower pace as he came, hot spurts of cum pooling inside of you.

For a moment, there were no words spoken and the two of you lay there, panting. Your pussy still achingly throbbed around him as he hugged you, a warm feeling pooling deep in your gut from his cum inside of you.

After a long yawn, you shifted to get up and wash yourself off. You were sweaty and most definitely had to check the cuts and bruises Tighnari had given you. You were unable to do so, however, with your partner holding you down beside him.

His face was flushed, a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“I’m not done,” he said. When he realized the sternness of his tone, he rephrased his sentence. “Please, let me keep going.”

While he was asking for permission, that didn’t stop him from moving closer to you, his cock twitching against your ass as he pressed his lips against your shoulders and the back of your neck.

You were beginning to wonder if you’d be able to keep up with Tighnari, even though you were the one who offered to help him.

Without waiting for an answer, Tighnari moved to his knees behind you, lifting your ass in the air. Every time he grabbed you or touched you, his nails dug into your skin, sometimes leaving marks and sometimes not.

You tried your best to help, but your legs were still shaking from before. Your chest pressed into the bed, rump held in the air by Tighnari gripping your waist. He didn’t take the time to tease or prep you as he usually did; his dick slid into you with ease and you felt his cum ooze down your thighs.

He resumed his pace from before, but the new angle aided in hitting deeper spots in you. Each rough thrust felt as if it was nudging against your womb and a wavering moan was forced out of your throat.

Hearing your beautiful noises, the noises he forced out of you, and seeing and feeling you rear back against him only excited him more and he picked up the pace. The room was filled with the hollow clap of his hips meeting your ass, along with the wet slaps of Tighnari fucking into you. Behind you, he mumbled ramblings about how amazing you felt, how you were being so good for him by letting him use you to satiate himself.

Over and over, the thought of how badly he wanted to breed you filled his mind. He so desperately wanted to pump you full of his cum till you were leaking, and no doubt by the end of the trip you’d be going home knocked up with one of his pups.

The idea of it caused him to shudder pleasantly and his nails dug deep into the plush of your waist. Your hand was placed on your wet pussy, fingers splitting apart your folds to drag over your swollen clit. You keeled back to meet his thrusts, and although it was hard to keep up with him, the movement pushed you over the edge.

All the air was forced out of your lungs as you cried out incoherently, your back arching as your sopping pussy squeezed tightly around him as you climaxed. You made a pitiful attempt to take fistfuls of the sheets in your hands to have some sort of stability, but they provided no use. Your legs buckled, thigh muscles aching from the orgasm as they tensed.

Tighnari had slipped out of you as you moved, but he didn’t give you much time to come back to your senses. He adjusted you so you were on your belly before positioning himself over your ass while his hands rested on either side of your head.

“You’re doing so well, taking me so well even after being so rough with you,” he whispered above you, aligning his dick to your cunt. You didn’t have the strength in you to answer, but his words had an effect on you.

He slid into you once more, grinding down into you at a slower but steady pace. You stiffened under him; it felt as if he was pushing down directly against a nerve. You whined under him, and he took it as a cue to speed up. Had the situation been different, had he not been in his rut, then he would’ve teased you for a bit, relishing in your quiet whimpers and pleas to keep going. With how tightly you continued to squeeze around him, it was impossible for him to even think about holding back, crazed, heated stamina filling him.

“Let me mark you,” he murmured. His teeth found your shoulder once again and he bit down. “Make sure you know you’re mine, everyone knows you’re mine.”

Tighnari wasn’t often possessive; only rarely did he mention marking you offhandedly during sex in the past. But this time it was different, a serious tone in his voice.

“I wanna pump you full of my cum and…” He groaned against the crook of your neck, his breath sending shivers through your limbs. “...Make sure you’ll go home carrying one of my pups.”

“Tighnari, yes, please,” you murmured, your voice low due to the strain of your throat. “I want it so bad.”

“Really?” Tighnari increased his pace, hitting the sweet spot in you each time. You felt tears threatening to spill out, overstimulated by the constant barrage as you ebbed into another orgasm. You shut your eyes tight, seeing stars behind your eyelids as you clenched your jaw, exhaling harshly through your nose.

“Did you cum again? I could feel you squeezing around me, like a vice,” he said, leaning down to give the soft skin of your neck a light kiss before sucking to leave a huge bruise that’d be difficult to cover, no matter what ointment Tighnari fetched from the forest plants. “I’m close too… So close.”

His thrusts began to falter, and after a moment he moaned out, pressing his face into the back of your neck to quiet himself. He thrust a few more times, taking in light breaths as he milked himself of all he had and pumping his cum deep inside of your gut.

You lay beneath him, panting, although you hadn’t done much work except be his obedient partner and let him fuck you to his heart’s content.

Tighnari pulled out of you, seemingly finished… for the night, at least.

He took deep, exhausted breaths above you. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get washed off.”

You observed your naked body in the mirror. You felt much better now that you didn’t have a combination of yours and his cum leaking between your thighs, but you couldn’t help but wince at the sight of what he did to you.

Deep bite marks and large bruises trailed your neck and shoulders, hues of red and purple covering your skin. Tighnari approached behind you, widening his eyes at the portion of marks you couldn’t see on your back.

“Do they hurt?” He reached over you into a cupboard and fetched an ointment, the chill of the jelly sending goosebumps across your skin.

You shrugged. “In the moment they did. Not so much now. I kind of like them… but I don’t know how I’ll be able to cover them when we head back to the camp.”

He was gentle as he applied it over your gashes, fingers tracing along your skin. “I’m sorry. I would’ve never been so rough with you had I been in the right headspace. Er, that’s not the right word… It’s hard to explain.”

You nodded to coax him to continue.

“It was impossible for me to stop once I got going,” he finished. He closed the container for the ointment and returned it to the cupboard before going back over the marks, rubbing the jelly into your skin. “But I can’t lie, it is nice to see you all marked up by me.”

You tilted your neck to get a better view of a particular hickey. “Maybe it’ll heal before we leave. How long are we staying again?”

Tighnari hugged you from behind and you watched his ears twitch, his tail curled around your hip fondly. “Usually it goes on for two weeks or so, but now you’re here with me. It already affected the intensity of it in the first twenty-four hours, so I have no clue how long it’ll be now…”

You turned your head to kiss him on the cheek. Just like Tighnari to turn it into a research opportunity, but that’s one of the many reasons you’d come to love him. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to stay with you the whole time then, huh?”

Tighnari nuzzled his cheek against yours before returning the kiss. “If that’s the case, then we should get all the sleep we can. Who knows when I’ll start up again.”

#genshin impact #tighnari #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfic #tighnari x reader #smut #fanfiction

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bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 3 months

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Can we get what it’d be like for y/n and Andrew dating in high school? I’d imagine that since Andrew is smart he’s always helping y/n with her homework and congratulations her when she passes, and they make out a LOT! Literally can’t keep their hands off each other and other high school things.

Yeah, sure! Sounds simple enough!

High School Sweethearts | Andrew Graves x Reader

Andrew was your 💕boyyyyffrriiieeennnddd💕

Yes the hearts are necessary!

And by god he’s just the bestest boyfriend ever!

Like truly he is

He’s so sweet with you, helping you study and waiting outside your class to walk you to your next period

If you’ve gotten back a test that you were worried about, and you did good on it, he’d be more stoked about it than you

Your face? Peppered in congratulations kisses regardless if there are people around

He’s just so proud of you

You two are sickeningly cute

Sitting on Andrew’s lap during lunch time, carving around your initials on the bleachers, goodbye kisses when departing for your next class that get a liiitttlleee out of hand

The student body hates it <3

Truly there are no downsides to dating Andrew Graves!

You were seated on your exceptionally soft bed. The covers sinking a little to perfectly accommodate your weight and make you fit like a glove while you studied.

You had a pair of earbuds in, music blasting from them directly to your eardrums. You subconsciously tapped your pencil to the beat, hitting the notebook rhythmically. You- admittedly weren’t really studying. You got so distracted you couldn’t even read your notes without your eyes drifting to what you had drawn in the corner of the page.

Hearts. Lots of hearts. Big hearts, little hearts, good hearts, deformed hearts, hearts galore! All around one huge heart with a name inside of it that made you giddy.

Andrew Graves

Just reading his name made you squeal. Kicking your legs a little with glee as you thought about him. He was just such a good boyfriend! You two had begun dating in freshman year, so you couldn’t imagine your high school experience without him. He was always so nice with you, so loving. Very loving. By god that boy could not keep his hands off of you.

You felt your face flush at the thought, hiding it against your notebook. You felt so stupid for how he got you to be a blushing mess. He’d make fun of you for it too. You just- couldn’t help it! You’d never had anyone treat you like Andrew has. It felt wonderful…

Until something caught the corner of your eye. You lifted your head, attention being drawn to your bedroom window. Your family lived in a more suburban area, houses packed together like sardines. Your window, though small, gave you a look into the front yard and the sidewalk that divided what was your lawn and the road. It was normal for you to catch people walking past your window.

….but this late at night?

You set your notebook down, rising from your bed and hesitantly making your way to the window. The world felt like slow motion- like someone was watching your motions in a horror movie and yelling at you for being so stupid! But wouldn’t it be more stupid not to check? You tried to rationalize this in your head, it was probably just a late night jogger, or some kids who snuck out. You placed your hand on the window sill, finally turning your head and peer out the window and see…

Nothing. Nothing there. It was night, yes- but the street lights gave you enough light to see some of your yard. And it was empty.

You blinked. Paranoia. Yeah- that’s what it was. How long had you been….trying to study? You felt your stomach grumble in annoyance. Maybe some food will do you good.

Abandoning the window, you left your room to grab something to eat. Maybe you’d see if Andrew was still up so you could call him. That idea lightened your spirits. Yeah…you’ll do that.

….that was close.

Ashley was never more grateful how much of a dumb bitch you were. Though- it’s also part of her genius for wearing all black. Truly not coincidence cause she always wears black, it was her planning ahead!

Ashley stepped out of the gangly bush, kicking the leaves off of her shoe in frustration. Her pink eyes focused in on your window though, from what she could see- you weren’t on your bed again. In fact you weren’t even in the room. She scowled, wanting to give you more of a scare, but it was getting late. Maybe next time she’ll toss a brick through your window, or cover a knife in strawberry jam and leave it on your doorstep. Anything to give you a fright.

Anything to scare you away.

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #yeeeaaahhhhh sorry this is short #and not as much detailed make out scenes as one would hope #*shrug*#x reader #andrew graves x reader

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drama-glob · 8 months

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SPOILERS FOR "OOPS"

OMG TO ALL THE FLUFF WE GOT IN THIS EPISODE!!! <3<3<3 Literally squealed at how adorable Fizz and Ozzie are (which I already knew ;) ) and the fact that Fizz can't cook. ^_^<3<3<3 I also find it funny that they really weren't doing a good job at keeping their relationship under-wraps and how Fizz himself was not being low-key. XD I do love all his little fly dogs and the fact that one is in a wheelchair is absolutely adorable because he really does care about them as we see. ^_^ <3<3<3

Of course fate would bring Blitzo and Fizz's paths to cross, although I'm still surprised that we got Striker in this episode because I had heard about Crimson's men since it was in Greed after all, but dang, he must be trying to get business outside of royals since the last one didn't pan out. :/ I had a feeling that if it wasn't a hit put out on Fizz, then he'd be ransomed, so it just broke my heart at seeing how distressed he was at almost every turn; at least with talking with Blitzo it served as a distraction for him. It's still awful that he and Blitzo got kidnapped and in a way proved part of the reason for Fizz and Ozzie trying to keep their relationship secret (which admittedly didn't seem too well based on what Crimson said >_< ).

I do love that Blitzo obviously does have feelings for Stolas, and Fizz made some pretty good points about not all royal demons being the same as well as acting superior to others does cast you as snobby rich jerks; I know Fizz's been treated so well by Ozzie for over a decade, but he still came from humble beginnings and probably dealt with the same racist stuff other imps faced. :/

It was nice to see Stolas and Ozzie interact, even if it mainly was to go over the ransom demands, but I love that Stolas was empathetic and helpful in Ozzie's time of need even though Ozzie was withholding the crystal because of Fizz's hatred for Blitzo; I do hope Blitzo and Stolas will have their talk in the "Full Moon Ritual" episode because there is still so much he doesn't know about Blitzo's past. ;_;

I'm so glad that we got the confirmation that Blitzo caused the fire that cost Fizz his limbs and horns, but also the fact that he also lost his mom in the same fire...and it was all an ACCIDENT?! It was truly heartbreaking even if we were fed plenty of clues as to that being the reason why. ;_; It does figure that from there it was a whole misunderstanding that tore Blitzo and Fizz's friendship apart and I wonder who this "They" are that lied and said that Blitzo didn't come and Fizz didn't want to see Blitzo. Maybe Mammon's men if he was pick up by the Deadly Sin at that point? I do wonder why the fire was green while the sky was red like they were still in Pride. Hmmm. More to the mystery perhaps. ;) I'm guessing we'll see how Ozzie and Fizz met in the next episode. So excited!!! ^_^<3<3<3

Fizz's song was definitely VERY distracting and yes, I will look at this. O_O XD It is funny that none of the men seemed to catch on to their plan. XD

It was so beautiful and heartwarming that Blitzo and Fizz hugged and it seems to me like they're making their way back as friends, if they aren't there already. ;) I don't blame Fizz for being mad that he got blown up again, but like Blitzo said, at least he stayed around this time. ;) ^_^ <3<3<3 I'm still worried about Striker coming back though. O_O He just keeps getting more and more unhinged with each loss. >_<

When Ozzie and Fizz reunited those, I went "AWWWW" so hard and I love the way Ozzie said "Fizzy!" ^_^<3<3<3 It was really sweet though that Fizz told Ozzie to give Stolas the crystal for Blitzo as he DEFINITELY earned it today for saving Fizz's life. I wonder if Blitzo will tell Stolas? :/ Either way, seeing the amount of care the Ozzie gave Fizz and didn't blame him for anything that happened and just wanted him to take it easy, seriously kept melting my heart over and over. ^_^<3<3<3 They're so cute together and deserve all the happiness! ^_^<3<3<3

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suzukiblu · 5 months

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Day twenty-seven of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

They walk to their first planned destination, Kon being unfairly adorable and also an asshole at the same time, because it’s Kon so of course he can multitask that kind of shit. Tim gets teased about his taste in kids’ toys and his date budget and his theoretical Smash skills, which he’s clearly going to need to educate the bastard on the hard way. Alternately, Tim also gets Hawaiian gummy candy shared with him, never mind that Kon apparently both really likes it and hasn’t had it in months.

Tim continues to be in way too deep and finds it sweet of him, possibly because of the excited and pleased way Kon grins at him when he tells him likes the candy.

Tim is definitely in way too deep.

They get where they’re going, and Kon . . . pauses, and then tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Trust me,” Tim says with admittedly unwarranted confidence as he squeezes his hand, then leads him into the modern art museum looming in front of them. Kon isn’t the type to really be that into museums, he knows, but they did “meet” in one and also this specific exhibit seemed, well . . .

Promising, he guesses.

“Sure, pretty boy,” Kon says with a laugh, squeezing his hand in return. Tim is idly mystified as to why Kon keeps calling him that, but in no way intends to dissuade him from it. If Kon wants to call him completely illogical things, that’s up to him.

He takes Kon to the ticket counter and buys them both a ticket. The clerk asks for their ID and Kon hesitates, because he’s obviously never had or needed an actual ID in his life, but Tim’s already pulling out the fake ones he made for “Alvin Draper” and “Connell Hill”. They won’t stand up to Bat-level scrutiny, obviously–he didn’t have the time or see the point in going that far–but they’ll get them into an adults-only museum night. He’ll do up something more reliable to buy the cul-de-sac with. He has a few identities that could buy property established, but Bruce knows all of those identities, so he’d rather avoid using any of them. Easier to just build a new cover ID from scratch than hide an active one setting up a new residence that isn’t an obvious safehouse, he figures.

He pays the clerk, pockets his receipt, and they head down the hall together. The museum is one of the nicer ones in Gotham, and decorated a little bit more nicely than usual for the event, but not outright extravagantly. It’s due to be open a little later than usual too, though Tim doesn’t know how late Kon will want to stay. He can probably push back their dinner reservations if it comes to it, though he’s not expecting that to be necessary.

“It’s an 18+ thing?” Kon asks as soon as they’re out of the clerk’s earshot, raising an eyebrow curiously. “The frick kind of museum is this?”

“Not that kind,” Tim says, trying not to blush. “They just do adults-only events sometimes. It’s just so there won’t always be a bunch of bratty kids and annoying teenagers running around distracting the older museum-goers. And there's hors d'oeuvres and drinks.”

“Babe, I don’t know about you, but you are aware I am technically both a bratty kid and an annoying teenager, right?” Kon asks him with a smirk.

“That would be why I got you a fake ID too,” Tim says reasonably.

“So we just snuck into a museum with fake IDs,” Kon says with a laugh. “I mean, I’ve done weirder, probably, but what the fuck, Tim? Where’d you even get that?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Tim says only a little bit sheepishly, carefully avoiding the latter question. Also every other version of this kind of exhibit he found was way more kid-oriented and definitely not going to count as the kind of “nice” date to have convinced Kon to dress up for or actually look like Tim had put effort into any of the night.

“What, did the goat idol end up here?” Kon asks in amusement. “We checking up on the little guy?”

“No, he’s still living his best life in Metropolis under increased security, last I heard,” Tim says, though that’d be kind of funny, so depending on how long they’re seeing each other maybe he should keep that idea in mind.

“You actually checked?” Kon asks with a laugh.

. . . right, that’s not something a normal teenager would do, is it. Well–too late now, so Tim’s just gonna have to lean into it.

“I was just wondering what they were going to do with it, after a whole gallery wall got blown in and everything,” he says. “Apparently the answer was ‘close for a weekend and then back to business’. Don’t ask me where they found contractors that fast.”

“It’s Metropolis,” Kon says. “If you can’t find a contractor to fix superhero damage, you’re not trying.”

“It wasn’t actually superhero damage,” Tim points out. “You didn’t break anything.”

“A real fucking important vase, apparently,” Kon snorts, but he’s smiling a little as he shrugs. “Alright, fine, but ‘mediocre museum robber damage’ probably doesn’t sound as good on the insurance, now does it? And I look much prettier in the paper than a bunch of mug shots of idiots who didn’t even know how to work their cute lil’ magic goat buddy.”

“Definitely, yeah,” Tim agrees wryly, steering him down a side hall towards the sounds of other people. Frankly he’s counting them lucky the goat didn’t try to start a magical apocalypse or something, given how their lives usually go. And also it was Metropolis, which sucks enough as it is. So like, of course the apocalypse would come from Metropolis, given the option and opportunity to.

“I don't know much about art or whatever, you know,” Kon says a little bit awkwardly, peering down the hall towards the dimly-lit gallery ahead. “Like–that was not prioritized in the ‘how to be Superman’ educational package. Especially because it was written by committee by a bunch of people who I'm still pretty sure had never even met the guy. Like ever.”

“You don't have to know anything about art to like it,” Tim says reasonably, resisting a vague urge to frown over the way Kon phrased that. Note to self, maybe. Just–for later, obviously. “But this isn't really that kind of exhibit.”

“Isn't this an art museum?” Kon says with a puzzled frown. “What else is there?”

“It's a ‘multimedia experience primed to dazzle and delight all of the observer's senses’,” Tim recites wryly off the website copy he was reading earlier this week. “Also known as a sensory exhibit.”

“A–what?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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Don't Speak 29

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: I'm sorry this whole week has been Andrew

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

"Wish I didn't have to go back to work," Andy tucks his shirt in as he enters the kitchen, "mmm, something smells good."

"Oh, I found the waffle maker," you say proudly. Admittedly, you've made a mess. Your tablet displays the recipe as a bowl sits next to it dripping batter. "I thought it would be a nice start to the day."

"How long have you been awake?" His expression falls, "dove, you've been... very busy lately. I'm worried."

"Why?" You bat your lashes. Yes, you've been a bit all over, always trying to distract yourself. It helps you keep your mind off of the cramped nights and sleepless hours. "Dr. Kemp wants me to set goals."

"Yes, I know. And it's good advice but you can take a day off," he suggests.

"Maybe," you shrug and hide your disappointment. You thought he'd be happy. You're doing what he wants too. He wants you to give back and you're trying to take care of him the best way you know how. You've never tried this hard in your life but he doesn't seem to see that.

"Here," you turn and take a plate of waffles, "I also cut up some fruit," you put it on the island near him and grab the bowl of strawberries and blueberries, "and syrup."

You bring the bottle of dark maple and a set of cutlery for him. He sits on one of the high chairs and accepts them with a thanks. Despite his admonishment, he looks delights. You step back on your heel and watch him. As he cuts into the fluffy stack, he pauses and looks at you.

"What about you?"

"Oh, I'll eat when you're gone," you assure him, "I'm not hungry yet."

He inhales and takes his first bite. He chews it slowly, his thought tensing in his jaw, "promise you will. Dove... I see you pushing your food around."

"I don't have a problem," you say defensively. He doesn't know how you used to be. How you would binge so much you nearly puked. So you miss a meal or two, it's better than the alternative.

"I think it's something you should discuss in therapy? Just to be certain," he offers.

"It's not," you insist. "I'm fine--"

"Then sit down and eat with me. That's what couples do. They eat together," he points his fork at you, "and don't forget a kiss before I go."

You watch him for a moment. You don't tell Steve about these arguments, you only tell him what you learn. What you're doing to be better. You'll tell him you know now that you should eat with Andy and give him a kiss goodbye. That's something, you suppose.

"I'm sorry, Andy," you murmur and put a waffle on a plate for yourself.

"Don't be sorry, just do better, honey," he says.

"Alright," you turn back to him as you grab a fork and knife. You go around the island to sit next to him. You poke at the waffle and cut off a small piece.

"And... you can call me honey, too. Would you?"

You nod, "okay..." you hover the fork in front of your mouth as your stomach mulches, "honey."

🕊️

You spend much of the day painting. Your attempts at napping were met with tossing and turning as your mind kept wandering to the nights ahead and those behind you. Andy's touches aren't as unusual as before, you can lay still, close your eyes, let him kiss you. But he doesn't like it when you stop him from doing more.

Your back aches as you hunch forward on the stool. You know it's a bad position but you don't care. You lean in, nose almost touching the canvas as you focus on a feather.

You yawn and swipe the brush against your palette. You sway slightly, eyes nearly rolling back. You should try to nap before–

"How's it going, Dove?" Andy startles you as his shadow fills the door.

You turn, shivering in the airy garage as you lower the brush. You blink at him, for a moment thinking he might be a walking dream. You shake your head, no he's real and times slipped past you again.

You set down your palette and hug yourself. It's as if the day was a fog and it's only just clearing. You give a sheepish smile as Andy stays at the top of the steps.

"Tired?" He says, "oh, wow, you got a lot done."

"Yeah, uh… a lot," you agree hoarsely.

"Come on, you're asleep on your feet, sit down. I was thinking of ordering some pizza. I've been craving it," he beckons to you. You're glad he's in a good mood.

"Alright, I'll just clean up," you turn and rinse off your brush, "see ya inside."

"I can do that–"

"No, no, I'm… a bit particular about my brushes," you mutter, "I'll be in soon…honey."

"Alright, don't make me come find you," he kids as he backs up.

You're thankful he's appeased. You're too exhausted for him to be smothering you again. You just want to zone out.

You clean your brushes and palette off and place them away neatly. You rub your hands together as you climb the two steps inside and close the door behind you. As you pass the kitchen, Andy calls after you.

"Hey," you enter as he twists a knob on the stove.

"Making you some tea," he says, "you look cold. Why didn't you turn on the heater?"

"Didn't think of it," you drag your feet, legs heavy, "tea sounds nice."

"Some of that stuff Steve brought," he sniffs and gives a shrug, "you really seemed to like it."

"Sounds good," you lean on the counter and cup your chin.

"You can have it while we decide on toppings," he smiles, "you like pineapple on your pizza?"

"I'm not picky," you answer.

"I'm asking what you like, sweetie."

"Just cheese," you reply, "sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he comes around the island and cradles your head along the side, bending to kiss your crown, "go, relax, I'll bring the tea out to you."

"Thank you," you sidle away slowly.

You go into the living room and nestle into the corner of the couch, hugging your legs as you try to warm up. You watch the window, the grey sky dimming with the onset of the autumnal evening. You lean your head back and groan.

When Andy comes in, he plunks your cup down and sits heavily next to you. You look at him as he grabs the remote.

"Why don't you put something on?" He holds it out to you.

"Um, is there a game tonight?" You wonder.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, alright," you take the remote and flip on the tv.

"Whatever you want," he leans back, one arm across the couch above you as he keeps his phone in his other.

You browse the television shows, thinking of trying something new. Your eyes drift thoughtlessly as he thumbs at the screen. He hums, "just cheese?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"Alright, I want you to finish two slices at least," he says.

You frown but don't argue. You don't appreciate his concern for your eating habits. Pizza is a lot and greasy. You reach for your tea and continue to search through titles.

You hear a bing and glance over again, certain not to move your head. You see the notification just before Andy swipes it away from the top of the screen. 'Cloud recordings full.'

You don't think anything of it. You don't know what that means. You click on a show you always saw Amber watching.

"Good choice," he says as he puts his phone down, "all ordered. With garlic knots too."

"Mm, sounds good," you blow on the tea, the smell of maple comforting, "thank you… er, honey."

"Of course," he kisses your head again as he drops his arm onto your shoulders, "the tea will help tide you over until it gets here."

🕊️

The pizza comes as the drowsiness tugs at your eyes. You feel sluggish as Andy brings you a plate with two slices. You chew as you stare at the bleary television, the audio garbling as you struggle to down each bite.

You finish with a painfully full stomach. Andy clears your plate with his and says something you don't catch. You feel so out of it. You've never felt like this before.

Andy comes back with two bottles of beer uncapped. You squint at him, sure you're seeing double. It must be the lack of sleep.

"Here," he holds one out as he sits next to you.

"Oh, I don't…" you eke out.

"One won't hurt, sweetie," he winks, "it's already open."

You rub your eyes before reaching out to take one. It's cold and the glass condensates beneath your palm. You sniff the open neck and make a face. It smells awful.

"Taste better than it looks," he clinks his bottle against yours.

You open your eyes wide, fighting the weight around them. You lean the bottle against your lips and make yourself take a drink. As much as you want to spit it out, you choke down the wheaty acidic liquid.

"You get used to it," he chuckles and takes a hearty swig.

"Mmm," you grumble, "I am very tired…"

"You go to bed early every night," he rests his hand on your knee, "worked all day just looking forward to being with you, honey."

You frown and nod, taking another repulsive gulp. It's nasty but you don't want to waste it. And you don't want him to be upset. Again.

"Finish your beer and you can go lay down," he says, "okay, sweetie."

"Alright," you look at the bottle, a tall task as each taste is worse than the last. "Thank you."

He keeps his hand on your leg. You notice how it slips higher along your thigh as you sip. You feel your body slackening and the sludgy fatigue turns to a bubbly blare.

You focus on the bottle, just wanting to go to bed. You empty it down to a small cluster of foam and sit forward to put it on the table. You miss and the bottle clanks on the floor. Andy chuckles and reaches to pick it up, setting it down with his own.

“Oh, honey,” he turns to you, “are you tipsy already?”

“Andy,” you breathe, “I don’t feel good.”

“You drank that too fast,” he laughs again, pushing his arm behind you, “here, I got you, baby.”

You close your eyes as he swoops his other arm under your knees and the whole world shifts as he lifts you. Your head lolls against his shoulder as he holds you against his chest. His scent seeps into your nostrils as the motions of his gait lulls you.

He climbs the stairs carefully as you lean into him. Your head swirls strangely. You’ve never felt like this. Your eyeballs feel funny and your stomach is airy.

You open your eyes again as he enters the bedroom. He tuts, amused by your state as he lays you on his bed. He hushes you as you babble dumbly.

“I’ll get you some pajamas, just relax,” he coos, dragging his hand down your side and kneading your thigh.

He leaves you as you obey him. Not out of your will, but because you have no choice. You can’t fight this eerie heaviness. The sludge of time and space that smothers you.

He returns, a blurry smear of colours as he moves around the room. He tosses something light beside you and bends over you. He runs his hands from your hips and around your back as he sits you up. You bobble as you struggle to hold your head up.

“Here,” he tugs on your shirt, bringing it up your torso.

Instinctively you catch it and try to keep him from revealing anymore. He clucks and yanks until you nearly fall back. You drop your hands to keep yourself up.

“Honey, I’m helping, don’t be bad,” he warns as he continues to raise the fabric, “arms up. I got you a fresh set of pajamas.”

Your lashes droop down and cling to each other. You shakily raise your arms and he pulls your shirt off. He gulps loudly and his fingers flutter along your shoulders and down to your chest. He cups your tits and purrs.

“Sweetie, I… never got to say before but you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

You shoo his touch away and cross your arms. He sighs heavily and grips your hips. He pulls you down harshly so you land flat on your back. You squeak in surprise as you bounces against the bed.

He pops open the button of your jeans and curls his fingers beneath the denim. He rolls them down roughly, jolting you as he gets them past your feet. You shiver as you lay in only your underwear and bra, hugging yourself.

“Mmmm,” he sits beside you again, leaning over you as he plants his hand by your other side, “honey,” he runs his other hand down your arm and takes yours, moving it into his lap, “do you feel what you do to me?”

He presses your hand to the bulge in his pants. Your head turns side to side as your voice sticks in your throat. The flavour of the beer stains your tongue and chokes you. He bends closer and kisses you on the lips.

“I need you so bad,” he whispers as he pulls away, “but… I want you to feel it.”

He moves your hand off of him and shifts, dragging his other hand away from the bed and down the curves of your side. He trails kisses down your jaw and neck, further and further, lingering around your chest as he guides the straps of your bra down your arms.

He looses your tits and tends to them one at a time. Nipping, kneading, and suckling until your nipples are sensitive and hard. His lets his hand wander further down as he dotes on your chest, slipping his fingers beneath he elastic of your panties.

He lifts his head and exhales a scalding breath over you, “can I taste you? I need to taste you…”

“What?” You murmur as your head slumps to one side and your eyes shut, fuzzy and itchy.

You feel the bed jostle as his weight lifts and his touch drifts away. He urges your legs apart before he settles between them, the bed moving with him. Your panties roll down your legs and he bends your knees. You whine, confused about what he’s doing.

He growls and you feel his breath along your thigh. You twitch as he spreads his hands across your flesh and holds your legs open. Something cool delves into the warmth between your legs. You yelp as your eyes snap open.

You lift your head as it teeters on your neck and you see the top of Andy’s head by your pelvis. He runs his hands around your thighs, gripping the outside and pushing them flush to his face as he laps at your cunt. You whimper as you fall flat again, hiding behind your eyelids as the vision of him paints the void of your speckly mind.

What is he doing?

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #don't speak #series #defending jacob #fresh #steve kemp

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graneymar · 1 year

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Okay hear me out luv

after months of mutual pining, 2017!Neymar finally gets his hands on you, his french tutor, only to find out you’re refraining because your pathetic excuse of an ex had convinced you that ur not sexy nor good in bed. Now he can’t let you believe such absurdities, can he? You’re a literal goddess in his eyes, obsessing him without even trying, so he just has to softly fuck your ex’s words out of your mind, replacing them with his dirty but - oh so sweet ones

aka slightly dominant ney praising his princess and doing her nice and sweet to admittedly erase the memory of every other man she had before him ✨✨✨

#11. NEYMAR: LESSONS

SUMMARY: above

WARNINGS: filthy dirty smut (whole package literally)

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader

"Neymar, are you even listening to me? What’s up with you today?", you asked softly, still raising your voice a little. Neymar dropped his pen and sighed out. "Just got a little distracted, I don’t know. Not in the mood today." It was quite obvious, his eyes kept on wandering up and down the upper half of your body. It was a hot summer day in Paris and you didn’t think of anything when you decided to wear something a little more revealing, but apparently, your student fought his thoughts about what he'd prefer to do with you. "Can we just a watch a movie or something?", Neymar suggested.

"I'm not getting paid for watching movies with you", you slightly giggled. Neymar got up from his chair and walked around your living room. "What if it’s a french movie? With portoguese subtitles", he answered, putting on his cutest smile. You thought about it for a second, but shook your head no. "Let’s just finish this task and we're done for today then I guess." Neymar let out a loud annoyed breath, but nodded. "Great. Let me just get another bottle of water. Would you like one too?", you said as you got up. You heard his footsteps following you to the kitchen. Taking out two small water bottles and closing the refrigerator, you suddenly felt two hands on your waist. He pulled you closer to his body and his hands started running up and down your sides. You were confused and shocked by his actions, but also too stunned to speak up. "You're doing this on purpose, aren’t you?", he whispered into your ear. Your body shivered as you felt his breath on your neck. "W-What? What am I doing?", you asked. Neymar again grabbed you by the waist and turned you around, so you were face to face. "The way you dress lately… how you look at me… you know you drive me insane", he whispered inbetween the kisses he placed on your neck. It felt so wrong, but so right. You knew you should pull away from him, but his lips on your body felt so good, making you feel so weak. He picked you up and placed you on the kitchen counter, his lips crashing on yours, your tongues finding their own rhythm. Your body stiffed as his hands were roaming all around it. You felt his large hand making it’s way underneath your shirt. No lie, you enjoyed it, but quickly pulled away the moment he tried to reveal your breasts. "Stop Neymar, stop now", you finally exclaimed, slightly pushing him away from you. He threw you a confused look as you got down from the kitchen counter and ran your fingers through your hair, turning your back to him. "Did I do anything wrong?", he asked after a moment of silence.

You hated being so insecure about yourself and body, all thanks to your ex. He was your first boyfriend, you’ve been together for years before you found out he cheated on you countless times. Confronting him, he let you know he didn’t enjoy sleeping with you, saying you became boring throughout the years, you wouldn’t know how to do him right. Adding to that, he made you feel insecure about your body, pointing out every tiny flaw. All this lead to you becoming insecure about your body and abilities in bed.

Now how were you supposed to open up to the one and only Neymar Jr, who was used to having the most gorgeous and sexiest women? You were convinced you looked like a fucking joke next to them and you couldn’t please him the way he knew it. You wanted him, you really did. In fact, one of your biggest sexual fantasies was about to become reality, and now it was only you who stood in the way.

"No Ney, it’s not you. It’s me", you spoke up, turning around to him again, "Me and my little demons." Neymar finally understood what you were about when you looked down at your body as you mentioned your 'little demons'. "Oh God, no, please don’t tell me you're questioning your beauty." Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding to look at him. "Why would you even think of yourself that way?"

"It’s not just that Neymar, I know I can’t give you what you need."

"Who said that?", he asked and you couldn’t hold back yourself from tearing up. "I don’t know why I'm telling you this right now, but okay. My ex cheated on me several times. According to him, I wasn't good enough, wasn’t able to satisfy him, I wasn’t sexy enough anyway. Now, please just finally drop it." He looked at you in disbelief as he took some steps forwards you. "No Ney, please", you tried to stop him, unsuccessfully. He wiped the tears from your cheeks. You looked up to him, your head cupped in his large soft hands. "Fuck this shit, fuck him. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me", he quietly spoke before you felt his passionate seducing kiss on your lips again. A thousand thoughts running through your mind, but you literally melt into his kiss and hands. He smiled as he pulled away, "I've been waiting for this so long." You smiled back, letting him you know you’ve been wanting this too. He picked you up bridal style, your arms wrapped around his neck. "What a gentleman", you chuckled.

"I'll show you what a real gentleman is", he smirked as he softly laid you down in your bed. The nervousness in you was rising, some negative thoughts still came through, but it was too late for you to stop now. All the kissing and touching made you want him even more, you practically needed him. His lips placing sweet kisses on your neck, his hands instantly went down your shirt. It was important for Neymar to make you feel secure and comfortable with him, so he slowly started massaging and squeezing your tits, listening to your quiet joyous moans, before he finally pulled your shirt up. You sat straight for a moment, throwing your shirt on the ground. His eyes lit up the moment he saw your breasts, covered in nothing but your black bra. He looked at you asking for allowance, you nodded as a reply. He took off your bra and started massaging one breast. You felt a tingling sensation the second he sucked on your other breast, his tongue flickering over your nipple. Your eyes met his as you looked down, his lust filled stare drove you insane. Neymar slowly kissed his way down to your stomach, sending shivers all over your body. He tugged on your shorts and you lift your hip up, letting him drag them down. "Baby.. you are.. you're fucking gorgeous", he said, his eyes going up and down your body. You noticed his huge bulge and sat up to look straight at it. "You want him, don't you?", he smirked. You nodded, looking him deeply into his eyes. He untied his belt and dragged down his jeans just a little bit. You waited for him to continue, but he stopped. "Your turn to take care of him", he mumbled. You pressed your lips together as you pulled down his jeans with his shorts. You swallowed hard the moment his big cock jumped up. The excitement rose, but so did the nervousness again. You knew exactly what he wanted to you do, but you were again doubting your abilities, which he immediately noticed. "Just try it. My turn to teach you", he smiled, his breath becoming heavier thinking of what a pleasure was expecting him. You deeply inhaled before you finally had his cock in your hands, repeatedly going up and down. Looking up at Neymar, you realised he needed more, so you carefully swirled your tongue around his tip. After teasing him a little, you slowly tried to take him all in - he was a little too big for you though. Moving back and forth, your hands found their way to his balls, squeezing and massaging them. Neymar let out a few moans and tilted his head back with his eyes closed, before he grabbed the back of your head and forced you to take his huge cock all in, making you gag. He moved his hips in his own rhythm, going faster, then slower again, thrusting in and out of your mouth. He pulled your on hair as he deeply thrusted in one last time before finally letting you pull away from him. You were trying to catch a breath, but he left you no time to do so. His hand wrapped around your neck with pressure, pushing you back onto the bed, spreading your legs for him and placing one last kiss on your cheek, he thrusted into you without any warning, making you moan out loud. "You okay?", he mumbled. "It hurts a little", you replied, a tiny tear rolling down your cheek. He could barely hear you since the hand on your neck applied even more pressure than before. "It’s supposed to", he smirked, deeply thrusting into you once more. Your whole body twitched, you pressed your lips together in order not to cry out. One of your hands hold onto his wrist that was on your neck, your other hand grabbed the bedsheets. Neymars eyes sparkled up watching you being all out of control and completely weak for him. He slowly started thrusting in and out of your throbbing cunt, rolling his eyes back in pleasure, feeling your walls tighten around him. Your whines turned into an uncontrollable mess of moans the moment his pace increased, hitting your point with every thrust. The pain you felt before changed into a tingling sensation of satisfaction.

"Is this good? Is this how my little pretty slut needs to get fucked, hm?", he gasped, slapping your cheek before putting pressure on your neck again. You were shocked at the slap on your face, you’ve never experienced such actions in bed before, but you had to admit you liked it. You enjoyed the feeling of being his little toy. "Mhm", you let out, your lips pressed together. You could barely keep your eyes open, tears slowly rolling down your blushed cheeks. Your whole body started pulling together, your legs got a little shaky. You were close to your climax and Neymar noticed that too, but he decided it wasn’t time for you yet. He suddenly pulled out and started stroking his cock, covered in your wetness. "Turn around, turn around", he demanded, "Ass up, face down." You did as he told you. He started teasing you by sliding his tip up and down your entrance. You pushed your butt closer to him, letting him know how impatient you were. He smirked, "Aw baby, you really wanna come for me don’t you?" You were so fed up with his teasing, you weren’t even able to answer. He spanked your ass. Once, twice, thrice. The sound of the slaps mixed with your crying moans echoed through the room. Your body twitched in pain, still you managed to look back at Neymar and show him you enjoyed it by putting on a filthy smile. He returned the smile and slowly put his huge cock into your wet little pussy, giving you time to adjust, knowing this position was way more intense. "Oh my god, oh my god, fuck", you squealed and let yourself fall. He got you back up by pulling on your hair, his other hand holding onto your waist as he thrusted in and out of you. Being aware of how you liked the spanking, he made sure to repeat his action every now and then. "Fuck, Neymar", you screamed out as your breath got heavier, your whole body shivered. "Yeah baby, scream my name, come for me", he said inbetween gasps. You felt him twitch inside of you, he was about to come too. His pace decreased, but he still managed to hit your spot hard enough. That was when you lost it all. You screamed in joy, you felt everything and nothing at the same time. He let out two loud moans as you felt his warm juice filling your inside. Gasping for air, he let his sweaty body drop right next to you. You turned around to lay on your back again, hiding your body under blankets. You couldn’t believe what just happened, but what was even more surprising for you - you loved it, you felt good doing it and you actually felt good about yourself. Neymar cleared his throat and smiled over to you, "I think I need those French lessons a little more often."

You chuckled, softly slapping his face before he pulled you closer to him and gave you another sweet kiss.

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