#i think steven is my favorite part he’s just happy to be there

[nervoushottee]

Go For It | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve has been your “movie guy” at Family Video for a while now. Little does he know that the main reason you’ve been buying these movies is to flirt with him and just maybe ask him out…

Warnings: Steve being oblivious babygirl

Note: hey hottees! Happy New Year! I hope to be writing a lot more on Tumblr💗

(Possibly might be a Smut Part 2?? Let me know if you guys want one?)

——————-

The bell chimes as you enter the door of Family Video. A smile on your lips and an intent in mind as you walk confidently toward the front counter. “There’s my favorite customer.” Steve says to you with his signature smile.

Steve Harrrington, the “boy next door”, the ex- “King Steve” or for your case, “The hot Family Video employee that has a hard time understanding that you’re flirting with him.”

For the past two weeks you’ve been coming into the movie store in need of new movies to watch. The first time you came was truly because you were in need of something new and Steve in all his strong, beautiful and delicious glory helped you no problem with finding a comedy for you and your girlfriends to watch one night.

You could hardly understand half of what he was telling you about the movie when you were purchasing it. You were too busy ogling his toned arms and the many freckles across his face. You wondered if you played your cards right, you’d be able to see if there were any more freckles in other more delicate places.

The movie he recommended wasn’t actually bad and you jokingling made him your “movie guy”. You had said it to flirt and make him laugh but Steve took it seriously. He stood proud, almost cocky saying, “If you ever need a new movie, I’m your man.” pointing his thumb towards himself as you return the movie back to him a few days later.

You did in fact let him be your man and nearly spent half your pay checks each week to come in and buy movies. You would flirt and banter with him and Steve would laugh and banter right back with you.You could tell he enjoyed your company but you weren’t too sure if he was getting what you were throwing down.

One day, you came to return a movie and Steve was on his break so Robin did it instead. The two of you both knew of each other. Being in the same classes from time to time throughout the school years but you never had any mutual friends. You both talked as Robin ringed up the movie for a return and a calm silence covered you both.

Your rings made clinking noise with every tap of your fingers with the rhythm of whatever song was playing softly through the store speakers.

That sudden calm was quickly interrupted by an eager Robin.

“I think you should just go for it.” she blurts out to you.

You turn your head to see the girl staring back at you. Not too sure (you’re pretty sure) what she was referring to you tell her as such. “Go for what?” Robin looks back to where you assume is the back room door to see if Steve was coming out.

“Ask Steven out.” she whispers to you with an amused gleam in her eyes.

You peek over to the same door Robin had looked back at only seconds before, before you lean over the counter closer to her and whisper. “You think?? Because I’ve been subtly flirting with him for almost a month and he hasn’t shown much interest.”

The short haired dirty blonde eyes widen in shock, “Pfftt. Oh he’s totally interested. Number one, I mean look at you you’re gorgeous, I mean your pretty cool gal. Number 2, Steve doesn’t know if someone is flirting with him unless he’s the one that seeks them out. I know he had this “reputation” a while back but that ship has long sailed for a while and he hasn’t been doing that well in the flirtatious department if we’re being honest.” Robin says all this to you rapidly, adding finger quotation marks when she says “reputation”.

“And Number 3 and please listen when I say this. Sometimes Steve isn’t the brightest fish in the sea. If he was a dog, you would need to tell him that the bone is a treat before you give it to him or else he’ll think it's a friend and play fetch with it or something.” she finishes.

You try to take in all that she said as much as you could, trying to understand the innuendo she threw in at the end. Nodding at her words you eyes going unfocused as you get lost in your head in thought. After a few seconds you eventually grab the receipt Robin hands you.

“So yea I think you should go for it. Trust me you won’t be disappointed.” she says with a smile.

You tell her that you’ll keep it in mind and thank her before leaving the video store.

The conversation between the two of you was a few days ago.

But today, today was the day you were going to ask Steve out. You made the decision the night before. You put on your favorite outfit, listened to the songs that make you feel the most confident and didn’t forget to tell yourself some positive affirmations before you left. There was also a pint of mint chip ice cream waiting for you in the freezer just in case Robin was lying and this all didn’t go how you wanted to. (You were just making sure to check every box.)

So here you were at the counter that Steve stood behind as he leaned over to get closer to you as he spoke. “So did Jim and Janine like “Die Hard”?”.

Jim was your neighbor who you’ve known since you were young. Him and his wife Janine were in need of something new to watch and you offered to get them a movie. Saying that you knew a guy who gave out pretty good suggestions. Was it another excuse for you to show up at his job and flirt with the boy? Yes but your neighbors didn’t need to know.

“They loved it, it is definitely going to be a favorite for them.” you say to him. Steve is clearly happy with your response telling you as always that he’s happy to help.

You try to take a subtle deep breath to gather as much confidence and bravery before speaking. ‘Here it goes’, you think to yourself. “Aside from returning this,” you place both hands over the movie you placed on the counter. Rings clinking against the plastic cover.

“I am looking for something to watch for myself and I’m in need of your recommendations.” You say to him.

Steve nods his head, “No problem. Any genre you in mood for? Maybe a little action movie for yourself or a good comedy.” He places the “Die Hard” movie in the return pile next to Robin who you had no clue was even there until just now. You lock eyes with her briefly as she gives you a subtle thumbs up and mouths “go for it”.

“I think I’m in the mood for romance. Any suggestions?” You tell him softly.

Steve drums the table with his hand repeatedly as he thinks. You assume he has a movie in mind once he walks from behind the front counter and walks toward you. He places his hand lightly against the middle of your back and leads you toward the romance section. “I have a few movies in mind that you might like.”

The two of you are in the romance aisle. Between two shelves that cause you both to be a lot closer compared to the distance you were before. The front counter made a barrier between the two of you. But now you can see every detail of Steve Harrington. The small freckles against his arms, the sweet yet warm scent of his cologne as he passes you to pick up a couple movies for your suggestion. The tip of his tongue sticking out against his lip as he concentrates. Looking between each movie to choose the perfect one for you. Fuck, he’s too cute and you hope he says yes to your proposal.

“Here we are m’lady.” His voice brings you out of spacing out thinking about how cute Steve was. You smile to bring yourself back and hope Steve couldn’t tell you were staring at him and daydreaming. He raises two movies, one in each hand out to you.

“We have the great “Sixteen Candles”. A very cute and classic Rom-Com deal.” He starts to tell you about the movie, a short and sweet summary of the movie without giving any spoilers.

“And if you’re not feeling for that we’ve got “Endless Love”, a bit more of romance and with a good amount of dramatic flair.” He gives the short rundown of that movie without giving any spoilers for that one also.

You nod your hand and act as if you’re thinking of choosing one or the other. “Both good choices.” You say to him which earns you a beautiful Steve Harrington smile.

Here it goes.

“There’s a new movie that came out not too long ago. I don’t know if it's on video yet or if you guys even have it. It’s um- I can’t remember the name. There’s a guy works at a laundromat in the movie-” you start, looking a bit confused as you act as if you’re trying to remember the name of the movie that’s been repeating in your head about a thousand times since last night.

“Oh yea we do I think. One sec.” Steve walks further down the aisle and skims the shelves for the movie you were talking about. He picks it up and walks back toward you waving the movie in his hand. “This is the one right?” He hands it to you.

You nod happily, “Yea! That’s the one.” you look up at him smiling brightly and he’s smiling right back you. He asks if you were searching for any more movies and with a shake of your head, he leads you back to the register to cash out the movie.

Robin is no longer standing behind the counter but she’s acting as if she’s making herself useful. Stocking a few shelves with movies. It’s her subtle attempt to give your privacy to ask Steve out but still be able to eavesdrop on the whole thing.

Steve walks behind the counter and begins to ring up the movie, muttering the lyrics to the song from the radio in the background. You think to yourself that now is a good time as any to ask him out. You won’t get this opportunity again. Despite Robin teling you about Steve’s lack of dates, you doubt that’s going to last forever. I mean look at him, he’s Steve Harrington.

You clear you’re throat before speaking, “So uh-How many movies does a girl have to buy for you to ask her out?”

Steve freezes in what he’s doing, the movie in his hand as he stares at you. His eyebrows raised in curiosity and shock. “What?”

You don’t let his confusion or shock stop you. You’re on a roll now, you can’t just quit.

“This movie is still in theaters. It’s not that busy now but I still would love to see it on the big screen. Maybe instead of me getting this tape,” you grab the movie softly from his hands. Steve still so frozen in shock he lets you. You place the movie down on the counter and slide it away.

“Maybe you and I can go see it? If you want, that is.” you finish.

You look up at him sweetly and Steve blinks once, twice, a few more times. He swallows like theres a lump stuck in his throat and before he speaks, he nods.

“Ye-Yea.” he starts, his voice cracking at first before he clears his throat and shakes his head subtly to get shake himself out of it.

“Yea uh that’d be great.” He finally responds.

You smile brightly at him. You go on your tippy toes to reach over the counter for the pen that was in the front pocket of his jeans. You hear Steve gasp slightly before you go back to how you were normally standing.

You grab his arm softly and he lets you and you uncap the pen. “I’m free on Saturday but you can call me so we can figure out a time that works for you.” you say to him, writing your number on his arm. You put a heart and small smiley face at the end of it before handing the pen back to him with a smile.

You don’t let him say anything else to you as you say goodbye and begin to walk away. But that’s before you see Robin out of the corner of your eye who gives you a wink and a big thumbs up. You exit Family Video and walk a few paces before letting out an excited squeal when there was no one around.

You just scored yourself a date with Steve Harrington.

— — — — —

(Did I use Joe Kerry’s song as the title…maybe)

HEY HOTTEES OMG ITS BEEN SO LONG <3

Small life update, Im a working girlie so thats where most of my time goes and im way too tired to do anything else but sleep. But hopefully this year that changes!

I miss my friends on here and I hope to make new ones so please don’t be shy to send me a message!!

Hoped you enjoyed this fic of reader being down bad in need for Steve

[runa-falls]

reciprocation

part 1 | part 3

pairing: best friend!steven grant x reader

cw: smut (18+), fwb relationship, PWP, face sitting, mutual-pining but their idiots so..., 69, cumming untouched, cum eating.

w/c: 3.4k of SMUT AHHH

a/n: ignore how this is suddenly typed with capital letters :0. THIS ONE IS FOR MY FAVORITE STEVEN ANON WITH THE 69 REQUEST FROM A MONTH AGO -- i'm sorry it took so long 🫠

also special shout out for @whatthefishh for reading over it like half-a-month ago 😭🙏🏻 i was going through a major writers block :^)

masterlist

----

“Are you sure about this?” You watch him warily from a few feet away, shifting from side to side.

Steven is laid back on the bed patiently waiting for you, hair fluffy and soft under him. You can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while now, eager to start. 

His voice is soft as he appraises the timid energy surrounding you, “I’m sure. I want it–you. I promise.” For once, Steven seems to be the least nervous between the two of you. You're not used to him being in charge or even initiating anything remotely affectionate, let alone sexual. “Do…you?”

You can already see the prominent outline of his erection pressing sweetly against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. No matter how loose and comfortable he dresses, he can never manage to hide his need for you. 

“I do, but I just… don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You wring your hands together, still unsure if you should approach him. 

Steven looks at you with trusting eyes, “You won’t hurt me, darling.” His comforting words help you relax a little, almost making you forget what you agreed to, what you’re so apprehensive to attempt. He offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you closer and guide you onto his lap.

His voice lowers as desire drips from his lips, “Though, even if you did,” His dark eyes look up to meet yours, pure need bleeding through the gaze. You eagerly drink it in, body buzzing on top of him with flustered energy. “I think I’d be okay with it…” Your breath hitches.

You know it’s true. Steven has never shied away from pain; he even invites it in the heat of the moment. He likes to be under your control, letting you use his body to drive him crazy, even if it means teasing and denying him until he’s sobbing under you.

He loves seeing the possessive marks you leave when he wakes up in the morning, fingers ghosting over them as the night before replays in his mind, or feeling the residual sting of scratches down his torso when he takes a shower, letting the warm water draw out the sensations until he’s hard and aching for you again, and he has to seek you out, hoping you'll notice him.

You regularly get carried away, so desperate to have all of him, that you don’t even realize how intensely you devour his eagerness to please you. But Steven is more than happy to indulge your hungry advances.

He especially loves it when you soothe him after, lightly kissing each bruise and mark as you whisper sweet words, apologizing for how rough you got.

He takes it with a shy smile, basking in your affections and your gentle touch, sighing as he’s surrounded by your energy, by your undivided attention. 

Sometimes he likes to pretend like you're his, like you're doing this because you love him, not because you think you're being a good friend.

It's not hard for him to imagine it when he closes his eyes, especially when you're moaning around his cock or grabbing his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss.

But when it's all over, when he's pulling his jeans back on -- still thrumming with heat -- the spell breaks and you go back to being just friends.

Now, he's going to pleasure you. Make you feel the euphoria of his mouth, so you'll want him just as much as he wants you. This is his form of reciprocation for all the favors you've given him. And he hopes it will convince you that he'd be a good lover for you. That you could be more than just friends with him.

He lets out a hushed, “Please,” as he leans into you, enticing you to follow him and capture his lips hungrily.

Steven knows exactly what he’s doing when he uses that tone, that soft shade of himself that can bring you to your knees even when he’s falling apart harder and faster than you are. 

You moan against his pouty lips, feeling the softness, his gentle press, you pull him closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He lets you have control over him, merely following you as you slide your tongue against his, delicately tasting you, tenderly holding you by your waist.

Steven is always gentle with you, no matter how clouded his mind gets during these heated moments, no matter how lost in pleasure he gets or how desperately he needs you, he always handles you with delicate care.

You nip at his bottom lip, drinking in his soft mewl as you start to roll your hips against him. His grip on your waist tightens, holding you more insistently against him, letting you feel how desperately he needs you.

His lips are pink and plump when you pull away, parted ever so slightly as he stares between your bodies, working your body over him. His eyes are glazed as he cants his hips to chase the exquisite feeling of your soft center against him.

You tease him, lifting yourself just enough that he can’t grind himself against you. He whines when he can’t feel you anymore, gripping your waist with frustration.

“Love, please!”

You break the kiss and climb off of him, appreciating how ruined he looks from a few kisses and light grinding. He huffs out a breath in frustration, hands fisting with the need to touch you. To have you close.

You stand next to the bed, hair in disarray, fiddling with the hem of your large shirt to garner his attention. His bronze gaze soaks over you, flashing dark when it meets the short hem of your pajama bottoms.

“Your shorts, p-please, take them off.” It’s not a demand, Steven doesn’t make demands, it’s a request, a plea, one that you’ve heard time and time again, and have seldom refused. 

Your fingers find the waistband of your shorts and drag them down until they’re pulled the rest of the way off with the help of gravity. A breathy sigh can be heard under you when you step away from the pooled clothing, leaving you in an oversized t-shirt that barely brushes at the top of your thighs. 

It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time – he’s always like this.

His eyes sparkle as you shuffle closer to the bed. “Come’ere, darling.” He pats his chest, “Right here.” You timidly crawl over him, delicately straddling his chest, legs parted just above his ribs. Your knees pull in towards each other, trying to hide what your shirt can’t cover, but you don’t get far before warm fingers pry you apart. 

“Show me.” It’s a bare whisper, as light as his touch gliding over the outer sides of your legs.

You reluctantly let yourself relax on him, hands gripping his soft shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Heat prickles under your skin as he cranes his neck to look at you, lashes nearly brushing the tops of his cheeks with how lustfully heavy his eyelids are. He takes that moment to breathe you in, devouring every inch of what you’re offering. 

His touch disappears from your thighs, and you hear quiet ruffling behind you, then a broken groan under you. You look over your shoulder and spot his hand pressing desperately against his covered hardness. 

“S-Steven…” He doesn’t stop his actions when he meets your eyes, utterly shameless with his need for you. 

“Beautiful.” 

His breaths become heavy, and his chest moves deliciously under you, right against your hot center. You attempt to squeeze your legs together, hoping to abate the intensifying sensations, but you can’t, his chest keeps you spread, open, and quivering just for his eyes. 

Steven is barely touching you, but even the slightest hint of pleasure has you craving him.

You can’t help but close your eyes as you subtly shift over him, drinking in his soft grunts as he continues to touch himself under you. It makes you throb with heat. 

Steven watches you suck your lip into your mouth to hold in wanton moans as you experimentally slide against his firm chest, hands pressing into him to support your movements.

Your initial timidness crumbles as you roll your hips over him again and your head tilts back as you begin to lose yourself in the way your clit presses so perfectly against him.

Steven’s gentle voice cuts through the carnal fog infesting your brain and pulls you back to reality. “Sit up higher for me.” His hands are back on you, urging you to scoot up. “Let me taste you – L-let me fuck you with my tongue.” You press your dripping center to his shirt-covered torso with a soft moan, feeling the small spot right in between his ribs where you’ve soaked through. “Please, baby?”

You nod wordlessly, letting him guide your body until you’re hovering over his face. Your body shivers as you feel his warm breath brush against your center. 

It’s a bit daunting looking at Steven from here. His face is nestled right in between your thighs – which is not an unusual sight – but this time you are on top. You can barely see his eyes since your shirt is so big it practically drapes over half of his face. What if you suffocate him or break his neck?

“Maybe… we should rethi-” A gasp falls from your lips as strong arms pull you down to his face. “Steven!-” Without hesitation, wet heat laps at the seam of your cunt, greedily dragging over any slick that threatens to drip down your inner thigh. 

Your words are effectively stuck in your throat as Steven begins to eagerly nip and suck at your softness, drawing out deep whines instead of coherent sentences. You can only hold on to the headboard to support yourself, holding back your urge to grind against his supple lips. 

You moan as Steven tentatively nudges against your entrance, laving his tongue over the sensitive opening just to tease you. When he finally pushes into you, you have to hold yourself back from grinding against him like you’re riding his cock. He licks and thrusts his tongue into you, humming at your taste as you drip over his lips, down his chin. 

Your hips uncontrollably buck against him as his tongue flicks at your clit. A hand drops into his hair, tugging frantically at the ends before pushing him further against you, begging – no, demanding for more. He gets the memo and focuses on your most sensitive bud, delicately suckling it until your thighs are trembling by his ears. 

A ball of heat quickly blooms in your lower stomach and flushes under your skin. Familiar sparks of energy thrum up your spine, enticing you to clench around nothingness with promises of unspoken bliss and ecstasy. 

Calloused fingers lift you away from the molten heat of his mouth just as you were reaching your climax. You’re gasping for a breath as Steven holds you back from toppling off the edge. 

You can feel it, his breath, barely ghosting a sigh over your center, and somehow, even that slightest brush of air has you pulsing helplessly over him. He’s breathing as hard as you are, mouth glossy and plump as he stares back up at you, face flushed, and eyes glazed. 

Utterly pussy-drunk. 

Your grip on the headboard tightens intensely and your eyes roll shut. You can’t stop it. 

A stilted cry rips from your throat as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you in full force, crashing over you like a wave. Steven can only watch, lips parted in awe, as you shatter completely untouched right above him.

His fingers grip harsh bruises into the skin of your thighs as he feels himself throb dangerously close to his own euphoric end. You moan harder at the tender marks he paints on your trembling legs. The sharp feeling travels up your legs and straight to your center.

His hands rub your thighs comfortingly, apologetically, before he starts to drag his tongue over your messy center with a hum, doting on you with kitten licks that make you shiver. 

He cleans you up slowly and methodically, making sure to avoid your most sensitive area. Your body still thrums from your unexpected and intense orgasm, and his soft licks quickly become too much, even with how light and sweet he is being. 

You lift yourself away from his tongue, “S-steven…no more. It’s too much!” 

“You can do it again, darling…” He coos, trying to pull you back down onto his mouth. “Just one more. For me, please?” 

You're head is fuzzy as you steady yourself on top of him, gripping the headboard tightly to ground yourself from the lingering sparks of mind-numbing pleasure.

Steven groans as he watches you struggle to get a grip.

“C-can’t. It’s too much…” You get off of his face and sit next to him on the bed, squeezing your legs together to suppress the bout of overstimulation that almost overtook your senses.

You look down at him when one of his hands wraps around your thigh and squeezes, a simple act indulgence that drives you crazy. Your lips part as you take in the view. 

Puffy lips and glassy eyes, blown out with lust, meet your stare, begging you to climb back on, but you're still shaking where you sit. He's drenched in your slick from his chin to his neck and the collar of his shirt is soaked through, sticking sweetly to his chest.

Your eyes drift down to his sweatpants, to the prominent bulge that throbs under your gaze. He palms himself, whining lightly at the feeling of his neediness and desperation. He's so hard, begging for your touch without even saying a word.

“Okay, now it's your turn.”

His shakes his head, “No, I want more.”

“Steven…”

“Please, I want to taste more of you."

"But--" Your eyes dip down to his covered erection that you've been neglecting all night.

"Just...come back, we can do it at the same time if you want.” 

Your face heats at the implication. You don’t know why you’re so coy, you just came right above his fact. You've just never seen Steven like this: so insistent and hungry.

“S-sure, ok.”

You whimper when he eagerly tugs you closer, urging you to straddle his face again. Careful to not knock your knee into his cheek, you swing your leg back over his body, but this time you situate yourself so you can take care of him at the same time.

He immediately dives back in, tongue thrusting into your sensitive channel before you're even settled on top of him. You falter and almost collapse over him, hand grasping at the bottom of his shirt for support.

"Steven! Gentle, please!" You groan out, eyes already threatening to roll back as he continues to drink you in. He hums in response, but doesn't actually let up, if anything, he becomes more insatiable, suckling every stimulus point until you're shaking above him.

You struggle against your pleasure to pull his sweats down, freeing his cock from the restraining fabric. Your mouth waters as his tip weeps for you, spilling silky precum with every breath he takes.

You've always loved Steven's cock. How responsive it is when your breath ghosts over it and how it desperately throbs for you as you swallow around him. How perfectly it fits in your mouth and how deep it can fuck your throat when he allows himself to let go.

Sucking his cock was the furthest you allowed yourself to go. You convinced yourself that these one-sided interactions would keep you from revealing your feelings, that you could deal with the friends-with-benefits bit if you didn't have an actual 'relationship'.

So you deemed actual sex as too intimate and barred letting him touch you (you just weren't sure you could handle it).

But then one thing led to another...

You failed to reject his soft kisses and couldn't resist marking him up like he's yours. And now here you are barely able to handle it as he fucks you with his tongue, hands gripping marks into your thighs as his nose nudges against your wet center.

You don't know if you could go back to just being friends when he's given you unfathomable pleasure. When he talked to you like this. Looked at you like this.

You're a mess and you're struggling to hold on to your original plan.

You try to block these thoughts from your mind as your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing it gently just to get a reaction out of him. He groans against your cunt, movements stuttered as your touch distracts him away from his task.

You unconsciously sit up on your knees and lift your hips off of his mouth to get closer to his cock. Steven barely notices, too focused on holding his orgasm off as you diligently taste him, one lick at a time.

You drag your tongue up his shaft, licking the precum that slowly cascades over his silken skin. You feel his body quake as you lave and kitten lick against his tip, gently coaxing shortened breaths and whimpers with every touch.

You dip down to engulf him into your hot mouth, enjoying the slick feeling of his cock gliding easily against your tongue and the top of your mouth.

His hands frantically latch onto your upper thighs, unintentionally pulling you back onto his mouth as he squeezes at the softness, desperately attempting to control himself.

He has to actively keep his hips from snapping against your face, you just feel so sublime, so soft and hot.

Steven cries against your cunt when he reaches the back of your throat. He can't help it when he feels you struggle to swallow around him, so tight, wet, and hot. He's just so sensitive -- especially when it comes to you.

You keep laving your tongue against the underside of his cock as you suck him in, ignoring the your jaw begins to ache as you open wide for him.

"Uhh!" His stomach tenses under you and he twitches against your tongue.

He can't be cumming already...right?

Fingers grip into your hair and you're suddenly pushed down, forced to take him down your throat. You choke slightly, eyes watering, before letting yourself relax against him.

He's lost in pleasure, grinding and thrusting his cock into your mouth like it's your cunt, shoving it deeper than you're usually comfortable with and you let him.

Steven spurts warmth at the back of your throat. You try your best to swallow it down before it dribbles from your mouth and makes a mess. He whimpers as he fully lets go, thighs tense and trembling under your touch.

He's still cumming when he tugs you back onto his mouth, feverishly lapping through your center before taking your clit between his lips. You orgasm explosively as he avidly sucks you in, already half-way there from the mere feeling of him spilling in your mouth.

Even after he has emptied himself, he continues to gently fuck your face, not yet ready to leave your warmth. His hips stutter and his breaths become uneven but he ignores the overstimulation, too attached to this closeness, to this illusion of mutual affection.

He also continues to lick you clean, despite your whines of discomfort. He lovingly places gentle kisses against your inner thigh, wishing he could stay in this position forever.

He huffs out disappointedly when you climb off of him, even tries to lock his arms around your legs to keep you there, but you were adamant to get away from his insatiable mouth.

"One more?"

You gape at him, "Steven, we already did 'one more'." You shiver, suddenly cold without his body against yours. "What has gotten into you? I've never seen you so...horny before."

He looks at you sheepishly, "I dunno. I guess, once I got a taste I wanted more." He sits up, hand wiping your slick off his face. "How 'bout later?"

"You're already thinking about later?"

He nods, "I'm always thinking about you."

Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as blood heats your face. You try to ignore it. Try not to look directly at him. Try to pretend like he didn't just say that because he probably doesn't even understand the impact that his words have on you.

He's always thinking about your favors. That's it.

"Later, then."

[boxofbonesfic]

 

Title: Blood and Sand (2 of 2)

Pairing: Werewolf!Moon Knight x Reader

Wordcount: 8,594

Summary: You are selected to accompany your mentor on a dig, but what you find in the desert instead makes you wish you had never come at all.

Warnings: Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Murder, Kidnapping, Cults, Implied Torture, AU, Smut, Monsterfucking, Lycanthropy, Cannibalism

A/N: honestly, thank you for reading part one because this is just… porn and violence luckily for me, those are some of my favorite things to write, LMAO. we knew this was going to be self indulgent, so i hope it’s your kind of self-indulgent too. to be clear: this part has all the fuckin’; human, monster and otherwise. 😂❤️ spanish translations provided by the amazing @negronispagliato❤️ bottom divider by @firefly-graphics!

💀

“Oh thank fucking Christ.” 

You wake with your head pillowed in Steven’s lap, his eyes dark with concern. You shift, moving to get up—but your skull erupts with pain. Sharp tendrils of it that strike at the nerves behind your watering eyes. Even talking is too much, your jaw aching as you attempt to open your mouth. 

“No, Love, don’t.” He holds you still, large palms cradling your face on either side as you whimper. Steven’s eyes harden with anger. “Prick made you read too much.” The hard edge in his voice is unfamiliar—unsettling, even. You aren’t used to seeing anger on Steven’s face. No, that emotion is much more reserved for Marc or Jake—but he’s nearly trembling with it, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I’ll fucking kill him.” The words are so low you barely hear them—hell, you half wonder if you’ve imagined them. For a moment, a shaft of the setting sun sinking beneath the frame of the narrow window, and his chocolate eyes turn a molten, animal yellow. 

“I will eat his fucking heart.”

Steven has the patience of a saint, laying there unmoving until the pain subsides enough for you to crawl out of his lap. Your whole body feels exhausted, wrung out and limp. The water he offers you is tinny, but you’re used to it—every drink of water you’ve had in recent memory tastes like this, it’s almost all you know. 

“What happened?” You croak, fingers struggling to hold onto the chipped mug you both share. Steven looks angry—and then ashamed. 

“You read,” he says slowly. Reluctantly, he brings his sorrowful gaze to yours.

“And we ate.” 

They do not come for him again that night, and you’re grateful for it, burying your face against his chest, clinging to Steven beneath the threadbare blanket—the only one you have. You suppose at least that you are grateful that there are no rats, no spiders or insects. They keep the the corners, skittering away whenever he comes close. 

They can sense it, you think, the thing beneath his skin. You can too. 

—

Marc kisses you hungrily, his fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of your neck as he tugs your head back. With his other arm he pulls you hard against his chest. You go willingly, easily, arching your back against him. He’s not back yet—not fully, not really. 

The other priests can’t read the Word like you can, don’t feel it the way you do—so it takes longer for Marc to come back to himself from the jackal-thing, the moon-drunk thing, and sometimes when they bring him back to you, it’s still worming around inside his head. 

Like tonight. 

Claws prick at your skin, stroking the line of your throat. Marc’s too-sharp teeth pull at the lobe of your ear before he kisses you again, sloppily. 

He tastes like copper.  

“Make me forget.” It’s a demand, not a request, but it’s one you’re happy to oblige. 

“He’s hard behind you, the fat length of him pressing insistently between the cheeks of your ass. One hand slithers beneath the tattered hem of your tank top, trailing the pads of his fingers across your nipples. The other squeezes the curve of your hip. He doesn’t pull your pants down all the way—full nudity is a privilege you cannot afford anymore. Not with the guards doing random checks now, now that they know.

Pricks. 

Mikhail especially seemed to take great pride in discovering you, often standing at the observation window when he had no reason to—the weight of his cold gaze heavy on you every time. 

Marc boxes you in with his body—you suspect both because he enjoys the feel of you pressed against him with nowhere else to go, and because from this angle, they can only see his back. Marc kicks your legs open a little wider, humming as he spreads the thick beads of precum leaking from his tip across his head, and you shudder as he slides against you with a lewd squelch. Your breath catches as he traces your pulse with one sharp claw. 

“Are you afraid of me?” There are two voices in his throat, twining around one another like vines. One is Marc’s, the one you know, the one that growls your name hungry and low—

And the other one, the one that knows you. 

“No.” You aren’t. You should be, should always have been, but for some reason, you never are. There’s so much fear here, running in your veins, oozing out of the fucking walls, you don’t want to feel it with Marc, too. You reach behind yourself to palm his cock with slow, sure passes until he moans into your hair, hips bucking into your hand. You clench around nothing, and Marc chuckles darkly into your hair like he knows it. 

“I can smell it, you know?” He breathes, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “How wet you are,” his hand snakes around to your front, sliding down beneath your loose waistband to cup your cunt, fingers slipping eagerly through your folds. He bites down hard enough to bruise, and you whine his name pathetically. 

“Marc—!”

“See?” He circles your entrance with deft fingers, the rough stubble on his face rasping against your cheek. “So ready.” Your eyelids go slack, your head lolling back against Marc’s shoulder as he presses two thick fingers into you, moaning low. “Soft and sweet and ready…” You don’t even think he’s talking to you, now, mumbling to himself—no, to Jake and Steven, probably—about his enjoyment of your body, how good you feel, how much he wants you. Marc scoffs at a comment you didn’t make, confirming your theory. 

“Made for us, huh?” Marc draws a line with the tip of his claw over your nipple, and you feel his lips curve against your throat. “Maybe so.” He grips the back of your head with one hand, the other still buried in your cunt as he kisses you again, hungrily swallowing the whimpering moan you try and fail to contain. He sucks on your tongue, running the sharp points of his canines along it before releasing you.

“Steven says you’re made for us.” He watches your face with pale yellow eyes, enjoying the look of dizzy bliss you know is there. You whine when he thumbs at your clit, your eyes rolling as you clamp down around his fingers. He grins.

“I think he might be onto something.” Everything you know is turned on its head now—everything is real, because how do you know it’s not? Gods and Monsters, the veil is open, forever torn for you now, and you see them all. 

“Maybe so,” you run your tongue across your lips and he follows the movement with rapt attention. “Or maybe you were made for me.” 

He laughs.

Marc scissors his fingers inside you as you go to pieces. Happy, it seems, to shoulder your weight because your trembling legs will not do so on their own. He alternates between sucking at your pulse point, and mumbling heated, possessive promises into the curve of your jaw. You feel each word as he says it, maybe even a little before, his lips moving against your skin. 

“You feel so good, Baby, m’gonna feel you on my cock next,” You’re too gone to be embarrassed by the wet sucking noise your cunt makes when he pulls his fingers out, watching as he lifts them to his mouth, deftly cleaning each one with long strokes of his tongue. It’s almost enough to make you forget where you are, what you’ve done.

What you’ve become.

You aren’t like him, but you aren’t like you anymore, either. You see the words in your minds eye even when Loki’s book isn’t before you, feel the weight of them on your tongue days before you speak them. No, you are changed. 

It’s why you need this as much as Marc does—it’s the only thing you can control. 

“Hands on the wall, Baby.” You brace your palms against the wall as he nudges your thighs wide with his knee, pulling the waistband of your pants down to your thighs. You can’t help but arch back a little as he slides his cock through the soaked and swollen folds of your cunt, moaning your name. The low, guttural appreciative sound he makes as he sinks in is almost as good as the burning stretch of his entry. You arch, pushing back against him until he’s seated all the way inside, his hips pressing tight against the curve of your ass. 

“Fuuuck.” 

You’re blissfully full, stars dancing behind your closed eyes and then—Christ—he starts to move. Marc grips your waist with both hands, holding you good and still. Your fingers scrabble against the concrete wall, teeth sinking into your lip as he drives into you, pulling nearly all the way out before filling you completely again. 

Maybe Steven’s right, you think, as Marc wraps one hand around your throat, pulling you flush against his chest. Maybe I was made for them. It certainly lends credence to his theory, the way your body fits perfectly into the hollow of his like this, his cock filling you so completely that there’s barely even room for breath. The hand on your hip drifts to your belly, pressing down as he slides back in. His lips curve against your ear. 

“Think I can feel me in there?” He asks, before pressing down harder. You writhe against him, your body hot. “Maybe if I press harder…”  Marc holds you like that for a while, pressing down on your belly with one hand as he ruts into you, growling. You’re practically a mess by the time he begins to work at your clit with his thumb, circling it softly.

“M-Marc, fuck,” You grit his name out as you cum again, twitching pathetically in his arms. Marc’s head falls back, his eyes closed as he revels in the feel of it, you clenching around his cock like a vise. He presses in deeper, a and fuck, you hadn’t even known he could. And you feel his teeth—blunt now—press hard into your neck as he spills inside of you, the warmth of it making you shudder. 

He stays like that, his teeth buried in your throat while he pants, fingers flexing on your hips. 

Marc cleans you up, sacrificing a portion of what little water you are allotted to clean the mess he’s left between your thighs, and you return the favor, before laying down heavily on the cot. Marc curls around you, placing his body between you and the door. 

—

“She’s not going.” Jake has placed himself between you and Mikhail, his arms crossed. “She’s not well.” You aren’t. You’ve been… wrong since your reading the night before, your head swimming with symbols, and a man with a bird skull for his head; bleached white like it had been baked in the unforgiving desert sun, tall enough to move the moon across the sky. Your nose is still bleeding sluggishly, too, you taste copper when you lick your lips. No, not a man—a God. 

KHONSU.

Why do you know his name? 

“This is not a debate.” Mikhail sneers. He’d come alone today, unlike every other time he had been sent to fetch you. Loki didn’t take chances when it came to security, you’d learned that by now. So why was he here? Alone?

“Loki wants her.” He jerks his head at you, blue eyes dark over Jake’s shoulder when he meets your gaze. “Move, freak.” Perhaps he doesn’t know the difference between the three, or maybe he just doesn’t care, but a lump forms in your throat when Jake squares his posture, fingers curling into tight fists. 

“What, you going to fight me in chains?” He mocks. “I said move.”

“No.” 

You’re expecting more of Mikhail’s smug condescension—not for him to ball his meaty fingers into a fist and punch Jake. His head snaps to the side, and you watch a satisfied smirk spreads across Mikhail’s face in response. He tries to shoulder past in that moment, using Jake’s surprise as an avenue around him. 

You hear the sick sound of bone crunching as your brain struggles to understand what you’re seeing. Mikhail’s arm is broken, hanging limply at his side, while Jake stands over him, his lip curling. 

“I see how you look at her.” He kicks him, and Mikhail looses a pathetic whine as the breath is driven from his lungs. “Patético.” He squats down, gripping Mikhail’s short, blond hair. 

“Let go—fucking stop!” He shouts, and finally, you hear the guards clamoring at the end of the hall. 

“The fuck is going on down there?!”

“You hear that?”

It doesn’t deter Jake though, as he cocks back and drives his fist into the other man’s face hard. His eyes are dark, jaw set tight. The muscles in his back tense and flex as he draws back again, and the spray of blood that coats his face as Mikhail’s nose breaks this time coats Jake’s face, flecking his skin with thick drops of red. He licks his lips before bringing a sputtering, gagging Mikhail’s  head level with his own. His eyes are red and crossed with burst vessels, nose smashed in and lips burst open.

“Fuck you!” He screams, his voice cracking with pain. “You and your fucking whore—”

“You think I don’t know what you were planning? What you were going to do?” Jake asks, cocking his head like he really wants to know the answer. “March her out of here, take her someplace nice and quiet,” Jake pauses, spitting on the ground beside Mikhail. “Asqueroso de mierda.” Fucking pig.

“Quiero que sepas que eres un muerto viviente. Entiendes? You’re done.” You’re a dead man. I want you to know now, understand? So when it comes later, it isn’t a surprise.  Jake doesn’t let go, not even as the sound of frantic footfall grows closer, only seconds away, now. “So when it comes, it isn’t a fucking surprise.” 

The guards storm into the room, shouting, weapons drawn. There’s so much blood, Mikhail’s bones are sticking up through the ruined meat of his arm, not to mention his face. Loki follows, his face contorting with anger.

It takes Rumlow pressing his pistol to the back of Jake’s head to make him  stop, to make him let go so they can drag Mikhail out of the room as he wails, cursing the both of you. You can tell Loki wants to punish him—punish both of you—but he needs you. You to read the book, to be the conduit he can’t be, and Jake to partake of the sacrifice, to consume the flesh and appease the God whose power they’ve stolen. 

And Mikhail needs medical attention.

Loki settles for roughing  Jake up a little, the guard team taking turns until he’s had enough, waving his hand to call them off. To his credit, Jake looks fairly unfazed, despite the physical evidence otherwise. 

“Perhaps housing the two of you together was a mistake.” He replies, and you scowl at him. 

“Kidnapping people for your fucked up rituals was a mistake.” You reply, and he laughs. 

“How cute.” Loki’s slow smile sends a shiver down your spine. “You still think you’re people.” 

They don’t come that night—too busy with Mikhail, you expect. 

Which is good, because Jake Lockley is nothing if not an opportunist. You wake as he’s fitting your knees over his shoulders, gazing up at you hungrily from between your thighs, his black honey voice rumbling in your ears. 

“Ábrelas pa’ mi.” Open for me. There is utter silence around you, no footsteps, no quiet conversation from the end of the hall. For the first time in weeks—months—you are truly alone. 

So there is no one to hear the rising cacophony of your voice as Jake sets to work between your thighs, his tongue lashing against your clit, and fingers prodding eagerly at your entrance. Your eyes roll, a breathy moan worming out from your throat. You can’t help yourself from rocking your hips against his face, and Jake smirks, his lips curving against your cunt. 

“Te sientes bien, nena?” Feel good, Baby?

“U-uh-huh,” you nod dumbly. Your unfocused eyes stare unseeingly at the dark ceiling, one hand tangled in his messy curls just to have something to hold on to. Jake groans when you pull, his fingers pressing into the softness of your thighs as he holds you still. There’s a hunger, a desperation in his touch that is markedly different from the way Marc, or Steven does. 

Like he knows he may never get another chance. 

You arch up off the cot, and Jake’s palm cracks against your thigh in warning. 

“Still.” He cuts his eyes at you from between your thighs. “No hagas que me repita.” Don’t make me say it again.

He devours you until you’re trembling, toes curling as you cum with a wail. Jake’s fascination with your cunt is obsessive, the way he maps every inch with his tongue, checking the lines with his fingers just in case. He rolls his tongue against your clit, chuckling darkly when you convulse. When he’s finally had his fill, Jake rises from between your legs, wiping your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand. 

For a moment, he just looks at you, studying the lines of your body and committing each one to memory. You feel strangely vulnerable laying there beneath him, not because this is the first time—it isn’t, and at this point you’ve lost count—but because you realize this is the first time any of them has ever seen you fully naked since the first time, not just with your shirt rucked up beneath your chin, or your joggers pulled down around your thighs. 

You reach for Jake, kissing him and tasting yourself on his lips and tongue as he fits his hips between your thighs like a puzzle piece. The full body shudder that erupts is impossible to hide as his cock slides against you. Jake grins down at you. 

“Esto es tuyo, déjamelo darte.” That’s yours, Querida. Let me give it to you.

The thick, rigid length of him takes up every inch of available space inside you at this angle; and Jake glories in it, pressing your thighs apart and back, muttering silent curses as he throws his head back. He pulls out, quickly filling you again with a wet, vulgar noise that would’ve embarrassed you had you the capacity to consider it, but you don’t, not when Jake is looming over you. He isn’t an emotive man, not even a particularly talkative one, but like this… He practically sings.

“Shh. I want to see if I can get in any deeper. I know you’d like that.” Your cunt squeezes down around him as if in response, and Jake chuckles. He slides his hands down your thighs like he’s holding you steady as he presses in. Once he’s in as far as he can get, his hips fitted against yours almost too tightly, there isn’t room in you for breath, let alone thought. And whichever words do make it into your head simply just… come out of your mouth, even if they’re just half formed. 

“Sh-shit, Jake—what’re you—fuck—!” Luckily for you, he’s not really listening anyway, his dark eyes focused on the slick mess between your legs, but you can’t stop the train now that it’s started, whiny, needy pleas falling from your lips without your say-so. Jake cups your chin, dragging his thumb across your parted lips.

“Stick out your tongue, baby—mierda, así mismo-!” fuck, yes, like that-! Jake squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger before leaning down to suck on your tongue as he slams into you, groaning. Your head is spinning, eyes wide and glassy as your lover places his index and middle fingers on the flat of your tongue.

“Chúpame.” Suck. You obey immediately and without complaint, closing your mouth around his fingers. Jake moans so low it sounds almost like a growl, his fingers digging into the meat of your hip as his eyes roll shut. He thrusts in hard and you gag around his fingers, whimpering. They’re slick with your drool when he pulls away, thick strands of it connecting the tips of his fingers to your puffy, kiss swollen lips. It’s like the sight inspires him, and he takes them again, furiously devouring every gasp and moan you release as he continues to fuck you. 

Every single one of your nerve endings is writhing with pleasure, a veritable ocean of it overwhelming you as you’re swept away beneath it. Jake is everywhere, his hands on your face, your hips, your breasts, your cunt—in your fucking mouth—you don’t know how to process it all. 

You’re cumming before you realize it, choking out a curse as you press your face, your teeth into the side of his neck. His cock spasms inside of you only moments after, sticky warmth oozing out of the place where you’re joined as Jake presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed. After a few seconds, he collapses to the side, sliding out of you only for an instant before he pulls you against his chest. You shiver as he slips back in just as easily. 

The next words he speaks are uttered quietly into your hair. 

“Can we sleep like this, querida?”  His fingers trace patterns on your skin. “Please.” You don’t ask why—you don’t need to. 

“Yeah,” you nod against his chest, and he pulls the blankets up around your shoulders. “Okay, Jake.” He presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, and as your world fades to black, you feel his lips moving against your skin, mouthing the words he won’t say out loud. 

—

“King of crossroads

Travelers and Thieves

Accept this offering, accept his flesh and blood as penance—”

Blood streams from your nose as you read the Word, coating your lips and dripping down your chin. You can taste it in your mouth as you form each   syllable. Your skull feels like it’s about to split open—there’s not enough room inside for infinity, after all. You see yourself spread out like a series of mirrored reflections in every direction, in every lifetime.

You read the book in every century, you worship the God of Moons and mirrors at sacred altars raised high above the chaos below and profane ones, hidden in in the deep, secret places. You are a thousand you’s who have come before, whose blood stains the pages like yours does—

As you read, he eats. 

You barely hear the screams anymore—it’s so hard to hear them, over the noise of a thousand thousand lifetimes—but in your doubled, tripled, infinite vision, sometimes you see it. 

The thing in your lovers’ skin, the jackal-thing, tears the arm from a crying man, but you cannot smell the blood. Your nostrils are still full of incense from somewhere else, but you hear the sickening sound of splintering bone, gore staining the jackal-thing’s wide maw. It turns unfocused, yellow eyes on the guards in the outer circle of the ritual room, snarling. Distantly, you suppose you are aware of the sound of straining metal, stone cracking as he, they, it, strains to reach them, it’s long arms outstretched. 

“Stop.” Loki’s voice is eons away. He shakes you—you don’t feel it. Your eyes don’t even stray from the page. “Stop, I said!”  The commands blur into insignificant background noise, you cannot hear Loki now, because He is here. You can feel him, turning his attention to you as his power flows in through your soul and out through your mouth. And when He slips in to look through your eyes, His disgust makes your own lip curl. 

UNWORTHY.

Loki slaps you then, his palm cracking across your cheek, snatching the book from your hands. The last few syllables die out on your tongue as he snaps it shut. You stand there, dazed and blinking at your empty hands. Slowly, you bring your hand to your face, sweeping the tips of your trembling fingers through the sticky wetness just above your lips, and they come away dark red. 

Below you, the beast strains to reach the soldiers still. You squint at the links connecting the collar at its throat to the anchor set deep into the concrete—are they stretching? As you think it, there’s a metallic snap as it bursts, affording the creature another foot forward. It strains at the two on it’s arms, pulling with all its might. 

You know you don’t have long before he reverts, before the bones begin to crack again, turning skin to ragged meat as his body changes again—

You cannot let that happen. 

Loki doesn’t expect you to lunge for the book, to drive your shoulder into his chest as hard as you can. The air rushes out of his lungs, and he stumbles back, cursing breathlessly.

“What the fuck are you doing—”

You snatch the book from his limp fingers. Book is an exaggeration for the stack of loosely bound, frayed papyrus you hold in your hands, between two carved slabs of soapstone. It practically hums against your skin as you hold it now. You will decide which parts you read.

“You have no idea what you’re doing!” Loki snarls, staggering toward you. “Give me—”You step back just as the second chain breaks, leaving only one. Someone shoots, a bullet passing through the meat of the jackal-thing’s shoulder, but the wound closes up before your eyes, knitting back together till there’s nothing a there but short wiry fur and a few drops of blood. 

“Boss!” One of the guards calls up to Loki from below. “He’s—”

The final chain snaps, and the beast looses a triumphant snarl. “Shoot!” Loki screams. “Fucking shoot it!” You watch, horrified as the rain of bullets tear into its flesh, chunks of stinking, steaming meat littering the floor by its feet. It doesn’t seem to care, luminous yellow eyes fever bright with bloodlust. The ragged holes in its flesh close almost as instantly as they appear, bone and sinew mending back together as the soldiers scream. You watch as it tears one of their arms out of the socket, its wide jaws frothy with blood and spittle as it crunches through the raw, red meat of it. 

“Kill him!” Loki is screaming, the remaining guards flocking to him as the beast, the jackal, tears through the men in the sacrificial circle. “Fucking shoot him!” The carved stone beneath them is slick with blood, the whole room stinks of it, hot copper and fresh meat. Their boots slip against it as they struggle to escape, many of them having fired their entire clips into his unwavering chest. 

The words flow from your mouth like electrical current, bypassing your brain as your tongue forms words you’ve never heard before, words that leave your head buzzing and ringing. There’s pressure behind your eyes, in your skull, a full feeling that leaves blood leaking from both your nostrils. The text becomes one word, a single word, and you know the book has changed to meet its maker’s will, the one who speaks through you now, whose clear moonlight burns at your insides and streams out of your mouth as the words singe your tongue. 

DEVOUR. 

DEVOUR. 

DEVOUR.

You both feel and do not feel Loki press the cool muzzle of his pistol to the back of your head. 

“Stop. Fucking. Reading.” He seethes, pulling back the hammer. 

You wouldn’t even if the choice was still yours, but you don’t tell him that. You can’t, not with your throat full of the most ancient of magics. He pulls the trigger, and you feel the bullet burn against your skin—but it does not penetrate. Instead, it falls to the floor at your feet, rolling until it falls down into the gory mess below. He’s behind you, but you can see him anyway—the moon is a mirror, and all mirrors are your eyes—his face ashen, blinking as he fires again, and again, and the bullets all fall uselessly away like pebbles. 

“We need to go!” Rumlow is covered in blood, his face bearing the marks of the beast’s displeasure. “Fucking now!” He racks another round into his gun as he barrels up the stairs. Behind him, your monster is making short work of the three remaining guards on the lower floor. “If she wants to stay here and burn her-fucking-self to ashes, let her! There’s always another voice, ain’t that what you said?” Loki nods, casting you a dirty look. “Let’s go!”  as it stands there in the pile of steaming gore, it lifts its shaggy head up toward the moon framed in the skylight, and howls.  

“We need the fucking book!” He argues. He steps towards you, like he means to pry your fingers from its smoking pages, but he reels back, screaming. A monstrous hand the size of a butterfly net bursts through Rumlow’s bulletproof vest, and somehow you can hear the wet sound of the merc’s body trying to function around the intrusion—a wet, sucking noise—before he drops to the ground, still. 

The jackal-thing steps over him. The dark fur around its mouth is flecked with bits of meat, and it runs its tongue along its muzzle in obvious anticipation of more. But instead of advancing on your fleeing captors, it turns to you, fixing you with those terrifying eyes. 

COME. 

DEVOUR.

COME.

DEVOUR.

The God steps into you as one might shrug on a too small coat, steadily and aggressively working his way into your body, filling you like a helium balloon. The same presence you’d felt when you first touched the book overwhelms you now, and more burning light pours from your eyes as he peers about the room with indisputable anger. The voice that comes from your mouth is not yours, is not human. 

It is the sound of sand, of tides, of ages and of cold fire. 

“YOU WHO HAVE ABUSED MY POWER.” White fire pours from your lips, dripping down to the floor to pool like liquid. You do not take a step forward, Khonsu does, and the stone cracks beneath your combined weight. “YOU WHO HAVE SLAIN THE INNOCENT. WHO HAVE ENSLAVED THE PRIESTS OF MY HOUSE.” They run then, making for the doors, but neither you, nor Khonsu feel the need to chase them. 

It makes no difference. 

“YOU WILL BURN.” 

You lift your hand, and you feel the jackal’s blood slick fur against your palm as he leaps at your command. The halls are filled with a veritable symphony of pleading and screams as his jaws find them—or you do.

Loki makes it all the way to the vehicles, dragging a broken leg behind him as the two of you follow closely behind. It is more satisfying than you can admit as you wrap your fingers around his throat, his flesh blackening and peeling away as you lift him. 

“My hand was forced,” you say, grinning as the realization dawns . “But you will never force it again.” 

He doesn’t have vocal chords left to scream with as he burns. 

You know it when Loki dies, because you feel all the power go out of you, your body crumpling like a doll. He’s gone, the God, the ancient thing wearing your skin to exact his vengeance. You feel like an empty glove, and you lay there in the sand as the garage burns behind you, smoke curling into the dark night sky. The shape of his presence remains within you, though, and your spirit rushes back in to fill the space. 

Exhilarated, giddy exhaustion fills you, hell, you feel like you might even be high. You’re flying, your blood singing with the echoes of the power of ancients, even as you lay there, your body exhausted. 

The jackal-thing approaches you, yellow eyes bright as it covers your body with its own. You’re barely clothed now, the signed remains of your tank-top and joggers easy enough to strip off. You feel magnetized, like you have to touch and be touched, like the energy thrumming in your veins needs their help to release. And by the impatient, possessive way the jackal-thing looks at you, you gather they feel much the same. 

The beast snuffles at your hair, and then licks at the space above your collarbone, huffing. You whimper when his teeth break skin, arching your back against his chest. There’s a deep rumble that sounds almost like Marc’s laughter before it looses a growl, laving at the blood-sticky skin of your throat. 

His tongue laps at the blood between your breasts, and you hiss, your nipples peaking stiffly. You aren’t afraid, not of him—of them. You don’t know that you’re really afraid of anything anymore, not when you have but to speak for the ancient power to fill you like a water balloon. 

Claws press at your soft skin, goosebumps rising in their wake as you feel his grip tighten around your waist. He wants you on your belly. You know it instinctively, like the knowledge had come from your own head, and not from elsewhere. 

You whine as he pulls away, but you roll over, your hands slipping in the sand. They don’t wait for you to position yourself fully, tugging you back against the creature’s furry hips, it’s sticky, pink cock pressing insistently against your already slick folds. It feels like fireworks are popping off beneath your skin, and you can hardly contain your joy. 

They’re dead. Not just dead but punished, and you are free. 

Free.

Your mouth opens as he slams inside, the throbbing knot at the base of his cock forces you open even further and you let out a breathy wail. You suppose you should be ashamed, afraid, you should be a lot of things—but what does that even mean, now? Now that you are this? What even are shoulds in the face of what you have weathered?

The jackal-thing looses a pleased growl, rutting into you with sharp, hungry thrusts. They soon punch not only the air from your lungs but the thoughts from your head, your eyes rolling as you fall forward onto your forearms. He bears down on you with singleminded insistence, carving space out from within you that you know you’ll feel later. 

“Oh God, oh God, Jake.” You mumble their names amidst streams of nonsense into the crook of your arm as the pleasure condenses into an aching point in your belly. “M-Marc, p-please, I need—S-Steven—” Teeth close around the meat above your collarbone, and you let out a wail that echoes across the dark sand as you cum fitfully. If not for the possessive hands at your hips holding you in place, you’d have fallen flat on your belly onto the sand. Instead, you twitch and whine in his hold as his cock throbs heavily inside your slick, spasming cunt, flooding you with sticky heat. There’s so much of it you can feel it leaking out of the place where you’re joined, dripping down the backs of your thighs. 

When you try to move, the jackal-thing growls at you, and you resolve to stay still, at least for a little while. You can feel it’s tongue move against the wound, laving it slowly, lovingly. He pulls out of you, and there’s a sickening crack as his body begins to revert again. You sit gingerly on the remains of your joggers and close your eyes as you wait for silence. 

You hate this part—you know it hurts. 

Soon, though, there is skin pressed against your back instead of wiry fur, and when you venture a glance over your shoulder, Steven looks back at you, bloody and exhausted. 

“Hello, Love.” 

—

You know you’re grinding blood and viscera into the luxurious white carpet as you enter Loki’s rooms, but the mess only brings you a giddy sort of satisfaction. There is so much blood—so many bodies. You’d stopped counting Loki’s sacrifices, and you find yourself wondering if the bodies number the same—if somehow they cancel one another out. Part of you hopes they do, that the scales will at least be balanced, if not weighted in your favor. But there is another part of you, a new part—but somehow ancient at the same time—whispers dark words of reassurance that you can barely discern from the background noise of your own thoughts. 

They deserved it. Vile murderers, usurpers—

Their deaths were too merciful. 

The suite looks like something out of a magazine, like a five-star hotel come to the goddamn desert. There’s even air-conditioning. He had lived above you in luxury for months—you don’t even know how long, not really—while only floors below the two of you had been kept in terror and squalor. 

It would have been laughable if you hadn’t had to live through it yourself. 

It doesn’t occur to you that you’re destroying things until the first bottle of expensive cologne becomes victim to your cold, unthinking rage as you grab it off of the dressing table and lob it into the mirror. You watch the pieces of glass burst and shatter into uncountable fragments. For a moment, you see your own bloody face reflected back at you before it crumbles. It’s unbelievably satisfying. So much so that you pick up something else—a watch, a fucking rolex—and hurl that too. Golden springs roll away underneath the dresser as the pieces shoot off in all directions

 Steven doesn’t say anything as you grab the heavy looking table-clock too, and beat it into pieces against the table’s surface. 

You stand there, panting in the aftermath of your rage, a trail of destruction leading across the room. Steven pulls you into a tight embrace, and you sob into his chest, openmouthed and wailing. You had watched as the beast had slaughtered everyone—and and it was right to do it. As somehow, it—they?—had kept every promise made. 

Mikhail’s ruined throat, the beast feeding you warm, slick pieces of Loki’s beating heart—

So why aren’t you whole yet? Why do you still feel like a piece of you has been carved out, lost forever? Replaced with something ancient? Unknowable? You cling to Steven, terrified that if you loose grip on him, you’ll loose your tenuous hold on reality. He lets you cry, stroking your head and mumbling soft affirmations into your hair until you’re only sniffling, instead of sobbing brokenly against his skin. When you’re ready to, you pull away, and rub the back of your bloody hand across your face. 

He tucks a finger under your chin, those big, dark eyes of his swirling with emotions you cannot hope to name.

“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?” He asks with a weak smile. “Can’t go back to civilization looking like we killed people.” 

“We did,” you say, looking down at the dried blood staining your palms. There is a soft voice that curls up like smoke from the darkness at the edges of your thoughts, sounding so much like your own that you aren’t entirely sure it isn’t you thinking it—They deserved it. They deserved justice.

Steven’s smile falters. “They would have killed us, Love.” 

“I—I know. I know. They deserved it.” Your fingers curl into righteous fists. You remember the hail of bullets at the dig-site, every screaming, pleading person Loki forced down the beast’s throat, and those thoughts curdle the self doubt sitting in your belly. The God’s booming voice echoes in your memories. 

UNWORTHY. USURPERS. KILL THEM ALL.

“They deserved it.” 

You explore Loki’s bedroom, the press of a button unlocking an equally luxurious bathroom. You’re stripping before you realize it, the ragged, dirty clothes you’d been wearing discarded on the tile floor. The water is hot as soon as you turn it on, and when you step gratefully under the spray, you nearly begin to cry again. You haven’t bathed properly in months—you don’t even know how long you’ve been here. Steven steps in behind you, and the two of you stand beneath the rainfall shower head, watching red swirl down the drain. 

Steven takes such care with you, you almost worry he thinks you’ll break, shampooing your hair, detangling the thick curls with his fingers. You relax against him, the muscular planes of his chest pressed against your back. He rinses the suds from your hair and skin, cupping water over your head. You let him.

 As the ash and blood wash from your skin, you discover new scars, ones you could not even hope to notice in the dim light of your cell. It’s like you’re rediscovering yourself, relearning what you look like, who you even are. You feel like a different person now, than the one who’d been brought here, her head bagged, wrists zip-tied—

No, you are someone else now, someone else entirely. 

Steven cups water over the bite mark on your shoulder, and you hiss at the sting of it. He doesn’t stop though, pressing an apologetic kiss to the skin between your shoulder blades as he cleans your wound. 

“Made a right mess of you, he did,” Steven replies. “Eager bastard.” 

“Well, it’s not like he can kiss me,” you say, and Steven laughs. 

“I-I think I can fix that,” he says, his voice thick with sweet, eager confidence. You fear for an instant that some spark of the earlier fire still remains inside of you, but as Steven caresses the curve of your jaw lovingly, you do not feel the all consuming fire—you just feel him. 

He presses kiss after kiss to your lips until they’re parted and swollen from his attentions, his firm hand on your chin holding your head steady as he works. Steven only stops when you’re dizzy and panting, fingers scrabbling against his slick skin as you try to hold onto him. He pulls you down onto his lap on the shower bench, groaning as his cock presses against your cunt. 

“F-fuck, Steven,” the words are gasped against his throat as your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders. “God-!” He holds your hips steady, the two of you rocking against each other. How does this feel more intimate than when he’s actually inside you, his cock sliding through your slick folds with audible noise, his other hand tangled in the curls at the nape of your neck with his face pressed to the side of your throat. You’re eager for more contact—desperate for it, even, but he keeps the pace frustratingly slow and steady.  

“Used to dream about when we’d get t’do this—patience, Love—with no one bloody watching.” Steven rocks his hips into yours, and you pressing sloppy, needy kisses of your own against the skin of his neck and shoulders, and you feel his hips buck against you as he chuckles. 

“Fuck, you little minx.” He grips your wrists behind your back with one large hand, forcing you to arch against him. He groans before leaning down to tug one of your nipples between his teeth. ”Fine pair we make.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, fighting to keep the words even as he wraps his lips around the other nipple, and your toes curl. “And what pair is that?” Steven releases you with a pop, and then releases you so he can squeeze your breasts together, admiring your swollen, puffy nipples. 

“The voice and the vengeance, of course,” he says, pressing another kiss to the skin between your breasts. You moan and shiver as the leaking head of his cock pushes hard against your entrance, your clit rubbing deliciously against the base. He teases the both of you, pressing until his head’s almost inside, and then pulling away again until you’re panting, hips straining uselessly against his firm hold. 

“Steven please,” you whine his name pathetically. “I-I want to cum—!” Steven nods at you, his face the perfect picture of understanding. 

“I know, Sweetheart. I know you do. A-and you’re gonna, I promise. As soon as I think you’re ready, m’gonna let you cum. Can’t force things—he was rather…” He pauses, like he’s searching for the right word. “Rough with you earlier.” You know you should appreciate Steven’s consideration, his mindfulness of the fact that you’d already them lay claim to your body—your shoulder still bears the stinging bite mark the jackal had left on you. Instead, you let out a frustrated whine at his words, attempting to force yourself down onto his cock. Steven clucks his tongue at you, before pausing, and then he chuckles. 

“Marc says we should make you wait extra long for that.” He lifts your hips easily despite your efforts, moving you back and forth across his tip. He lowers you just enough that the head of his cock pops inside, and you mewl, clenching down around him. “But since you feel so fucking good inside, I’m not gonna do that.” 

Steven’s head lolls back against the tile and he thrusts shallowly, teeth sinking into his lip before he pulls you off again. This time, he guides you to the bench before sinking to his knees on the floor of the shower. Steven spreads your legs wide, tugging you to the edge before kissing you. 

“Let me make you feel good,” Steven mumbles against your mouth. “Wanna make you feel good, Love.” He trails wet, sloppy kisses down the side of your jaw and between your breasts, mumbling praises against your wet skin. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” Steven sighs, pressing another to the skin above your cunt. “So perfect.” You whine as he peels your thighs apart, tossing your legs over his shoulders. 

“You don’t have to be quiet anymore, Love,” he says, glorying in the shrill whine you loose as he drags his finger through your folds. “So let’t hear it.” Where Jake and Marc are hungry, eager, Steven is diligent. Methodical. He sucks on your clit, working his tongue against it with slow, deep strokes that leave you gasping, your thighs clenching around his curly head. 

“God, fuck, Steven,” sentences are a chore to form, so single words have to suffice as you tangle your fingers in his hair just as his own circle your entrance deliciously. Your hips undulate against his face, your eyes closed. The orgasm takes you by surprise, your thighs trembling as pleas, praise and curses all fall  from your lips in equal measure, and you aren’t sure which ones you mean. 

“Fuck, yes Steven, feels so good, fuck-fuck-fuck, please—” You’re a simpering, weak-limbed mess when he finally releases you, your legs like jelly. It takes little maneuvering to get you back into his lap again, and this time, Steven wastes no time. He positions you above his cock before dropping you down, letting gravity help him fill you. It punches the air from your lungs in a sharp exhale. 

You can barely focus on breathing though, not when he feels like this inside of you. The fullness is delicious, leaving you gasping when he repeats the motion, lifting you until his head’s almost out, and then dropping you back down again, but still desperate for more. More that Steven wants to give you, more that you don’t know you can take, but that you’re more than willing to try. Your cup runneth-the-fuck-over with pleasure, throbbing on every nerve ending, choking out every other thought. 

“Oh, Love,” he groans, rolling his hips into yours. “There it is.” Steven’s hips buck against yours; short, teasing thrusts that stimulate, but don’t fulfill. Finally, he sheathes himself in you to the hilt, his hips bucking softly against you like he’s looking for more space inside where there is none. The mark from where they’d bitten you as the jackal is still there, humming with power. Steven laves his tongue against it, moaning, savoring the coppery taste of your blood on his tongue. 

“God,” Steven gasps against your skin, holding you close and tight, curving his hips up into yours with increasingly desperate thrusts. “F-fuck, you’ve no idea—” You’re not sure if he’s sputtering out a response to Marc or Jake, but you don’t really have the spare capacity to consider it. Not when Steven is whispering feverish praise and promises into the curve of your throat, and then making good on them with every thrust. 

“Feels s-so good , fuck, want you to cum on my cock—!” He’s almost as bad as you, mumbling possessive nonsense as he slots his teeth into the marks the beast left behind. Briefly it occurs to you that he shouldn’t be able to, but then Steven grinds his thumb against your clit and the electricity of it makes you think pointedly of other things. Like the way his body feels against yours, and you’re close, so fucking close—Your knees tighten around his hips, digging into his sides but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care. 

With a whine and a shudder, you go boneless in Steven’s arms, your eyes rolling as the fireworks become bombs, become supernovas, and your cunt clamps down around his throbbing cock like a slick, wet fist. Steven kisses you, and you taste your own blood on his lips as he slams you back down, holding your hips still and in place as he cums too. 

“Mmm, yeah, mmmfuck,” his head is leaned back against the tile, curls plastered against his skull from the water. Steven stares unseeingly at the shower head above you, holding you tucked against his chest as he fills you. You rest your head against his chest, your own heaving. 

Steven finally releases his death grip on your hips in favor of drawing shapes against the skin of your back. You’re not eager to move and neither is he, keeping you caged comfortably against his chest. There are scars here too, old ones, healed over and almost gone, new ones, fresh, pink wounds you know will leave still more. 

You catalogue them, listing each one as your fingers travel across his skin. Chest. Stomach. Forearm. You don’t even realize you’re doing it, not really, not until you feel Steven’s lips curve against your hair. 

“What’re you doing, Love?” 

What am I doing?

You remain silent and thoughtful as Steven helps you off of him, murmuring assent when he asks if he can clean you off. It’s not until you’re getting out of the shower, watching him toweling off, counting the scars on his back—that you realize. 

“I’m cataloguing.” You say, laying a hand on his back. Steven jumps. 

“What?” 

“I’m counting them. Your scars.” You lick your lips. You know you can’t take them away, you can’t erase them—but you can avenge them. Loki’s network is vast—your lips curl into a small smile. Was vast. Now it is rudderless, a snake without a head. You will dispose of the rest of it. The dark fury in your head feels righteous, and when your eyes meet Steven’s, they are bright with the same. 

“I want to pay them back.” 

fin

Hello friends! I no longer maintain a taglist, so please follow @box-of-bones-library​ for updates and new work, thank you!

Likes and comments are amazing, but reblogs are golden! Please consider sharing my work so that others can see it too!

[rosellacwrites]

Sharp Dressed Man — Part 2

summary: Steven wants to know just how much you like his suit.

pairings: Steven Grant x AFAB!Reader (otherwise undescribed), implied Marc Spector x AFAB!Reader, implied Jake Lockley x AFAB!Reader

rating: E. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

warnings: suit kink, D/s dynamics (softDom!Steven my beloved), voyeurism, thigh riding

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — this is entry #2 for our favorite square, Thigh Riding! Direct continuation of Sharp Dressed Man — Part 1. Happy reading!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Steven’s never been good at hiding his inner self from you. Transparent as glass, he broadcasts every emotion that passes through him, no matter how small. So whenever he comes home from a fight, it’s not hard for you to guess how it’s gone.

Poorly, and he sinks into your softness, wanting comfort, needing reassurance that he hasn’t failed in his duties and you still love him no matter what. Well, and he’s cocky, strutting, endearingly full of himself but never arrogant; those are the nights on which interesting things tend to happen.

Nights like those, he lets his well-hidden dominant streak out to play, but it’s not the kind most would recognize. He could be rough with you, if he wanted; he’s strong enough to throw you around a little, if you asked, but that’s not his way. It’s so subtle, so soft and gentle, that neither of you had even realized what he was doing at first.

When you’d thought of domination before, you’d thought of ropes and whips and cuffs, sluts and whores and daddies; all those have their place in someone’s bedroom, but you have no desire for them to enter yours. But tender words of praise, feather-light strokes and worshipful attentions, playful teasing drawing your pleasure out and out and out until you’re mindless and begging: those things, you crave.

And lucky for you, Steven’s bloody good at giving them to you.

Sometimes you think it’s the contrasts of him that you love best: the gentle heart and brilliant mind and sweetheart soul, all housed in the body that knows a hundred different ways to kill someone. The mellow comforting voice, sweet and rich as chocolate, that can murmur cherished pet names and filthy suggestions in the same breath. The deep brown puppy-dog eyes, that can gaze at you with love and wonder or scorch your skin. Marc and Jake are complex enough men, in truth, but their desires are more straightforward.

But whoever Steven has recently been fighting, you know they won’t be bothering any of your boys again for quite a while, because tonight is one of those nights.

“Do you feel like playing tonight, love?” He takes a seat on the end of your bed, strong thighs spread wide, and pats one in invitation when you nod eagerly. “Come give me a little kiss, then.” True to your request, he’s left his suit on; faithful to the end, your Steven.

You perch on his lap, winding your arms around him to keep your balance, and bow your head to his. He drinks in all the little sounds you make, and you don’t realize it but your hands are roaming from his curls to his shoulders to his back to his waist and back again, growing more restless by the minute. When he feels you begin to squirm in his lap, the muscles of your thighs tensing against each other, he pulls back from you.

“Poor little thing,” he croons. “Do you need more?” You nod, wide-eyed and desperate, and he smiles up at you. “I’ll take care of you, darling. Don’t I always?”

“Always,” you agree. And it’s true: he always does. They all do.

“Why don’t you start by taking your clothes off for us, then?”

This isn’t your first time playing this game; it’s phrased as a question, but you know better. Obediently, you stand up and begin to strip, and when you turn your back to Steven for a moment, you’re glad you chose the nice matching set today. The tall antique mirror, placed opposite the bed for just these occasions, reflects you in triplicate, but you know what Steven sees. “Are they watching?” you ask breathlessly.

Steven smiles at you as he takes off his jacket. “‘Course they are. They’d never miss a show like this.” He rolls up his sleeves, and you bite your lip to hold back a whine at the way the snowy linen and leather frame the muscles of his forearm. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he clears his throat with an amused huff.

“Sorry,” you stammer, suddenly noticing that you’d frozen in the middle of working your jeans down. Steven just shakes his head fondly.

“You’re enough to make a bloke get a swelled head, you know,“ he says. “Looking at me like that and all.”

Oh, Steven, so sweetly self-deprecating even when he’s in the process of seducing you. “Oh, sorry,” you retort. “You must not be able to see how handsome you are because I’m blocking the mirror.” Fully nude now, you saunter back toward him, feeling the heat of his dark eyes on your body.

“Cheeky thing.” God, he’s tempting, the way he’s leaning back on his hands, grinning at you. His long legs are still spread in a way that you despise on the Tube but love in your bedroom. “Now. What shall I do with you?”

“You could kiss me some more,” you suggest innocently. He laughs and draws you back down to his lap. In your hyper-aroused state, you fancy you can feel the weave of his suit imprinting its pattern on your skin, and the whisper of friction makes you squirm.

“I think I’d like to play a different game,” he murmurs. “I think… I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What’s the catch?” There’s always a catch.

“There’s no catch, love. Just answers.” He strokes your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Why do you like my suit so much?”

“I…” You don’t know what answer he’s looking for, exactly. “It’s just — so fancy, but I know what it’s meant for… it’s like — James Bond or something. Dapper and deadly.” Your face feels warm against the cool leather of his glove; it’s not something you can really explain, the instant rush of heat you’d felt at the sight of him dressed like that. “You look so handsome in it…”

“You like the way it feels, yeah?” He smiles. “And don’t try to tell me otherwise. Couldn’t keep your hands off me when I walked in.”

You know better than to hide anything from him. He knows you far too well, and takes every opportunity to learn more. “Yes,” you whisper, unable to keep from touching him even when called out, and he chuckles.

“Thought so. What else do you like about it?”

“It’s — so perfect. Fits all of you just right…” It’s like you’re hypnotized; you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “It shines, like the moon.”

“You’re making Marc a bit jealous, you know,” he murmurs with a laugh in his voice. “You’ve never made such a fuss about his.”

“His is cool, but…” Your words trail off when he ducks his head and takes your nipple gently between his teeth. A little whimper escapes you with your exhale, and he lets you go again.

“Jake says I’m letting my mouth run away with me again,” he says, almost to himself. “‘Fuck her already, pendejo,’ he says. Rude.” He tuts. “That man has no appreciation for the art of seduction.” This is, in fact, a blatant, towering lie, but you know better than to call it out. “But I suppose you do deserve a reward for answering my questions…”

“Oh, please,” you breathe, squirming again; your leg brushes up against his cock, straining against the pristine fabric of his trousers, and he makes a rumbling sort of sound. “Please, Steven…”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to tempt me into touching you, aren’t you?” He narrows his eyes at you, and you immediately protest.

“I wasn’t trying to, it’s just — kind of hard to miss, you’re so — “

“Oh! Flattery, now!” He’s laughing outright, not unkindly. “You really are pulling out all the stops, darling. Just for that…”

Your eyes go wide. “Just for what?”

He takes your chin in his hand, and tilts your face down to his. “You’re trying so hard to make me touch you — well, I’m not going to.”

“Steven!” you wail. “You can’t do this to me — I need you… been waiting all day for you to get home and make me come…”

“Oh, I never said you didn’t get to come,” he says airily. “That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?”

“Then what — “

“You’re going to do all the work, and I’m going to be the lucky bastard with the front row seat.” His hands land on your hips and he guides you to turn around and face him, straddling his leg. “Your hands like the way my suit feels, don’t they? Let’s see what else likes it.”

With a jolt you realize exactly what he means, and he watches the understanding heat cross your face. “I — I don’t want to spoil it…” Your hips don’t care about such things. They’re already rocking against him, even as you protest, and his smile has a wicked edge to it.

“It’s so perfect, yeah?” he coaxes, and his voice sends a shiver through you. “All nice and clean? Go on then. Make a mess of me.”

“Won’t Khonshu….” You can’t finish the thought, too overwhelmed by the gentle drag of the textured fabric against your cunt. You were already primed for it, ready for a single fingertip to send you soaring, and you’re so sensitive that each individual thread feels like an exquisite assault. In the back of your mind, you know this is what you’d wanted, the second he’d walked through that door; somehow, he always seems to know the deepest, strangest desires of your heart, and he won’t rest until he makes them all come true.

“I’m Mr Knight, aren’t I?” he laughs, leaving a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat. “I should be entitled to wear my fair lady’s favor into battle. Not quite what the knights of old had in mind though, innit?” You moan at the thought of him plunging back into the fray, your slick still drying on his suit.

He buries his face in you as you ride the hard muscle of his thigh, his messy curls and shadow of stubble tickling your breasts. “God, your tits are perfection,” comes his muffled voice from your cleavage. There’s too much give in the bed, and the way it dips under him as you grind is just enough to keep you chasing after your peak, getting agonizingly close but never quite reaching it. You grit your teeth and clutch silky handfuls of his waistcoat, no longer caring about spoiling its perfection.

Steven, always so attuned to you, senses your need and tears himself away from your breasts. “Do you need a little help, love?” You mewl in agreement, and he chuckles. “Use your words, then. Ask me for what you need, and I’ll give it to you, as much as you want.”

You tell him that you just need a little more pressure, right there, and when his hand slips between you and him, you’re off like a rocket, wailing and soaking his trousers.

“Gorgeous,” he purrs in your ear when you drop, panting and helpless, to his shoulder. “Bloody gorgeous, you are. You’re doing so well for me.”

But doing so well carries a distinct implication: this isn’t over yet.

to be continued…

[oddballwriter]

Hi! Maybe can we get a little hc with like that one tik tok trend where they ask their partner to touch their favorite part of them on their body but with the mk boys? (Sorry if this doesn't make sense haha English isn't my first language) thank you!

Warnings: Other than a slight mention to Marc's past and Jake's work. Nothing that I know of. This is very fluffy and soft.  

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Marc Spector

Marc takes a moment to actually think about it. He's never really sat down and thought about it before and if you're saying that he can't say all of you then his go-to answer is out

He settles on your hands being the part he likes the most

To him, your hands are kind of prominent in your relationship, at least to him

Marc's hardly the one for physical contact since he's never really received it at all, at least in a positive way

But you kind of changed that

You hold him when he's having a hard time or just tired and will use your hands to gently rub his back or pet his hair. When he's having a panic attack or stuck thinking about a traumatic memory, you gently hold his hands to help ground him. Wipe tears off his face. When he feels nervous or off in a place you two hold hands or at least lock pinkies. Your hands are actually a big source of comfort to him.

Steven Grant

Steven likes all of you too. To him, there are a million things that he loves about you both physically and internally

But he likes your mouth/lips because he likes listening to you talk and seeing you smile, and also because he likes kissing you

Steven loves seeing you smile. It's one thing he would do anything for to see it. He hates seeing you be sad or upset because he just loves you so much and wants you to be happy

He also loves it when you talk, he could listen to you speak for hours on end about anything and he'd never be tired of it. Tell him about your day, your latest interest, some gossip, your thoughts on the weather, all that

And then of course he loves to kiss you in passing and get kisses from you. Steven is more of a peck on the lips type of person, but if you'd like an actual kiss then he'd gladly give you one. However, he adores getting little pecks on the cheek, jaw, and even his forehead. He will bend over just to get a kiss on the forehead if you're shorter.

Jake Lockley

Any part of you that's soft and grabbable

Could be your thigh, butt, or stomach. If it has some softness he likes it.

It's just kind of a habit of his to hold/grab/be drawn to those bits.

Like when he's driving and he does the classic placing of his hand on your thigh while he drives with the other. He will lay his head on your stomach when he wants to be held while cuddling once in a while. And of course, what's Jake without a little bit of ass-grabbing. Just casually puts a hand on your ass.

He's a hard worker like the rest of the boys but he's in charge of dealing with people and trouble and that can be tiring. So he wants to take a nap on the best thing ever. His partner.

Jake literally uses you like a pillow when he wants to nap. Like he asks what you are doing and asks you to come lay down with him for a while

He can sleep without you but he just gets the best napping done when it's you. Just stick around till he falls asleep and then move to do whatever.

[sgiandubh]

S on BBC 4's Saturday Live: 'anything but a quiet life'

As you all know, S was today on BBC Four's Saturday Live radio talk show, sharing the scene with people like super male model David Gandy, Catrin Finch - a Welsh harpist of international repute and the ever fascinating Lucy Worsley, a strong contender (along with Mary Beard) for the title of personal favorite (living) historian.

You can listen (as I dutifully did twice) to it here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001t96r. I don't know how to embed it on this page, but that shouldn't be a problem.

The show is always interesting and I strongly suggest to let it play along and not rely only on my summing up & comments. I particularly enjoyed Lucy Worsley's Medieval and Baroque musical selection (flawless!) - but enough said, we're here for S, who was live on show from BBC's London studios.

As usually, I am going to transcript it as much as I can, primarily for those reading this post and using Google Translate (@bat-cat-reader, you are served!). So, you will kindly excuse the length, thank you.

At the 07:40 mark, a half jocular mention when prompted by the host: not a cricketer and not a harpist either (you can say many things about S, but not that he's got no humor - always a big plus in my book). But then things quickly get emotional, when he immediately mentions his mother (the question generally asked was 'what did your parents sacrifice for you?'), who 'sacrificed a lot (...) [as] a single parent, (...) she gave us everything, I think'. And then he quickly gets emotional, mentioning Chrissie H. again:

'(...) can I give my mom a shoutout, it's her birthday, on Monday [Nikki Bedi, presenter: 'aww, of course you can!'], so happy birthday, Chrissie, and thank you so much and I wish... I'm glad you never got me a harp, because I would have never dedicated myself. I think that's why I became an actor, because I didn't have to work too hard at one thing.'

It's then David Gandy's turn to talk about his own rural childhood in Billericay (Essex), his close knit family and his parents' endeavor of building a business and the now incomprehensible need to use faxes, something he has now to 'explain to the younger ones'. Then Nikki Bedi turns to S (13:08): 'Sam's laughing at that. Do you remember faxes?' Answer: 'I do.. I mean, I remember faxes getting scripts through or couriers bringing you know, scripts to your door, it..it's just a completely different world, now, and I am sure the fashion world is completely different now, isn't it, David, I mean it's changed so much'.

Onwards to more questions asked by Mrs. Bedi. This one was interesting (19:16): 'Sam, do you fear that each job you do is an act that could be your last? Is that always in the back or front of your mind?' Answer: 'Yeah, I think.. David, I mean...um... earnestly, everything you're saying there kinda rings true for my career as well... I am sure for Catrin being, you know, being a musician, I think it's, you know [Nikki Bedi: is it true, Catrin? CF: yes, absolutely, yeah, many things David said... it's the same (...)'].

Huw Stevens mentions alternatives to 'gigs', the need to plan for the future and the fact 'you always have to remain busy', mentioning S's whisky. Gandy also mentions S ('you've got quite a few businesses [...] a man after my own heart, we'll then gonna have to go out'), immediately cued in by Nikki Bedi ('whisky, tequila, gin').

Just after Lucy Worsley's superb intervention (easily my favorite of the whole program!), cue in to the kilt on a glacier part of S's chit-chat I am sure we all dutifully 🙄, by now. I noted the slight hesitation in his voice, while mentioning 'my...my friend, Graham McTavish', so I will not - yeah, sue me-, I repeat: I will not transcript this verbatim, simply because it doesn't really bring anything new or important to what we all know, already. Sitting on a glacier 'in a kilt, in commando, yes, it's my claim to fame'. Disgruntled Tumblrettes, beware - he poked fun at himself (shall I sign this to you, or are you able to read my lips?) and that is something only very intelligent people are able to do without sounding pathetic. Another interesting thing is the way Nikki Bedi presented S ('the actor, award-winning liquor maker and writer'- 36:00), roughly midway of the whole broadcast.

His dedicated segment begins at the 49:10 mark and lasts until the end, about 10 minutes in all. He was introduced by Huw Stevens: "Sam Heughan, it seems, would like anything but a quiet life", plus some cursory bio elements, mentioning his mother's influence on his own creativity, his breakthrough as JAMMF, but also TCND (Nikki Bedi watches it and 'apparently the third episode is the most steamy' 🤦‍♀️). 'He is also a philanthropist, businessman and thrill seeker, and of course, as mentioned earlier, has his own whisky and is a best-selling author'. Mentions his 'parents, characterful people, hippies, in the Seventies, with a love for Tolkien'. S: 'my mum would probably kill me if I called her a hippie' - also, 'she is not the best singer, but there was always music around'. Stevens mentions the Gandalf's Garden Soho hippie community both his parents were a part of before he was born, but S doesn't develop it. The rest (difficult childhood, loner, using his imagination sparked his creativity, etc) we know from Waypoints. The very Scottish concept of 'stravaigin'' comes along in the conversation, which is not exactly a drifter and a bit more than a wanderer (if I understood correctly) - perhaps a good title for a second personal memoir, S? I'll leave this idea float in here for free, heh. OL comes along then, and by far the most interesting thing he mentioned about it is that "it is my life, it's taken over my life', hoping it would sparkle at least some conversation in the comments' thread. OL 'has also been hugely beneficial for Scotland, increased tourism by 200% in some locations (...), and it's all down to the magic of Scotland'.

Next projects: exciting not to really know what is next, but 'I am also saying no to a lot, because I am in a place now where I think the next decision is really important (...). I enjoy being in control now (....), producing my own shows and you know, my own products. (...) once you take control of that creativity (....) there's a lot of freedom and yeah, we shall see'.

And then Huw Stevens makes a joke - but was it really a joke? it's the BBC, after all - and says that all four of the guests could contribute something to what 'could be the next generation of Bond', (S: 'the finest British production'). Cue in an anecdote about S being invited to present an event to Buckingham Palace and taking a cab to a pub, right afterwards. MPC and tomorrow's book signing at Saint Pancras station wrap off the show.

Quickly, my 50 cents on it: way, way better than expected and S always delivers when they ask no weird questions about his private life (hallelujah, maybe they listen to us, after all?). The question about the fear of each job being the last reminded me of one of his answers in a very early interview: 'your biggest fear? getting the sack'. This time, his answer, whatever he intended to say, got lost in the brouhaha, but I suspect not much has changed, essentially, even if the 'after OL' part of the show strives to tell a more optimistic story.

But the thing that impressed me the most and in a very good way is the attention he got from all the other people invited in that studio. Unlike the social nobodies of Tumblr, they did not find bizarre the fact that he created his own spirits business and is actively promoting it. They were far from judging him: in fact, I even think he made a new friend of David Gandy, who had quite positive and nice and honest things to say about him. S was articulate and graceful and very moving every single time he mentioned Chrissie. And I am also sure he would have loved to share more things, especially when David was lovingly talking about his wife and daughters. But he couldn't. And that is a shame. But this too, shall pass - The Boy is slowly learning to say no to a lot of things, as he just let us know. Probably the best news we've got from him in a good while.

And now, onwards to a particularly venomous Anon I am still pondering the answer to.

[romanarose]

Shava Tova

Moon Boys x non-jewish!reader

Join my taglist! Masterlist Moon Knight master list

Summary: You go to Rosh Hashanah services in Chicago with your boys, and are happy to learn more about this part of themselves.

Warnings: Illusions to Marc's childhood, Judaism references I try to explain. Reader isn't Jewish and I'm aware my readers are from different religious backgrounds but I think in a majority (from what I know?) it's okay to attend services and participate in things like the tashlich. I try to keep it vague though, but only you really know what you are comfortable with so use discression!

A/N: I am not Jewish, I am a hopeful convert! This year was my first Rosh Hashanah and I was very moved by it all. I'm lucky enough to have gotten to know a friend there and her and her family are very welcoming and have been wonderful explaining this holiday and others and preparing me for Yom Kippur. That being said, I attend a reform temple. I do not know what denomination Marc is, but my evidence seems to point to conservative. Also, I know traditions are different country to country and group to group (Ashkenazi, Sephardi etc) all have different practices. I tried to stick to what I found the most universal in my studying but I am always ready and willing to be corrected. If there is something incorrect, please let me know!

****************

You always thought he looked so handsome like this, with his prayer shawl and kippah on… it didn’t hurt that he was dressed up for the holiday in a black suit. His Kippah and tallit were white, the traditional color for Rash Hashanah, and your dress matched him.

You’d gone to a few holidays with him, and tried to come to shabbat whenever you could, but today was special. Rosh Hashanah was an important holiday and the first time you were going with Steven, and the first time you were going to a service of any kind where his father was the rabbi.

You had met Steven last year in January and were thrilled when Elias invited you both to come to Chicago for the High Holy days, Rosh Hashanah, which was the start of the new year in the Hebrew Calendar, and Yom Kippur was next week and a day of atonement. Rosh Hashanah was a favorite of Steven’s so he would be fronting during services, although Marc would come to the front when people came to talk to him; people he had known in childhood. It was going to be a little difficult for Marc, but he’s said he’s made a lot of progress in recent years regarding his family, and you were so proud of him. 

Marc would be fronting for Yom Kippur, a holiday based around atonement for sins. Steven was the one who usually fronted during shabbat, he was the most insistent on staying observant, but Marc and Jake had their days too. Jake liked Purim, and Passover and Hanukkah had multiple days making it easy for them all to get time, Elias knew of all the boys, and although Jake was more guarded for Marc’s sake, Steven was thrilled to help Marc rebuild his relationship as he and Elias got to know each other.

You’d met Elias earlier this week, but were determined to make a good impression at services, following along as best you could and participating where was appropriate as a non-Jew; you were just so thankful they boys were sharing this part with you, and between meeting their dad, Marc showing you around his hometown and celebrating the High Holy Days with them, you felt like a part of their family.

Still, you were nervous. “Do I look okay?” You ask Steven as he adjusted his tie in the mirror.

When he turned to you, his face lit up so bright you couldn’t help but smile with him. “Oh, love!” Steven walked over to where you stood. “You look absolutely ravishing.” He wrapped you up in your arms and kissed your hair so he didn’t mess up your makeup, but his lips trailed down to your neck.

“Steven!” You giggle. “I’m not trying to look sexy, I want to make a good impression! Is this dress not appropriate?”

Marc fronted. “It’s beautiful, baby, so are you. Although you’re gonna wanna wear sandals.”

*

You tried your best to follow along. You didn’t know a lick of Hebrew except a handful of words you’d picked up during shabbat and from what Steven explained to you, but you were trying.

The music was beautiful and kept you engaged, and it was fun to see everyone tapping their feet, even if you weren’t sure when you were supposed to; you followed Steven’s lead for that. Elias has greeted you warmly when he saw you and Steven, and although you didn’t get the chance to talk much (as a rabbi, he had many people to welcome), Steven promised there would be time at home. 

During one part, Elias welcomed everyone to wrap their tallit around their neighbor, and when Steven wrapped you up in his tallit you really did feel like a part of his family, a part of him. You and him stayed wrapped up like that even after that prayer was done. 

“Steven?”

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s beautiful.”

*

After the service, the congregation walked a few blocks down to Lake Michigan for the Tashlich, getting into the sand beach. This is why Marc suggested sandals.

Steven handed you bread. “We’ll say a prayer, and then you think of your sins during the year and tear off a piece of the bread into the water for each sin.”

Jake fronted. “Although considering last night, we might need more than one slice.”

“Jake!” You whispered, gently smacking his arm before taking off your sandles, as Steven took off his socks and shoes. Most didn’t get in the water, but you wanted to wade, to feel the cool lake water on your toes. “We need to come back next summer so we can swim.”

Steven kissed you. “I’d love that. I love everything we do together.”

You then turn to focus on the task at hand, casting the sinful bread into the water to be washed away. You swore Marc had fronted during this cleansing, only confirmed to you by the way he reach out for you when you stumbled leaving the water.

*

Back at the synagogue, there was bread, honey and apples, Steven explaining it was meant to ring in a ‘sweet’ new year. It was delicious, and clearly the people put a lot of care into planning it. 

“This apple bread is BUSSIN” You practically moan as you devour it.

Elias’s voice behind you. “Thank you, I made that one, actually”

You gasp, turning around and covering your mouth in embarrassment. “Oh my go- uh, gosh. Shoot, sorry.”

Jake is laughing at your fumbling, but Elias powers through like nothing happened. “It’s alright, did you enjoy the service?”

“Yes! I really loved the… uuhh… Marc, baby, what was that part I liked?”

Marc’s hand was firmly clasped with yours; his stability when he was anxious. “The shofar”

“Yeah, the shofar!”

Elias nodded. “Marc ever tell you he was the ba’al tokeah one year?”

Marc leaned in to clarify that was what the person who blew the shofar was called.

You lit up at that, Marc didn’t play instruments so this was new information. “No he didn’t!”

“And he played Hamen in his Hebrew school play for Purim, have you ever been to Purim?”

Shaking you head, you squeeze Marc’s hand three times in reassurance, and he squeezes it three times right back. You knew any mention of his childhood was contentious, but he had mentioned no wanting to tiptoe around it anymore. “I didn’t go last year, we had just begun dating back then.”

“You’ll have to go some time, it’s definitely a fun one.”

“You gonna take me next year?” You smile at your boyfriend. 

He smiled right back. “I think that can be arranged.”

Elias excused himself, needing to see a few more people before the family service that afternoon, promising you had his attention that evening.

Steven stayed firmly by your side. “Are you having a good time? It’s not too much?”

You lean into him, happily munching on some honey covered apples. “I’m having a wonderful time.” Looking at him again, you place a hand softly on his cheek and smile when he keens into you. “I wanna know all the things that make you, you, and this is something obviously important. Thank you for inviting me.”

Steven bought you in for a soft, modest kiss, his lips tasting like honey and you were sure yours were the same. “Thank you for coming with me, and thank you for taking us as we are. All the good and bad.”

"Shana tova, Steven."

"Shana tova."

***************

SHANA TOVA TO MY JEWISH READERS! I know I'm late but after services I took like a 2 hour nap lolololol.

Also, I have another Rosh Hashanah fic! this was posted last year... can you believe ive been writing over a year?!?!?!

Love ya'll. Gotta admit I'm a little nervous bc posting Jewish content always makes the wierdos come out in my asks lol.

@fandxmslxt69 @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @whatthefishh @campingwiththecharmings @littlenosoul @missdictatorme @steven-grants-world @ahookedheroespureheart @runa-falls @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @pikapuff-316 @@myfandomlikesandstories

[djsadbean]

I would love to know more about any or all aus you have!! (Mainly the one where steven is a teacher) but any at all will do

Hawwoooo!!!

Teacher Steven is my favorite au rn 🥰 there’s so many things I wanna give him like a cute leather bag for all his books and paper and supplies. He’d have really nice stationery. Like REALLY nice. Maybe imported from Japan or Europe. I say imported as if Adam isn’t going to get the supplies for him himself lmao. I also like the idea that the office ladies know Steven as the teacher who’s students keep coming back to say hi and it’s getting to be a real problem xD they all just love him too dang much. He’s just one of those teachers you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Also everyone has a crush on his husband LOL

and i think adam would be such a teachers husband. like he'd be there building custom bookshelves and tables with steven and decorating the classroom before the school year starts. he'd occasionally send food for holidays and its to the point where this class has too many parent volunteers just so that they can eat adams cooking LOL and somehow stevens class keeps getting anonymous donations of amazo guy merch... (maybe amazo gets surplus from mr bigs company and he just gives it to the kids who will go feral for it)

i dont have too many ideas on the whole amazo guy leaving thing but i think for this au he'd go missing. and the au's genre turns from a happy slice of life to a mystery drama (thriller later on) lmao. i like to think this is where steven will go a lil cray cray unhinged with trying to find his missing husband and start doing experiments that are dangerous but no one is stopping him.

where is adam u may be asking: idk :3 if someone has a good idea ill add it. this is also where becky would come into the story. like the part between wholesome teacher steven and evil scientist steven/two brains

[girlwiththeobsessions]

love sick c. f.

this book is also published on wattpad. same username

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

iii. bonfire

part 1 part 2 part 4

ME, JEREMIAH, AND STEVEN WALKED INTO THE BACKYARD, where we found belly and conrad at.

belly in the pool, and conrad sitting, his feet in the pool, with a cigarette.

"first bonfire of the summer!" jeremiah cheered.

jeremiah was always like this. the life of the party, he could get everyone in a good mood. one of my favorite traits about him

i rolled my eyes jokingly. "oh my god, shut up. you've been doing this for the past five minutes."

"alright, we're totally taking my car." steven told us, then turned to conrad. "come on, man, we're leaving."

"can i come too?" belly asked.

"uh, no." steven said. "the moms are getting everything set up for you."

"see ya." conrad said to belly, then got up. "let's go, slowpoke."

"have fun with the moms!" steven teased, causing me to hit his arm. "ow!"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bonfire was pretty boring, it was like every other party, one or more guys hitting on me, to which i turn them down, and everyone drinking. i always try not to get too drunk, i get a cup or two.

i turned to conrad and saw him making out with his new girlfriend, nicole. she seemed nice, i talked to her a few times.

all of a sudden though, i turned around to see belly on the ground, in the sand. and steven was right next to her.

"belly?" i asked, confused.

"i thought you hated the red sox." belly crossed her arms at conrad.

oh god belly, don't do this.

"who are you?" nicole asked, politely, but also confused, i don't blame her.

"who are you?" belly shot back, rudely.

"nicole. conrad and i went to the deb ball together last summer."

"it was after you guys left to take steven to look at colleges." conrad added.

she's pissed. i know it.

"i thought you said deb balls are bullshit, and all debs are sheep." belly glared at him.

"i didn't-" conrad stuttered, then scoffed. "you're such a brat."

i know this looked bad, but he wasn't always like this. he could be really sweet to belly, like all the time. but i guess this summer was different.

"well, you're an asshole!" belly almost yelled at him.

"belly!" jeremiah ran up to her with a grin. "you came!"

i decided since her and conrad we're done with their small argument, i'd walk up to her too.

"belly!" i hugged her. "what are you doing here?"

"taylor told me i should come." she moved some hair from her face.

"of course she did." i laughed a little.

"i'm about to take her home." steven told me, and jeremiah.

"what?" jeremiah asked, his mood shifting.

"yeah, we're leaving, are you kidding me?" steven grabbed belly's arm.

"okay, steven, chill out." i took his arm away from belly. "she's fifteen, almost sixteen. i think she's old enough to at least be here."

"come on, go hang out with shayla or something." jeremiah told steven.

"let's go." shayla gave steven a look.

"fine.." he looked at belly. "just stay here, and don't talk to anybody."

"oh my god, go away steven." i lightly shoved him away.

"fuck you!" belly yelled as steven walked away, with both middle fingers.

"wow!" jeremiah laughed. "for one, i'm really happy you're here."

"jeremiah!" a girl called.

"okay, i will be right back."

something was telling me that he wasn't coming back though. belly crossed her arms and i wrapped an arm around her, both of us going to sit down.

"flavia?" a guy walked up to us. "hi, it's me, sextus!"

what kind of name is that?

"what did you say to me?' belly asked in offense.

"no, no, no. sextus. from the seventh grade latin convention."

oh.

the boy sat down next to belly, they seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, which caused me to feel like a third wheel.

"yeah, i'm gonna get up and do.. anything else away from here." i bluntly said and got up to leave them alone, it was getting pretty cold, and i wanted to go home.

i go to a corner by myself and get another drink, watching as everyone had a good time, but me, being tired, and bored.

i looked over at conrad, making out with nicole. i had no idea when that happened, he never mentioned anything about that, but then, also, what do i really know about conrad now?

belly was still talking to cam, steven with shayla, and jeremiah with those girls.

i get my phone from my pocket, and call taylor.

she picked up the phone instantly. "hey, what's up? aren't you still at that bonfire?" she asked.

"it's boring." i told her. "all people are doing is drinking and making out. but belly's talking to a guy here. i don't know his name."

"oh?" she smirked. "she told us this summer would be different."

"yeah, she did."

i look up and hear arguing, i see jumper and conrad shoving each other, nicole trying to stop conrad.

"what's going on?" taylor asked, still on the call.

"conrad's probably gonna get into a fight. he's arguing with this guy and they're shoving each other i guess." i responded, looking at them pushing each other.

"you gonna stop him?" she asked.

"it's not my business." i took another sip of my drink, just wanting to leave.

belly ran up to the two, but got elbowed in the face and fell to the floor, which caused me to roll my eyes and sigh. "taylor, i'll call you back."

i go up to belly and the guy she was talking to helps her up, right after the cops came, and the sirens were loud, giving me a headache.

"cops!" someone yelled.

me, belly, and that boy ran to the car, i really wasn't looking forward to getting in trouble with the police.

jeremiah and conrad were right behind us, jeremiah supporting conrad, helping him into the backseat.

"get in the car." jeremiah ordered. "watch your head. legs, legs."

"yes, i know how to get into a car." conrad sassed.

"belly, let's go, get in." jeremiah told her, as i also got into the backseat.

"cam can give me a ride home." belly softly said, then looked at cam. "right, cam?"

"yes, that's no problem." cam said.

"no, you're not getting in the car with a guy you just met." jeremiah defended.

cam stuck out his hand for jeremiah to shake. "i'm cam! cameron."

"your name is cam cameron?" jeremiah sassed him.

"just cam." cam chuckled. "but we actually, we know each other. seventh grade latin convention. so, like, we're not total strangers."

jeremiah scoffed. "okay, no offense, but no. belly get in the car."

"just get in the car." conrad added in from the backseat.

i wanted to say yes to her going, but i didn't want any problems or a headache from conrad and jeremiah disagreeing with me.

belly talked to cam for a little bit, gave him a quick peck, and got into the car. i was proud.

we started driving off, but a few seconds later, jeremiah stopped the car. "fuck! steven!"

steven.. i forgot about him too. "uh, i'll go with you." belly offered.

"okay." jeremiah looked at me. "watch conrad. i'll be right back." i nodded my head.

i looked out the window, trying to mind my own business. i felt conrad lightly touch my hair, stroking my hair.

i wanted to tell him to stop, that he shouldn't be doing this. "your hair's like a little kids. the way it's always so messy."

i didn't know what to say. what was he doing?

suddenly, snapping me out of my trance, we hear a knock on the window, conrad lets go of my hair.

"you kids been drinking?" a cop asks.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

[winniethewife]

Chain around my neck. (Moon knight system x reader)

Darling, you're the one I want (Steven)

Part 1 Part 2

Words: 547

After living together for just over a year and being together for two, she knew a few things to be definitely true. One, She knew that of the three, Steven was the one who respected the privacy of the other two the most. Two, Marc and Jake were most happy when Steven was happy. Three, She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with them. So after some scheming, carefully out of the view of dear Steven she managed to pull off an elaborate plan. She and Steven went to lunch at their favorite local Vegan eatery, and then to the local second hand book shop. Steven was enthused to be on such a great date day with his lovely girlfriend, but something was interesting, He notices that both Marc and Jake were keeping a respectable distance from the front of the headspace. Which was unusual. But he tried not to over analyze it.

“Hey, Steven lets go to our spot in the park, see the ducks.” She smiles at him, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Yeah…Okay.” He smiles at her and takes her hand as they walk down to the local park, there’s a little pond and there’s always lots of ducks, which they both enjoyed. Ducks were adorable. As they arrived she started to fidget with something in her pocket. Steven was curious.

“What’cha got love?” He asks looking at her, his eyes squinted.

“N-nothing Darling.” She tries to play it off until they got over to the bench. He eyes her suspiciously

“Now come on, why can’t you just tell me, you’re acting odd? And I haven’t a Scooby-doo what it’s about.” He stops in front of the bench where they normally sit She laughs slightly.

“All right Steven, you got me. I’m hiding something…” She pulls the black velvet box out of her pocket and opens it up, a gold band, she pulls it out and he can see the inside of the band inscribed with the initials of all four of them. “Steven, when I first met you, I thought Marc was pulling my leg. But over the last two years I’ve learned more about Egypt than I ever thought I would, discovered not all vegan food is bad and that you don’t need eggs to make birthday cake. I never want to take back a second of my time with any of you, not when I've read all of the books beside your bed, when I’ve watched every bad action movie ever made with Marc, or the car shows with Jake. I want all of it forever.” She gets down on one Knee. “Steven Grant, will you marry me?”

“Y-yes…Of course…I mean who wouldn’t!” He was babbling. Steven could barely think straight, the tears coming to his eyes, he never ever in a hundred million years ever thought this would Happen. She stood up and they kissed each other his hands on the back of her head as he held her close. His arms wrapped around her, like if he let go it would all disappear. When he did let her go, she slid the ring on his finger and smiles, she wipes the happy tears from his eyes.

“It's gonna be alright”

“Yeah it is.”

~

Series Masterlist

[little-worm-grant]

Steven's pov: Oh Sausages

692 words / Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Some lighthearted scatterbrained memories from the mind of Steven Grant and his formative years. Lunchtime edition.

Previously: Steven's pov: Happy Simple Normal Life (Not a necessary read)

Tags: Childhood Memories, Comfort, Fluff, Developing Friendship

The room was abuzz with the noise of conversations going on all around him. Steven didn’t focus on any, or anyone really. Too upset to be paying attention. Even if his favorite pastime was eavesdropping and pretending to be part of a conversation. Today he just wasn’t feeling it.

Staring down at his lunch tray brought back that queasy feeling. In front of him sat eight of the greasiest sausages he’d ever seen and a hamburger beside it. A handful of ketchup packets seemingly sprinkled around like they’d been tossed into the mix. He couldn’t remember picking out any of this stuff, and if he had he’d clearly been on one too many cold medications as of late.

Another boy sat beside him. His words startled him out of his own head. “Sup?”

Steven glanced up at him, unsure why he’d been picked. He didn’t have it in him to ask. “Think they’d let me change my dinner?”

“What’s wrong with your sausages?”

“I don’t really like eating meat.”

“Since when? Every day I’ve seen you pick up as many sausages as they’d let you. I’ve started to think you’re turning into one.”

“I’m not!” He bit back. Realizing he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat in the lunch hall and did this. Maybe he did eat sausages? His shoulders slumped. “I saw a video about what they do to the pigs. I don’t think I wanna eat meat anymore.”

“Oh.” His companion said. “Well here. Let’s switch. I never have enough for those burgers.”

The other tray was pushed his way. A fruit cup and some veggie sticks looked more tempting than his own tray. Steven didn’t go for anything immediately. Hands under the table pushed his thumbs together a little harder.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like. You don’t know me. But you’re giving me your food.”

“We see each other most lunches? I know you used to like sausages and you socked Tom for messing with me that one time. Good enough for me.”

The boy took his tray and used the plastic knife to start splitting the sausages to put on the burger. Using the packets of ketchup to add on top. Steven had to look away. Instead, he focused on the other tray. Picking up one of the baby carrots to toss in his mouth. He was starving. He pried open the sandwich to check what was in that.

“Oh, don’t eat that, it’s ham. You can pick it off though. Make a carrot sandwich or something.”

“A carrot sandwich.” Steven snorted and smiled a little more.

Lunch went down way better than he could have ever imagined. He’d never had anyone try to befriend him before. They talked about anything and nothing. He didn’t eat the sandwich but the fruit and vegetables should be enough to get him through the rest of the day.

Learned his friend had an annoying little sister and he wanted Steven to come to his house and help him with his chores. That involved eating as many raspberries as he wanted while they berry-picked, so he was definitely going to beg his parents to let him go. By the end of it, the lunch hall was looking much emptier and staff were starting to pack up. The bell rang and his friend got up to leave first.

“Good talk. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Yeah? I mean uh- yeah. Sure thing, sausage boy. Laters gators.” Steven said quickly, getting a laugh. Offering a quick wave before taking both their trays to the cleaning station.

He felt too awkward to have spent a whole lunch with the other kid to correct him now. Didn’t even know his name. It wasn’t like names were a big deal. People got his name mixed up all the time. Could have called him Bob and he’d have answered to it. He felt far lighter in his walk back to class. Excited for the rest of his day. Most of all, he couldn’t wait to go home and tell his mom and dad everything.

[octoling-wearing-gauges]

Favorite fictional ship, and reasons?

LMAOO I'm sure you already know but I'll answer anyway.

Lars and Sadie, these two have literally shaved years off my lifespan, I'm convinced. The funny part is I wasn't even all that interested in them on my first watch of SU. Some time later on they spontaneously became a hyperfixation and I still have no clue why they infected my brain out of nowhere, but here we are. I've essentially been Steven every watch since during all 20 minutes of their screentime.

As for my reasons for liking them, it's complicated. They're SUPER messy and I'm not gonna pretend they aren't. Even as a ride or die larsadie fan I don't necessarily hate the fact that they didn't end up together from a writing/realistic standpoint. They were too toxic in the beginning to be anything beyond FWBs at best despite their mutual feelings for each other.

Post-arcs I feel like they did have a lot of potential to still work out and be much healthier. But at that point I think Sadie had already moved on while Lars was in space, ironically on his way back to her, which may not have happened if Lars had just been honest about what he wanted with her. I of course love Shep as nonbinary representation and for the fact that they make Sadie happy, but I also think that ultimately Sugar's idea with Lars and Sadie was to contribute to the theme of the series as a whole. With life comes change, and learning to accept it whether we like it or not. Steven was sorta supposed to represent the viewers in a way with the introduction of Sadie's new love interest in Future, and his little meltdown over Lars and Sadie having drifted apart, his two friends that he was sure would get married someday. The silver lining being Lars' true love for Sadie in that, even though he's sad it wasn't him, he's glad that Sadie could be happy, showing his growth as a person too. He himself even found happiness in space with the Off Colors.

One could argue they were doomed since the end of Island Adventure though. If not for Sadie's TOTALLY NOT COOL actions, they might've been able to come out of that as a couple. Alternatively, maybe they weren't endgame the second Lars died on Homeworld. Sometimes immortal/mortal couples are a little too sad, which could've been the reason they "couldn't reconnect" as they told Steven. Or maybe Lars would've never kept Sadie for himself, as he genuinely thinks he doesn't deserve her.

Either way, I'll stop rambling and just say, gosh they're cute and check all the boxes for my favorite ships! I love them both so much and them being best friends secretly in love AND coworkers is just ugggghh. Even the angst/tragedy of them makes me love them even more. I'll always wish they worked out but I can get my kicks in fanon. What little we did get in a few episodes is more than a lot of people get with their favorite fictional couples, lmfao (my favorite one is Horror Club :))

BONUS!! to stay on topic w my blog rn I loooooove Greg/Rose. They are TOO precious just look at em!!!!!

[elcpsstuff]

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 11)

Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide then I thought - Arctic Monkey

A/N: You guys will be REELING with these next few eps.

Synopsis: Yns birthday, Frankie comes to town, a chaotic house party is planned and the start of what happened between Yn and Conrad.

—

Last Summer, Age 16

My birthday was my personal favorite part of the summer. It was in the middle of July and it wasn’t the end of the summer yet, it was right in the middle. Susannah always went full out for me and Belly but this was different, I was turning 16.

I walked downstairs to see everyone setting up for my birthday. I smile and once Susannah sees me her face lights up. “Yn!”

Everyone looks towards me and then immediately i’m engulfed with a hug by Belly and Steven.

“Guys! Put me down!” I yelp but everyone is just laughing. Steven lowers me and then Belly pulls me in for a side hug. Then Jeremiah comes up to me, “Happy birthday, yn! Not a baby anymore.”

“Jere, i’m 4 months younger than you.” I complain.

Once Laurel and Susannah wish me a happy birthday, I feel someone’s hands snake around my waist and pick me up. I smile at the action.

“Conrad! Stop!” I giggle but he doesn’t stop.

“Nope. Not today.”

Eventually he puts me on the ground and i’m brought into a real, front hug. He looks deep into my eyes, and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me.

“Happy birthday, yn.”

—

Present Day:

“YN!” I’m smacked in the face with a pillow and I immediately groan. I stumble around in my bed and start smacking the hair to find the person.

“Stop!” I hear Belly’s voice and then laugh.

“What the hell Bells!”

Belly’s face shows no remorse, and then a cocky little smile appears on her face as she rips the covers off from me. “Get up, now.”

Belly leaves my room and I feel like crying. I wanna stay here forever and not face the music anymore. My heart still lingers back to when Conrad carried me up the stairs a couple of nights ago. That’s what I remember.

I straighten my hair out and then put on a green lace crop top with jean cutoffs. After putting on some jewelry, I headed downstairs.

Everyone was up and about getting things ready and when Jeremiah saw me, he screamed, “Yn! Happy Birthday!”

There were screams and I couldn’t do anything but laugh. I was turning 17, it wasn’t that special?

Conrad didn’t say anything and just ate his food. I didn’t even care anymore. I wasn’t gonna pay attention to him.

“So,” Steven begins, “When is Frankie coming?” I roll my eyes at his remark because if it wasn’t obvious, Steven thought Frankie was cute. They had hooked up once last year and even though it was weird, Frankie promised me it would never happen again.

“Steven is basically like my brother, and I guess sometimes you think your brothers cute?” She reasoned.

I nodded even though I was weirded out.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Belly nudges my shoulder, “Hope you don’t mind, but Taylor’s coming back up again for your birthday, and the Volleyball tournament this weekend.”

My eyes widen, “Frankie and Tay Tay in the same room? Wow.”

Their hatred stems back to Belly’s freshman year. We were sophomores and they both liked Steven. Frankie had hooked up with him and Taylor saw and her earth shattered because I knew she liked him. Loved him even.

Frankie didn’t. It wasn’t in her nature. Taylor loved him.

“Happy Birthday, sweet girl.” Susannah says cupping my cheeks for a split second.

I smile in her embrace because it was Susannah. She had been really sleepy this summer and when I asked Laurel she claimed it was summer.

I guess that was enough reason in itself.

—

“Your gonna love mine.” Belly says while handing me a bag. When I pulled the things out, it showed this white dress with detail that could also be a romper. There was also a necklace inside.

“Bells! I’ve been wanting this for so long, how’d you save up for this?” She holds a hand to her heart, pretending to look offend.

“She’s right Bells, you don’t even have a job.” Steven chirps in.

“I have my ways.” She says through a smirk.

Steven then throws a Princeton shirt at me, the same thing he got Belly.

“Wow Steven, I love how diverse you’re gifts are.” I deadpan.

“Shut up! Your lucky I got you a present.”

“Okay, okay! From me.” Susannah says while handing me a little box. Inside was a wave necklace with little diamonds stuck to the wave. It was beautiful.

“Susannah.. this is amazing.”

“Just for you, my girl.” She says while kissing the top of my hair. Susannah was the light of all our lives, that was one thing that would never change.

Jeremiah got me a pair of earrings this girl he was talking to recommended, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Belly didn’t seem amused about the girl part.

“Conrad, give yn your present.” Susannah says while pointing to me.

Conrad doesn’t make eye contact with me and instead goes to stand up.

“I forgot.”

I thought he had already stooped low, but this was new.

It wasn’t that I wanted a gift from him, I wanted at least a “I remember your birthday.”

Even that was asking for too much.

Tears threatened to spill but I pushed them back while standing up, “It’s fine. I have to go— um.. yeah.” I rushed out of the room before the first tear fell.

Frankie was going to rip Conrad a new one. I wanted her to, she was good at that.

—

“Boo, Bitch!” Frankie says as I open my arms to her. I went down to the pier for a little before coming back to the house and waiting for Frankie.

“Thank God your here.” I say in a whisper as we walk towards the kitchen. All eyes immediately turned on us.

“Hey, Frankie!” Jeremiah says while standing up and motions to grab Frankies bags, to which she accepts. I could see their little flirting notion happening already.

“Such a gentlemen, Jere. Cant believe you don’t talk about him more, yn.”

I felt my cheeks get red and so did Jeremiah’s.

Belly and Taylor come down the stairs and the tension was already rising. Steven was caught between the thread.

“Frankie.” Taylor says in a taunting voice.

“Taylor.. that’s funny yn didn’t say you would be here?” Frankie looks at me with a glare and all I can mouth is a sorry to her.

“Hey, let’s go in the pool.” Steven suggests.

Frankie turns her head to Steven and sends a small smirk, “Great idea, Stevie.”

I could feel Taylor stare at them.

So here we were in the pool minutes later. Me and Frankie were talking on one corner while Belly and Taylor talked on the other. Jere and Steven were making their way in.

“So, where’s Mr. Bad Boy?” Frankie whispers while looking around.

“Probably smoking.” I said through a shrug.

“That little bitch needs to be ripped around, i mean forgetting his bestfriend.. or.. whatever you are to find birthday?” She leans in close for this next part.

“Although, there’s no better gift he can give you then what he gave you for your 16th.”

That’s when I splashed her uncontrollably because people were starting to look and that’s when I saw a Conrad. His hair was in his face and my heart fluttered because that was always my weakness.

“Conrad, you gonna join us?” Steven says as we all slowly gravitate towards the middle of the pool.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Come on Conrad, not even one swim?” Frankie speaks up. She said it in a menacing way. Gotta love it. Or hate it because he didn’t look amused and instead took his shirt off while getting in.

Damn.

“Stop staring.” Frankie whispers in my ear and I smack her shoulder.

“Hey, how about round two of chicken from Belly’s birthday?” Taylor suggests. I knew she and Frankie would just fight over Steven’s shoulders.

“I’ll sit this one out. After all it’s yns birthday so you go.” Belly says while making her way to the end of the pool.

Conrad and I caught glimpses at each other. We always used to be chicken partners. Belly watches us interact with our eyes when Frankie rushes over to Steven.

“Steven—”

“You suck at chicken, Taylor?” He looks at Taylor with wide eyes and she smiles while sloshing over him quickly. Frankie looks at me and mouths “sorry” before making her way over to Jeremiah.

I shake my head because Conrad’s looking at me, “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah we don’t. He says while swimming to the other side.

Wow. What the fuck.

Anger was laced in his words, and I wanted to sob.

—

“We need to go to a party tonight.” Frankie said raiding the kitchen.

“There’s nothing I know of” Jeremiah says through a sigh.

Susannah’s dinners were always great but this year I wanted something more. My birthday was a shit show last year, a lot of things happening that led to today. Maybe that’s why Conrad was so pissy.

A smirk comes up on Belly’s face as she leans on the counter, “What if we.. I don’t know, threw a party?”

I look at Belly, eyes wide, “The moms—”

“They’re going to a book party after dinner, figured we wanted to do something with each other.” Steven butts in.

It was a crazy idea, it really was, but why not? I’ve already made so many shut decisions, what was one more?

“Okay. We need alcohol.”

Conrad just stares at all of us like we’re crazy.

“4 people go the store, not me.” Steven yells.

“I’ll stay back.” Frankie says.

“Same.” Another remark from Taylor.

So i guess it was me, Belly, Conrad, and Jeremiah going to the store. How great.

—

“Okay, so how do we do this?” Jere asks us all as we pull up to the gas station.

“Easy, I have a fake ID.” Conrad says while holding it between his two fingers. Me and Belly give him a glance before I roll my eyes at him.

“What? What’s so funny yn?” Conrad looks at me in a taunting matter and all i could do is shrug him off. He’s so crazy. Crazy, Crazy, Crazy.

“What if jumper remembers that fight you guys had at the gas station?” Jere adds.

“At least he remembers things.” I mutter thinking about Conrad this morning. To my surprise a frown surrounds Conrad’s face as he opens the door.

Just like we thought, Conrad’s ID didn’t work. I smirked at the thought of being right. Sweet victory.

Belly groans, “Leave it to me, Connie.”

Connie.

Conrad just smiled as she got out the car, and in an act of obvious jealousy, Jeremiah followed her. It was just me and Conrad in the car. The boy who will always drive me crazy.

A sigh fell from his lips which only intensified my anger towards him. What does he have to sigh for? He forgot my birthday and makes me the problem?

“What are you thinking about?” I say in a mocking manner.

“Yn, grow up.”

“God, you really are the worst.” I say while pulling my legs to my chest. I can’t look at him because I don’t see the worst, I see the best.

Minutes later, Jeremiah and Belly came out with beers and slushees in their hands.

“No fucking way.” I say as Conrad just sits there in shock. I open the car door and Belly’s smirk is written on her face.

“How the fuck did you—”

“Easy, we just talked to them.” Belly shrugs and Jeremiah puts a arm around her shoulder. Belly smiled and that’s when I noticed it.

Had they hooked up or something?

“Okay, we’ll um— me and Conrad can load this.” I say awkwardly and Conrad nods his head. Jeremiah then comes up from behind me and puts a slushee in front of me.

“I know how much you like ‘em’”

“Is it—”

“Blue raspberry mixed with cherry? Of course yn. Nights and days on the boardwalks? I remember these things. ” He says while looking at Conrad. Damn.

Conrads face drops before continuing to load the car.

Jeremiah and Belly go to help Jumper with more things while I watch Conrad load the car. I got the feeling he didn’t want my help. It was silent, too silent and the air was thick. Conrad played with his hair and that’s when I knew he was getting ready to say something.

“I thought that was our thing.” He mumbles, probably hoping I wouldn’t hear. But I did. The confusion on my face then turned to a small smirk.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know.. like that.” He says, pointing to the slushy and then looking away. He was so nervous, and it was really hard in these moments not to love him. Everything about him. I didn’t say anything though.

Jealousy was beneath Conrad’s voice as he spoke, “Since when did you and Jeremiah do stuff together.”

“I don’t know, your not the only one who did stuff with me, Conrad. You don’t own me.”

I go to walk away but he pulls at my wrist and looks at me pleadingly.

“No, that’s— that’s not what I meant. Forget it, i’m sorry okay?” His fingertips danced along mine and I couldn’t even look him in the eye. He pulled his hand up to my jaw and I began to lean into his touch. It was all I wanted. Him to be there for me, so why couldn’t he?

Why couldn’t we make it work?

“Uh, sorry if i’m interrupting something.”

I push Conrad off of me and turn to see Belly and Jeremiah staring at us, eyes wide.

“Oh— um, no.. you weren’t.” I stutter my words and Conrad’s face has that guilty look. A face I had seen many times.

“Okay, then let’s go.” Belly says coldly.

Fuck.

Before I can walk away to try and explain, I’m pulled back once again to see Conrad with a smirk on his face.

While shutting the trunk, he says, “Your wrong, actually. I am the only one who did stuff with you.” He gives me a little stare before heading to the drivers seat.

My cheeks burned and my body felt like it was on fire. Had he just said those words? We’re they real.

He still thought about it, I should’ve gone with my gut.

This was gonna be a long fucking night.

—

A/N: I’ve been pre working on this one so It’s out earlier!! Y’all were half way through this series I’m sooo sad. Biggg drama next chapter 🙏🏻

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8

[beaker1636]

Love At First Meeting Part 1 - Ricky

AN: So I was asked for a fic where Ricky meets the reader and they have an instant connection, and they know they have met their person by @raydenrrobertson . I loved the idea and this is kind of where my mind went, like usual I made reader into a teacher because that is what I relate to... and I got off on a tangent about some of my favorite books. Anway, I got really into this idea and it sort of turned into a 2 part fic. I think its adorable and hope ya'll enjoy!

Part 2 will be about the concert and them admitting their feelings to each other!

Tag List: @tearfallpixie @darkhallcorner @lacktoesandtoddlerants

“Okay y/n, all you need to do is pick up the new Steven King book, get your online order for your class and leave.  Do not wander around or you are going to buy too many books,” you give yourself a mental pep talk as you step into Barnes and Noble, fully aware that you will more than likely not listen to yourself.  Honestly you could spend thousands here and not bat an eye if you had the funds to do so.  

Trying to keep yourself on course and not spend more money than you have you head straight towards the new releases, hoping to get a copy of the book that you came in for.  You can’t help but smile when you notice there was one last copy, reaching for it you accidentally bumped into someone else who was doing the same.  

“I am so sorry, here you can take the book.” You say instantly, embarrassed that you just bumped into someone's hand like that.  You don’t look up in an effort to hide your flushed face, not wanting your embarrassment to be obvious.

“It’s fine, I can order the ebook instead.  Here, you take it,” you aren’t sure why but you didn’t expect a man's voice.  

You glance up just in time to see him quickly throw it in your basket, thrown off when you accidentally make eye contact with the most beutiful blue eyes you have ever seen.  You force yourself to glance away, you don’t want to because they were drawing you in but you make yourself, it is just too awkward to sit and stare in a stranger's eyes.

“Well, thank you,” you respond softly, starting to walk off to another shelf to avoid any more of this awkward encounter with this stranger you somehow feel very drawn to.  The feeling confuses you, you’ve never felt this instant connection with someone that you don’t even know.

Unknown to you he is thinking the same thing about you and is currently debating if he should approach you again, and ultimately decides that he should and follows you to a new shelf.

“Hey sorry to bother you again, but you clearly have great tastes in books, do you have any recommendations?” he asks you, a hopeful smile on his face. “Shit, I should probably tell you my name.  I’m Rick.”

“I’m y/n, and sure! Are you looking for only horror or?  Just need to know where I should guide you,” you ask, now even more embarrassed by the fact that you are so excited that this handsome stranger is still talking to you… and he cares about your opinions?

“Pretty much anything honestly, I leave for a work trip soon and I always like to take some with me,” he responds.  And he is being truthful, honestly at this point you could probably hand him a little kids book and he would buy it just because it is giving him a chance to talk to you. 

And you are just as happy to have an  excuse to talk to him, even more so when it is about your first love, books.

“Absolutely, follow me!”

He can’t help but smile at you after you turn around with a huge smile on your face.  The pure joy written across your face has a warmth flooding over him that he can’t fully explain, but he loves that feeling.  He gladly follows you to another shelf.

“So this is my favorite fiction novel, The Storyteller.  Basically it is about this reclusive Jewish woman who works nights at a bakery and there is a new regular old man who comes around at night and they start to talk a little.  He eventually confesses to her that he was a  Nazi and he starts to tell her stories.  I can’t tell you much more without ruining it but it is amazing,” you say.  

Not thinking you grab his hand to go drag him to another shelf, you realize quickly that you grabbed his hand once the goosebumps start to spread along your skin.  You are completely taken off guard, why are you so comfortable with this man when you have never met? Why didn’t he stop you or pull away?  Shaking off the thoughts you stop in at another shelf.  

“This series is about demons, each book focuses on another one in the same family as they discover their own unique power that they have. There is some minor smut in it, so if you aren’t chill with that we can move on.  And right next to it is a really good vampire series.”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes as you continue to drag him around the store, showing him books in almost every genre.  You really are into almost everything, and he didn’t expect that.

“Is there anything that you don’t like?” He finally teases you, a smile still present on his face when he realizes he made you blush.

“Shit sorry, I’m rambling on aren’t I?  And yeah, westerns, I can’t bring myself to like westerns,” you say in a joking tone, giving a quick apology again.

“Don’t be, it's really cute seeing you get so excited about them…” he trails off for a second before looking at your basket. “What’s the Ashfall book in your basket about? I noticed you quickly threw it in while we were walking around.”

“Oh, a lot of my students are reading it and love it so I want to read it so I know what they are all into.  Basically a kid from Iowa is home alone when the Yellowstone supervolcano erupts, so it follows him as he travels to find his parents through all the ash and stuff.” You hand him the book so he can look at the back of it quick.

You take a moment to really look at him while he reads it, admiring his tattoos on his throat that you are able to see despite the leather jacket his has on.  You also can’t help but notice the way his black hair makes the paleness of his face pop, completely different than your type but you find him very attractive.

He glances up and catches you staring at him, raising an eyebrow at you.  Blushing you look down, you can’t believe you let him catch you clearly checking him out.

He takes a second to clear his throat before speaking up. “Sounds interesting, so you said your students, you are a teacher I am guessing?”

“Yeah, freshman English and creative writing, I also oversee the school newspaper and yearbook,” you answer truthfully. “They are all such great kids, I couldn’t ask for a better group than what I have right now.”

“I can tell you really love what you do, hey to thank you for your time, can I buy you a coffee from the little cafe area?” He is hoping that you will say yes, really wanting to get to know you better.

“Umm…” you glance down at your watch to see the time. “Shit, I would love to but I have to get going soon.  I am meeting my friend at a restaurant in 15 minutes. I’m sorry,” you say softly, a little upset that you have to say no.

“I get it, can we at least maybe exchange numbers? I’ll buy the digital version of that book so we can read and talk about it together.  I’d say in person but I leave for work in two days for a couple months.”

You smile at the shy expression that is currently crossing his face, he clearly is feeling a bit out of his element as well.  But you are glad that he seems to be even slightly interested in you like you are with him.

“Normally I would say no to  a stranger, so please do not make me regret this,” you joke as you pull your phone out of you pocket and hand it to him.

He hands his phone to you as well, both of you quickly typing in your numbers before you swap them back and both of you make your way up front to finish checking out, you letting the cashier know that you have an online order to pick up as well. 

She hands you a rather large box and finishes checking you out, thanking her before turning to grab your box and leave.

“Wait, let me help you with the box,” Rick offers from the checkout next to you.  Before you can protest he is already taking the box away from you.

You mumble a meek thank you, leading him to your car and opening the back door for him to put the box in for you before closing it and turning to face him.

“I’ll text you once I start the book,” he tells you with a smile, before slowly backing away from your car, hesitating because he doesn’t want to let you leave without talking to him.

“Sounds great, I look forward to it,” you respond playfully before getting into your car so that you can meet your friend… who you are now officially late for meeting.

6ish Weeks Later, May 12th

You let out a soft sign as you walk into your apartment, kicking your shoes off by your front door before setting the box you have full of book reports down on your table, thank god it is Friday!

You can’t help but think about Ricky, wondering if he is currently getting ready for a show, maybe meeting some fans.  You and him have talked a lot since meeting at the bookstore, and you have accepted that you have fallen for him.  You would love nothing more than to be with him once he gets home from tour, but have accepted that you are friends and that you can live with that.

You're watching your favorite show when your phone goes off with a message, smiling when you see Rick’s name show up on your screen.

You quickly check the message, seeing that he asked if you wanted to facetime as they have the night off and he wants to talk to you.  

“Yeah, can you give me a few minutes to change? I have just gotten home,” you send back, happy that he wants to talk to you.

You quickly get a response back telling you that you can make the call when you are ready, no rush.  You quickly set your phone own and run to your room to change out of your school clothing and into a band shirt that he sent you a couple weeks ago and a pair of shorts before you settle on your couch, making your facetime request.

Rick accepts your call right away and greets you with a kind smile. “Well, don’t you look nice in a motionless shirt,” he jokes. “You look exhausted though.”

“Joys of the end of the school year, I have almost 100 book reports to grade this weekend alone. I can’t wait for the 26th,” you say with a slight groan before you smile at him.  “I’m glad we have some time to talk tonight.”

All of the sudden you see Vinny walk up behind Rick before he stops, backs up and looks at you with a wave. “Hi, y/n, nice to finally meet yo - Ow, dude what the fuck?” Vinny asks with a groan, rubbing his arm where Rick smacked him. “What, I am assuming this is her.”

“This is why I usually call you from my bunk, my whole band is full of nosy assholes, sorry.” Rick says, a slight blush on his cheeks as he looks back at the camera to see you.

You can’t help but giggle at the scene in front of you. “Hi Vin, nice to formally see you.  And thank you for letting me know that Rick apparently talks about me,” you tease with a wink towards the boys.

“Okay, she has a sense of humor.  I officially like her,” Vin says, earning himself a glare from rick. “What?”

“Thanks?” you question, your mood is already better from watching the banter between the two of them.

Vinny walks off laughing and you can hear some of the others laughing as well before Chris asks Rick what he would want brought back for dinner, then it gets quiet on the bus.

“Don’t let me keep you from eating Rick, we can talk another time,” you say softly, feeling guilty that you are keeping him from grabbing some dinner with his friends.

“I wanted to talk to you, I already planned that Chris would just bring me food back to the bus after they all ate.  I can tell that you had a rough day, so talk to me.  What’s going on?” You can see him smile at you through the camera, instantly melting away some of your problems with that simple act.

“You are so sweet Rick, really,” you say before venting about your day for about 15 minutes, Rick listening and giving you little comments to make sure that you know he is listening to you.

“I can see why you are so tired after a day like that, at least it is almost summer break for you.  Is there anything that I am able to help you with?” he asks you gently.

“Venting actually helped a lot.  Honestly us talking always makes my day, you are the first official friend I have made since I made the move to PA other than the friend I moved with,” you say, smiling at the man sweetly.

“You never told me where you moved from… or why you and Marisa came out here?” He asks, curious. He could listen to you talk about yourself and get to know more about you all day.

“Iowa. Marisa followed her fiance out here when we graduated college, and because I am not close with my family she convinced me to come out here with her,”  you answer.

“When we finish this tour I will have to introduce you to some people so you have more friends out here,” he says, another warm smile gracing his face.

Before you know it the two of you have been talking for almost an hour and the boys are all climbing back on the bus, interrupting your call.

“I should let you go so that you can eat, thank you for the call,” you say, hoping that he can’t tell that you are sad to be ending the call.

“Wait! Ask her about the show before you forget!” you hear Chris yell from somewhere else on the bus.

“Oh yeah, our last tour stop is a hometown show on the 26th.  Do you want to come? You could watch from the side stage, meet some of our friends and the guys,” Rick rubs the back of his neck, visibly nervous about what your answer might be.

“Yeah, send me the information and I will be there,” you smile at him, happy that he asked you.

“Awesome, I will see you then.  Go relax, maybe take a nice hot bath, you earned it with the day you have had.  I will talk to you soon,” Rick says, his entire face bright and happy after hearing you say that you would go.

“Bye,” you say softly. “Bye guys!” you yell out extra loud so they can hear you.  You giggle when you hear several voices say goodbye as well before you sign out.

You decide to order take out and after it arrives you decide to take Rick’s advice.  Slipping into a hot bact while you relax, smiling when Rick sends you a text wishing you a goodnight.

You sigh before sending your best friend a quick message asking an important conversation. “Is it weird to be falling in love with someone I have only met in person once?”

[narwhal-butterfly]

Okay so the Christmas before covid hit my aunt got me the Nimona graphic novel and I loved it I still love it and when I tell you I squealed when I saw Netflix was making a movie, I squealed like I squealed, I was/am very excited

(Not part of this movie but I love that this movie is how I learned that the author of Nimona, one of the creators of Steven Universe, and the creator of She-ra(all of which I love) is trans, well looks like I'm going to go cover up their deadname on my book when I go back to my mom's house lol)

So y'all are getting my live reactions

(spoilers under cut off)

I have only watched 4 minutes into this movie and just EEEEEEEEE like they gave Ballister the biggest sad cat eyes you ever did see and he and Ambrosius are so gay and aasssahhhhhhhhfggggggdybeufbeusl

Okay I hate all of the knight (except Ballister and Ambrosius)

"You think I'm her favorite?" Yes ofc you are, you sweet little sad cat man

Eeeeeeee Ballister and Ambrosius are so fucking cute(this is probably gonna be 90% of this post lol)(edit: I was wrong)

Awww they're all cheering for him ❤❤❤❤ "Let a new era of heros begin with you" awwwww

OH FUCK SAD CAT MAN JUST KILLED THE FUCKING QUEEN WTF WTF WTF

OH SHIT AMBROSUIS JUST FUCKING CUT HIS ARM OFF WTF

OH SHIT WTF IS HAPPENING IT WAS SO HAPPY AND GAY AND CUTE

EEEEE NIMONA MY BELOVED BABY

Ooooh cool robot arm

EEEE baby has found one of her gay dads YIPPIE

"Sick arm. Did it bleed a lot? Did they let you keep the old one?" I love her, she is so fucking weird/pos

"-Then we rise like a firy phoenix from the ashes ro overthrow the government!" YESSSS down with the government!!!!

"This guy looks extremely punchable." "You're right. He is actually punchable." father and gender-fluid child bonding<3

They took his arm >:(

Aww he's going sad little cat mode;-;

Oh no Ambrosius thinks Ballister really killed the Queen ;-;

Baby is shape-shifting and I love her

Ballister sliding in on his face well Nimona is doing all of these cool tricks is the best thing ever

Nimona making her dad breakfast tacos and being unintentionally loud in the kitchen is just adorable and really shows how much of a kid she actually is

She tried to clean up the house well he was asleep awww(well more accurately she tried to make the house more of an evil lair but it's still cute)

"You're a mo-" "what? Marsupial? Mariachi? 🤌Meatball?🤌" I love her

Uh oh baby's got ✨️trauma✨️

"Why are you helping me?" Oh okay then;-; "Because I'm bored." Bullshit "And everybody hates you too." Oh ;_;

"But I'm not a girl. I'm a shark. *teeth click(×2)*" same

Ballister is such a tired dad

Ballister is such a tired dad (but now at a train station)

"He hates freestyle jazz." Pffff but also Awww

Ambrosius hair smells like lavender, alrighty then, but why are you smelling his hair Todd? that's a little fruity/hj

Uh oh the Director knows Nimona

The cereal ad is adorable lmao

"I just think it'd be easier if you were a girl." "Easier to be a girl? You're hilarious." I mean she's not wrong

Ooooh we're getting her backstory!!!! Oh nvm lmao, I love her lol

"And now, you're a boy." " I am today." Mood

Nimona attacking the Squire well Ballister's trying not to get caught as some lady's trying to sell him a car is just beautiful

He is so her dad and I love it

She's so trans and I love her

"Who would protect Todd?" No one, Todd sucks

OH MY GODS, IT WAS THE DIRECTOR WHAT THE HELL????

"Arm-chopping is not a love language!" Nimona I get that you are trying to protect your dad from an unhealthy relationship but in this case it is

Ambrosius no! babyboy do not talk to The Director, she is literally the problem!!!!

"The man I love,-" oh ;-;

Oh my gods, he's jealous of Nimona, no sweetheart, she is not your replacement, she is your new child

Uh oh babyboy's having a breakdown internally

Nimona defending Ballister is so cute

Also the director calling Nimona a 'miscreant, whispering in his ear' as she whispers into Ambrosius' ear is just 😗🤌*chef's kiss*

"It doesn't matter. You shouldn't need proof. You know I'm not a murderer." why must you hurt me like this? I just wanted to watch a movie ;-;

The lovers are fighting and Ballister defending Nimona and that's adorable but also heartbreaking

Nooooo, not the babies(Ballister and Nimona)

Oh my gods she turned into the fucking dragon from the cereal ad

Oh sweetheart, you're not a monster ;-;

"I don't what's scarier the fact that everyone in this kingdom wants to run a sword through my heart... or that sometimes, I just wanna let 'em." oh sweetie :(

Her dad is taking her away to somewhere better I'm crying oh my gods ;-;

YESSSSS AMBROSIUS STAND UP FOR YOUR BOY

Ma'am I don't give a fuck about your nightmares

Oh my gods she just stabbed him what the fuck, you bitch

Thank the gods it was just Nimona acting lmao but yes show the kingdom!!!

Oh my gods they're playing Monopoly I love them she is so his kid and he is so her dad

He sees to her reaction to him being freaked out about her breathing fire and then calls it 'metal' I just- I- eeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhh ;-;

Awwww they're dancing and she's a shark for some reason lol

Aww they're watching scary movies

Oh no baby's having a nightmare :(

"You're safe." Awww "we're home." AWWWWW ;-;/pos

Aww Ballister and Ambrosius are going on a nachos date

Awww Ambrosius believes him

Nimona did not set him up sir, the Director is lying to you, Nimona is a sweet and innocent baby who has done no wrong, well actually she's done a lot of wrong but I don't care she's a sweet innocent baby

Ambrosius ily but do not make him choose between you and his child

Uh oh, what's Todd doing?

Sir, no that is your child, stop yelling at her please;-;

Oh fuck it's Todd

Oh my gods are we getting Nimona's backstory? oh my gods we're getting baby's backstory

Awww her and Gloreth were friends <333

Awwwww she had a crush on Gloreth

Uh oh the other people are scared of her

Oh nooo, oh baby ;-;

Uh ooh

UH OH, baby went Godzilla mode

Oh no she's hurt :(

Anndddd Ambrosius is finally getting how fuck this is

Oh baby :(

"I don't what scarier the fact that everyone in this kingdom wants to run a sword through my heart... or that sometimes, I just wanna let 'em." Oh honey noo :(( ;-;

Oh thanks the gods, her dad stopped her

"I see you, Nimona. And you're not alone." Ooooooh eeeeeeeehh ;-;

YEESSSS BABY'S SAVING THE CITY!!!!

OH FUCK IS SHE OKAY?

OH FUCK HER DAD'S MAKING THE SAD LITTLE CAT EYES AGAIN

Oh, okay, I'm crying now

Oh I'm not okay

Oh my gods, oh my gods oh my gods, she's (maybe(hopefully)) okay

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH SHE'S OKAY!!!! THANK FUCK

[angel-of-the-moons]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know I loved "Small Surprises." I'm a single mom (boy mom tho) and its nice to read stuff with single mom's as the reader. Its very rare especially in a fandom such as this one. Its actually pretty accurate (to my experience with parenthood) and I loved Victoria she is precious. My favorite part was how they met Jake. That was so cute! I laughed very hard at the end with Khonshu! Excellent job!

Honestly the love that Small Surprises has gotten has absolutely floored me. I adore reading the comments and tags on what people thought of it! It makes my day when I get a blip and see what new things someone has to say about it 🥺

I had so much fun writing it and the dynamics they all began to work out with one another.

Especially Jake! I loved how Jake was with Diatrice in the comics and I just had to make sure Girl Dad Jake was there. He's the protector, the big brother, the guardian... And so much more! I love making sure to write that part of Jake in, as many people saw him in the show and just assumed he was some cold, calculating hitman on Khonshu's behalf. I wanted to show he is so, so much more than what little we saw of him.

Steven having a tiny friend to hyperfixate and stim with will be so good for him, and Victoria having someone who completely understands her will certainly help her come out of her shell with other people more, knowing that just because she's different, doesn't mean she's alone. Yes, Mama knows (and tries to understand) about her baby's tics and mannerisms, but she doesn't know about them, y'know? Steven sure does and he's more than happy to engage with her!

And of course there was Marc having all the reality fall down on him on what he/they started to mean to that sweet little girl when she called him Daddy. I imagine with everything he's been through, Marc is terrified of it all. He's worried that some part of his childhood could resurface in some way. That line of thinking will be addressed in the second fic, for sure!

And ah, of course! Khonshu. I had to squeeze him in there somehow. But don't worry! He won't be as bad as some people may be anticipating (like he is with the boys...)