#i put too much thought into this oh well i hope this makes you simp and also change your mind on freud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sutorus · 1 year

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THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.

PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader

WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms

A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?

reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:

it is said that those who cannot do, teach.

geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility.

but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do.

to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man.

but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you.

he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—).

when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like.

(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)

it was slowly starting to consume him.

the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year.

god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—

he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it.

everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives.

everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him.

but you damn well managed to.

and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair.

“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”

bullshit.

the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately.

and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class.

it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!

but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there.

however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.

you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours.

his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.

his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed.

under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are.

but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know.

but you knew for a fact that it was personal.

“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”

you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”

he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”

“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance.

“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively.

“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”

megumi lifts an eyebrow.

“you need to get one for each,” he says simply.

you grin. “deal.”

suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class.

it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious.

watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test.

he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you.

the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well.

the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak.

he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class.

when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild.

he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another.

you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages.

you smile, waving at the screen.

“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”

your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.

“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.”

you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying.

“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”

you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had.

“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”

you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip.

“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”

as always, satoru is no help.

“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”

suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”

satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.”

suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you.

“that won’t fix anything.”

satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.

“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”

suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.

at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong.

it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself.

he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again.

it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that.

suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this.

your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest.

the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know.

damn right it’s personal.

you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation.

geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off.

he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?”

your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over.

“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”

the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.

“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“

“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”

“miss—“

“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger.

geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“

“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”

he sits up, straightening his posture.

geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”

you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on.

“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”

there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair.

he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet.

“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you.

you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”

the man hums.

“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”

you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“

“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.”

your mouth goes dry.

before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from.

it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo.

you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction.

you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently.

but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you.

“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest.

he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”

you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom.

you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.

“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue.

“what a shame.”

your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”

he smiles sweetly.

“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now…

now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.

those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun.

you could so easily forget what you came here for.

“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”

he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”

“geto—“

“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”

you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn.

you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“then… push me, professor.”

it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest.

he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together.

it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two.

he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh.

geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief.

you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips.

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.

but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.

geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan.

his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core.

“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”

he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.

god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin.

“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.

geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside.

you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips.

the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you.

“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”

you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again.

“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”

you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.

not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.

you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat.

he looks so good like this, just edible.

you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue.

he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.

geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive.

he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock.

it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds.

“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly.

“tastes better on your tongue, prof.”

geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of.

he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees.

you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper.

“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face.

he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants.

you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved.

you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside.

he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth.

god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would.

you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.

you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones.

“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”

“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”

and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man.

but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo.

so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks.

“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“

and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time.

he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over.

geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.

“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt.

you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.

“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“

“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core.

you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you.

“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs.

his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else.

geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear.

“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt.

you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn.

you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him.

longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you.

he notices you looking.

“do you need more prep? i can—“

“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk.

he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”

you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip.

“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”

geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him.

“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head.

his spirit is so unbreakable.

here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better.

geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair.

“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized.

“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”

he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers.

“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—

fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this.

he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle.

a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.

you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back.

when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening.

“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts.

he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out.

“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”

you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in.

the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you.

you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade.

“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“

“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go.

he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin.

your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.

he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt.

“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“

he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips.

geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you.

“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“

you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.

“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom.

you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.”

“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”

geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you.

“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”

“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”

“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”

you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts.

“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”

you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you.

you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you.

your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer.

the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release.

geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got.

“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“

it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you.

he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure.

it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you.

geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of.

when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy.

“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows.

“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”

“…is probably going to happen again, right?”

he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.

maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.

you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips.

“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?”

the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession.

so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles.

and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.

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wonryllis · 5 months

Text

candy, you're like a drug (m) | sim jaeyun.

PREVIEW. where jake teaches you how to blow him behind the bleachers just before his soccer practice, unable to resist the charm of you in a cheerleader outfit. well it's not like he has to resist you anymore, you are finally officially his girl.

FEATURING. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader(candy) from WATERMELON SUGAR . . this can absolutely be read as a standalone but i would still suggest giving the full fic a read, if you like this.

WORD COUNT. 3140 edited but don't come at me.

WARNINGS. SMUT MDNI!!!!! blowjob obviously, face fucking, dacryphilia, corruption kink, handjob, reader's a crybaby kinda, pussy rubbing but brief, mentions of eating pussy, voyeurism slightly, jake's mind is literally a museum of dirty thoughts about you. he's way too obsessed with you, he swears a lot and cums a lot, hand in hand. jake is real sweet trust. psst! sunghoon thrid wheeling oh. and that's all i think? idk if it's good i hope y'all like it!

★ YEONIE NOTES. this took so long im sorry guys, pls enjoy and leave comments and feedback i'd love to know your thoughts and yes im still open to doing more drabbles for them!

cheerleader… not a bad idea, you could definitely make use of it

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

“let me just put this down f’ you,” taking off his varsity jacket immediately, he spreads two fold on the ground, pressing his hands on it to make sure it's cushioned enough for you. being glad of the fact that he hadn't taken the jacket off for the practice before you came to give him the surprise.

. .

“you okay baby? do your knees hurt too much?” he asks once it settles in that you are doing this here and right now. heart pounding against his ribs so hard, he feels it ringing in his ears. his eyes cast down to the place your knees meet the rough ground and he internally grimaces and scolds himself for letting your soft skin scrap against dirt like this.

you smile sweetly at his actions, moving onto the jacket and letting your knees rub against the same cloth you watched him wash just yesterday. his precious jacket that he always took extra care of.

“so? how do i do it?” jake’s eyes quiver, orbs darkening as the lust takes over. blood rushing down quick at the dirty insinuation behind the innocent words that leave your mouth. drunk on the way you already seem so into it.

“take it out first,” he tries not to falter and just moan his heart out when you already jump at pulling his pants and boxers down before he's even finished speaking. holding his breath while he watches you watch his cock slap against his lower abs and then reach out to gently grasp it. mouth instinctively slacking open when he twitches in your grip and slowly bringing him close. a wet smooch at the tip that makes his whole body shudder and release a thick glob of precum, confusing you if he just came, your eyes instantly shooting up to look at him to which he just nods his head telling you to go on. put it in your mouth. his gaze speaks, air dense with anticipation.

“go on baby⁠— fuckkkkk oh god,” fuck fuck fuck, it feels way too good, cock laying heavy against your hot tongue, the softness of your mouth inside feeling like a tight pouch of warmth engulfing him in the most pleasurable way possible.

“just s-suck on it like your lollies,” jake groans, uttering the words through his clenched teeth. just a minute into you trying to give him head and he already feels like busting a nut. god how long has he dreamt of this exact moment and how many times. how many dreadful nights of fisting his cock imagining it was your tiny warm mouth around him, sucking him hard and sloppy like you do with those watermelon lollipops all the damn time in front of him. those torturing times, oh he can't believe he survived it to actually know what it feels like to be inside your mouth.

his hair sticks to his forehead, feeling the sweat drip as he breathed hard with every experimental suck. hands reaching down to push the strands of hair that fall forwards away from your face. thumb caressing your the skin under your eyes as you look up and into his brown orbs. holding eye contact with a dazed doe look that drives him crazy. the touch of your small hands stroking what you can't seemingly fit inside, lips always coming back to suck on his tip, like slurping dripping candy. he felt crazed, insane, and lunatic for still craving so much more of you.

“yeah fuck candy, just like that,” he pants, head tilting back as he gasps for air, everything around him tuning out at the realization of having you on your knees for him.

“shit!” the sudden feeling of you gagging around him after trying to take him all in makes jake jerk forward in a shudder.

it doesn't take him another second to decide that, that's it. he can't control himself anymore and absolutely needs to fuck your mouth, push so deep into your throat it leaves the imprints of his cock and make you so cock drunk all you ever think about when you gulp is him him and just him.

“push my thighs if gets too much—” one of his hands thread into your hair in a makeshift half pony to hold your head firmly and the other squeezing below his tip hard to hold himself from nutting before he gets to the real thing, wanting to drag this out even though he knows sooner or later someone will come searching for him, noticing the quaterback’s absence the moment one pays a tad bit of attention.

jake has never been the one to skip practice and especially not for something indecent like this. being late is not in his veins and keeping his varsity duffle bag at the stark front of the bleachers; his all time habit, always eager to make his presence and determination known. so the fact that he can't be spotted anywhere in the field with his bag resting exactly where it is every time, is more than enough of a reason to have the whole team searching around for him. however, in all honesty, you being an exception to all of jake's rules(as it has always been) all he hopes for is not being caught no matter how much the thought of it arouses him. he can't let people see this pretty you. wanting to gatekeep you to the very last bits. hence, this blowjob is way more important, and practice and his team can just wait a few extra minutes.

he starts off slow at first, thrusting careful and steady, to let you adjust to it. ten, nine, eleven, eleven, trying to count sheep in his head not to lose his cool too quick. shit shit shit, it's okay, it's all good.

it works for a while, even if his counting is fucked over like him, it works for a short fleeting while. maybe a minute or two or three, he has no idea but it's too brief of a time to be called as holding back.

he takes one look at you. just one look, at the way you already seem to be struggling, drooling all around him with your doe eyes all wide and teary, a few drops slipping out with each thrust of him. you are a crybaby for sure and maybe it would've annoyed him if it were someone else but come on it's you. he already imagined you to be a crybaby and god did it turn him on beyond expectation, though he didn't think you'd actually be one, and he definitely never thought he'd love it so so much when you cried for him. eyelashes wet and batting at him, doing whatever it takes to keep your eyes open and trained on him.

if he knew it was because the first time you fucked, he asked you to keep your eyes on him and you thought he liked it when you did it, hence forcing your hooded eyes to stay on him right now.. jake would lose his mind into the depths of hell and into the sins of lust.

the whimper you let out when his cock hits the back of your throat makes him buck his hips forward once, and at realization of how you're struggling and yet not pushing him away because you want it just as much as him, his grip on your head tightens before he starts thrusting frantically like a madman. albeit, at the back of his subconscious he's still holding back, knowing you're not yet ready to handle his true lost self.

“i swear, you're trying to kill me,” his voice strains with the amount of moans and groans he held back all time to make sure people don't find him.

back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. jake's hips fall into a rhythm of their own as he swears out all the curses known to mankind at the back of his mind. feeling so good, it makes him question if all the sex he had until you was actually some real sex or just some otome simulation he played.

there's no way something as simple as this and something where he has to be sane enough to hold his demons in check could feel so damn ecstatic.

his eyes shut tight at the feeling of his orgasm creeping in quick. not wanting to overwhelm you by coming deep inside your throat, yet not being able to stop the frenzied thrusts: desperate and erratic. fucking you had him fighting demons but having your mouth on him also has him fight demons, though a level lower, but feeling like his life would be sucked out of him.

and if there's anyone who he'd actually let sucking his life out of him, it'd be you. one whine of his name and he'll fold to give you his cock anytime and anywhere.

“fuck candy, ‘m so close,” jake's strokes falter into sloppy movements when you suck in your lips to squeeze him tighter showing no signs of pushing at his thighs and just letting him hold your head in place and use you as he pleases.

just as he feels the first twinge of coming undone, jake quite literally forces himself out, gritting his teeth and holding his breath as he pulls away mumbling out a rough fuck while staggering in his steps.

“jerk me off, wanna finish on your face, wan to paint your pretty little cheeks and your cute little tongue with my cum,” he mutters, guiding one of your hands to his cock as one of his own moves to hold your jaw and squeeze your cheeks to keep your mouth open. thumb rubbing against your lower lips while he bites his own at your hands returning to stroke him like you did before. brows furrowing and heart thumping loud as his orgasm builds up again.

he's gonna cum so much and jake knows because it starts to hurt. and like the masochist he is, he heightens it by bringing his other hand to hold his cock over your small slick ones,”twist it like this under the head,” he says squeezing and moving his hands in twists to show you just how he likes it. and lord do you get it so well, twisting harshly just under the head like he said and then pulling at it. it's honestly a mysery to jake how he's lasted this long and not just cum in the first two minutes of you touching him. perhaps his experience comes to some use, but then even his experience can't help him from nutting in just merely twenty minutes. the time he so struggled to calculate just a couple seconds before he lets the pleasure take over and the hot spurts of cum shoot out on your tongue and all over your face.

“mhmmm fuck baby fuckkkk—” jake hisses, biting down on his lips hard as his whole body spasms with pleasure, ropes of cum spilling out the tip, pushing his hips in quick thrusts into your fist.

and even though jake has perhaps sworn a million times that he's not a voyeur, that he does not feel his entire being ascending into the holy sins at the prospect of being watched with you, especially anyone besides him, watching you, he swears he has sworn on it a good damn gazallion times. yet when he spots a boggled and overwhelmed sunghoon, gaping and gawking in the corner, the intrigue and hunger in his obscure gaze evident along with his obvious boner; jake feels a second orgasm coaxed out of him in another spurt of cum that lands directly on that spot on your lips he loves to rub his fingers over.

fuck. that's all jake can think of watching sunghoon realize he was caught and immediately rushing off. since when was that prick watching? he better not have gotten a look at your teary eyes and heard the little whines you let out.

he doesn't let it bother him too long though, he'll deal with it when he gets back to the field.

what he now wants to focus on is you and only you.

running his thumb over the splashes of cum and smearing them on your lips, inserting his fingers into your mouth and telling you to suck before he's pulling you up by your waist and holding you tight against him. his cock rubs against the fabric of your skirt, twitching with sensitivity at the touch but he pays it no mind. his own lips hovering over yours as he speaks in a whisper,”are you okay? did i hurt you somewhere?”

you shake your head in denial and jake heaves a sigh of relief, proceeding to tame your hair back to how it was before. palms caressing your head softly, and fingers threading through the strands all gentle and slow. not wanting this moment with you to end. his lips lock with yours in the midst of it as his hands fall down to your waist again. kissing with so much fervor and desperation, it makes you rub your thighs together to get some kind of a friction. and jake notices it for his hand had moved to play with the ends of your short skirt, knuckles loosely brushing against the back of your thighs that fidgeted every time he sucked on your tongue or nibbled on your lips.

“oh, my baby seems bothered,” pulling away to whisper it against your lips that chase his own for more.

“what do you want? tell me and i’ll give it to you,” jake grins, watching you struggle out of embarrassment,”come on candy, use your words,” it's so cute, should he just touch you or should he take his time cooing at your fumbling self.

“w- want yo—”

“well since you aren't gonna say it,” he picks up his jacket from the ground and brings it up to your face to wipe off his cum from your cheeks. pushing against the plump of your skin to make your lips pout out and one of your eyes close.

“want you to touch me too,” you whine.

“where baby? you gotta tell me,” he teased further, booping your nose before putting his jacket back on him.

“here,” jake’s breath hitches when you guide his hand down to touch you over your panties, the fabric so damn wet you might as well have cum untouched. the prospect of that being true turns him on beyond what's humanely possible. you cumming untouched while he fucked your mouth, god the thought of it makes him crazy. but thinking back on how sunghoon wandered in, it's better to leave it at this for now. can't have more people getting the opportunity to see you.

“here? my baby wants me to touch her pussy?” there's so much more he wants to say, but he knows if he says it now there's no way he won't be getting rock hard again and completely ditching practice.

his fingers press hard into your folds while he rubs around, his other hand squeezing your ass and his face buried in your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he bites and nibbles on the skin there.

“i’m sorry candy, but you'll have to wait until after practice. want to take my time eating you out. want to make you cum at least three times,” and make you squirt, he wants to add but man does the thought of it make his dick twitch, speaking it out loud would just make him squirt a pump of cum.

he slips his fingers inside to gather your wetness, sliding two fingers between your folds before taking it out and putting them into his mouth,"fuck, love the way you taste,”he groans. his favorite candy in the world. his drug, candy.

jake spends another minute rubbing you over your slick panties and letting his other hand on your ass move all over and grope you wherever he can. he makes sure it's just enough to have you craving his touch the entire time you wait. feeling jealous over the thought that having you wait for him by the bleachers would give sunghoon a view of you too. and knowing his friend, he probably won't have any innocent thoughts about you after what he walked into.

“come on now let's go,” it takes a great deal of self constraint for jake to pull away but alas it will only be fruitful once he gets through practice and has all the time in the world to pleasure you.

he helps you fix your appearance and dusts off his jacket and pulls up his pants before he leads you back out into the field where everyone waited for him.

“wait for me here,” he says, bringing you to his bag where he takes off his ‘thisisneverthat’ shirt to put on his jersey with a smug grin lacing his lips. placing his jacket on your lap to cover your pretty legs, if he could he would just burrito you with a blanket and th— no sim that's creepy.

“I'll be back before you know it,” bending down to place a chaste kiss on lips and forehead, he promises. jogging away to the middle of the field and taking his position beside sunghoon. it feels like there's a spark of tension between them from what you catch, but perhaps you're just thinking too much, they're good friends aren't they?

TAGLIST. @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @jaklvbub @kwiwin @brachives @jayhoonvroom @haelahoops @aaa-sia @lovingvoidgoatee @txtlyn @jakehooni @mnxnii @rikisly @notevenheretbh1 @yunjinsbbg @pjsfvs @yizhoutv @enhyven @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy @aishigrey @wooziswife @citylightsdoll @yeonzzzn @istphanie @chaewonshoney @cha0thicpisces @laurradoesloveu @bambammtori @wonsbaer @ayyysweetcreature

#NASTY JAKE MAKES A COMEBACK!#enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #k-labels #enhypen jake smut #jake smut #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #WATERMELON-SUGAR:CONTINUED #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles

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moonlit-imagines · 6 months

Text

Headcanons for being the forgetful Avenger

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: it not too long i so sorry

prompt: @glitchy-bean: “Hi!!! I hope you're doing good!!! Could I request smth with a really forgetful reader + the avengers gang? More like found family than anything romantic at all with a teen reader if that's okay!!!”

“well sorry” -you, consistently “i cant remember everything”

“you can’t remember anything” -nat

“yeah, y/n, were you dropped on the head as a baby or something?” -tony

“cut it out, guys. it’s not their fault they forgot thor’s birthday. besides, hes had a couple thousand” -steve

“are you calling me old, captain?” -thor

“at least im not the only one” -steve

it wasn’t just birthdays you forgot

much much more serious than that

rendezvous points, mission details, plans of attack, perp descriptions, where you put your keys, where you put your gun

you name it you forgot it

i mean—not always, but enough for it to be the running joke

“keep your comms on, y/n. not having a disaster like last time when you couldn’t remember whether to cut the red wire or green wire” -tony

“you wish i cut the wrong one” -you

“uh, no, that’s very harsh. i moreso wished you didn’t scare us half to death by nearly digging your grave” -tony

“oh ok i forgot” -you

“who left their macaroni and cheese in the microwave?” -vision

“damn! its cold. and crusted a little. how long did i leave this in here?” -you, poking your tray with a fork “and why are you using the microwave? you dont eat”

“this is a shared space, is it not?” -vision

“he’s got you there” -steve

“you’re just ganging up on me because you’re all miserable and you want me to be miserable too. i’m going to drive one of tony’s expensive cars now, you can’t stop me” -you, storming out

you walked right back in

“what’d you forget?” -steve

“wallet, phone, keys” -you

tony noticed

“where is y/n going with my car?” -tony

“not sure, just out” -steve

“probably gonna forget their turn signal and crash into someone’s car” -tony

as far as missions went, though, you were a bit of a powerhouse so you didn’t really need to be looked after on that front…just had to make sure not to blow anyone else’s cover

“hey, what’s the codeword again?” -you

“check your wrist, kid” -nat

“oh, right…okay thanks” -you

“*gasp* was i supposed to give the signal? i just kinda went in” -you

“ok, who told y/n they could give the signal. speak up now” -tony

*clint loudly snickering over comms*

kinda forgetting what you’re talking about in the middle of sentences sometimes but like, just glitching out

“something smells like it’s burning” -you “my cookies…”

you forgot to set a timer

and forgot you were making cookies

the avengers honestly did find it endearing

just a hyper kid who cant get their thoughts in a solid line

but they’d continue making jabs at you constantly

“maybe wanda can fix your memory problems” -tony

“i will not” -wanda

“oh well nevermind then” -tony

honestly with all your forgetfulness, you worried as you dusted away if anyone would forget about you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

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spaceshipellie · 1 year

Text

stacy’s mom

dina x masc!reader

part one (two)

summary: you want to fuck your friend’s mom and that’s it

warnings: MILF DINA HELLO, smut with friend’s mum, smut with plot, age gap (reader is early 20s and dina is in her 40s), reader is such a simp, eating out and fingering (d receiving), 18+ mdni

author’s note: i wanted to to try and write something with a more masc reader too and this seemed fitting so hope this doesn’t flop

˚ · • . ° .

it was summer and you were sitting in your friend stacy’s garden, drinking beer, listening to music, and laughing about dumb memories from the first year of college.

“i was so intimidated by you,” she blushed.

“nah, really?” you scoffed.

“yeah, you were this cool, mysterious skater girl.”

“oh i’m not cool and mysterious anymore?”

“well,” stacy laughed, “you are cool but not mysterious.”

she slapped the front of your baseball cap before ripping it off and putting it on herself.

“ow, hey,” you laughed.

“hi girls!” a sweet, intoxicating voice sounded from over by the conservatory door. your head snapped up. stacy’s mom. god, she was hot. your stomach flipped every time you saw her.

“hi mom.”

“hi dina.”

you allowed yourself a second to quickly look her over. she was wearing denim shorts and a tank top with no bra, holding a basket of laundry on her hip. you knew it was really wrong but there was something about her you couldn’t get out of your head. maybe it was the way her hips filled out her jeans, or the way her hair flowed over her shoulder, or the way her budded nipples poked through the fabric of her top. all you knew was that you could probably fuck her better than her boring ex husband. you watched as she went back inside, bending over to pick up a sock she dropped.

“are you listening to me?”

“sorry what?” your head snapped to stacy.

“you’re so weird,” she giggled, “anyway i was saying we should try that new milkshake place that opened up in the mall.”

“oh yeah, yeah sounds good,” your voice totally distracted.

˚ · • . ° .

stacy had dragged you around so many shops in the mall, making you watch as she gave little catwalks in the changing rooms. eventually you’d got the milkshakes and were now back at her house in the kitchen where dina was preparing dinner.

“hope you’re hungry,” she smiled at you.

you licked a bit of milkshake off your finger that had dripped down the glass, looking at her. “starved.”

“good, well dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes. seeing as it’s still so hot out i thought we’d eat outside by the pool?”

“okay sounds good, we’ll be down then!” stacy chirped, grabbing your arm to pull you upstairs. your eyes, still looking at dina, lagged as you looked away. it sounds great, you thought. you hoped that by the pool also meant going in the pool.

half an hour later, dina called up the stairs that dinner was ready. her hand brushed yours as she handed you a plate and you all sat around the patio table to eat. you could see dina had a bikini top on under her top now.

“how’s college going?” she asked you both.

“not bad, still think mrs clark hates me,” stacy said, shovelling food in her mouth.

“probably because you always skip her class,” you mumbled, playfully nudging stacy’s arm. she laughed and shushed you.

“what about you?” dina said, looking straight at you.

“it’s good, mrs clark loves me,” you joked. she laughed and it made your cheeks flush, a small smirk on your face. fucking hell this was getting too much.

after you were done eating, stacy jumped up to clear the table and take the plates indoors. you shifted in your seat having been left alone with dina. the silence was burning. you cleared your throat, running your hands down your jean covered thighs.

“you know last time i was here you hadn’t finished the pool yet, looks nice.”

“oh of course! well, you guys should go in.”

you hummed in response. you didn’t have any swimming stuff with you and definitely didn’t want to borrow any of stacy’s bikinis. you would have to go in in your boxers and sport bra, which on this occasion wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“yeah sure.”

“i might join you,” dina said, loosely tying her hair in a bun, your eyes snuck a glance at how her fingers ran through her dark hair, “oh as long as you don’t mind me crashing your time with stacy,” she laughed.

“not at all,” you grinned at her. crash all you want, you thought. stacy returned, funnily enough with a bikini on.

“you coming in? i brought a bikini down for you to borrow but figured you probably don’t want it.”

“and you’d be right.” you pulled your t-shirt off over your head.

“i didn’t realise you had so many tattoos,” dina mused, seeming to admire the ink that adorned your arms and torso. you ran your hand over your stomach, instinctively looking over your tattoos yourself.

“they look great, i love them.” she was killing you.

“thanks.”

stacy was already in the pool when you started pulling your jeans off. you felt very exposed now just in your boxers but also thought fuck it and tried to keep your cool.

“jump in,” stacy giggled.

you took a couple steps back so you could run and cannonball into the pool, completely splashing stacy. when you resurfaced you rubbed the water from your eyes and shook your head. both dina and stacy were looking at you.

“you coming in then?” you nodded at dina.

she stood up and started peeling her tank top off, revealing a black string bikini. jesus. if that was bad, watching her undo the button and zipper on her denim shorts, and shimmying her hips out of them was utter torture. you knew it was wrong to stare, especially when her daughter, your friend, was right there but you couldn’t help it. you soaked in the way every inch of her body submerged into the water as she walked in. you adverted your eyes after realising you’d just been staring for ages. hopefully that sly smile on her face wasn’t because she had noticed.

you all floated around for a while, talking, trying stupid tricks. well, you doing stupid tricks to try and be impressive. it was getting late but as it was summer it was still light and warm out.

“this has been fun, but i’m off to bed,” dina said climbing out of the pool. you watched the way the water dripped off of her ass as she walked up the steps, grabbing a towel to wrap round herself.

“okay, night mom.”

“night,” you said.

“we should probably get out too,” stacy suggested and you agreed.

you were now lying on the pull out bed in stacy’s room in the dark, wearing loose sweatpant shorts and a baggy t-shirt. you couldn’t really sleep and stacy was long gone by now so you decided to get up and grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

“oh, sorry,” you mumbled upon seeing dina leaning against the counter by the sink, sipping on a mug of tea. she waved her hand as if to say carry on so you grabbed a glass and tried to ignore how close you were to her whilst you filled it up at the tap.

“can’t sleep?” she asked.

“no really, i’m basically nocturnal,” you laughed nervously. she laughed too. man, she had a pretty laugh.

“me too, i love staying up late when time allows.”

you leaned on the other counter and took a sip, watching the way she hugged the mug.

“it’s a lot more peaceful.”

“it is,” you agreed.

“like nobody knows what you’re doing.” was she…? she couldn’t be… but you could have sworn you saw her look you up and down when she said that.

“not a single clue.” you finished the water and moved closer to her, purposely leaning in slightly to place the glass by the sink behind her.

“well, g’night,” you said, your voice low.

as you turned you suddenly felt her hand grab yours so you spun around to look at her. her facial expression seemed to be a mix of wanting and contemplation. you decided to focus on the former. her hand didn’t leave yours for a moment before she realised and quickly pulled it back but she didn’t make any attempt to leave.

being taller than her, you looked down at her whilst you moved closer. you looked down and slowly reached for her hand again, testing to see how she’d react. she let you. you smirked to yourself before looking into her eyes, then her lips, then her eyes. fuck it. you leaned down to press a soft kiss on her lips. when you pulled away, your mouth hovering over hers she surprised you by grabbing your face and slamming your lips together again. your hands flew to her waist as you pinned her against the counter.

she moaned into the kiss and you took the opportunity to move your tongue against hers. it was hot and you couldn’t believe you were doing this right now. your arms wrapped around her waist and you let your hand rest half way on her ass. her hands travelled down to the hem of your t-shirt and flustered around with the amount of fabric before she managed to slip one underneath and brush your skin. oh, okay. if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get, you thought.

you pulled her tighter to your body as you moved the two of you around so that she was now pressed against a different counter. one she could sit on if necessary. she groaned as her back hit it. you started to move your kisses down to her neck.

“stacy can never know about this,” she whined breathlessly.

“mom’s the word.”

“that’s not funny,” she laughed.

“it’s pretty funny.”

your lips didn’t let up on her neck, now making their way back up to hers. you reached your hands down to her thighs and indicated for her to hop up onto the counter. you now stood between her legs, heads now the same height near enough and your hands glided up her thighs to her hips. hers became tangled in your hair as you started kissing down her body and getting onto your knees. you couldn’t believe your fucking luck right now.

you left small kisses on her inner thigh, your fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. you were half expecting her to tell you to stop, realising the situation, but her fingers only tightened themselves in your hair pushing you further. you pulled back and looked up at her whilst you peeled her shorts off, her lifting her ass to help you.

you pushed her legs further apart, exposing her glistening pussy. you could hear little whispered curses falling from her lips in anticipation.

you grinned to yourself, feeling smug, and looked up at her before flicking your tongue lightly over her clit. she flinched at the sensitivity. you gave her clit a few flicks before dragging your tongue up the length of her cunt, letting it slip between her folds.

“oh shit,” she whimpered.

you buried your face, laying your tongue flat against her, almost letting her grind herself onto you. you could taste how more slick was seeping out of her hole so you moved your fingers to tease at it.

“please,” she begged.

not wanting to push your luck too much you curled a finger inside her, letting her get used to it before slipping a second in. she let out a squeak and you laughed lightly before shushing her. the vibrations of your laugh sent a shock through her body. you worked your fingers in and out, relishing in the wet sounds it was making. your tongue kept flicking her clit until you could feel her clenching around your fingers and her legs fought to stay open.

“i’m gonna…”

“come for me.”

you fucked her through her orgasm and when her hand went limp in your hair and instead brushed it away from your face you pulled your fingers out and stood up. you placed your hands flat on the counter either side of her and leaned in, making her taste herself on your tongue. you grabbed her shorts beside you and pulled away from the kiss to help her put them back on and she hopped off the counter, still trapped by your frame.

“i should probably go to bed now,” she murmured.

“okay.”

she didn’t move still. her hands brushed your arms that hung at your sides. she leant up for another kiss before eventually lighting pushing you so she could get passed and head for the stairs. she stopped and turned, giving you a ‘i can’t believe that just happened’ smile and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“right, i really am going to bed.”

you took a sip of your previously abandoned water and smirked at her, watching her disappear up the stairs.

the next morning you were grabbing your things to leave, downing the last mouthful of orange juice.

“we still good for the movies next week?” stacy asked.

“yeah, can’t wait.” you gave her a quick side hug.

“was good to see you,” dina smiled knowingly at you.

“thanks for dinner,” you said, then hugging her and mumbling in her ear, “and dessert.” she subtly slapped your arm. stacy seemed oblivious.

“right, bye.” you threw your backpack over one shoulder and left with a shit-eating grin on your face.

#dina x reader #dina smut #dina nolastname #dina woodward #dina tlou #tlou smut #dina x masc!reader #stacy’s mom #the last of us 2 #age gap smut #dina woodward smut #dina woodward x reader

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fetishccinealfredo · 3 months

Note

Hello again :D

It's the barbatos simp again. Hope you don't mind me asking... but what do you think about fucking the obey me cast in a their demon/angel/Idk I know what Solomon would look like, but it would be something weird because of the food he eats, I mean, you are what you eat.

I really don't doubt that everyone is some type of eldrych horror. I mean, they have to. If it's common sense that Levi has two dicks, then everyone should have something packing under there.

(If possible, gender neutral pls and sub mc?)

Thanks for the attention <333

Hello again! ^-^

Hmmm... true forms, huh? I'll admit it; I've never thought of it before!

Also, how Solomon eats his own food and survives for literal centuries-- I have no clue. 🤷

I'm going to guess these are more headcanons then individual fics, but I'll make 'em as best as I can!

i'm not that much of a monsterfucker like this, so i apologize if it's bad;;

// note: there is a joke at that talks about Lesson 16! So, spoiler ahead! //

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, we all know Lucifer's clearly got some kind of thing for intimidation. He likes to be seen as scary or big in some way. And that's exactly how he makes you feel. He wants to make your heart race and legs shake. Dominant and not afraid to show it, tying you up and being more brutal with his "punishments" (if you're into that). Lucifer shows his fangs when he grins, and his growls sound not human as he pounds into you. He will leave you gasping and marked from head to toe, and feels no shame. His penis is not human either in this form, it is a little bigger and has a little more girth and texture, with a blueish tint near the top.

Mammon is surprisingly more passionate, and more bold with his actions. One of his favorite things is holding your head still as he fucks your throat. But oh, don't worry, he didn't forget about you. His greed makes him want to make you cum the most, wanting all your lust to himself and himself alone. He will get you off and make out with you, and won't stop until you cum as much as he wants. His penis has a more ridged texture and gold streaks through it, like a tattoo.

Leviathan gets possessive of you, and is determined to make you feel the best to squelch his jealousy. He has two penises, and puts them to pretty damn good use. He can get more intense, fucking you at a surprising pace. You are his, and he will let the whole world know that.

Satan uses his anger to create a sense of dominating that like Lucifer, would get your heart racing. He will press you against the wall, growling loudly as he fucks you, his claws lightly digging into your skin as he holds your hips. If you're into it, he's not opposed to leaving claw marks and bites on your skin in the slightest. His penis is bigger, and has a texture underneath, and is tinted grin at the top.

Asmodeus, being the Avatar of Lust, will fuck you relentlessly in either form. But in his demon form, more magical sensations are used, and his orgasms are stronger, because he feels your lust too. You orgasm physically, but also through your soul. His penis is about the same size, but has more girth. His tip almost forms a heart, and is tinted pink.

Beelzebub is the most gentle out of his brothers, focusing on your pleasure and making sure you enjoy yourself. His sin makes him more desperate for you, grinding against you and making out with you as his pins you gently to the bed. He fucks you passionately, growling between moans. His penis is three inches bigger than normal, and has stripes throughout.

Belphegor, like Levi, and gets possessive of you. He can choke you again if you wanted him to, and will edge you, just to get your reaction. He likes to be the one to draw those kinds of reactions out of you.

Solomon, while he doesn't have a true form, would use magic to overstimulate you in the best ways, making you cum over and over again as well as himself. The magical sensations are electrifying, tingling the inside of your body.

Simeon, in his true angelic form, has more than one penis (and many pairs of eyes). His wings are huge, and so is something else downstairs. If he were to have sex with you, he would shroud you and himself in his wings, and make passionate love to you (and pray for forgiveness afterwards).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope I did this okay!

#obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #obey me mammon smut #obey me levi smut #obey me satan smut #obey me asmo smut #obey me beel smut #obey me belphegor smut #obey me solomon smut #obey me simeon smut #thank you for the request!! this was fun to write! <3

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dotster001 · 1 year

Note

Hiii!!! first, before I start I'm very socially awkward and my English sucks so this might be a bit cringe to read... but I just have to say, I LOVE your writing!!! you have such a cool writing style and your way of writing characters is always in character you're just AWESOME!!!! if it's not too much to ask, can I request a fight between all the dorm and vice-dorm heads (just dorm heads is cool too) when they overhear that the reader/MC has a crush (i simp for all of them)? again, love your writing so much!

Battle Royale

A/N: you have no idea how surprised I was that this wasn't the one voted for the last day. 😂 it's fine though, and I hope you enjoy!

3k follower Masterlist

Trein had held you after class today, and you were a little scared, to say the least. You didn't think you or Grim had done anything wrong today, but you could never be too sure.

Once the last student had left, he looked up at you.

"You've been acting odd lately. I've raised two children, and taught thousands of students, so I know why."

You didn't think you'd been acting odd. But you weren't the most self aware out there, if the numerous overblots you'd nearly missed were anything to go by.

"Oh?" You asked.

He sighed heavily, and gently took your hand.

"You've ingratiated yourself into my heart, like one of my own kids. So I'm going to tell you this; none of the boys at this school is worth the trouble."

"Huh?"

"I don't know which one you have a crush on, but there are less than a handful that deserve the attention."

Your cheeks began to warm, and you gasped. You hadn't thought too deeply about it, but there was definitely someone you'd had your eye on, maybe a bit too much, recently. If Trein had noticed…had he noticed as well?

"I'll uh, I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," he gave you a firm stare, then turned back to his papers.

You were so out of it, that you didn't notice your two friends who had stayed behind for emotional support.

….

"It's definitely me."

"In what world would it ever be you!"

Trey entered the kitchen to check on the bread in the oven, and sighed to himself as he watched the freshmen fight with each other.

"What are you up to?" He asked.

"Nothin-" Deuce muttered, but was cut off by Ace.

"If Y/N had a crush on someone, it'd be me, right?"

Trey stared at the two, then slowly turned to the oven.

"Where is this coming from?" He asked.

"Trein kept Y/N behind today, and told them whoever they have a crush on isn't worth it."

"Hm. And you both think it's you, because?"

Both of them froze. They could hear the challenge in Trey's voice, and neither of them knew how to approach it.

"Well, why wouldn't it be?" Ace snapped. "We hang out with them more than anyone. If it's anybody, it's me or Deucey."

Trey smiled at the temporary unification of his freshmen, and calmly asked, "Wouldn't it make sense if they went for someone with more life experience? Someone more mature?"

The freshmen were silent again, before Deuce asked, tentatively, "Has…has Y/N said something to you?"

Trey hummed, putting together Riddle's dinner tray.

"No. At least, not verbally."

And then he left the kitchen. He couldn't wipe the soft smile from his face. Riddle noticed it as Trey poured his tea.

"Did something good happen?"

"Hm? Oh, the freshmen found out Y/N had a crush on someone, and assumed it was one of them. I told them it would probably be someone more mature."

Riddle hummed thoughtfully. "True," he sipped his tea, "Y/N would go for someone more mature, who is someone who was also not that much older than them."

"Oh, you think so?" A challenge.

"Yes." A retort.

….

From there, Riddle took his information to the housewardens meeting, who took it to their vicehousewardens, who in turn spread it to the rest of the school.

In less than a couple hours, Malleus and Leona were literally at each other's throats, as the rest of the school egged them on.

"Y/N has more class than to fall for a mangy housecat!" A bolt of green lightning nearly hit Leona, who dodged at the last second.

"They certainly would never fall for a scaly lizard!" The air around Malleus filled with sand.

"Shouldn't we put a stop to this?" Silver asked Lilia, who was busy restraining Sebek.

"Kids will be kids," Lilia laughed in response.

Ruggie tapped Azul on the shoulder, holding out his open hand. "Five thaumarks to join the pot. Who do you think will win?"

Azul smirked, "Neither, because Y/N is surely in love with me. They've all but said so."

"Sure, sure," Ruggie rolled his eyes. "Because out of everyone they could choose, it would be the person who takes 20% of their tips, and not the person who shares home cooked meals with them."

"I couldn't help but overhear your discussion, boys, but don't fool yourselves. The only person Y/N could possibly fall for would be the embodiment of the fairest Queen," Vil hummed as he passed them, fully intent on stopping the fight which was already well out of hand.

But he was halted by a hand on his wrist.

"Schoenheit, don't be a silly boy and embarrass yourself," Lilia hummed, his eyes turning more crimson than fuschia. "Besides," he laughed lightly, going back to playful, "rumor has it, Y/N is in love with someone with life experience, something I have more of than anyone else here."

"Sure," Vil muttered at his peer. He was quickly pulled into the fight when he reached them, purple magic joining the sand and emerald lightning.

Rook was watching the fight with wide eyed enthusiasm. His emerald eyes were taking in everything they did, studying their moves for use at…well…a later date.

Idia's tablet, meanwhile, was focused solely on Rook, the terror practically radiating from it. It was muted, but if it wasn't, people would have heard Ortho hyping him up. But Idia did not want to fight the hunter. Not with the way his eyes were glittering with blood lust.

Jade was about to prevent Floyd from elbow slamming his way into the fight, when all the boys were forcibly separated by an unknown force. All eyes traveled to Trein, who was staring at them all in disgust.

"Animals. The lot of you," he snarled, staring everyone down. "Anyone involved in any way will be punished accordingly."

….

"Why did Professor Trein keep you behind today?" Asked Jack, who was blissfully unaware of the war going on. He had offered to help you study after class, and had been curious as to why he'd beat you to Ramshackle.

"Oh," you hesitated. "Well, he noticed I'd been behaving odd lately, and told me to be careful."

"Y/N's in love, and teach said no one was good enough!"

"Grim!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.

"Oh," Jack said, trying to be as cool as possible. "Who is it?"

You peaked through your fingers, opening and shutting your mouth a few times.

"If you don't tell him, I will," Grim snickered.

"Don't," you whined. You took a steadying breath, and began, "Okay. It's…"

#3k followers #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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newtkive · 8 months

Text

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 1 - the gc birth

in which two online friends navigate a romance through a minecraft groupchat with their stupid friends

or, newt, the quiet, stoic boy, and y/n, the bubbly girl both curse the world for keeping them apart, but at least they can send each other cute emojis and hope the other doesn't notice their blossoming feelings.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

notes: hi :p im very new to writing on tumblr (but ive always been a reader) so pls bare w me! and im trying to revert back to being 14 (im 23 lols..) so im revisiting my old favs including the maze runner/thomas (bc i binged the artful dodger and now im obsessed again). there will be non-text chapters in the future as well, when everyone eventually meets. this will be newt focused so enjoy !! also everyone is like a realistic age from 23 to 28

THE GLADE

[ 7:45 PM ]

alby added minho, y/n, newt, tommy, and gally

alby: Hello, guys.

minho: wtf is this

newt: uhhhh

tommy: hi :3

y/n: so this is why you asked me for my # in private

gally: i didn’t consent to this when i gave you my number

newt: don’t give strange men your number y/n

tommy: oh that’s y/n?

alby: Wait, Newt you had Y/N’s number already??

newt: yea

tommy: o.O

y/n: i gave it to him like two weeks after we met lmao

tommy: SO HE HAD YOUR NUMBER FOR A YEAR AND I DIDNT????

y/n: well he asked and you guys didn’t :p

newt: lmao

minho: ik he smug as fuck rn

not u asking for a girls number lmao simp

newt: stop

y/n: we all talk in discord anyways so i didn’t really think about it

plus you guys are friends irl so idk

it felt kinda weird to insert myself heh

minho: we’ve known you for a year and a half y/n

we play games all the time

call all the time

we even send packages and shit

you’re very much considered our irl friend

y/n: REALLY?? 🥺🥺

tommy: internet friends are real friends 😍❤️

minho: the heart eyes are crazy

but yes dude

newt: of course you’re our close friend. just cuz we live near each other and you’re a bit far away doesn’t mean we don’t adore you

minho: ADORE IS CRAZY LMFAO

but real ig

y/n: AWWWWW YOU GUYS LOVEEE MEEEEEE

hahahahha

HAHAHHAHJFIEKMGOR

I LVOE YOU GIYYYYSSSS IM PUTTING ALL OUR MINECRAFT BEDS TOGETHER LATER

gally: i do not want my bed to be infested by you guys

minho: gally sleeps in the corner

gally: no i dont i sleep in my mansion

y/n: cherry blossom mansion*

gally: and you sleep in a shed

y/n: cherry blossom shed* its pink and that matters.

tommy: love you y/n 😊🥰

y/n: love you tommy <3333

minho: that’s actually nasty stop now

y/n: u mad ur unloved

i love how the gc name is our minecraft town name :((

newt: aw it is

minho: can we talk about why tf this was made when we have a perfectly good discord

alby: I’m done with Discord.

newt: you got your shit hacked didn’t you mate

minho: mate 💀💀

british people so crazy

alby: Yes maybe..

I don’t want to make another.

y/n: or your old ass doesn’t know how to

minho: LMAO REAL

alby: Gonna ignore that. But I am getting too old for it. I have a new promotion at work so that means I won’t have time to play with you guys as much anymore. So I decided to make this groupchat in hopes to talk to you guys more to make up for it :)

minho: every group always has the old head with the job 💀💀

newt: minho admitting he’s jobless

minho: you work at a library be so fr rn

newt: i have an income. you have a room in your grandmas basement. we are not the same.

gally: LMFAOOOOOOO

minho: stfu :////

y/n: AWWWWWWW ALBYYYYYYY

tommy: YAAAY!!!!

im going to text you guys all day

tell you every meal

every thought

every interaction will be meaningful and glorious

newt: you are 24 years old you don’t have to do all that

minho: no fr im turning off my phone if he starts this shit

why not just do it before in the discord ??

tommy: easy access now and i tried before but stopped since no one really replied..

y/n: i say we all do it :D i will too tommy

newt: ok second thought that’s fine

minho: .

gally: that’s wild.

y/n: YAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!! NEWT YOU GO FIRST

newt: first with what

y/n: say what u ate today

newt: didn’t say i’d do it.

tommy: i ate muffin, monster energy drink, and hamburger :3333

you guys next

minho: that’s all you had bro..

y/n: hot cheetos and french fries and coffee :D

minho: ??????? BRO

how are you guys alive

y/n: it's my day off and no class so i just wanna rot in bed and that means no cooking

newt: please eat and drink water.

like for real and document it

y/n: ok wait

there

tommy: yum!

minho: y/n..

newt: cereal does not count

y/n: I DONT HAVE ENERGY TO MAKE ANYTHING OKAY

im a 23 year old broke college student my fridge is bare

newt: alright what do you want?

y/n: wym?

newt: like if you could pick.

minho: that’s so cruel 😭😭 just making her imagine it

i like it go on.

tommy: i want chick fil a

minho: i knew you hate the gays

tommy: I AM THE GAYS?????

y/n: ugh that does sound good

mmmm chickem sandiwh waffle fry I Want that Os mYch

newt: that’s what you would order?

y/n: mmmcm yeahshhhhh

newt: ok

minho: that’s it?

i thought soemthing would happen

tommy: me too

like a spell! magic 🪄

y/n: sigh

my cereal tastes bad now

newt: well it is cocoa puffs.

minho: L cereal

y/n: DTOP SAYING L ITS SO ANNOYITIGJNGGGGG

minho: she so madddd 😂😂 L

newt: you're annoying minho

minho: youre just saying that bc shes saying that

newt: no ive always said it. and i will continue to. youre fucking annoying

minho: who bought you your coffee yesterday

newt: ???

myself

and i paid for yours too

im the one with an income

minho: .

well i didnt think youd remember that well.

newt: it was literally yesterday.

minho: yeah but ur old

newt: IM THE SAME AGE AS YOU

minho: yeah but im 🤗✨ 26 ✨🤗and youre... 26😬😔

tommy: guys stop fighting

newt: we aren't fighting

maybe this gc was a bad idea

tommy: NO!!!!!!!!!

y/n: NOOOO!

tommy: this is like y/n is here w us irl

y/n: awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

minho: no it's not. we would smell a foul stench if she was

y/n: i ahte you sooo bad.

wait there is a knock at my door im scared

newt: answer it

minho: aren't you supposed to say don't open the door for strangers ????

newt: well usually yes

y/n: no im not expecting company

newt: just do it pls

y/n: ok :D

minho: bruh..

i hope she gets robbed and u feel bad forever newt

newt: why would you want that

minho: bc she owes me money

newt: YOU owe ME money

minho: yes but i have a good reason she just wanted robux

tommy: Y/N DONT DO IT!!! I HAVE SEEN DATELINE

y/n: :o....

tommy: Y/N?????????

OH GOD THEY GOT HER

minho: why would she text a silly face if she got got

tommy: clearly its a surprised face

maybe its not her

its like those cut out magazine letters murderers use

y/n: who got me chick fil a!!!!!!!!!!

minho: me

newt: you literally did not

minho: shut up

y/n: newt it was u i see ur name on the receipt

newt: well

y/n: :(

newt: what why are you sad?

minho: im hungry too

y/n: u spent ur money :(

newt: you're hungry are you not?

minho: she's not but i am

y/n: yeah but..

i feel bad you shouldn't have

newt: just eat it or i'll be mad

minho: i think i want red lobster

newt: it's really no big deal y/n

y/n: thank you newt :(((((

newt: you're welcome

go eat and watch ur show or smth

minho: i owuld love to eat and watch a show rn <33 ohhhh im starving

newt: can you shut up

gally: im muting this gc if this means i have to deal with your guys' shit more than usual now.

minho: thank god

newt: good

tommy: good

y/n: good

the food is good too <3

newt: good.

lmk if you want to be tagged!

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daisyvisions · 1 year

Text

Just Like The Real Thing! - (k.s)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), male masturbation, use of a fleshlight, mentions of clit play, one-sided pining, kinda pervy!sunwoo if you think about it, pet names used (princess, baby) sunwoo is a horny simp here let's just put it that way

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: consider this as my very late entry for Sunwoo's bday! I've been wanting to flesh out (🥴) this idea for sometime thanks to this very sexy ask. So to the anon that sent it, thank you ✨ proofread once, will fix it later.

To say Sunwoo was in love with you was an understatement, and everyone knew it. You were on his mind every second of his waking hour - your eyes, your lips, your laugh, the warm scent of your perfume - the list goes on.

But there was only one problem: you were Eric's girlfriend.

What made it worse for Sunwoo was the fact that Eric was his roommate. So almost every time you slept over, he would hear the way you and Eric would constantly go at it like a bunch of animals in heat.

The thumping sounds of the bed hitting the wall, Eric's muffled dirty talk, and, of course, your moans echoing through the room. Your beautiful moans that sounded out of this world.

Oh, how he wished he had met you first instead of Eric.

He wanted to be the one to make you moan the way you do, to touch you in your most sensitive places, to kiss every inch of your skin with his plump lips, and to hear his name chanted like it was the only word you knew.

Yeah, he was a total simp for you.

Often, when he heard you and Eric having sex on the other side of the wall, he found himself closing his eyes and wrapping his rough fingers around his leaking cock. He pumped his length to his heart's content while hearing you get fucked just the way you liked it, pretending as if he was the reason you were begging for more.

“Fuck, you're so deep-” you cried out. Sunwoo's eyebrows knitted together, cursing under his breath as he imagined your soft body on top of his, bouncing on his cock like there's no tomorrow. And when he came all over his fist, he covered his mouth with his free hand, hoping no one heard what he was up to at night.

Sometimes, though, he wished you could hear him moaning for you, hoping you might think of him that way somehow. But he would rather drown than admit that dirty little secret to anyone. So instead, he channeled his one-sided energy by making fun of the both of you the very next day.

“Oh, Eric!” Sunwoo would mock your moans using a higher-pitched voice than yours. You threw the kitchen towel at his direction as he continued to make more moaning sounds.

“Fuck off, you ass-” you replied back.

“I already do, princess.” he winked at your direction as he drank water.

As he walked out of the kitchen, it made you think for a moment. Did you ever feel bad that you and Eric were being too loud? Maybe. But then again, how could you when Eric treated you so well? Maybe he's lonely, you continued thinking to yourself. It's not like you've ever heard him bring someone home or talk about going on dates.

And then a bright idea suddenly popped in your mind, making you grin from ear to ear.

“What's the matter, Sunwoo? Don't you like it?” you chuckled.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?!” He waved the fleshlight in front of your face, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What in God's name gave you the idea to gift him a sex toy?

“Well, we don't see you bringing anyone home, so Eric and I thought, why not?”

“Oh wow, thanks. That's really sweet of you.” he rolled his eyes.

“Have fun!” You shouted back as he immediately walked back into his room, shoving the toy in one of his drawers never to be seen again… for a few weeks, that is.

You weren't supposed to tell Sunwoo the little detail about your gift. It had just slipped out one night while everyone was out for drinks.

You had a little too much in your system and suddenly plopped down next to Sunwoo to take a break from dancing with Eric.

“Sunwwoooo. Hey, Sunwoooo-” you slurred your words.

“Hm?” He hummed.

“Remember when I gave you that fleshlight a few weeks back?”

“Uh… yeah? And no, I haven't been using it if that's what you're thinking.” He raised his eyebrow skeptically, wondering why you were suddenly bringing up the topic.

“Well… I have a little secret about that gift. C'mon, come closer.” You curled your finger in a gesture for him to come hither. You leaned forward next to his ear, making sure that the next thing you're about to say is only heard between the two of you.

“…Actually, the shape of that fleshlight is a copy of my actual pussy” you giggled.

Sunwoo pulled his head to look at you, shocked at your admission. Eyes widened and cheeks turning hot. “….W-what?” he stammered as you continued to giggle at his reaction.

“You’re- you’re lying-“ he continued.

“No! I'm serious! It's a copy of my pussy.”

“Why the fuck would you go on and do that?!” He exclaimed.

“I thought it would be kinda funny to do it.” You shrugged as you lightly placed your hand on his knee. Even the slightest touch from you right now was making his skin feel like it's on fire.

His mind was all over the place. What was he gonna do with this kind of information now?

“Well, I'm gonna head back. Wanna join us?” you asked him, breaking his momentary trance.

“I- uh, I think I might head out in a bit. Kinda feeling tired from today if that's fine”

“Okay! We'll see you at home then.” You shrugged and gave him a kiss on his head before getting up to dance once more.

The time it took Sunwoo to rush from the club all the way back to the apartment could honestly be placed in the Guinness Book of Records. He didn’t think he’d ever rushed this fast in his life, not even for a class or a medical emergency.

He immediately barged into his room, frantically opening all his drawers to find the fleshlight he hid away weeks ago. The moment he pulled out the item deep within his drawers, he froze in place.

Sunwoo was unsure how long he was standing there, staring at the top of the fleshlight. His mind still processing what you just told him earlier. He continued to stare at the silicone copy of your pussy, fingers gently tracing the folds and sticking his finger inside the entrance of the toy.

“H-holy shit-“ he muttered to himself as he felt his cock twitch in excitement. The thought of his thick fingers intruding your tight cunt.

He continued to glide his finger in and out of the hole, as if he was actually finger fucking you for the first time. His cock instantly hardening at the thought of you begging for his cock.

Not wanting to wait any longer, he impatiently unzipped his pants and pulled them down until his knees and plopped down on the edge of his bed. His cock already straining, his pink mushroom tip oozing all his precum.

He sank the fleshlight down on his length, his breath hitching at the tightness of the toy around his cock. Without a moment to lose, he started slowly pumping the fleshlight up and down, already imagining your figure bouncing on top of his.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Enjoying the way his slick helped his cock glide through the silicone walls better. His grunts and groans filling up the quiet air in his room.

“You're so fucking tight, baby-” he talked to himself, imagining you whining from pleasure.

“More…” you moaned in response. And that's when Sunwoo realized you and Eric were back home. Your moans muffled by the wall between you as Eric laps at your cunt from the other side. He was too caught up in his own pleasure he missed the sound of you two entering Eric's room a few minutes ago.

Hearing your moans while fucking into the silicone copy of your pussy heightened the experience further, making Sunwoo get up and kneel and placing the fleshlight at the edge of his bed.

He held the toy in place with one hand and started thrusting into it, his hips rolling faster as your moans continued to be heard.

“Oh, fuck, right here!” you screamed from the other side.

“Yeah? You like my cock stuffing your tight little pussy, pretty girl?” Sunwoo muttered to himself, as if he was responding to you. He then started to thumb the silicone mold of your clit, snapping his hips further pounding into the toy.

His eyebrows started knitting together, jaw slacking as he slowly felt his high approaching.

“Shit, baby, I'm gonna fucking cum all over your pussy” he slurred his words.

A flash of white suddenly hit him as he pulled out his cock from the fleshlight and came all over the mold of your pussy, not caring at this point if his moans were heard anymore. He continued to rub his angry tip all over the cum-covered folds and clit of the toy, slowly breathing as he came down from his high.

What Sunwoo failed to realize was that you and Eric didn't just hear his moans. You both heard everything.

“So… I'm guessing you finally told him?” Eric asked while he placed kisses on your neck.

“I might’ve accidentally slipped it out earlier, yeah” you both giggled as he lowered his head to kiss you deeply.

“Fuck,” Sunwoo muttered to himself, still trying to catch his breath from what just happened. In a weird way, he's thankful you told him about the little detail of your gift to him.

He definitely knows for sure this won't be the last time he'll use the toy because damn… it's almost like the real thing!

#kim sunwoo #sunwoo #sunwoo smut #tbz smut #tbz fics #tbz scenarios #tbz #tbz hard hours #the boyz drabbles #the boyz hard hours #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz smut #kpop smut

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aajjks · 1 year

Text

Tutor. JJK

synopsis. becoming your tutor was only the start.

warnings. söft yändērē, sïmp 101 jk, öbsëssîvë thoughts, öbsëssïön, flüff, he’s sö shy lmao

note. just a lil something, I like to call him simp!jk. share thoughts plz.

Jungkook could look at you forever.

You are so attractive, that smile of yours, those E/C eyes of yours make his mind feel dizzy, you make him feel so stupid, so foolish.

So foolishly in love with you.

But he knows you’re way out of his league, you’re everything he’s not, you two are no match, but yet his heart craves you, he can’t stop loving you. How can he not love you, you’re his first love, he was in love with you the first time he saw you.

“Can you stop daydreaming?” Jungkook almost curses under his breath, his friend annoys the fuck out of him sometimes, why would he even dare to interrupt him when he’s busy thinking about you?

“Don’t give me the death stare, simp.” Jungkook doesn’t stop glaring at his friend though, biting the inner cheek of his mouth, glaring daggers at him. “I mean… why don’t you just ask her out already? It’s been two years, JK.”

Jungkooks shoulders sulk at that, his friend has a point, but he simply doesn’t have the courage to ask you out.

You would reject him in a heartbeat.

“No… she’s way out of my league, man…” he barely whispers to himself. He’s so insecure, he wants you so much but he’s so scared to have you, you’re an angel, he’s not worthy of you.

“You never know Jungkook, I mean personally you’re a pretty good guy, I don’t understand your fear but you do you.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply but tries to focus on the teacher instead, as much as he wants to spend the whole period gawking at you, he can’t risk being noticed,

Especially not by you.

“Okay, so I am pretty sure that everyone’s understood the lecture, I hope there are no questions.” The old professor speaks, it doesn’t interest Jungkook.

His mind is still set on you, you never leave his mind, you have him obsessed, it scares him almost. But it feels so good though, because he has a reason to look forward to every day, his reason is you.

“Actually sir?” He blinks twice when he hears your voice, his heart immediately skips a beat. “I had a confusion regarding the concept, if you could help me understand- I am sorry yn but the class is almost over, maybe one of your peers will help you.”

Jungkook doesn’t think before he speaks up. “I-I CAN HELP YN!” His voice echoes around the class room, all of the students turn to look at the shy boy,

Including you.

You are looking straight at him, he can feel your eyes on him.

“Well it’s settled then, thank you Jungkook.” The professor picks up the papers and smiles, “class dismissed.”

Jungkook feels so uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze but as soon as the bell rings. He sighs of relief. Jungkook notices his friends gaze on him too, he doesn’t look at him, because he knows you’re still present in the room,

And he’s pretty sure you’re approaching him already. “Dude she’s coming, good luck.” His friend whispers to him, Jungkook closes his eyes, his friend leaves, even though he couldn’t care less about that typically,

He was all alone with you now.

“Hi Jungkook,”

He will explode any moment from the excitement that’s running through his body, his brown eyes shoot up at you, he stands up, his body is reacting on its own, “H-Hi yn.. wait you know my name?”

You are simply the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, you give him a small smile, it makes him want to scream, “of course! And thank you for volunteering to help me, I appreciate it.” You put your hand out for him to shake, and he almost whimpers as he feels your skin touch his,

“I-It’s all good YN… don’t worry about it.” You’re making it impossible for him to act normal, “s-so shall I… oh you’re so cute jungkook!”

Oh my God.

“W-What?” Jungkook feels insane. He’s not sure if he’s hallucinating about you calling him cute, has he gone actually insane?

“I said you’re pretty cute, Jungkook.” He still hasn’t let go of your hand, you try to break the handshake, but he doesn’t budge.

“Are you okay?” You ask him with sheer concern, he’s too lost in his thoughts to realise that he’s been holding your hand for the last five minutes.

“O-Oh yeah I am… I’m sorry!” He quickly leaves your hand and apologises, bowing in front of you like a loyal servant. “aw no it’s fine. So I was thinking maybe you could help me with the concepts either in the free period or.. somewhere else?”

His eyes widen, he couldn’t believe this,

He had a golden opportunity in his hands.

“I-I… don’t mind anywhere YN.” He scratches the back of his head but inside he’s screaming, it’s so easy for him to conceal his feelings.

Oh the things you make him do.

“Great so how about my house? I mean I’m kind of a lazy person so I’d rather not meet at a coffeehouse or something, I love being in the comfort of my home.” You adorably explain and he’s sure his eyes are heart shaped right now.

“If you don’t mind of course.” Oh just how considerate you are, Jungkook is so obsessed with you, you’re an angel.

He’s convinced.

“O-Of course YN! I’m cool, I-I’m fine!”

“Okay thank you tutor, see you at 7?”

“Of course YN!”

“So I will text you the address, see you soon.” You wave at him, he just stands watching you walk out, you have him awestruck, today is a very blessed day for him,

Also he managed to keep a few secrets from you, like how he knows where you live, Jungkook sighed of relief when you left,

This was a start of something really special for him, and you.

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uchihaharlot · 8 months

Note

I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

#madara headcanons #obito headcanons #shisui headcanons #itachi headcanons #madara x reader #obito x reader #shisui x reader #itachi x reader #madara uchiha #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha clan #uchiha family #uchiha headcanons

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ashipiko · 4 months

Text

ASHI - BIRTHDAY JACKET VIGNETTE 🌺

(PART 1 - 2.7)

ASHI: Hmhm~ A bday Interview, huh? It looked super funsies when everyone else did it, so I’m hyped!

ASHI: I’m guessing since we’re in the Pomedorms… A Pom? But who, exactly…

ASHI: (Ahaha, as nice as Rook and Vil are, I might end up feeling the pressure a little. It’d be an honor, obvs, but #stressful…!)

ASHI: (O Magical Birthday Dice, please have mercy…!)

???: Oi, Ashi!

EPEL: Happy Birthday! You weren’t expecting me, were you?

ASHI: Waugh?! Eppy! Hahaha, what a pleasant surprise!

ASHI: I’m so stoked you’re my interviewer! Who knew I’d get so lucky?

EPEL: No need to flatter me, you know. Thank you for having me.

ASHI: Pssh, why’re you acting so uptight, Eppy? It’s just me! I like your lingo and stuff.

EPEL: I’d love to, but… We’re still in the Pomefiore dorms, you know. I never know if Vil is lurking around or not…

ASHI: Ahh, fair point. Bummer. Maybe next time!

EPEL: Ehe, maybe. Anyway, here’s my birthday present to you. I hope you enjoy.

ASHI: Only one way to find out!

ASHI: Whoa… This is so cute?! And so fluffy…! I needed something to keep me warm at Ramshackle!

ASHI: There’s even little fox ears on it! And it’s my favorite color! Eppy…!

EPEL: I told my Granny about your birthday coming up, and since she enjoyed your company so much during Harveston…

EPEL: She asked for some things that you like and stirred this up. If anything, you should be giving the thanks to her.

ASHI: I thank the entire Felmier fam! It’s so cute, I’m gonna cry…! I’m about to wear this right now!

EPEL: You’re a summer baby, Ashi! Watch out for the heat…

EPEL: And I still have a new stock of apple cider coming in too, from my family’s farm. Your presents don’t just end there, heh.

ASHI: More?! I still haven’t finished the last one you gave me…

ASHI: No sweat! We’ll just plan another hangout at Ramshackle and chug ‘em all down together~.

EPEL: Unless Ace gets jealous and barges in again. That darn simp can’t get enough of ya.

ASHI: Hehe. Maybe I should make a no-Ace sign for next time, to put on Ramshackle’s dorm. Thoughts?

EPEL: I’ll help ya make it!

EPEL: O-Oh right, the interview. Maybe it was a little bit of a mistake pairing us up together, we keep on chatting…

ASHI: Nono! This is a Eppy W, DW!

EPEL: If you say so. First question…

EPEL: If you could take any person with you to a deserted island, who would it be? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t take one of the ghosts or Grim, but it can’t be someone from your dorm.

ASHI: Grimmy’s great! But for survival… Ehh…

ASHI: NGL, a deserted island sounds kinda scaries, as much as I love the beach. Like yeah, I’d love to hang, but survival? Hecks naw!

EPEL: Sounds about right. You’re really like a princess.

ASHI: Mhm! If I really wanted to, I could probably get to the basics by myself if I tried. But do I wanna? No.

ASHI: It’d probably be a good idea to get paired with someone who knows what they’re doing, y’know? At the very least, I can depend on them!

EPEL: So someone who can take care of you? Leona, maybe? Since he already babies you… Alternatively, I don’t really think Ace would be the best choice, no offense.

ASHI: None taken. He deserves it. But nope! This is a fun scenario, right? I might as well go out with a bang, or someone I can have fun with.

ASHI: So, I say Floyd!

EPEL: Floyd?!

ASHI: Aye aye, cap’n! You get it, don’tcha? He’s so tall and could get all the coconuts! I think we’d have a lot of fun, too.

EPEL: I know you work at Monstro Lounge, but aren’t you scared of him still? He’s a little unpredictable, so he clashes with you.

ASHI: Well, that’s what makes him fun, right? I guess it’s all depending on his mood…

ASHI: One time we accidentally totally crashed Monstro Lounge ‘cause he freaked me out, hehe. It’s a little scary when you’re doing a closing shift and all you hear is a tiny “shriiiimpy~” in the distance.

ASHI: My fear of the dark TOTALLY kicked in then. I never screamed so loud in my entire life!

EPEL: I can imagine… Sharp teeth, glowy eyes and all.

ASHI: I tried getting back at him once too, when I blended some shiitake mushrooms into his milkshake.

ASHI: …I don’t think I’ve ever even ran that fast before, TBH.

EPEL: Ashi, this isn’t really helping your case, if I’m being honest… You’re making it sound like he’d eat you by the time someone saved you two.

ASHI: W-Well! On the other hand, he’s got that eel form that we can rely on too! If we get bored, we can just zoom on out and crash Azul’s place or something, y’know?

EPEL: I guess I see your point. Being a merman must means he could help a lot on an island…

ASHI: Yup, yup! Anyway, I think we’re good enough buds where I’m 97% sure he wouldn’t eat me!~

EPEL: Heh, classic Ashi. I guess in a way you really did think it through, even if it sounded odd at first.

ASHI: Of coursies! ♪

EPEL: Okay, about time for our next question.

EPEL: If you were to transfer to a different dorm, which would you pick?

ASHI: Oh, a good one! I think I’ve kinda cheated with my Ramshackle prefect rights, hehe. I’m a little bit of a dorm-hopper.

ASHI: But a permanently different dorm…~ I think about it sometimes.

EPEL: Really? Which dorms?

EPEL: I think I could see you fitting in Heartslabyul, since you’re pretty good at sticking to the rules. Riddle likes you a lot too, more than he likes Ace, at least.

ASHI: Oho? Tell me more, Eppy!

EPEL: Um… I think Scarabia could fit you too. You and Kalim are sort of one and the same, don’t you see it?

ASHI: I see whatchu mean!

EPEL: Yeah. I couldn’t ever see you in anything like Savanaclaw, Ignihyde, or Diasomnia, though.

EPEL: You don’t really have an athletic, competitive, or magic drive… Ignihyde is a whole can of worms.

EPEL: I don’t think you could stand a day in that dorm, with the dark, creepy skeletons everywhere.

ASHI: Waugh… Don’t remind me, Eppy!

EPEL: Not to mention, the housewarden. As soon as you see him in person, I think the Headmaster would have to get called over for medical issues—

ASHI: Hey hey! No need to out me like that…!

EPEL: Heh, sorry Ashi. Was I right, at least?

ASHI: Hmm… yeah! Not right on the nose, though.

ASHI: I think that if I were to be in a dorm… I’d pick Pomefiore.

EPEL: I didn’t really consider it, but I could see it now that you say it. The uniform would fit you, I think.

ASHI: Yeah! And we’d get to be twinsies!

ASHI: Ashi-Eppy, the Birthday swapped duo! 5/6 and 6/5! ☆

EPEL: Heheh. You’d definitely be a shine of sunlight in here. It would be fun to hang out with you at Pomefiore.

EPEL: But you don’t use makeup, don’t you? That’d be a sure-fire way to stand out.

ASHI: Yeah, that’s be the only downside…

ASHI: And the food, right?! It looks so… appetizer-core. Defo not up my alley, I couldn’t imagine…

ASHI: But Vil and Rook are cool! At least at Pomefiore, I know there’s people that can help accommodate me and make sure I’m happy and healthy!

ASHI: Maybe instead of a potato, I can became a French fry… Sounds kinda banger, don’t you think?

EPEL: You make a funny argument.

ASHI: Life at Ramshackle can get kinda stressful, you know! I love the ghosts and all, but it’s scary sometimes…

ASHI: Grimmy thinks it’s funny to prank me, and he’ll just graze over my legs as I’m sleeping, and it’s so freaky!

ASHI: Dunno, man… It’d be nice to see him get some karma and have to keep it all up-tight at Pomefiore.

ASHI: But I guess at the end of the day, the thing that I’m missing at my dorm is the constant hustle and bustle.

EPEL: People would kill for that, you know.

ASHI: Also true~.

ASHI: Well, there’s no silence you can’t fix with a simple hangout! I can always count on you to make Ramshackle a little more lively, right Eppy?

EPEL: That’s right! The Ashi— Eh… Eppy duo can reign at Ramshackle!

ASHI: Darn right, hahaha!

ASHI: D’aww, is it already the end of the interview…?

EPEL: Yep. It’s ‘round time for yer good-luck gift!

ASHI: Wow, hometown-Eppy makes a comeback?! That doesn’t sound good for me at all—!

EPEL: Trust me, yer gonna wanna brace yerself. ‘Cause I ain’t goin’ easy on ya, even if you are a girl!

ASHI: Oh boy… Guess I shouldn’t hold back either, huh?

ASHI: …Pfft! KK, bring it on!~

EPEL: Prepare yerself!

EPEL: Happy Birthday, Ashi!

CARD: UNLOCKED!

GROOVY: UNLOCKED!

#twstshi #ashi’s birthday campaign! 🌺#epel felmier #twst epel #twst #twst yuu #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland oc

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takeomurasaki · 2 months

Note

Hey takeo! How’s everything? Welcome to Tumblr and to the writing community. I read your post and I was hoping if you could write something for Izuku’s birthday? Maybe reader organizing a surprise party for him without him knowing? (Only if you want to that is)

And I can’t wait to see you grow here! I was once a small writer here (kind of still am) so I get how you feel about being on such a popular platform. And remember: writing’s supposed to be fun, not tiring. Post whatever’s on your mind.

Take care and stay safe!

Hi Moonlight, Thank you so much for the request and the kind welcoming message! I'm really grateful for your kindness and hope you grow even more as a writer 🙏🏻

I adore this idea and hope I could interpret what you had in mind, hope you enjoy this 🩵

" Perfect Birthday for Him 💚 "

Izuku Midoriya x GN!Reader

Type: Romantic, Fluff, One-shot.

Summary: Surprise party for Izuku's birthday.

Word Count : 2005 words

You put your hand on your hip, the other on your forehead. The cake was finally in the oven.

"I can't believe I beat the squad to it! It was exhausting but everything's ready cake wise."

"Could you help me clean now? First you kidnap me from my morning training to bake a fucking cake for Deku and now you won't even clean. Damn extra!" Bakugo screamed-whispered in your ears. It was still early and if the both of you woke the others up, Izuku might wake up, and that's a no-go.

You weren't the best at baking, that was a flaw of yours but you always tried your best at it. That failed this time around, though. You had tried to prepare a cake for Izuku's birthday but you mixed the cake mix with too much olive oil and it was ruined and smelled terrible. Thank God you knew just the right person to help you: Bakugo. He might be a douche, he was the best at baking so you asked him regardless. The blonde wasn't dumb, he saw in your eyes that this cake meant a lot to you, and he sure could see you wanted to impress his childhood friend. Your eyes were shining and a deeper colour than they used to be, your cheeks were tinted red and sweat dripped from your forehead. Your hair was messy from the rush you had been in for the past couple days preparing the perfect birthday for Midoriya.

He found that funny and laughed at your face, but followed through with your plan anyway. He's not a monster, why wouldn't he help his nerdy childhood bestie get game?

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming. You're going to wake them up if you keep speaking so loud Bakugo please.." You sighed in complete despair and closed your eyes. He sure could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

As you were washing the dishes and Bakugo finishing cleaning the countertop, he spoke out of the blue.

"Say professional simp, why'd you stress so much over that birthday party anyway? You know damn well he's gonna enjoy it if it's you preparing it for fuck's sake." He said rather loudly, grinning like a mad man, he REALLY was a pain in the ass today.

"Bakugo I- He- What? Oh my God" you facepalmed, your face so red your ears began to redden too. You gritted your teeth, this guy was gonna ruin the plan it he keeps at it. "Shut the fuck up and don't speak so loud! Get back to cleaning." You got back to cleaning the dishes, furrowing your brows still red faced. You did hope he was right, that Izuku was gonna like it and actually realize you liked him bad, like bad bad !

Let's not forget who Midoriya is, he gets quite oblivious when it comes to love. Random people were hitting on him at least once a month in the most random places ever and he never suspected a thing, he thought they were just being nice.

That made you fall deeper for the green haired boy if you were honest, you found that just so cute. He always was but his oblivion to others' perception of him added to his natural charm.

You could not mess today up, you were a compassionate and thoughtful friend who always went above and beyond to make your loved ones feel special. You have a knack for creating unforgettable moments and ensuring that every detail is perfect when it comes to showing someone how much they mean to you, mostly Izuku.

It was your chance of getting him to be aware of himself and his attractiveness that you admired deeply, too.

Later on, you went to Mr. Aizaiwa. He wasn't your teacher, you were in class 1-C, but he was Midoriyas and he was helping the whole plan happen out of sheer boredom. He was indeed the weirdest teacher you'd ever met.

It was lunch time, the perfect timing to meet him and discuss today's matter. You knocked on the almost empty classroom's door and entered slowly.

Internally you were an absolute mess. Trying to keep your composure wasn't easy as a swarm of butterflies filled your stomach to the brim, the anticipation was overbearing. The party was getting closer.

"Hello Aizaiwa sensei. Do you remember about Izuku's birthday party perchance? Do we have permission?" You managed to smile somewhat normally with sweaty palms.

He looked up from his spot, tucked in his sleeping bag about to fall asleep from the bags under his eyes. "Hello Y/N L/N, I do remember problem child's birthday party... Principal Nezu is okay with the party being held in the dorm's common room. You will have to mark out the things you're using from the school on a paper though so we know what you took. Dismiss now, I'm sleepy, kid." And with that he just fell on the ground and closed his sleeping bag further, till we couldn't see his face.

You did a little happy dance, how could you not? You had everything planned out perfectly. You rushed out of the classroom to prepare the decorations and the organization.

You were by yourself to prepare the room and all. The others were still in class. After class was done everyone has to come here and finish preparing everything with you, excluding Ochaco of course. She was his current best friend and was tasked to keep him occupied for sometime so we could all hide and all. Honestly your excited was making you go faster than you anticipated, your breath was warm as you were going up and down chairs to be tall enough to reach the ceiling and put the All Might banner and balloons you managed to obtain.

You carefully placed the plates and cups, All Might themed of course, on the table. Each plate and cup with a name on it so no one would get mixed up, that also prevented you from forgetting anyone. You prepared the soft and energy drinks you had brought the day before and put them on the table alongside crackers, chips and nerunerune kits. Candy for the sweet guy, you were proud of the connection you had made at the supermarket. You even got to use UA's party things, so you had confetti on the table, on the ground and even found a red carpet to put at the door leading to Midoriya's chair. Oh his chair, you took an extra time on it. It had little All Might stickers on it you brought for this special occasion, an All Might cushion sitting bare seemingly waiting for Izuku to sit down on. You were overjoyed it was so perfect and turned out how you imagined it.

After the bell rang, the others rushed to the dorm and were surprised to see you had done everything. You took the paper hats, All Might themed why wouldn't they be, and ended one to each and everyone. Mina insisted on having colorful streamers, you couldn't disagree it was a great idea for sure, the clean up was going to be a nightmare but that's for later.

You all got in your hiding spots and turned off the lights, Ochako texted you and said she was near with Midoriya. Your heart was racing, your face red. Barely hyperventilating at this point, you brushed your palm against your chest to contain your excitement. The door clicked open.

"Ochako-san? Why is it so dark in there?" Midoriya was intrigued and turned on the light. Seconds after, you all jumped up and screamed happy birthday to the birthday boy. Midoriya was surprised, his eyes wide and sparkling as he scanned the place and everyone in the room. He smiled brightly, showing his pearly white teeth. His cheeks tinted pink at this point. He thanked everyone, one by one, until it was you left. He approached you, he seemed excited from what you could tell.

"My raitō! Everyone told me you planned all this and I could never thank you enough!" He engulfed you in his muscular arms.

Your eyes widened, he had just called you his precious and on top of that he was hugging you. Heat rushed to your whole face and ears. Your pupils dilated, you inhaled his sweet scent that filled your lungs to the brim. You giggled finally hugging him back.

"It was nothing Izu, nothing is enough to compare to you." You admitted, a knot forming in your throat as the words spilled out your mouth. Izuku instantly lifted his head up from the hug and he was scarlet red at this point. He started stuttering and muttering, you couldn't really understand what he was saying so you just laughed. With the courage you had managed to form you gave him a small peck on the cheek and went to Todoroki to get the gifts out of their hiding spots in his room.

Izuku was frozen in place, his chin trembled as he tried to process what just happened. His hand trailed slowly to his cheek and realization hit him straight in the face. He had not studied them enough, that wasn't in his notes.

The time for the gifts came, everyone hurried at the table as Izuku sat down on his custom chair. He was so nervous, that was a lot of attention on him at once and you were still there, sweetly grinning at him. He opened each gift gently as to keep the All Might merched wrapping paper and thanked everyone for their gifts. The last one was yours and he was absolutely thrilled, his palms shaking and his heart racing. He opened the box hidden under the wrapping paper and lifted an eyebrow, the box was empty.

"Is- is this normal Y/N ?" He said scanning the box, flipping it upside down and shaking it.

You were freaking out. Everything was perfect but this. The gift wasn't in the box. Without even thinking, you screamed, terrified and hurried to Todoroki's room, it must still be there. Izuku followed you and motioned the others to stay put in their place.

"Where the fuck is it!? I swear it was just there!" Your eyes scanned every corner of Todoroki's room in desperation. You were moving every single piece of furniture trying to find the gift for Izuku, you rambled on about where it could be and didn't hear it feel Izuku's presence in the room. His brows narrowed and he stepped towards you. He placed his hand on your shoulder stopping you dead in your tracks. You were crying, the frustration was too much for your poor heart and soul to handle.

He opened his arms and smiled at you,

"Y/N please calm down, I don't need a material gift it's all fine I promise. We can have fun with the others and we'll search for the gift after the party how does that sound to you? Is this ok?"

You accepted the embrace, slowly nodded rubbing your eyes. "I guess this is. I'm so sorry Zuku it was meant to be a perfect birthday. I was so focused on you and your birthday party I even forgot to put the gift in the box." You managed to trail out between small whimpers and crys. Izuku gently rubbed your back as you confessed to him, he was happy you trusted him with your emotions. Seeing you vulnerable like this comforted his love for you, if you could break your outer walls down for him, he could do the same for you.

"I understand the struggle, it was the same to me when it was your birthday honestly. You're just so mesmerizing I lost myself for a moment." You looked at him with mouth agape, face redder than it had ever been. He chuckled and pecked your forehead, just as red as you were.

"Your presence and attention towards me and my birthday is the greatest gift you could have given me, Aijin."

Takeo.

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wayfayrr · 9 months

Note

Hi, Moss!!

First of all, congratulations on 300 followers!!

I'd like to request some soft buttered rum with a yule log to eat in for the event!

I usually lurk in the shadows, but for this milestone, I thought I'll come forth from the darkness hehe <3

You're so awesome, I love all of your stuff, ESPECIALLY the self aware fics!!!!

I hope you have a great day/night <33

~Fi 🐝✨️

here's your order for you fi, it's very nice to see you in the light like this <3

Sorry that this one is shorter than the others so far </3 (there's a little context in the tags but I'm not gonna get into everything rn) soft twi is fun though, he's just a bit of a simp and a menace ain't he? just a soft boy with too many puppy vibes for his own good! even though this one is a little shorter I can promise there's more twi coming soon.

I'm glad you like the self-aware fics too!!! they're my pride and joy to write, seeing how many ways they can be taken and how fun every link could be in the situation. I've got wild on the back burner right now but he'll be one of the first to be up after I finish the event works

[Event masterlist]

“you like the snow Wolfie?”

Twi's acting like a puppy right now, bounding around the field, occasionally stopping to shake off the snow. It’s nice to see him acting more carefree for once, seeing as he’s usually more stressed out about wild getting into trouble and such but for now he can just be more comfortable.

It’s not for too long though as he shifts back after my question, by the look on his face probably because I’ve not been as active as he would like me to be right now.

“Do you not darlin’?”

Why does he look so smug. What is he planning to d-

“LINK! Link that’s freezing come on.”

He’s not even listening, just snickering as he’s preparing another snowball. Well two can play at this game can’t they?

I’ve just got to hit him more than he can hit me, simple enough right, should be fine not like he’s a hero who probably has much more everything than me. If I just -

“You alright rancher? Got a little something on your face there.”

The way his nose scrunched up was downright adorable, even though only seconds later his own snowball was buried into my hair. The melted water running down onto my neck only fueled my desire to throw another. It was simply instinct for me to start making another…

Well start on it before he tackled me anyways.

“Whu- hey. What’s - what was that for?”

“Isn’t this more fun darlin’?”

“Twi come onnn.”

“I prefer this so much more [name]... unless you’d prefer that I go back to covering you with snow?”

“Oh so you’re playing like that then?”

If he wasn’t so stupidly strong I would so have flipped this on him already, but sadly he is stupidly strong even when he’s not putting any effort into it. Not that he’s really doing anything besides holding my wrists above my head and laughing lightly.

“Are you planning on anything then?”

“Do you want me to do anything?”

“I - I mean… why wouldn’t I?”

Something shifted in his demeanour then, as he stopped laughing, his hands slipping to my waist as he stared into my eyes entranced.

“You’d let me?”

“It’s you, twi of course I would.”

"... May I kiss you then?"

#sorry these will be a bit shorter from now on #I'm not doing well at all lol #fighting the urge to go completely awol and delete the entirety of my online presence currently ;-;#which is why I left the discord kgjvkjgv #but anyway writing is cheaper than therapy sooooo #gonna fight tooth and nail to keep on going even if it's a little less overall because I'm burning out a lil ig #january am I right? :)#moss✦writes #tp link x reader #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu twilight #lu twilight x reader

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dimplesandfierceeyes · 9 months

Note

Hello!! If u r still taking bad buddy prompts. How about bet era drunk Pran.

Hi Anons!

This was not completed as fast as I hoped it would be but I hope you both see this and enjoy it! This is very much unbeta'd so sorry for in advance for any mistakes or awkward phrasings!

You're A Goner (for me)

Pran never called, he always texted, so when Pat’s phone started ringing at 1am and the caller ID showed Khrab, A Friend he was understandably confused and a little concerned. He answered cautiously, wondering if he was going to hear the muted static of a butt dial, but instead Pran’s voice came immediately through the speaker.

“Where are you?”

“At home,” Pat replied slowly, still confused though now slightly worried he’d forgotten something. “Where are you?”

“Drunk,” Pran declared with aplomb. Pat snorted in surprise, a grin starting to spread over his features. “Come pick me up.”

“Drunk isn’t a place,” Pat pointed out, still grinning. “Where are you?”

“Ou'side Wai’s place, I walked him home but I don’t wanna walk back t' mine. ’M tired.” The last two words were said with a sigh. Pat laughed again.

“So you called your friend to come get you, huh?”

“Isn’ that wha' a friend would do?” Even drunk, Pran had that same pleased competitive tone in his voice at the insinuation of the bet. “I think a friend would come pick me up in his new car an’ take me to his place and then-...oops.” Pran’s voice went up at the end, light and delicate.

“What did you do?” Pat asked fondly, thoroughly entertained.

“Fell down th’ kerb,” Pran told him happily.

“Are you walking? I thought you were waiting for me to pick you up?”

“Oh, yeah...” Pat could practically hear the frown in his voice.

He chuckled. “Stay where you are, you drunkard, I’ll come and get you.”

“‘M not a drunkard,” Pran protested sulkily.

“Sure you’re not.”

Pat stayed on the phone for the whole drive, partly to make sure Pran didn’t go wandering off before he got there, but mostly because a drunk Pran was one of the best things Pat had come across in his entire life. When he arrived, Pran was sitting on the steps of the apartment block, tilted back on his hands with his phone on the step beside him.

Pat came to a stop and wound down the window.

"Go 'way, 'm waiting for someone." Pran declared, squinting irritably at the car.

"Yeah, me, dumbass," Pat replied fondly. "Get in before Wai sees me parked here."

"Did you change your car?" Pran asked suspiciously, still squinting, though he did at least start pushing himself up to standing. It was a laborious process for him.

"No, it's the same car; you're just too drunk to see straight." Pat chuckled.

"Am not." Pran was finally upright and began walking surprisingly well towards the car.

"Your phone, Pran."

"Huh?"

"You left your phone." Pat held in the urge to laugh, a grin wide and broad on his face as he watched Pran turn back in surprise.

"Oh!" Pran exclaimed, the vowel elongated and wondrous. "Lemme get it."

"That's the idea, yeah," Pat chuckled again.

Pran finally made it to the car a few minutes later, flinging open the door with enough gusto to make Pat wince before climbing inside. He grinned as plonked down in the seat.

"Hi."

"Hi," Pat replied, grinning back.

"You actually came t' pick me up," Pran crowed. "You're soooo…" he paused, a frown on his face as he thought of the word. "Whipped!"

Laughter burst out of Pat, incredulous and surprised.

Pran looked delighted with himself, trying to squeeze his phone into his pocket and failed. Pat took it off him and put it in one of the holes between them.

"Hey!"

"Just put your seatbelt on, drunkard."

"'M not a drunkard." Pran repeated but he did start pulling the seatbelt over.

It was all going well right up until he reached the buckle and couldn't get it aimed right to fit it in. Pat watched him struggle for a moment, amused, before taking over himself.

"See!" Pran sat back, looking satisfied. "You're a-a thing, the thing… simp."

Pat laughed again. "Friends can help drunk friends with seatbelts."

Pran pouted, brow furrowing as he apparently realised his point had been beaten. “‘M not drunk,” he muttered instead.

Pat smiled indulgently at him before leaning forward to poke one sulky dimple. Pran ducked backwards, squawking in outrage. Pat ignored the outburst, twisting back to face the front so he could check his mirrors before signalling to pull out. He dropped his hand down to the handbrake but was surprised by Pran’s hand suddenly smacking into his own. Looking down, he realised Pran was trying to intertwine their fingers.

“Pran, I can’t hold your hand—I’m driving,” he pointed out with laughter bubbling up in his voice.

“I’m not trying to hold your hand!” Pran immediately protested, hand pulling back. “I was just… just… trying to steady myself. I was dizzy.” The words were over-earnest and over-annoyed like he was covering up his embarrassment.

Pat caught the hand he’d jerked away and guided it to his wrist. Pran stubbornly didn’t move so Pat encircled the hand around his wrist himself.

“Okay, you steady yourself, then.” He smiled and patted the hand gently before letting go.

“Maybe I don’t wanna steady myself now,” Pran grumbled, but he did not actually remove his hand.

He was really too cute like this. Pat couldn’t wait for Pran’s bright red embarrassment in the morning; he was going to enjoy himself so much.

#I had more planned for this but alas I just don't seem to have the time or mental space for writing at the moment #still #a little clingy drunk bet era pran is better than no clingy drunk bet era pran #right?#bad buddy #bad buddy fanfic #kayla writes #patpran

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asimplearchivist · 1 year

Text

‘ 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓽 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ the instant marc laid eyes upon you, he knew without a doubt that you were steven’s soulmate.⤏ he never stopped to consider that you might be his, too. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader | marc spector/reader word count ☾ 14.0k a/n ☽ ⤏ this isn’t an actual soulmate au, despite the summary, but after reading @astroboots’/@thirstworldproblemss’ and @softlyspector’s flawless renditions of marc, I’ve been absolutely normal about him. (lying. he’s starting to consume me, even though I am still very much a steven simp and adore jake as well. I love one mk system—they’ve become such integral comfort characters to me, it’s not even funny.) ⤏ [but seriously y’all go read Moonstruck, Tales Untold, and Red Flags, rn this instant if you haven’t, as well as all their other works! they’re such inspiring, stunning writers that I envy dearly, and you’ll be enriched by their breathtaking prose for it. Oh, and their smut is phenomenal, too! ;)]⤏ hope you guys enjoy! :) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven had met you, it had been strictly by happenstance.

The first time Marc met you, officially, it was an accident.

Don’t forget the interview tomorrow, buddy.

Steven scoffed a laugh, lips curling at the edges at the mere thought. “Me? Forget about that? Who exactly do you think I am?”

Marc huffed softly, half-dozing in the headspace as he idly observed Steven’s measured movements: a chipped mug fished from the overflowing dish drain, a cursory glance at its interior in the dim lighting to make sure no residue remained after its last wash, set on the counter while the wailing kettle was tipped over to pour in steaming water. Kettle down on another burner, tin of loose leaf valerian and chamomile popped open, infuser filled and submerged; sugar and oat milk to taste after a moment of cooling blows—too damned sweet on Marc’s tongue, but Steven hummed in satisfaction and set the mug to the side while he dutifully put away the supplies in the cubicle Marc had set up in the corner of the countertop specifically to contain Steven’s frequent messes.

Just reminding you. You haven’t stopped talking about it since last week. Steven would be crushed if he missed out on his interview to get back on with the museum—HR had already cautioned him of a lengthy probation period after the circumstances of his suspension, despite having long since paid off the property damages incurred that spring, but Steven had been too thrilled to go back to take any negativity to heart. He’d seen a position open up for a tour guide online and hadn’t allowed it to leave his mind since—or his mouth, for that matter.

“Well, as long as you don’t take off for Cairo or the other side of Europe while we’re sleepin’, I don’t think I’ll have much to worry about, yeah?” Steven retorted, taking his mug with him to his desk. The empty Thai takeout container was pushed to the side in favor of his piping drink, and Steven was soon cozied up in his chair and plucking his readers from where he’d tucked them into his sweater to perch them on the end of his nose. Marc had stopped paying attention to the text hours before, convinced he’d go cross-eyed from staring blankly at too many more of the incomprehensible glyphs (because in whose right mind would an ax represent anything other than an ax?). Steven’d always had the attention span of a bloodhound—zipping back and forth across pages and books until fixating on something and following the trail to its very end. It was exhausting to Marc, but he had to admit that it had been integral to saving the world (and their own life), at least. “There is a reason I’ve been brushin’ up, you know.”

You’ll do fine. I don’t know why you’re afraid you won’t get hired—they’d be stupid not to, as much as you’ve got crammed in your head. (…Their head? Marc was still uncertain.)

“...It’s not all this I’m worried about, necessarily,” Steven responded after a beat, eyes rising to the window reflecting their shared face. Marc raised a brow at him. “Donna’s got her fingers all up in management, you know—the only reason they’re humorin’ me is ‘cause of a dare hopin’ I’ll make a fool of myself, I’m sure of it—and after everythin’…” His expression pinched, a look far too like Marc’s own for his liking. “...they thought I was bonkers.”

To be fair… Marc began wryly.

“I know, I know. Don’t change the fact that I was mentally unstable in their eyes. Worse, maybe—a maniac.” Steven’s eyes dropped back down to the dusty old tome, his tone growing despondent. “This is probably all just a courtesy to formally dismiss me, and I’ll make a proper fool of myself, then.” He paused, then sighed, dejected. “But what else can I do?”

Go somewhere that’ll actually appreciate your talents, Marc answered firmly. Donna’s a bitch. And if she keeps you from getting this job, I’ll make her regret it.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Watch me. We wouldn’t have anything else to lose at that point. Marc paused, took in Steven’s melancholic expression, and he blamed his blunt candor on his exhaustion. They don’t deserve you, you know.

“I do know, but I don’t know where else to go. We won’t be able to live off your merc money forever, so at least one of us needs to have a real job since you’re not…bounty huntin’, or whatever it was you actually did, anymore.” Steven scratched his hairline and dug his fingers into his curls to tug them while in thought. “I suppose if they don’t take me back, I’ll have to look into somethin’ else. But for now…” Steven’s jaw unhinged as a yawn pried at Marc’s weariness. The readers were set down upon the page, and Steven rubbed at his heavy eyelids. “Guess stayin’ up wonderin’ on ‘what if’s won’t help much, will it? No, don’t think so.”

Not really. Marc settled further back into his receding lucidity, basking in the serene warmth it provided—just like the soft fibers of finely knit cashmere against his skin. Good luck.

“Thanks, mate.” Steven stood, downed his tea in a long draft, and turned to head for the bathroom to freshen up—but Marc was already fading fast. “Talk to you tomorrow, Marc.”

‘Night, Steven.

Steven stayed up even later than Marc had with him. He could feel it in the pressure behind his eyes, even as the bleak morning sunlight seeped in through the windows and spilled over the rumpled covers. He squinted and groaned at the mild visual intrusion, rubbing his temples as he sat up and unbuckled the cuff binding his ankle—a habit so deeply ingrained he no longer had to look at it for his hands to perform the task. He suspected Steven didn’t even realize he’d looped it on, probably in automatic zombie mode again when he’d finally settled.

“Told you to go to bed,” he groused, grimacing and slipping off the side of the bed onto the cold wooden floor. The ring of sand remained undisturbed as he shuffled his way into the bathroom, scrubbing the crust from the corners of his eyes. “How long did you read, Steven?”

Silence. Marc flicked the light on, wincing, but was met only with his own scrunched expression. The little bastard was sleeping it off still.

“Great. Leave me to do the interview,” he muttered with fondness and exasperation in equal measure, shaking his head and reaching for his toothbrush (because of all things, they’d decided they needed separate ones). “Let me take the fall when you get all broken up about it.”

Marc’s needling produced no response from his alter, much to his increasing chagrin.

Steven remained dormant throughout Marc’s morning routine: combing his hair back, washing his face, shaving off his stubble, and dressing in several warm layers of Steven’s preferred clothes to combat the cold drizzle fogging up the windows. He ate the overnight oats Steven had stored in the fridge the evening prior, stabbing the assorted berries with his fork more aggressively the longer his headmate remained silent. Marc scrubbed the dish clean and shoved Steven’s wallet, keys, and phone into his pockets as he donned his own waterproof canvas jacket since all the windows were misted over, preemptively tugging the hood over his head as he meticulously locked the door behind him on his way out.

The sidewalk was lined with puddles as the gloomy, early London morning continued to spritz the city with a fine, chilling mist. Marc had half a mind to go about his own business since Steven wasn’t there to tag in, but until it grew closer to the appointment time at the museum there was still a chance that his alter would surface. Marc knew that Steven would be immeasurably upset about missing his chance to finally achieve the position he’d sought out for so long, despite all the shit that the staff had given him, hindered still by Marc’s situation though unbeknownst to Steven at the time…and Marc would sooner grill and eat his own foot while it was still attached to his leg than have to endure the fallout that would be sure to follow.

He was co-conscious the last time Steven got his hopes crushed on that failed date, though only lingering in the very back of their mind, and the misery Steven had felt had almost rivaled Marc’s own at the time—it was Marc’s place to deal with the unexpected development, not Steven’s (because Marc didn’t quite remember asking Tori out, either, but both of them had been exhausted), yet he’d failed in protecting him from the aftermath that time. He wouldn’t ever let it happen again if he could damn well help it.

Marc sighed, watching his breath flare into a plume of fog and dissipate just as quickly. If Steven had worn out the body, as sluggish as Marc felt, he was going to need something to perk up for the day, at least—even if Steven would later fuss about how coffee always made him jittery, as he did every other time Marc indulged in the mornings he fronted. There was a bookstore on the corner across the street from the museum that Steven had always frequented both for their stock of new and used books as well as the coffee shop inside it. He favored their vegan breakfast and lunch options, as well as their wide assortment of teas, and had spent countless hours in the lounge studying before, mingling amongst the equally sleep-deprived university students. Maybe Marc could coax him awake by going there with…sensory memory, or something. He vaguely recalled the place, but hadn’t spent a whole lot of time co-fronting there.

Since it was early enough, Marc opted to walk instead of catching the bus or hailing a taxi. Passersby on the street, huddled under their umbrellas, cast him incredulous glances as he ambled along, but the bite of the air was a boon he drew in deeply and released in slow, lingering exhalations that billowed around his face before vanishing.

The utter silence he’d encountered in the Field of Reeds had proven to Marc that, despite the relatively short time after he’d finally been forced to introduce himself to Steven and to effectively burst the bubble around the quaint little world Marc had painstakingly constructed for him while he had attempted to suppress Steven’s awareness long enough to finish Khonshu’s last job, Marc had grown accustomed to having the South Londoner drawl nattering on in his ear, even if things had been tense between them at first. Marc hadn’t parted himself from his alter since—even if they still bickered as they adjusted to one another's presence, he didn’t know if he’d be able to tolerate the painful isolation he’d once imposed upon himself ever again.

He’d already single-handedly dismantled his and Layla’s relationship with his conviction that she and Steven both were better off without him. Though they had parted on good terms—her fondness and care for him (and now Steven) as plain as day in spite of the heartache he’d caused her—the trust he’d broken by all his secrets had been too shattered to reassemble. Steven had hated to see the dust settle in such a way but had eventually agreed to finalize the divorce after a lengthy discussion with Marc and Layla. Marc had been, admittedly, too unstable to salvage the remains of their relationship since it had been built on falsehood and half-truths to start with, and he and Steven had mutually agreed that they needed to figure themselves out before attempting any other romantic connections, despite Marc being fully aware of how deeply Steven craved such closeness with someone. Layla had been as close to a significant other as Steven had ever had, and it had hurt him a lot to let her go before he’d really had her. Marc still felt guilty about it.

They still spoke with Layla at least once a week, as she was sometimes forced to go underground having resumed her line of work in the black market of stolen antiquities in Egypt, and Marc felt far more at peace knowing that he’d managed to close that chapter in his life on a somewhat good (if bittersweet) note. He still considered her one of the best (if only) friends he’d ever had. He would never discredit the relationship he’d had with her, the love they’d shared, and the immeasurable good it had done for him to be with her—he’d always love her, in a way.

Ever since then, his and Steven’s connection had greatly improved. Steven started going to therapy (partly to meet HR’s qualification for any return to employment at the museum, but mostly to get a better understanding of how to navigate their new shared lifestyle), and Marc himself had slowly started to test the waters by having a few conversations with the psychiatrist after seeing how well she treated Steven. He had never once considered in a million years that talking to a complete stranger would help in any way, and while he still hadn’t revealed much about himself personally or about his past, he did feel more at ease about the entire situation after being met with unflinching kindness, empathy, and much-needed room to breathe. It was hard, and he’d never have chosen to do it on his own, but Steven had asked him to try it for both of their sakes, and he’d agreed so long as he wasn’t forced to participate and could take it at his own pace. He did co-front during the majority of the sessions, even if he didn’t speak.

They had made many compromises since returning to London, but Marc found it surprisingly easy to cooperate with Steven—once he got better at communicating with his alter, anyway, though he still struggled on that front in general. Steven seemed perfectly content to give Marc as much time and space as he needed, provided he wasn’t doing something foolish, dangerous, or withholding vital information from him. Marc hadn’t drunk in weeks, hadn’t even had the itch to do so. The constant quiet of the flat mitigated by Steven’s general enthusiasm about everything life had to offer was a balm that soothed Marc whenever the world grew to be too much, one that he never had known he’d so direly needed. (Even if it did get lonely sometimes when Steven receded to the back of their headspace and Marc was left alone.)

Overall, several months had passed since The Cairo Incident™ (as Steven had bluntly summarized it), and his and Marc’s now conjoined lives had settled into a tentative state of balance as autumn rolled in on rainy deluges, foggy mornings, and dank evenings. Nothing would be ‘normal’ again after all that the events there had entailed, not really. The situation had never been conventional before (at least beyond Steven’s perspective, though even he hadn’t considered his life entirely ordinary despite being completely unaware of their body’s secondary lifestyle until that fateful day in the Austrian countryside)—but it certainly felt better. Marc wasn’t happy, necessarily, but…he felt content and secure. And for now, that was enough.

As Marc pulled the heavy wooden door open by its tarnished brass handle, a flood of warm air rushed out to meet him along with the chime of a bell jangling over his head, smelling strongly of biblichor and espresso and nipping at his numbed cheeks and nose. The bookstore was mostly empty at this hour, though the few early birds milling around were chattering about their oncoming day with each other, crowded around small round tables pushed against the windows on the outer walls. The lounge was decorated with ornate wooden and velvet pieces of furniture, cozy and homey in its warm jewel tones and soothing atmosphere. A series of shelves as tall as the ceiling lined the interior wall, packed full of books with a chalkboard sign hand-lettered in white, yellow, and orange script explaining that any and all community trades were welcome. A refrigerated display case brimming with freshly baked goods as well as an assortment of brunch foods had each item labeled with allergens listed capped the sales counter that carried on all the way across the rear of the storefront. An open doorway at the other end opened into a foyer containing a grand, winding staircase leading to the next floor where the bookstore was located. A sign directing incomers to an elevator intended for people with handicaps pointed around the corner beyond Marc’s sight, as well as the public restrooms and manager’s office. All manners of barista equipment lined the wall, with a tall fridge containing numerous other drink and food options.

Having only caught brief glimpses of the place before, Marc could understand why Steven was as fond of the place as he was. Not many places allowed Marc to ever truly feel at ease, but he couldn’t muster the specter of incessant dread that normally haunted him even if he wanted to. It felt welcoming in every sense of the word, though he supposed some of that could have been the body’s natural response since Steven felt so secure there, too.

“Good morning!” came an enthusiastic greeting from the barista emerging through the swinging kitchen doors carrying a tray loaded with baked goods intended for sale, immediately going about storing them in the display case, crouched beyond sight before Marc could absorb any distinguishing features besides a juniper green sweater. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Marc directed his attention to the large chalkboard mounted above the coffee and tea stations. The same scrawl as before, more tempered into a looping print, filled the black expanse with myriad autumnal shades. Little doodles of vines, flowers, leaves, pumpkins, and acorns littered the edges and corners—damning evidence of an artistic soul if any he’d ever seen.

“All right! What can I get for—Steven!”

Marc’s gaze snapped down instantly, brows inching upward.

And then, in the instant that Marc Spector laid eyes upon you, he knew without the shadow of a doubt that you were Steven Grant’s soulmate.

You looked all the embodiment, the epitome, of autumn yourself. The sweater, thick knit and drowning your upper body, complimented your skin tone and hair color perfectly. You had the shiny locks woven into an intricate braid that coiled over your shoulder, and an honest-to-god crown of rose gold with delicate flower and branch motifs was set into the layers that started at the top of your head—functioning as a headband, effectively, but Marc was viscerally reminded of textbook depictions of paintings featuring goddesses of harvest. He could smell your perfume even over the other scents competing for his attention, earthy, musky, and as inexplicably warm as the air seeping in through his clothes. Your makeup was light and tasteful, used only to accent and enhance your already seraphic features rather than to alter or disguise them. Your smile was as ephemeral as it was breathtaking, and Marc found himself speechless.

“I’ve got your usual ready,” you told him, eyes crinkled with endearment. “Making an order a night ahead isn’t something I’ve seen too often unless it’s on finals week, but you’re right on time for pickup so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Marc stared, dumbfounded, lips parting slightly.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you chuckled, the sound sincere, “I saw the entry time on the ticket when I came in this morning! I don’t know how you were able to get out of bed so early if you stayed up that late. Again. I know I’m a night owl, but you’ve got me beat!” You leaned over and reached for the tall cup that you set on the polished countertop in front of him. “Cash again today, darlin’, or are you going to surprise me?”

…Oh, bollocks!

And just like that, as Marc had idly hypothesized, your words—or perhaps the term of endearment—like an invocation drew Steven forth from their headspace with all the unstoppable force of a monsoon. Marc was submerged and pulled away from the front in its irresistible current, disoriented and struggling to keep track of their shared senses during the mostly seamless (and entirely unanticipated) shift. Steven’s excited nattering drowned out any other noise, talking a mile a minute—much to your evident delight, if your widening smile was any indication. The only thing Marc could manage to concentrate on was the glittering of your eyes as you listened intently, hanging onto every word that left Steven’s mouth like gospel truth.

Another American in the middle of London, he mused idly, and a southerner at that. You didn’t look exactly like the traveling sort, and you definitely weren’t on any kind of corporate business working in a niche hole-in-the-wall place like this. You weren’t anyone dangerous, that much he could tell with just a glance. But above all, you seemed familiar with Steven—Marc knew Steven had spent a lot of time here, but how could he have possibly missed you?

(Then again, Marc hadn’t really felt like co-fronting all that often when he’d first settled Steven into London. Maybe it shouldn’t come as such a surprise when he hadn’t been paying that close of attention to Steven’s developing life unless it had been necessary to intervene.)

“That’s so exciting, Steven, I’m so happy for you!” you beamed, and Marc was finally able to concentrate while observing, still disoriented but steadier than initially. “I know you’ll knock it out of the park—I don’t know anyone else that’s as knowledgeable as you are!”

“Oh, stop, you’re just sayin’ that,” Steven dismissed, ducking his head as his face warmed. “I’ll certainly give it a good college try. But you shouldn’t discredit your knowledge, either, you know—I don’t know anyone else that has read all of Budge’s works twice like you have. And can quote the Pyramid Texts from memory…not to mention Weni’s tomb inscriptions, or the Cannibal Hymn…I could go on, I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Your turn to shy away from a compliment. Your smile turned bashful. “Anyway, if they don’t take you on, they’re stupid, but I’ll be proud of you either way it goes! You’re so talented, they’d really be missing out—there’s no one better suited for the job.”

If it had come from anyone else, Marc might have suspected that flattery as patronizing or snowing—particularly directed towards Steven, who had always seemed to catch flak both from strangers and from those he referred to as his friends alike in regards to his unusual interests and prolific knowledge. But you were being entirely sincere—Marc prided himself on sniffing out liars, and there was nothing deceitful that he could discern about your bubbly demeanor, the way you hadn’t looked away from him once in the entire exchange.

“Thank you, love,” Steven responded finally, snagging Marc’s attention with the flustered tenderness in his softened tone. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course, darlin’.” You leaned over the counter and squeezed his wrist gently with a wink. “Now, go give them hell for me, all right? You’ve got it in the bag.”

Steven’s heart fluttered and he laid his free hand over yours, stroking the soft skin of your knuckles under his fingertips. “Will do,” he chuckled, remiss to see you rescind your warm touch. “I’ll let you know how it goes, yeah?”

“Please do. I need to know whether I need to order a ‘world’s greatest tour guide’ shirt ASAP or not,” you joked as he turned to leave. “Laters, gators!”

“In a while, crocodile!” His laughter, shaking head, and waggling wave precluded the burst of cold air plunging back over the body like the tide—a jarring change that made Marc scrabble for awareness.

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” Steven whispered to Marc, giddy and breathless. “Didn’t mean to oversleep—again—I’d be up a creek without a paddle if you hadn’t gotten up on time. Thank you, really, I don’t know what I would have done if—”

Who is that? Marc questioned, interjecting himself to stop Steven’s spiraling. He’d gotten used to his alter’s rambling and only interrupted if it turned anxious, but his unbearable curiosity got the better of him this time.

“Her? Oh, yeah, she’s great—always remembers what I order, I don’t even have to ask for it anymore. She’s not usually on the openin’ shift, though, must be fillin’ in for somebody else again. You know she’s a transfer student studyin’ here of all places? Must be wild doin’ it just for fun. A mighty long way from home, she is. She’s as brilliant as they come, really—an angel, too!”

Steven, Marc pressed.

The man punched the button to activate the queue for the crosswalk at the street corner, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watched the traffic flit back and forth. “What?”

She got your name right.

Steven looked down at the biodegradable sleeve protecting his hand from the cup’s heat, noticing the same script in green marker spelling out his name in a flourish—with a ‘V’, not a ‘PH’, like virtually every other establishment opted for without asking for a specification. Marc knew how much it vexed Steven when people didn’t bother to check first (or to remember it).

“Oh, yeah, she always has,” he grinned. He took a tentative sip, eyes fluttering shut as the too-sweet tea bloomed over his tongue in a burst of bright, citrusy flavor. Uncaffeinated, knowing Steven, but it did help to perk him up. “Thanks for grabbin’ this for me, by the way—I forgot to tell you I’d put in the order before fallin’ asleep last night.”

How long have you known her?

“Oh, about a month after we…well, you moved us here. Got mixed up on my days and wound up in there to dodge the rain—she gave me a towel and a drink on the house that day. I’ve been a bit hooked ever since. She’s a history buff, too, so it's really nice havin’ someone understand what I’m talkin’ about. Really sweet, that one. We’ve had lunch a few times since we made it back from Cairo—’bout scared her to death disappearin’ like I did.”

Marc swallowed down the immediate flush of guilt threatening to choke him. As Steven so often reminded him, it was all water under the bridge by now. How have I not met her yet?

“I’d ask you the same thing, mate,” Steven laughed quietly, nodding to another man who strolled up to cross as well. “Spent an awful lot of time there to relax, since…you know.”

Yeah. I know. When Steven glanced at the galvanized surface of the light pole, Marc had his arms folded with a quirked brow. Why haven’t you asked her out?

Steven choked mid-sip, sucking it down the wrong pipe and coughing harshly. He waved off the concerned glance from the stranger, tucking his face into the crook of his elbow to mumble, “I’ve thought about it, all right? Just—last time didn’t go so well, did it? No. Not really.”

All that’s settled, Marc reminded him mildly. And she’s definitely into you. What’s stopping you now?

The light turned green and Steven started across the street, thankful for the motor noise to drown out his muttering. “You, actually,” he sighed. “I didn’t…I wanted to talk to you about it first. You know, since…all that with Layla. I didn’t want to get myself trapped between a rock and a hard place if you weren’t ready for another committed relationship so soon.”

Marc scoffed. Me? I’ve never seen that girl a day in my life, Steven. A pity, too.

“Well, if I got into a relationship,” Steven explained, “you’d sort of be involved, too, right? You may not know her, but…you never know. It’s just something to think about, yeah?”

Thought about it, Marc did. All the way through Steven’s time meeting with HR, going over all the paperwork, signing endless documentation on the probation period requirements (if they rehired him), and finally interviewing for the available position. Marc was a bit too distracted with the turmoil of his thoughts to really pay that close attention to the process.

Steven did have a fair point. They were tied, no matter what. He…hadn’t really considered it, admittedly, much to his chagrin. He’d been focused on setting Steven’s affairs back to rights that he hadn’t given thought about his own. He’d never not regret losing Layla, but…Marc wasn’t grieving over it anymore. He wanted Steven to be able to pursue a meaningful relationship, to find happiness and build his life, to accomplish his goals and fulfill his dreams, above all else. But where did that leave Marc? As a bystander? Was he ready for another attempt at love?

He…wasn’t sure. Not yet. He’d have to test the waters first.

Marc didn’t resurface until after Steven was borderline skipping down the front steps, heart racing with excitement. How’d it go?

“Great! It went great!” Steven crowed, chest puffed out like a puffin. “They agreed to put me in on standby, and I’ll pick back up in the gift shop in the meantime, so—”

Wait, wait. Marc’s voice lowered. You didn’t get the tour guide position?

“Not a primary,” Steven explained, brimming with what Marc would have thought was misplaced enthusiasm. “But if one of the others calls in sick or goes on holiday I get to fill in for them! Isn’t that excitin’?”

I…thought you wanted to do it full-time? Marc said, confused.

“Oh, I did! But this is better than nothin’, and if I impress them enough they may bump me up when a full-time position does open up!” Steven grinned. “Got to take it one step at a time, yeah? Get my bluff back in that I’m not really a maniac.”

If that satisfies you, Marc acquiesced with a sigh. You sure you’re okay with it?

“For now, yeah. It’s just temporary.” Steven repeated the same motion as before, waiting for the lights to allow him passage. “So…did you think about what I said?”

Yeah. I did.

“...And?”

I’d be okay with you going out with her, Marc said. Don’t let me stop you from having a good time.

He could feel Steven’s brow furrow. “But what about you, Marc?”

I’ll…see. I’ll let you know if anything changes, all right?

“Marc.” Steven swallowed, fisting his hands into the pockets of Marc’s coat. “I…I really like her. A lot. I don’t want to risk jeopardizin’ our friendship with one date if a long-term relationship isn’t somethin’ you're comfortable with or lookin’ towards in the future. For better or for worse, we may very well end up sharin’ someone—maybe not quite like that, don’t laugh, you twit—just…findin’ someone that’s unbothered by us, you know? It’s all a bit nebulous until we actually reach that bridge, but…I wanted you to be prepared, and for that to inform your decision rather than you puttin’ my wants over your needs. Again.”

Marc…didn’t really know how to respond. Steven had always been the better communicator between the two of them, without a doubt, and it seemed that their therapist had given him a broader perspective than what Marc had ever known. And he was right—of course he was.

Why don’t you ask her out—just for something fun, he suggested despite Steven opening his mouth to reiterate his point, and I’ll get a better read on her. See if I’m…comfortable with her. That sound good? Then we can discuss it some more?

“Neutral ground. Yeah, that’ll…that’ll work.” Steven crossed the road again. “Will you want to introduce yourself, or…?”

I’ll hang back and let you have your time with her, Marc told him. But I’ll keep an eye open to see what she’s like.

“Never pegged you for a peepin’ tom,” Steven teased, heading straight towards the coffee shop entrance again. He stopped just short, hesitating.

Marc gestured that he enter in the reflection of the window Steven lingered in front of. Go on. You’ve already gone out to eat with her. Maybe suggest dinner or a movie? Or both? You could have her over at your place to watch TV if you think she’d prefer something casual. If she’s nerdy like you, she’ll gobble that shit up.

“Our place,” Steven corrected quietly. His pulse was thrumming worse than it had been while interviewing. “…Oh, what am I thinkin’? What if she says no?”

Why would she? Marc returned. You’re friends. Friends hang out together. It’s expensive as shit to do anything elaborate in public, anyway. And if she does say no, then you’ll have your answer going forward.

Steven swallowed, folding his hands over his flipping stomach and fiddling with the hem of his sleeves. “Yeah, sure, but what if I don’t want to know? Maybe I’m better off not knowin’ whether she’s just thought of me as only a friend this whole time? It wouldn’t make a difference, I guess, she is my friend and I have every intention of keepin’ her around even if she does say no, but…” He let out a ragged sigh and ducked his head. “…bullocks. Why is this so hard?”

Want me to do it?

“No,” Steven breathed firmly. “You’ll go and say somethin’ blunt and I’ll have to fix it because you are the most awkward person I have ever met.”

Well, if you don’t, I will. Marc tipped his head towards the door handle. Just go for it, Steven. You brawled against the supercharged avatar of a banished goddess and had the upper hand. I think you can handle this.

“Brawlin’ the avatar of a goddess didn’t entail rejection, mate,” Steven growled, but reached for the tarnished brass anyway. “...Here goes nothin’.”

Just play it casual. Don’t think about it too hard. Like you’re doing right now. Stop it.

“Just give me a minute, yeah, you twit?” Steven muttered, slipping through the door. The pace had picked up in the cafe, evidently, because the tables had filled up—but two other workers were behind the counter.

One—a tall, willowy girl with delicate golden piercings littering the shells of her ears—glanced up and spotted him. “Hey, Steven,” she called, “she’s upstairs helping the newbie learn the till.”

“Thanks, Amy,” he said, making a bee-line for the stairs. “Appreciate it!”

Steven must have sensed Marc’s perplexion because once he’d stepped into the quiet stairwell and started up the steps, he lowered his voice again. “She corrects people when they get my name wrong,” he explained softly. “All of them pick up the slack when I show up because they know we’ll end up chattin’ longer than we ever mean to—or at least that’s what she told me. I think they tease her about it. They’re a nice lot, though.”

Marc remained silent as Steven emerged into the bookstore upstairs, taking in the endless, winding shelves that made the place seem boundless. You were behind the counter by yourself, typing into the tablet serving as the register with a furrowed brow. A pimpled young man was sheepishly sorting through one of the display tables and restocking the stacks of new nonfiction releases on the opposite side of the main part of the room.

Steven hesitated again, lingering just behind the doorway and out of sight. Marc could feel their heart hammering against the inside of their ribcage. Steven folded his hands over his chest, wringing his fingers together, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

Go on, Steven, Marc said gently. It’s okay.

“All right,” Steven murmured, swallowing, and moved into the store.

It seemed the encouraging approach worked better with Steven—Marc would have to keep that in mind.

You lifted your head at the movement in your peripheral, and Marc observed the edges of your expression crinkle in delight. “Hey!” you chirped, stepping out from behind the counter and moving up to greet Steven properly. “How’d it go?”

Steven took a shaky breath, unable to keep the tentative smile off his face. “I got the job.”

“You got the job!” you cheered, voice rising with your excitement. You bounced on your feet and grasped his arms, eyes absolutely sparkling. “I knew you would! When do you start?”

“On Monday.” Steven bit his lip, reaching up and curling his long fingers around your elbows. “They took me back in the gift shop, but I’m on standby for the guides. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but it’s a place to start, yeah?”

“As long as you’re happy,” you said without hesitation, “I’m happy.” You lifted a hand to comb an errant curl off his forehead, the skim of your fingertips along his hairline sending frissons rocketing down his body. “God, Steven, I am so proud of you, darlin’. I know how much it bothered you not working.” Your brows shot up and your smile widened—if that were even possible. “Oh, you’ll have to tell me when your first tour is! I want to be there!”

“I—really?” Steven squeaked, and Marc would have rolled his eyes had he control of the body. He settled for a sigh. “You do?”

“Of course! I’m sorry I missed that traveling exhibit you talked about a few months ago—it bugged me to no end that they only put seven of the Ennead on all the posters—but everything else you’ve mentioned about the museum makes it seem really interesting! I would have visited it while it was still there, but classes kept me so busy right at the end of spring semester, and I didn’t—oh!” You slid your hand down to his wrist and squeezed. “You know what? Why don’t you practice on me—you know, if you’re nervous about it? You’ll do a great job regardless, but it would give you the opportunity to outline all your thoughts, you know? I know it can be nerve-wracking presenting information to anyone, much less perfect strangers, regardless of whether you know the material by heart like we do or not.”

“I—sure?” Steven’s mind was reeling. Marc struggled to focus through the maelstrom of thoughts and feelings Steven was floundering to compartmentalize. “You—you noticed the posters, too?”

“Uh, yeah? I meant to mention it to you sooner, but with everything that happened, it slipped my mind. I…didn’t really want to go, while you were gone in Cairo,” you admitted, gaze glancing off to the side. He knew that recalling his disappearance always brought back the worry and stress you’d felt having no way to contact him. You shook your head slightly. “I mean, you don’t have to tote me around if you don’t want to, it was just a thought—”

“No, I’d love to!” Steven blurted. “Not ‘tote you about’, necessarily, but if you—if you wanted, I’ll—I can show you around the museum. There’s a permanent wing with Egyptian artifacts that’s fairly impressive on its own.” He drew a haggard breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He glanced towards the screen, finding Marc’s amused expression reflected back at him. “I, um…”

She gave you an opening, Marc commented wryly, raising his brows. You going to take it, Steven?

“...I’ll do that, and I’ll do you one better,” Steven continued, stuttering a bit while inwardly cursing his inability to be suave in any capacity. Marc’s chuckle didn’t help his fluster. “I’ll—I’ll even, uh…” He dropped his gaze to his shoes, throat threatening to close up. Damn this anxiety, honestly. “...take…take you out—to dinner…?”

Was that a suggestion or a plea? Marc said, poorly stifling his chuckle.

Steven shot him a rather nasty glare, and this time Marc’s alter didn’t need to speak out loud to clearly communicate his growing exasperation with his host.

“You…really?”

Marc watched your demeanor ease from enthusiasm to something a little more…anticipatory. Your brow quirked up, your lashes lowering, and while you looked a little hesitant to assume the true nature and depths of Steven’s implication, the tentative but shining hope in your eyes only confirmed Marc’s suspicions.

You were infatuated with his alter.

“I mean—we’ve already grabbed a bite to eat before,” Steven pointed out in a rush, heat crawling up his neck, “so I thought—you know, since our schedules won’t be as adherent once I start back to work—that we could go out and…celebrate? Would—would you…be agreeable to such an arrangement…?”

Your smile softened into something shy. “I’d be quite agreeable to such an arrangement, Mister Grant,” you echoed in a low tone. “And when would this take place, exactly?”

He swallowed roughly. “I—uh…a-are you off, tomorrow?”

“I’ve got the opening shift, but that finishes up at five,” you offered apologetically. “When does the museum close?”

“At eight, on Saturdays,” he told you, his smile returning slowly but surely. “I could walk you over, if you’d like? Then we could grab a bite after…?”

“That sounds lovely,” you beamed. “I’ll make sure to gussy up for it. You know, since it’s a special event and all—I’m chuffed to be your first tourist.”

That drew a laugh out of Steven—though Marc had noticed that his alter had started to use bits and pieces of American slang, he wouldn’t have expected you to pick up on Steven’s.

“I’m chuffed that you want to be my first,” he chuckled quietly, but during the split second that your brows rose slightly and a certain twinkle flared to life in your eye (as well as Marc spectacularly failing to restrain his laughter this time), Steven realized his unintended blunder. Heat flared to life in his face and he ducked his chin, holding out his hands to hide his mortified expression. “Tourist! My first tourist! Bloody hell, I didn’t—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You threaded your fingers with his and tugged his hands down, giving them a squeeze. “It’s okay,” you assured him, voice light with mirth, all traces of timidity evaporated. You seemed coy, now, the gentle curve of a knowing smirk crinkling the corners of your eyes. It was a strikingly good look on you. You winked at him playfully. “I know what you meant, Steven.”

“I…good. Yeah, good.” Steven cleared his throat and glanced away from your gaze. “So, uh…I’ll see you t-tomorrow, right?”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” you crooned. Marc would label that particular look as eager. “Just let me know if your plans change.”

“Will do, love,” he returned in a murmur. The other worker in the room, who had since secluded himself around the corner behind a shelf, coughed as no doubt a cloud of dust rained down upon him when he pulled a couple of used books free. Steven cleared his throat reflexively, taking a half-step back—you’d gotten close enough that he could have stooped down to kiss you if he had wanted to. And oh, how he wanted to. “I’ll…see you then.” He gave you a bashful, toothy grin. “Have a good evenin’, yeah?”

“I will knowing I get to see you again,” you returned smoothly, though your complexion darkened even as you said it. “Be careful going home, Steven.”

It was cute. You were cute.

Steven was definitely done for, Marc knew that much—but Marc was so fucked.

“I will. You, too.” Steven carefully unthreaded his hands from your anchoring grasp, more than a little dizzy as his lungs cleared of your perfume. He was remiss at its retreat. “Laters, gators.”

“After a while, crocodile,” you returned brightly.

Marc managed to bite down his tongue until Steven floated all the way back onto the street, mindlessly making a beeline for the bus stop. It was only when Steven boarded, settled into the crowd, and closed his eyes with a relieved little sigh that he finally spoke up. See? I told you that you didn’t have anything to worry about.

Steven jumped a little—a true testament to how far out of it he was. “Oh,” he suspired, glancing absently at his reflection in the window. Marc’s smug grin didn’t even put a dent in Steven’s euphoria. “Yeah. You were right, mate. Sorry I doubted you.”

His tone was low enough that the other passengers wouldn’t hear him. Marc pressed against the front carefully, leaning in as Steven’s awareness faded—the exhaustion from staying up so late the night before as well as getting up so early was finally catching up to them. Want me to take the body?

“Yeah, sure, mate,” Steven mumbled, his eyelids drifting shut once more. “I’m knackered.”

Marc slipped in seamlessly, allowing a moment for him to orient himself before peering around him. The strangers didn’t cast him a second glance, even as he swayed under the fatigue that hit him like a freight train. “That’s what happens when you stay up all night reading,” he muttered to his alter, but when Marc received no response he knew that Steven had already sunk into dormancy.

The soft huff of laughter that escaped him was fonder than he’d ever readily admit.

“I’m proud of you, buddy,” he murmured, leaning against one of the support beams and allowing it to take the brunt of his weight. “You deserve to have a couple of wins, for once.”

Marc had the body to himself for the rest of the evening, it seemed. However late Steven had stayed up the night before, it had tuckered out his alter, so he remained dormant while Marc went through the motions of fixing dinner. Not a peep was uttered as he pulled out the ribeye he’d stored in the back of the fridge after their last grocery run, mouth watering at the thought of pan-seared steak. (He didn’t mind Steven being vegan, and Steven didn’t mind Marc’s habits too much, either—although they’d both had to come to terms with each other’s dieting over time.)

Marc settled in with his supper not twenty minutes later, the plate full of steak and potatoes warming his lap as he fished the TV remote out from between the couch cushions. He turned the channel from Discovery to TBS, turning the volume down low when he realized that the announcer he couldn’t stand was commentating on the current game. He tucked in, and by the time the plate and glass were empty, his eyelids were getting unbearably heavy.

Marc cleaned the dishes, then went to shower. The neighbors had evidently just gotten home from work as well because while the water was still hot, the pressure was terrible. Even still, it felt nice to be clean—and when he settled into bed with his laptop he had no intention of falling asleep quite yet because he didn’t want to wake up halfway through the morning.

Despite his wishes, however, at some point his laptop was shut and set to the side as he rolled over and slipped off into a heavy slumber.

Marc jerked awake as a loud clatter tore him from his accidental nap.

He was on his feet in less than a heartbeat, blinking rapidly to clear the crust and haze from his eyes, hands in fight stance in case of an intruder. The apartment was still empty. The windows offered no natural light, the skies scattered with swathes of dark clouds, and a quick glance at the alarm clock reported the late hour.

He scowled and glanced around, then down, and realized that Steven’s phone had fallen off the shelf. He stooped to pick it up with bated breath, gingerly turning it over as though the gentle treatment would rectify any scratches or cracks incurred by the device’s untimely dive.

Untouched, thankfully. He didn’t want to have to replace another one.

He swiped the dust from the screen with the pad of his thumb and, in so doing, caused the screen to flare to life. He squinted against the harsh brightness, but frowned when he realized that there was a long stream of unopened notifications awaiting. The vibrations might have caused it to slide off the surface of its temporary resting place.

‘Hey, darlin’!

‘I know you’re probably settled at home and really tired after the day you had, but could I ask you a huge favor? Just this once?

‘I ended up covering the closing shift so I’m trying to lock everything up, but there’s this guy that’s been standing at the door ever since all the others left.

‘I tried telling him we’re closed, but he won’t leave.

‘Would it be too much to ask you to come walk me home? He’s giving me the creeps.

‘He just keeps staring.

‘I tried waiting in the office for like ten minutes, but when I came back out he was still there.

‘He’s tried opening the door twice in the last five minutes.

‘Please, Steven?

‘I’m scared.’

Marc’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. The last message was sent five minutes prior, likely on a repeat timer. The first text had been sent nearly half an hour ago. His thumb flew over the screen in seconds without thinking, typing a rapid response one-handed as he shoved his feet into his boots by his wardrobe and pulled over the coat rack by the front door as he grabbed his coat and rushed out of their apartment. ‘Lock yourself in the office and have the authorities dialed until I get there. If he tries to break in before then, call them and stay put. I’ll be there in ten. Find something to defend yourself with and DO NOT under ANY circumstances let him in.’

He made it in eight. The taxi driver was beyond miffed at his snarled demands, but Marc slapped a couple of extra bills into his hand as he rolled to a stop on the street corner. Marc already had the door open and was climbing out before the taxi was fully stopped, heart hammering against the inside of his ribs.

You hadn’t responded to his message, and when he’d tried to call you three times on the drive over it had gone to your cheery voicemail message: “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the phone, I probably got lost in a book again! Leave your name and number and I’ll try to call you back ASAP!”

He’d left one the third time, croaking your name urgently. “...I swear to God, sweetheart, don’t try to do anything brave. Steven wouldn’t be able to survive it.”

Marc’s eyes adjusted to the dark slowly as the taxi unwittingly slunk off out of sight, the headlights fading around the corner, since the streetlight wasn’t on. A cursory glance at the sidewalk revealed shattered glass, and when he glanced up at the bulb he realized that it had been shot out. The security camera mounted above the entryway, still blinking live, would have no way of recording in pitch black.

That drew his gaze to the front door, hanging open on its hinges with the glass slats broken in, jagged like teeth in the thready shafts of moonlight peeking out from between the amorphous clouds.

“Fuck,” Marc breathed, hand jerking towards his hip—but in his rush he hadn’t grabbed his holster from his safe under the bed. He no longer had borderline-immortalizing armor, either—perhaps the first time in weeks he was remiss to no longer have access to it. “Fuck.”

…What’s goin’ on, mate…?

“Nothing, Steven,” Marc hissed, “go back to sleep.”

…Why’re you out this late? A pause as Marc gritted his teeth and braced a hand on the edge of the door, easing inside the unlit building without a sound. Wait! What’re you doin’ here? Is that—why’s the door broken like that?!

“Shh,” he growled, eyes darting around the coffee shop. Not a sign of life was to be had, no movement in the eerie silence. Marc slunk towards the back, eyes struggling to take in the shadows coalescing on the floor. No one was hiding behind the dining furniture. No one was behind the counter.

Oh, God, Steven whispered hoarsely, his eyes rounded in terror reflecting back at Marc in the fridge’s glass face as Marc stalked past it towards the kitchen. Someone’s broken in, haven’t they? Where’s—oh my God, what if she ended up closin�� tonight? But you wouldn’t be here otherwise—where is she?

Marc stifled his response, peering through the slit between the swinging doors separating the main room from the kitchen. When he detected no intruders, he pushed inside.

You’ve got to find her, Marc, Steven urged.

“Steven,” Marc muttered.

If she was here by herself who knows what—what happened, or—

“Steven.”

—if whoever did it is still—oh, no, she must be so frightened! Marc! You need to—

“Steven! I know,” he hissed in an attempt to appease his alter. He could feel Steven pressing heavily against the front of their headspace, quivering in fright. “I can handle this, trust me. Just give me a minute. I can’t concentrate when you’re spiraling. I need you to calm down.”

Right, Steven murmured apologetically, although threads of his brimming anxiety still wove their way into his words, sorry, mate.

No one in the kitchen. The only sign of a disturbance was a baking station upturned of its supplies.

Marc, Steven murmured gravely, the knife block’s tipped over.

Marc eased back out into the main room, brows furrowed. The light switch right next to the door had been smashed in by force, a smaller crack. Pistol-whipped, maybe?

Pistol-whipped? Steven whispered. Marc felt their stomach shrink in fright. What do you mean? Does that mean he’s got a—

Marc shushed him. The security cameras inside still blinked attentively, blinded by the night. The register was lopsided, now that he looked. There was a dent on the tray as though someone had tried to force it open, and a paring knife snapped in halves lay victimized upon the scored countertop. Something dark and crimson speckled the stained wood.

It needs a key, Steven pointed out, voice rising in volume and in pitch so suddenly Marc’s ears rang, and it’s in the—!

A resounding crash and thud made Marc’s eyes snap towards the hallway, frissons rocketing across his skin. His shoulders and fists wound tight as he snatched a pencil from the cup next to the register and prowled towards the open doorway.

A pencil? What the hell are you goin’ to do with a bleedin’ pencil? You’re not John Wick, mate!

“For fuck’s sake, Steven,” Marc growled.

The clouds shifted, and the moon shone in full force through the windows on that side, pouring over the polished hardwood floors and casting Marc’s looming shadow through the side room. The narrow hallway leading to the office had papers from the whiteboard fluttering to the ground.

Marc’s pulse was roaring in his ears, almost as loud as Steven hollering for him to move, and he was rushing towards the door hanging from its hinges with a shattered doorknob before he could even process the limp shape sprawled face-down on the office floor and—

A jarring strike against the back of his head nearly sent him careening towards the ground, too. Marc let out a curse of pain, stumbling, barely able to catch himself on the edge of the desk while his equilibrium abandoned him. His vision swam, knees buckled, and he threw up his open palm to catch the weapon before it finished the job of knocking him unconscious.

“Oh my god! Steven!” A clatter of wood, the thunk of knees striking the floor next to him, warm hands cradling his face and sifting through his hair only to retreat just as quickly, as though burned. “Holy shit, I thought—God, I’m so sorry—why didn’t you say anything?”

Oh, thank God she’s all right, Steven breathed on a heavy sigh—somehow completely unrattled by your humbling blow.

“The fuck is that?” Marc groaned, reaching up and pressing his hand against the crown of his head. He winced and withdrew his inspecting touch, studying the tacky, dark smear staining his fingers incredulously before glancing towards the offending object lying innocently at his feet. “A fuckin’ rolling pin?”

You pulled back slightly, stiffening all over. Marc looked up to find your expression pinched with confusion—then he watched it shift into realization. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry!”

“Stop apologizing,” he groused, regaining enough of his bearings to look around the room. The unconscious thief had crumpled not a yard away, black attire and mask askew as his sliced palm dribbled onto the rug. “Did you…Christ, you knocked him the fuck out, didn’t you?” He raised a brow at you. “Color me impressed. You ever consider playing ball?”

You didn’t respond that time, eyes darting towards the offender, and Marc didn’t miss the way they glazed over as your hands began to tremble before you’d bundled them against your chest. Marc straightened shakily to his feet with swimming vision, heavily stepping over the unknown assailant to tug off the ski mask and squint at his face through the blurriness. He kicked away the gun near his elbow for safe measure.

“Oh,” you breathed, and Marc watched the unease settle into your expression, “I…I’m pretty sure he came in this morning. I just thought he was just looking at all the artwork, wandering around like he did.”

“Scouting out the place, probably,” Marc suspected. He gripped the nape of the man’s jacket and pulled him up so he could leverage him onto his shoulder—it would be easier to carry him than to drag him, as bulky as he was. Marc looked at you once he stood. “Call the cops, I’m going to tie him up in case he wakes back up. You got anything to use?”

You swallowed, crawling carefully to your feet and using the desk for balance. “There’s…there’s baker’s twine, in the kitchen,” you offered meekly.

“Good enough. Maybe this bastard will cut himself some more,” he growled, hauling him back into the main room. He unceremoniously dropped him near the entrance, watching him with a glare as you shuffled in behind him. Although the man’s head bounced against the floor at Marc’s manhandling, Steven offered no protest. (Quite the opposite, actually.)

Serves him right, Marc’s alter muttered darkly.

You raised your phone to your ear as you disappeared into the kitchen, but the coffee shop’s oppressive silence allowed him to hear every word. “Hello? Yes, um…my name’s…” The quiet clunk of a drawer being opened interrupted your demure tone. “...I was closing up at work and someone tried to rob the place. I locked myself in the office and when he broke in to get the register key, I, uh…I knocked him out…yes. My, um…my boyfriend’s here with me, now. Yes. No, ma’am, my manager’s at home, and the owner is, too. Yes, ma’am.” You emerged from the kitchen, scissors and a ball of twine in your free hand. “The address? Right. It’s…”

Boyfriend…? Steven questioned, voice cracking.

“That’s really what you’re going to focus on right now?” Marc mumbled, grateful that you were still distracted for the moment. He took the objects from your shaking fingers, crouching down to bind the guy’s gloved hands behind his back with loop after loop of the roughened string. He didn’t rightly care if it cut off the circulation. The bastard deserved to lose some fingers after what he tried to do.

“...They’ll be here in fifteen? Great. Th-thanks. Have a good night.” You tucked your phone into your back pocket, then edged back and sank into one of the booths to bury your face in your hands after a brief glance at the unmoving silhouette on the floor. “Oh, God. I…I didn’t kill him, did I?”

“No. But he might wish you had with the headache he’ll have when he wakes up.” Marc stood with a low groan, leaning back to pop his spine. “You’ve got a mean swing, sweetheart.”

You were staring at him when he turned back to you, hands folded over your mouth with your elbows propped on the table. Your breaths were shaky, body rigid, but your eyes were brimming with questions and uncertainty alike.

Bloody hell, Marc, you haven’t even introduced yourself! Steven scolded, frowning at him in the display case’s glossy front. If you’re not goin’ to bother to try to comfort her, give me the body.

“I’d like to see you try to explain all this to the cops,” Marc sighed, mostly under his breath, but he saw your brows rise slightly. He cleared his throat and tried to refocus on you. “You handled that well,” he redirected. “You were prepared.”

She’s quakin’! So help me, if you don’t talk to her properly, I’ll —

“Thanks…thanks to you,” you murmured, studying him contemplatively. “You…did send that text, right? I didn’t think it sounded like Steven, but…”

Marc nodded, easing into the booth directly next to you, but careful to give you some breathing room. “Scared the shit out of us, honestly. Didn’t know what to expect.”

“I…I should have called the police sooner, I know,” you admitted, “but when he started banging on the door, I…well, I panicked. I grabbed what I could and did what you said.”

“You did good,” he repeated. “Most people would have frozen.”

“I…normally do,” you confessed. “I hear a loud noise or someone shouting and I just…lock up, like a deer in headlights.” You cleared your throat, eyes falling to the floor between your feet and his as you folded your arms over the tabletop close to your torso. “You helped. A lot. I wasn’t quite as scared, knowing you both were on the way.”

Marc tilted his head slightly, eyes tracing the mercurial moonlight caressing the gilded edges of your profile. It was easier to take note of the details while fronting—observing from the back of the headspace like he’d been forced to after Steven had rushed to take the body earlier that morning left all the images fuzzy and watery. He’d been so shocked by his initial impression as a whole that he’d failed to file away the intricacies of your features—like walking into a particular room of an art museum, being captivated by the overall image a painting presented, but failing to step closer to scrutinize the individual brushstrokes and knife scrapes. Again, he was reminded of the textbook pictures he’d glared at in his youth, struggling to assign names of meaning to portraiture—but now he understood acutely what it meant to commit someone’s likeness to immortality via the deftness of hand utilizing vibrant mediums and careful measure.

He wasn’t much of an artist himself, had never been (that had always been Randal’s wheelhouse), but there was something about the crinkle of laughter lines in the corners of your eyes, the bracketing dimples pulled taught from the tension pursing your lips, the dark sweep of your lashes feathering diaphanous shadows across the arches of your cheeks, and the gentle sloping curvature of your supple face all awoke an untapped desire to do so (or to at least make an attempt at it, as horrendous as it would likely be).

Marc, Steven pressed, miffed at his prolonged silence when you were still obviously in such acute distress—he could see the tears welling in your eyes, glittering like molten silver dewdrops against your lashes. Do somethin’!

“...Hey,” he said softly, reaching out and extending an open hand in the narrow space between the pair of you—the one untainted by his own blood. “It’s okay. You got him. You didn't even really need me—us, ” he corrected at Steven’s sound of malcontent. “Steven’s here, too. You about gave him a heart attack.”

You looked at his hand as though he were a total stranger, just a touch leery, but as your eyes lifted back to his face Marc saw what he could only call awe there instead. Your hand twitched up, seemingly of its own accord, but you hesitated. He raised his brows just so, tucking his chin slightly and bobbing his hand a little to coax you to reciprocate. Finally, you carefully placed your hand in his, expression tightening as you no doubt felt the calluses lining the bumps of his fingers and the heels of his palms, the roughened sandpaper texture of his skin—instead of lacing your fingers with his to clasp them together, like Marc expected, you only hooked them to turn his hand over to your curious gaze.

“When Steven said you were a soldier, I expected you to have scars,” you commented quietly, the pad of your thumb pressing into the divots of flesh between his knuckles.

Marc was dumbfounded, a bit by your observation and the unspoken inquisitiveness behind it, partly by Steven’s evident admission of at least some of Marc’s past, but mostly by the fact that it seemed as if his alter hadn’t even managed to work up the balls to hold your hand yet.

We’ve—we’ve held hands! Steven protested, flustered to admit to it but indignant to Marc’s incredulity. Just not like this! I’ve helped her cross the street and up the stairs and the like, but…I never figured she’d want to…to do this.

“I always tended to heal up quick,” Marc offered when his shocked silence drew your confused attention back up to him. “What all did Steven tell you about me?”

“Only the basics—nothing personal, I promise.” You tilted your head slightly, regarding him like one would while translating an ancient passage from a dead language—and while from most people it would feel invasive, cause Marc’s skin to prickle uncomfortably at being observed like the freak he was(n’t, just felt like at times, he had to remind himself), from you it just felt overwhelming. In an oddly…good way. He found that, despite himself, he didn’t mind it all that much. The weight of your focus had an odd sort of magnetism to it, addictive in its sincerity. (No wonder Steven was so taken with you.) “Little things, like how you were born in Chicago, and that your dad’s a rabbi. You played baseball growing up, and you still watch the Cubs when they play, even if you have to record the games. You like sci-fi—but you’re a Star Wars fan, not a Trekkie, unfortunately. You were a marine, then you did some freelance work before you ended up here so Steven could get a job at the museum.”

Marc released a heavy breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding, the sudden tension that the topic of his past always brought rolling off his shoulders as quickly as it had surmounted them. “Yeah. All true.” He resisted the urge to probe into that little ‘unfortunately’ remark, directing the conversation elsewhere. “I take it that you’re aware…you know, about…us.”

“He told me just enough about that, too.” You resumed your study of the topography on the back of his hand once more, and the hammering of his heart eased off enough that he felt like he could breathe fully again. Your touch was simultaneously distracting and grounding, gentle unlike anything he’d felt in years—as light as sunshine, yet as sure as its warmth. “You’re the host of the system. Steven grew up alongside you since you were twelve, but he didn’t know he was your alter until a few months ago when you lost your mom.” Your expression pinched with sympathy. “I’m really sorry about that. I can’t imagine what it’s like.”

“You don’t want to,” he mumbled on reflex. The last thing he wanted to think about—at this moment (or ever, really)—was his mother. He was grateful you didn’t bring up his brother, because he doubted you were unaware of that if you knew everything else. He cleared his throat and retracted his hand carefully, so as not to startle you, but you still jerked your hands back and folded them against your stomach with an apologetic look. “You want a drink? I need a drink.”

“I’m afraid we don’t keep any of the hard stuff, despite my manager insisting the apple cider would be better with it,” you murmured, the slightest suggestion of a wry smile quirking the corner of your mouth, “but there’s some glasses for water in the kitchen.”

“Water will do,” he responded, dragging his eyes away with no small amount of restraint from your dimple that pocketed its own private pool of moonlight. “Be right back.”

In the seclusion of the kitchen, Marc released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The glasses you mentioned lined one of the shelves, and he brought down two to prop under the dispenser on the industrial refrigerator. He glowered at a sheepish-looking Steven in his galvanized reflection. He gritted his teeth and drew a breath.

Before you start, mate, Steven interjected, I only explained just what she said to her the night we got back from Cairo. I didn’t go into detail then, and I haven’t mentioned it since. I knew you wouldn’t want me floutin’ your past around town, and since she’s a stranger to you, I only told her enough to give her context for my weird behavior and disappearin’ for two weeks…even if I was still a bit miffed about the entire ordeal at the time.

Marc pursed his lips, attempting to formulate a curt response, but he was unable to muster it. He sighed and shook his head instead. “...Thanks, Steven.”

Your business is yours, mate. I didn’t really have a hand in it—you know, not until recently. She’ll only find out if you tell her or if you give me permission. Steven paused, glancing towards the folding doors with some reticence. Though, I suppose…if we do start to date her, we may have to.

Marc knew that. It was partly why he’d taken so long to deliberate on the matter. You wouldn’t necessarily have to know about his work for Khonshu, per se, but…you would deserve to know the circumstances that had molded Marc and Steven into who they were as a person. He never wanted to repeat his past mistakes, everything he’d done to Layla (and Steven, by proxy, he supposed)—as much as he’d loved her (and still did, to a certain extent, despite everything), it had been torture keeping that many secrets from her for so long. The years of half-truths had eaten away at him until his guilt had compounded into all the other stress and turmoil he’d been experiencing there at the end. Steven and Layla had ultimately been innocent bystanders in the typhoon of trouble that was one Marc Spector.

He needed to do better, and you deserved better—as much as you cared for Steven, Marc wanted to give it the best chance he could to make a potential relationship successful. That would require total transparency in the details that mattered. And, unfortunately for Marc’s proclivity for keeping every thought and feeling as close to his vest as possible, the details that mattered entailed the origin, nature, and impact of his mental health.

“I know it’ll be hard, worrying about her reaction,” he muttered, drawing Steven’s attention back to him as he filled the other glass. “But don’t make the same mistake I did, Steven. If she’s as smart as she seems, I don’t think she’ll have much trouble understanding. And…she cares about you. That much is obvious. I doubt that she’ll look at you any differently.”

…It’s not just me that I’m worried about, Marc.

Brow furrowing, Marc was about to respond. A rustle, bump, and sharp gasp tore his attention away, however—he dropped the glass in his haste to barrel back into the main room.

Steven’s voice was loud enough it made his ears ring. Marc!

Marc’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach at the sight. The crazy bastard had evidently worked his hands free of the twine, wrists raw and bleeding, staining the fingers that he had coiled into your hair to crane your head back. He had you pinned against the counter with the weight of his body, a knife Marc hadn’t spied flush against your jugular while both your fists clutched his arm to hold the weight of his attack at bay.

It must have happened in seconds. He must not have been knocked out completely, or had roused and worked to get his hands free before making any sudden movements to alert either of you until you were alone (and Christ, Marc should never have let you out of his sight). You wouldn’t have had enough time to call out to Marc if you’d gotten up to flee, or had been too frightened to make a noise for fear of having your throat slit sooner (not that he hadn’t even introduced himself and didn’t know if Steven had told you his name—fuck his lack of foresight). Even still, heart squeezing so tightly at the sight he worried that it might stop altogether, Marc almost hesitated.

Almost.

He grabbed the guy’s wrist in one hand and his elbow in the other, pushing and pulling simultaneously with all his might to shatter the hinging joint. The man cried out a curse and stumbled away from you and Marc. The knife clattered harmlessly against the countertop, the razor edge gleaming crimson.

Marc slid into place in front of you, reaching back and pressing his palm against your hip. His vision had cleared enough from your blow by now that, as the intruder stepped back into the flood of moonlight proper, his pale features were illuminated in full view.

He sure was an ugly son of a bitch. Glassy skin, now prickling with sweat as he clutched his broken arm, stretched over gaunt features. Sickly gray eyes concentrated hellfire at Marc, crooked teeth revealed by a curled lip. A horrid, jagged scar that still looked relatively fresh curled over the edge of his jaw and hooked over his Adam’s apple. Marc wondered how he could have possibly survived such an injury if it had been as deep as the deep tissue would suggest.

Ay, mierda!*

Marc froze.

��Marc?

“Fuck,” Marc hissed.

He had little time to react. The bastard drew yet another knife from the back of his belt (and Marc knew he must have been losing his touch to have missed one with that big of a handle) and lunged for him. Marc sucked in a breath, tried to throw out his arms forward to disarm him, but instead his free hand reached back to fumble against the counter.

He blinked, disoriented. Your voice, tight with alarm, pulled him from the fuzziness that stuffed his head full of cotton. “—stop, stop! Just stop! What’re you doing?!”

Marc inhaled sharply, dropping the man—knocked out cold, as limp as a corpse—against the floor and taking a full pace backwards. The knife—the first one—was clenched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles ached, but he was gripping it with the blade down and there was only blood on the butt of it. The man’s temple wept scarlet on the floor in a steady drip.

He dropped it, too, as though it had burned him. He only then registered your hands gripping his upper arm, crowding into his side and vying for him to meet your rounded, desperate gaze. “Are you okay?” you said, eyes flitting over his face as though you could discern his roaring mind via the crinkles of his pinched expression. “Hey, look at me—did he hurt you?”

“No,” Marc gritted out through the static in his head, laying a hand over your fingers twisted into the sleeve of his jacket. You relinquished your grip far more reluctantly this time, retreating only far enough to give him room to breathe. “I’m—I’m good.” He swallowed roughly. “What…what happened?”

Your brow furrowed, and your scrutiny increased tenfold. “What do you mean?”

He had blacked out. He glanced at the display case, but Steven—wan and rigid, with his hands twisted into the sweater falling over his stomach—only shook his head. Not me, Marc, he whispered hoarsely. I didn’t see anythin’, either.

“I…nothing, sweetheart.” He looped an arm around your shoulders and guided you into the kitchen. “Stay here. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get back up until the cops get here. Don’t come out until I call you.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” you retorted, “he tried to kill you!”

“Like he didn’t try to—” …kill you, too. Marc’s eyes zeroed in on your throat. “Fuck.”

“I’m fine,” you told him immediately, but didn’t resist his touch when he gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt your head back just enough to eye the wound. It was only a thin, shallow line against the tough column of your jugular, which bobbed with a swallow as he inspected the thin skin around it with light prodding. There was minimal blood, and it was already congealing. Your pulse leapt rhythmically against his fingertips, and when he pulled his head back he found that you were averting your gaze with a darkened complexion.

“You got a first aid kit around here?” he murmured, releasing you and watching you lower your chin to gaze up at him through your lashes. (So shy.) “Don’t want it getting infected.”

“In the kitchen. I can handle it. Thank you, uh...” You flashed him a thin smile, still obviously shaken, but your eyes tracked over his shoulder. “...is that…?”

Flickering lights reflected the rainy street, and Marc released a heavy sigh. “Maybe wait a minute—they’ll want a picture for the report and the court charges.” He frowned and looked back down at the offender, who hadn’t twitched once. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you started, but when Marc cast you a firm look, you stopped. Then your expression morphed into a sincere smile, something fond couched in your eyes as all the tension finally drained from your frame. “Well, I guess you and Steven are that much alike, at least.”

Marc raised an inquisitive brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He always insists on at least walking me to the bus stop when we eat together and stuff,” you explained, “even if it’s just down the street—like a proper gentleman.” A teasing glint entered your eyes, causing them to glitter like a supernova in the strobing yellow and blue illumination flooding the coffee shop. You extended a hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you in person, Marc. Steven speaks of you fondly. But…this isn’t the first time, is it?”

Marc blinked. So Steven had told you his name. Maybe you hadn’t felt comfortable enough using it until now. Had he made you uncomfortable at first? Or had it just been the stress of the situation? The last thing Marc wanted was to intimidate you in any way—for Steven’s sake, of course. (Maybe all it took was beating the shit out of the man that had dared to lay a single finger to you to win over your trust.)

“It took me a while to realize, and I wasn’t even really sure until now,” you continued at his continued silence, some hesitation creeping into the edges of your smile—more placating than before—as your hand faltered. “Steven’s such a chatterbox, I wondered why he was so quiet this morning. Then you…switched, I guess, and he came out. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, I didn’t mean to be rude at all, if it seemed that way.”

“It didn’t. You just took me off-guard, is all,” he said, reaching out and clasping your hand in his and giving it a firm, singular shake. You visibly brightened, beaming warmly at him. “Not a lot of people bother to remember his name, and I didn’t realize he came here as often as he does.” He realized that he, too, was grinning softly. “He made sure to correct me on that.”

You laughed at that, propping your hands on your hips once he let you go. “I’ll bet he did. I don’t have another regular quite like him.” You tilted your head slightly, eyeing him. “Do you…do you know about our—plans, tomorrow night?”

“I do. He’s been giddy about it all evening.”

Oi! Don’t say it like that—I don’t want to come across as overeager! The last thing I need is her thinkin’ I’m a creep or some—

“I have been, too, to be honest,” you confessed, glancing off to the side. “I, uh…I like him a lot.” You dared to peek back at him. “Are you okay with it, though? I know we just met, and I’m not sure how much Steven’s told you about me, so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. Going on a—going out with a stranger doesn’t suit everyone. It certainly doesn’t suit me, so…” You dropped your head with a sigh. “...I’m…going to stop talking now. I’m sorry, I know I talk too much sometimes.”

Marc stared, floundering for words. He hadn’t expected to have his thoughts mirrored back him. He heard car doors slamming shut outside, the hiss and chirp of radios, the chatter of tired policemen who would much prefer to be home sleeping. “...Yeah, sweetheart,” he managed finally. “I’m okay with it…more than okay with it.” He swallowed. “Steven likes you a lot, too.”

Oh, bloody hell, Marc, Steven groaned, muffled. I keep all your secrets zipped up tight and you just go and oust all of mine in one fell swoop.

“He…does?” you breathed, eyes rounding as you looked back up at him. “I…that’s a relief. I wasn’t really sure…” You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “...nevermind.”

As obvious as Steven was, mooning over you like he did, you still weren’t sure about his feelings for you? Marc repressed his chuckle. You two really were perfectly suited, weren’t you?

“I’ll let you guys have your space tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured, suspecting that you might have wondered after it—he was uncertain how much Steven had explained about how their co-fronting and rotations worked. “And I don’t think you talk too much.”

“Oh.” Why did you look surprised? (And a little disappointed?) “Thanks.” You hesitated, worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Can I…I’d like to get to know you, too, Marc. If that’s—if you’d be okay with that. Steven’s told me some stories about you and you seem like a really good person to be around. And…you know, if I hang out with Steven, I don’t want you to feel excluded or anything. Any friend of his is a friend of mine.” You grinned a little, trying to offer a joke to smooth over your apprehension. “You know. Even if you just so happen to share a body.”

That drew a full laugh out of Marc, then, a deep and genuine one that echoed through the shop. The cops pulled the door open and entered, flicking on their flashlights. “I’d like that, too, sweetheart,” he said with a full smile—one that didn’t feel painfully awkward or forced in the slightest. “Any girl that can knock out a grown man with one hit is one I want on my side.”

Looks like we’ve still got some work to do on gettin’ to know ourselves, too, mate, Steven commented quietly. Marc glanced at him in the display case once more as you moved over to greet the law enforcement. I don’t think we can ignore it anymore.

Steven was right. Even though their instances of mutual blacking out had diminished to episodes counted on one hand after Cairo, Marc knew that the evidence weighed too heavily into the possibility to be shoved in the back of his mind like he’d been guilty of doing.

“I don’t think so, either,” he muttered, staring intently at the double reflection in the heavy glass. Only his own familiar, furrowed brow met his gaze unflinchingly.

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