#neon moon fic

[missmisnomer]

into a nightmare

inspired by the deliciously dark fic Black Shore by @landwriter but as so often happens in the creative process, the concept ran away with me and i could do nothing else but enjoy the ride. maybe i'll try again another time to capture the exact right mood.

anyways, enjoy

click for better quality istg tumblr i know it's big but you're killing me here.

[kraviolis]

*clings onto any and all characters who show both subtle or explicit signs of plurality from all of my various interests and hyperfixations consistently throughout my entire life* no no its all a coincidence im just fascinated with the concept i certainly dont relate to it haha

[coldshrugs]

22 or 42 for sensory prompts? 👀

neon moon

prompt: 22. Neon lights at 1:30am - thanks ash!! pairing: io / estinien (modern AU) word count: 1.3k note: takes place during the roommate years. io is dating mikoto. estinien is definitely not jealous.

At 1 AM, Estinien looks down into the half-finished beer he's nursed for twenty minutes, neon bar signs reflected on its surface. The glass is going warm in his hand as he stares at what's left of the dissipating foam, pretending to count the little clusters of bubbles popping as the minutes pass…

If he looks down, he doesn't have to look up. If he doesn't look up, he can ignore his friends (and hers, but the two groups congealed into one about a year ago) having a good time just on the other side of the bar, gathered around a pool table, trading shots in loosely formed teams. He won't have to grapple with the emotion that twists in his gut each time his eyes land on Io.

His previous therapist would tell him to name the emotion. Estinien makes a list.

Annoyance? Yeah, he is annoyed by the short, bubbly girl sticking to her side like a fucking shadow. He's annoyed at the way they can't seem to keep their PDA to themselves, arms draped over shoulders or around waists. They might as well announce their date to the whole bar and include a footnote about their intentions afterward.

Frustration, there's another. Everyone seems to like her—Mikoto—and he doesn't get it. Io is constantly going on and on about her: "Miko's so smart," "Miko's the sweetest," "Miko's so adorable I could die." Even Aymeric finds her charming, so he can't exactly complain to him.

Dread. Definitely dread, at the next time she'll be in their apartment (probably later tonight), all over Io on the couch, or coming out of her room in the morning to take up space in the kitchen.

Everything about this makes him itch. Better to keep to himself. It'd be a shame to ruin everyone's night.

At half past one, the music shifts from hip hop approaching vintage status, to slow pop ballads as someone new takes over the digital jukebox. Leofard takes a break from manning the bar and sidles over to him.

"You good?" His expression is difficult to read behind his tinted glasses, but something about it is uncomfortably knowing. "You don't look good."

Estinien rolls his eyes. "I'm good. I'm just… not that good." He gestures to his friends without looking.

Leofard glances over, and his irritating smirk looks incredibly punchable right now. Estinien doesn't problem-solve that way anymore, and besides, he's in no place to deny the company since everyone else is determined to be best friends with Io's girlfriend.

"You know," Leo starts, rolling his hand in front of him as he finds the words, "I'm still shocked you and Io are doing this platonic domestic bliss thing. Whatever works, right? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise."

"There's no trouble." He finishes the last of his room-temperature beer and tips the glass towards Leofard, signaling for another. "I'm shocked you're still wondering about Io's relationship status."

Leofard's shoulders shake with an easy laugh as he fills a fresh glass and pointedly slides it to Estinien. "No, I can clearly see what hers is," —he nods to the back of the bar, and Estinien makes the mistake of turning to look— "It's yours I'm talking about."

They're still bunched around the pool table, though the game has fizzled out. Y'shtola and Lucia are hanging onto every word of Urianger's glassy-eyed lecture. Aymeric and Thancred are talking animatedly between the tables. And near the wall, bathed in the neon light of a cheesy purple cityscape with a blue moon and yellow stars, Io and her girlfriend are pressed close and swaying lazily to the song.

Mikoto's head is against Io's chest, eyes closed and cheeks red from whatever she's drinking. Her arms are wrapped tight around Io's waist, and one hand even dips low into the back pocket of her jeans. Io's chin rests on her head, and she squeezes Mikoto's shoulders in a solid embrace. For some inexplicable reason, he swears he feels the squeeze around his own.

She's smiling a little. Tipsy, but genuine.

Estinien boils.

He turns back to the bar and downs half his beer, but it does nothing to douse the fire climbing from his chest to his face.

"What about mine?" He asks Leofard. "You're dating someone, and even if you weren't… you know it's a no."

"Oh, calm down, you prick. Your hunk of petrified wood couldn't handle me. I just wanna know what the deal is! When will you finally get over the "she just needs a friend uwu" bullshit and do the damn thing?"

He considers Leo's question, stomach churning with that sickening heat, and maybe he's right. Maybe Estinien left an emotion off his list.

Jeal—

"Estinien," the voice is too close to pretend not to have heard. And he can't do that anyway. Not to Io. "You're kind of worrying me, over here by yourself. Hi, Leo."

"Hey, Io." He nods, then drifts back down the bar. Still within earshot, of course.

"What's up?" Io slides onto the stool next to him, chin propped on her hand as she studies him. Her dark eyes catch every light in this place, and somewhere in that little reflection is his own dark anger, glaring back out at him.

He sighs. "Not feeling great tonight. I think I'm heading home after this." He raises the glass to her, takes a big gulp.

"Then I'll go with you."

"No, you don't have to—"

"I don't have to." And now she smiles at him, tipsy and genuine. "I want to. Let's go get in our pajamas, and we can share a huge glass of apple juice and watch tv on the couch."

"Io. You're on a date." He finishes the beer.

"Oh, right... I forgot those are once-in-a-lifetime events! Shit!" She makes a little show out of it, shaking her fist at nothing and melting into a fake sob against the bar, before meeting him with a straight (but not sober) stare. A smile begins to curl the corner of his lips and he fights it with everything he has. "Come on, let's go home."

It's almost 2:30 in the morning when they stumble into their dim apartment. Io remembered to leave a lamp on, thank fuck, and she finds the other light switches easily.

Among the familiar clutter and comfortably worn furniture of their home, Estinien returns to himself. Maybe it wasn't the company after all. It's been a long week, and he's tired. He just wasn't in the mood for a night out. That's all.

He changes in his room while Io does the same in hers. Ignoring the inviting presence of his bed in favor of finishing the night the way she suggested, he settles on one end of the sofa and begins browsing for a show they like.

When Io leaves her room for the kitchen, it's in a pair of his sweatpants and a strappy, cropped tank top. This is far from unusual, but tonight, when he felt the ghost of her touch as she held someone else, the sight of her in his clothes sends a new heat crawling across his chest.

He doesn't watch her join him on the couch, or look at her as they pass a single cup of juice and bag of chips between them. When she yawns quietly and nestles into the couch, stretching a leg across his lap, he doesn't risk a glance.

This is Leofard's meddling getting into his fucking head. No more, no less.

Io falls asleep and Estinien turns the volume down. He looks, only to make sure she wasn't disturbed. She curls toward the back of the couch, her face soft and shadowed, her hair slipping out of its loose ponytail. The heat may be new, but the rest of it—

Name the emotion? Absolutely fucking not.

[dilf-din]

Yeehawgust Day 10: Neon Moon

TLOU (Pre-outbreak)

WC: 1200

Characters: Joel and Sarah

Rating: G

Warnings: none, just some father daughter fluff, girl dad Joel is lethal

A/N: if you know me you know I’m a sucker for Sarah Miller. Have a little Joel and Sarah, it’s good for the soul. This was not proofread so pretend there are no typos please and thank you xoxo

“You look beautiful,” Joel beamed behind her in the mirror. Sarah gave a shy smile and readjusted one of the pink butterfly clips adorning her hair. Her lips sparkled in a matching pink gloss.

“You think so?” she asked nervously, smoothing out the front of her lilac dress for the hundredth time.

“I swear,” Joel smiled.

The sound of a car horn in the driveway pulled their attention downstairs.

“That’s Bekah’s mom,” she announced, grabbing her clutch off of her the bathroom counter and shoving extra lipgloss inside.

“Don’t forget your sweater,” Joel said, holding it out for her to grab on way downstairs.

“Will you be okay without me?” she asked in mock concern, mirroring a facial expression he had given her a thousand times over.

“Yeah, smartass, I’ll be fine. I rented a movie I know you won’t like.”

She kissed him on the cheek and flew down the stairs.

“Hey, ten o’clock?”

“Ten. Love you!”

“Love you, kiddo,” he called, hearing the door pull shut behind her.

Eighth grade formal. He couldn’t believe how quickly they had gotten here. Memories of missing teeth and socks that fit in the palm of his hand passed quickly through his mind as he fished laundry off of both of their floors to toss in the washer before dinner.

It wasn’t often that he had the tv to himself. Though Sarah was a pretty agreeable movie partner, there were some things she just didn’t love, war movies, dumber comedies. Joel had seized the opportunity to pick up a copy of Joe Dirt from Blockbuster on his way back from soccer practice that afternoon. The table was covered with its usual assortment of snacks, some milk duds and pretzels and a large pizza. He made sure to get extra pepper flakes for Sarah when she inevitably took the last slice before bed.

Joel laughed absently through the movie, dozing off a time or two sprawled across the couch. When the credits had finished and circled back to the title screen, the blaring music jolted him awake. He checked his watch to find it nearing 9:30 and figured he should head out before he fell asleep again. The school was only a few minutes away. He figured he would park and wait for her.

The parking lot had a slow stream of cars pulling around to the gym to pick up their kids and haul them home. Joel pulled his truck into a spot near the back of the lot, keeping his eyes on the entrance. There were a few kids mulling around the back of the building smoking cigarettes, and one had a skateboard. He was watching them when his eye caught a figure hunched over in the shadow of the tall oak tree in the courtyard. He recognized the outline of her curls and rushed to turn the ignition off. The air was bitter cold this late in the evening, and he knew her sweater wasn’t very thick. He found Sarah, shivering and sniffling, curled up against the trunk of the tree.

“Baby, what happened?” Joel asked softly, kneeling in the wood chips next to her.

“Dad,” she sounded surprised, her voice thick, “What are you doing here so early?”

“I figured I would just wait for you in case you were ready to go early. What are you doin’ out here?” he peeled his black zip up hoodie off and draped it over her shoulders.

She took a shuddering breath and leaned back against the tree.

“Well, Anthony had told me earlier in the week that he really wanted to dance with me, so when I saw him, we went up and I asked him, ‘Hey, how ‘bout that dance?’ and he laughed in my face. He spent the whole night dancing with Sarah P. instead. I guess he just wanted to make me feel stupid?” her voice wavered as a new wave of tears spilled over, “Well it worked. I’ve been out here ever since. I told Bekah and Addie I was going to the bathroom, but I didn’t want to be a downer on their night,” she sniffed loudly.

“Have you been out here all night?” he asked softly.

She wiped the fresh tears away and nodded.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your night too,” she choked out.

“The only person whose night got ruined is yours, baby. Want me to go in there and hang that kid by his toes?”

She laughed, a real one. “No, I just wanna go home.”

Joel offered her his hand and pulled her up. She brushed the stray wood chips from her legs and dress before taking his hand back in hers. It was so warm against her chilled skin.

“I’ve got the heat on in the truck,” he said, hurrying his pace to get her into the warmth and back home.

She was silent for most of the ride home, her legs folded up on the bench and tucked into his hoodie. Some old country station played softly in the background while her nimble fingers picked at the frayed ends of the strings hanging down. Joel didn’t push her into talking. He never had to. She always came to him when she was ready.

When Joel pulled into the driveway, he pulled it into park and let it idle for a while. Sarah made no move to indicate she was ready to get out, so he gave her a few more minutes, always content just to share his life with her.

“You know, it’s stupid,” she started, “I got all dressed up and I didn’t even get to dance, like at all,” she laughed. “We spent the first thirty minutes talking to people and hanging by the bleachers. No one was dancing, it was so lame.”

Joel paused thoughtfully, his head slightly turned to one side.

“Would you like to dance?”

She gave him a look to see if he was serious.

“Be a shame to let that go to waste. Look, Brooks and Dunn is on, your favorite,” he reached to turn the volume knob up and allow the beginning notes of Neon Moon to fill the cab.

Sarah laughed, “Yeah, okay. Let’s dance, dad.”

Joel turned the volume even higher before yanking his door open and jogging around the truck to open Sarah’s door for her. He offered her a firm hand down and she hopped onto the faded pavement with her bare feet.

“It’s cold,” she hissed.

“Well why’d you take your shoes off?” he laughed. “Here, take these,” he kicked his slippers off, leaving him in a pair of well worn socks.

They swayed for just a few minutes in the glow of the headlights, her head resting firmly against his chest. Joel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and pulled the hoodie higher on her shoulders to make sure she didn’t catch the bite of the wind.

Towards the end of the song, the words absentmindedly slipped out of him in a low voice.

There's always room here for the lonely

To watch your broken dreams

Dance in and out of the beams

Of a neon moon

[baubeautyandthegeek]

I think of two young lovers a-running wild and free//I close my eyes, and sometimes see//You in the shadows of this smoke-filled room – Kyle/Nica Pierce, Nica Pierce/Tiffany Valentine, Kyle/Nica Pierce/Tiffany Valentine, past Andy Barclay/Nica Pierce.

A/N: Day 10 for @yeehawgust . Another western AU for Child's Play/Chucky.

“You look lonesome…” Kyle’s voice breaks into Nica’s thoughts, her sigh soft as she looks at the other woman. Blondes. She had to go and love them. She’s quiet for a time, watching Tiffany amongst the regulars. Nica knows she shouldn’t care, this is just Tiffany’s job after all, flirting and carousing with the locals, but it still hurts. She can remember when she was Tiffany’s one and only. “I could always ask her to come bartend?” The offer, kind as it is, has Nica shaking her head, her laugh low, rusty, almost sad. “She’d drive you insane and we both know it.” Kyle’s smirk is soft then, warm, almost caring. “Not if it means you stop lookin’ like someone shot your dog.” “Someone did, remember?” Nica teases, glancing at Kyle. She’d never really meant to end up between Tiffany, a hard, headstrong, woman who knew what it was to use her sexuality as a weapon, and Kyle, who seemed to not even know how strong and beautiful she was, even now.  Still, she had to admit, running into the woman who shot the damn coyote she’d kept around for no real reason, had been a blessing in disguise… she may sit under a neon moon, drinking her sorrows, but at least she’s not alone in her lonely home anymore. “Coyotes ain’t dogs.” Kyle retorts, pouring her a new drink as she drains the first. “ ‘Sides… at least you know your Tiff ain’t gonna get pawed at too much with us here.” Nica’s sigh is soft then, her voice low and warm. “Our… Tiff. She’s fine anyhow.” She murmurs, drinking a little more scotch and risking a sideways glance at Kyle. “You really haven’t figured it out yet, huh?” “What?” “It’s not just me and her no more… we both care ‘bout you too.” Kyle shrugs, moves to leave her to her drink and Nica’s hand closes over both wrists, quick as a shot. “I mean it, Kyle. You belong with us.” “Maybe I do… still gotta serve these drunks.” Kyle teases, pulling away and hiding her truth under a laugh that’s rough and husky as she serves the other barflies, leaving Nica to drink and think. There’d been a time, Nica knew, that they ran free. Tiffany making her money where she could, how she could, Nica knocking over a bank or two on their way through town. They hadn’t ever meant to settle, not here, not like this and certainly not with a barkeep so downtrodden she almost faded into the walls of her own bar… but they were here now and she had a choice to make. Settle, let Tiff ply her trade and keep Kyle company on the bar, or turn tail and flee like she used to.  Andy and Chuck, she thought, they’d have known what to do. Chuck had died rescuing Tiffany from an overzealous preacher and Andy… she could still hear his voice sometimes. She knew if she closed her eyes and just listened she’d see him in the crowded, smoke-filled bar. She does, for a second, indulge in it, then sighs as she opens her eyes. There’s no point mourning someone dead and less mourning missing men. She had work to do. She drains her glass, slipping the money to Kyle along with a ridiculously large tip and slinks from the saloon bar, catching Tiffany on her way out. “Stay with Kyle tonight, I’ll be back…” She needs, for her own sake, to figure where Andy went, at least Kyle’d keep Tiffany safe as she looked. Well, she hoped so anyway. She finds her answer late, near dawn, the man’s body hanging from a noose. He’s got a message pinned to his chest, aimed to the thieves who’d been robbing banks. ‘Hung for thieving.’ She’d laugh if she could, instead she retches, moving to the side of the worn tracks, gulping air like it means something before wiping her eyes with worn shirt cuffs and heading back into town alone, she’ll slip wearily between Tiffany and Kyle on getting home, sleep off her hangover and work on forgiving herself… somehow. Andy had been her person for long as she could remember, before Chuck, before Tiffany and long, long before Kyle. Now she was here, held safe between two blondes who thought her safe, a good person… she only hoped she could be.

[waywardwizzard]

The Neon Moon festival was in full swing by the time Serenity's crew arrived.

Mal stalked through the crowded market square, wondering why he agreed to this- Oh, wait, he didn't.

At a stall somewhere behind him, he could hear Zoë and Wash debating over a slinky dress, the seller sounding more and more frazzled the longer they stood there.

Shaking his head, Mal scanned the overly colourful sea of tents for the rest of his crew when something on a nearby stall table caught his eye.

It was a delicate golden bracelet with dark red garnets dangling from every second link, tiny leaves curled around the stones. Before he could stop himself, he was at the stall, handing the seller a platinum piece he couldn't really afford to let go of.

"What you got there, sir?" A voice suddenly asked next to him and Mal hid the bracelet in his coat pocket, turning to face Zoë with a confused smile.

"What where?"

She gave him an unimpressed look, glancing at his pocket before pulling her wayward husband closer, a golden paper bag hanging from his arm. Mal decided he didn't want to know and started walking. The three of them walked deeper into the market, the crowd thinning out slightly.

"So, Mal," Wash said after a while, "Zoë said you got someth-"

There was a sudden buzzing noise that sounded exactly like angry bees, drowning out every other sound in the central market.

Mal and Zoë shared one look before they both hit the floor, dragging a complaining Wash with them seconds before everything around them exploded.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Author's note-

I... got no excuse for this one. I'm sorry. This is a slight sequel to my Yeehawgust prompt and I'l write the whole fic one day. Maybe

[saradika]

Aesthetic Dividers for Fics & Masterlists

edit: as of 11/20/23 this will no longer be updated - please go to @saradika-graphics for requests & new resources!

AESTHETIC - CELESTIAL

— Stars & Space | Sun

— Stars & Space | Moon

— Stars & Space | Planets

— Stars & Space | Purple

AESTHETIC - FLORAL

— Bees/Honey/Flowers

— Cherry Blossom / Peach

— Dark Romantic Florals

— Daisies

— Fall Florals

— Cute Flowers

— Pastel Floral

— Pastel Green & Blue Florals / Navy Blue

— Red Poppies

— Roses/Chains / Gothic Roses

— Sunflowers

AESTHETIC - HEARTS

— Black Hearts

— Hearts

— Heartbeat Dividers

— Lilac Hearts

— Pastel Blue Hearts

AESTHETIC - OTHER

— 50’s Neon Diner

— Art Deco (Blue Version)

— Beige Daggers

— Black and Grey

— Black & Red Grunge

— Blue & Yellow Dividers

— Blue & Orange Feathers

— Christmas & Winter

— Citrus

— Cottagecore / Dark Academia

— Cowboy (part ii) (dark) (space)

— Cute Pastel

— Ghostface

— Halloween

— Maroon & Purple

— Mothman

— Ocean | Part ii

— Orange & Green Dividers

— Pale Pink Dividers

— Pink/Coquette

— Pizza/Spaghetti

— Purple, Pink & Blue Dividers

— Rain/Storm

— Ravens/Moons/Roses

— Red/Black Scroll Work

— Red & Yellow Dividers

— Smutty | Pastel

— Taylor Swift (Folklore)

— Vampires

— Warm Grey Dividers

— Werewolves

— Windows/Webcore

FANDOM

— Across the Spider-Verse | Hobie

— Alice in Wonderland

— Boba Fett (Star Wars)

— Clone Trooper/Star Wars

— Fennec Shand

— FNAF

— Lightsabers (Star Wars) / Part 2

— Silmarillion/Tolkien & Lord of the Rings

— Sith-Inspired Dividers (Star Wars)

— Stardew Valley | Part ii

✨(Everything was made in and using Canva - so definitely check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Here, here, here and here are some tips on using the app / making graphics if you haven’t before!) (and credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

[veethefreeelf]

BAEKHYUN Fic Recs

M - Mature (minors DNI) / F - Fluff / A - Angst / HpE - Happy Ending

None of these works are mine, I tagged all the authors, make sure to go to the authors page, like and reblog their works

Messy - two-shot, 14K - by @bobohu4eva - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Good to You Series by @bobohu4eva again because ALL of their works are brilliant and you should read all of them -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Pink Lace Series by... again the brilliant @bobohu4eva -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Sweet Tooth Series by my fave Baekhyun writer (if it wasn't obvious already) @bobohu4eva -> M / A / F / HpE

Ecstasy Series (ongoing) by @bobohu4eva (yes, me simp) -> M / A / F

Deflowered - two-shot, 15.3K - by @bobohu4eva (guys... just read their whole work) -> M / A / F / HpE

Better Than Revenge - one-shot, 20.1K - by @byunified - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Enchanted - one-shot, 21.1K - by @byunified again because they write Baekhyun beautifully -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Redo - one-shot, 17.7K - by @byunified because they are an amazing writer obviously -> M / A / F / HpE

Snapshot & Sequels - one-shot, 3K - by @icequeenbae - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Six Phases Series by @exosmutfactory - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Guys My Age - one-shot, 6.7K - by @bvidzsoo - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Be Mine - one-shot, 18.4K - by @bvidzsoo again because this one is pure gold -> M / minor A / F / HpE

neon moon - one-shot, 6.7K - by @kyungseokie -> M / A / F / HpE

sweet - one-shot, 5K - by @baekluvie - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

candy stars - one-shot, 5K - by @gyukult - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE

drive safe - one-shot, 12.4K - by @gyukult (go through their Masterlist pleeeeease) -> M / A / F / HpE

Incubus: Coming of Age - two-shot, 10.1K - by @byuntrash101 - full Masterlist -> M / HpE

PARAPHILIA mini Series by @byuntrash101 because their works are amazing -> M / F / HpE

Baekhyunie don't leave me Series by @byuntrash101 again because they are an amazing writer -> M / A / F / HpE?

Deal with it - two-shot, 10.6K - by @byuntrash101 (THEY ARE AMAZING) -> M / minor F / HpE

The Damnation of a Saint - one-shot, 11.4K - by @byuntrash101 (I keep telling you to go to their masterlist) -> M

The Heir - one-shot, 4.5K - by YES AGAIN @byuntrash101 just go to their page -> M / A / F / HpE?

Silver - one-shot, 6.5K - by @lucyjay -> M / F / HpE

The End of the F**king World Series by @noonachronicles - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Trapped in his Maestoso Series by @oohfluffy - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Black and White Series by @baekingpancakes - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Cataclysm Series by @whimsical-ness - full Masterlist -> minor M / A / F

I Give Up Series by @soobadnoonecanstopher - full Masterlist - this was the very first Baekhyun fic I read and it has a very special place in my heart -> M / A / F / HpE

Touch it for Real Series by @soobadnoonecanstopher again because all of their series are absolute gold -> M / A / F / HpE

Come Back to Bed - one-shot, 1.3K - by @writemekpop - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

For Me - two-shot, 13.8K - by @spacequokka - full Masterlist -> M / minor A / F / HpE

Moon Rise - one-shot, 3.5K - by @spacequokka again because they are an amazing writer -> M / F / HpE

his one and only - one-shot, 8.1K - by @cosmic-railwayxo - full Masterlist -> A / F / HpE

Prohibited - one-shot, 13.9K - by @kpopfanfictrash - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

Imminence - one-shot, 10K - by @kpopfanfictrash again because they are amazing and they have a very diverse masterlist, check it out! -> M / A / F / HpE

Begin - one-shot, 4.1K - by @kpopfanfictrash again cause they are amaziiiiiiing -> M / A / F / HpE

loyal Series by @charmedbaek - full Masterlist -> M / A / F / HpE

[alt-vera]

I NEED MORE JOEL FICS PLSSS

— neon moon ⁀➷

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

joel miller see’s a face he hasn’t seen in years. one he thought he’d never see again.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

♡ | joel miller | 1.9k | ❛ neon moon - brooks & dunn ❜

warnings: drinking. praise. oral (f!recieving). soft!joel miller. dom undertones. unprotected piv sex. age gap. mdni.

❝ i think of two young lovers, a-running wild and free, i close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows of this smoke filled room ❞

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

JOEL HAD THOUGHT IT WAS JUST HIS IMAGINATION AT FIRST.

　It’d happened before. He’d a seen a girl with curly brown hair, and thought it was Sarah, but it was just his cruel imagination playing sickening tricks on him. This, though, this was no trick of the mind.

　There you were, sitting on a rugged barstool in the bar of Jackson. You were the last person Joel expected to see when he’d come to get a drink after a long day of labouring Jackson’s newest endeavours, but there you were. In the flesh and not even ten feet away from him.

　He cautiously approached you, as if in disbelief. You looked so much different from when Joel had knew you, just a young girl barely out of high school, a babysitter for his daughter, before the world was engulfed in flames.

　You sensed a strangely familiar presence burning holes into your back, and your head turned slowly to meet Joel’s gaze, your mouth falling agape before it inched into a smile.

　“Wow,” You breathed out, “Tommy wasn’t kidding. It really is you.”

　Your name left Joel’s lips in a tone of wariness, as if you were going to disappear within the smoke that surrounded the two of you, a grim phantom of his past receding into thin air. But you didn’t. You stayed in your seat, not moving a muscle as you stared at him, elation clouding your tired eyes.

　“What’re you doin’ here?” He asked. He didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but years of fighting for his life had hardened him into a shell of the man you knew. Still, your smile didn’t falter.

　“Tommy found me on patrol this morning, and recognized me. I’d been wandering for a few months, and they offered me a house and a teaching position once the schoolroom’s are built.”

　A teacher. That’s what you were going to go to college for before hell on earth struck. Joel had thought everyone’s dreams would’ve been broken after all these years, but here you were in front of him, achieving yours after an eternity of waiting.

　“He said that’s what you were helping to build, actually,” You continued, and your head tilted with a teasing air. “Guess even in an apocalypse, you can’t escape the contracting business, huh?”

　Joel couldn’t help himself as his lips upturned, and a faint chuckle grumbled within him. It felt so humane to be with someone he knew again, someone who knew the real him before the world calloused his personality.

　He took a seat beside you, a bottle of beer sliding in front of him. He took note of you, of how your body shifted more toward him, of how your fingers tapped softly on the hardwood bar top to the rhythm of the music spilling out of the jukebox in the corner.

　As the two of you talked, the sky grew darker and the moon reared it’s head through the windows of the bar. You tiptoed around the subject of Sarah, and Joel assumed that Tommy informed you of her demise. You were careful not to say her name as the two of you discussed the past.

　“I can’t believe you’re here,” Joel admitted after a few beers, the booze burning away his carefully built walls like fire licking a wooden fence.

　“Y’know, I looked for you before we left Texas,” He continued, voice growing sullen and quiet. You watched as his eyes sank into his drink, staring as if his eyes could melt the bottle surrounding his beer. “Couldn’t find ya.”

　“I got out of dodge as soon as the police started showing up on every corner of campus,” You replied softly, resting a reassuring hand on Joel’s forearm. You felt the muscle tense under your touch. “I didn’t know you’d come looking for me.”

　“Well, you were like family,” Joel said, and you swore you heard him mutter under his breath, “Probably still could be.”

　“Well i’m here now,” You said light-heartedly, attempting to steer the conversation away from such sad topics. The past was the past, and neither of you could change that.

　The more the two of you drank, the more it wore you down, and it began to feel like nothing had changed. As if you were still his daughters babysitter who left a plate of dinner for him stashed in the fridge every night, and he was the dad who’d change your oil and fix your jewellery box when the hinges rusted.

　“Y’know, i used to have such a crush on you,” You admitted with a drunken laugh, and you watched Joel’s eyes widen in skepticism.

　“I don’t know how,” Joel chuckled, “Every time you saw me i was sweaty and covered in sawdust. Probably stunk.”

　“Well, I like a working man,” You commented, taking another swig of your beer, and Joel noticed how you words were still in present tense. It wasn’t liked, it was like.

　Your eyes glanced to the clock on the wall, and you sighed, downing the rest of your nearly empty bottle. “I better get going,” You rose from your seat, and Joel mirrored your actions. “Early start tomorrow. Gotta start preparing lessons and a curriculum for the rascals.”

　“I’ll walk you home,” Joel offered, and you accepted his proposal with a gracious smile.

　It was summertime, and Joel was thankful for the cool night breeze to save from the heat of the day. It raised pleasant goosebumps on his skin, listening to the bugs rustling and singing in the grass.

　Joel couldn’t help how his eyes tracked you, the moon illuminating you in a spotlight, your body dancing through the beams as you walked towards the small house Tommy and Maria had put you up in.

　You stopped on your porch, and Joel stood close to you. Dangerous close. You breathed him in, and tipsy words left your lips before you could register what the hell you were saying.

　“You still smell the same,” You breathed, dulcet tone coating your words, “Sweat, and wood, and beer. That’s what i liked most about you.”

　“Liked?” Joel questioned, taking an indulgent step towards you. “By the way you were talkin’ earlier, it seems like you still have a thing for me.”

　“Maybe i do,” You whispered, and Joel’s calloused fingers came to dance along your jaw, tucking under your chin to gently lift your face up to look at him. Your face was ruddy with vulnerability and tipple.

　His lips met yours, coaxing and honeyed with lust. He pressed you up against the wall of your house, the solidness behind you pushing you closer to him until your chests were touching. His hands found your waist, one creeping down to cradle your ass through your jeans. You melted into him.

　No one was out this late, but still, you were new to town and didn’t want to chance earning a bad rep before you could even introduce yourself. “Inside,” You breathed, and your voice was euphonious to Joel’s ears.

　He craved this, he craved you, and the two of you barely made it up the stairs and into your bedroom before Joel was on top of you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans as he slid them down your legs.

　Positioned between your spread legs, his tongue licked a stripe through your underwear. You moaned, fingers weaving through his silvery hair as he chucked the barrier off and down your legs, licking again as his nose tickled your clit. He flexed his tongue, allowing it to enter you before curling it and allowing it to drag out of you and up to lap at your clit.

　“So sweet, baby,” He cooed, “Just like i knew you’d be.”

　He continued to fuck you with his tongue until you bucked against his face, stubble scratching the plushness of your thighs as you rode your high out against him.

　He chuckled as your hands left his hair to cover your face in embarrassment at your actions. He carefully peeled your fingers away from your face, smiling. “C’mon baby,” He flattered, “Let me see that pretty face. I haven’t seen it in s’long.”

　He rose from between your legs and crawled over you to straddle you, pressing velvety kisses to your cheek, peppering down your neck until they reached the hem of your tee. He peeled it off of you, unclipping your bra as well, kisses turning into soft licks and bites as he took one of your buds in his mouth.

　You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh as he continued his actions

　“Joel,” You mumbled, fingers tracing the bottom of his shirt. “Please, i need you.”

　Those simple yet enticing words were enough to have Joel kicking it into high gear, sloppily chucking his clothes onto your bedroom floor. He pumped his cock in his large hand, precum spilling into his palm as his sonorous voice spoke, “Are you ready, darlin’?”

　You nodded as his tip slipped between your folds, collecting the slick Joel had left there earlier. He tutted, “Words, baby. Use your words.”

　“I’m ready,” You replied wantonly, words being broken by strained breaths as he pushed himself inside you. Even with the prep, the stretch still caused an ache deep within your core as his head kissed your cervix, but you fought the pain and focused on the pleasure as he began slow thrusts up into you, hips meeting your own.

　A lewd moan left your mouth as Joel began to pick up speed, fingers coming to deftly circle your clit to guide you through your euphoria.

　“Wanted this for years,” Joel groaned, words spilling from his lips uncontrollably, “Knew it was wrong to want such a pretty, young thing, but you were so damn cute in your cutoffs, talkin’ about changing kids lives and all that.”

　His accent became thicker the more he fucked you and the closer he came to cumming.

　“Knew you’d be such a good girl,” He continued, and another pleasured moan graced his ears, “Just like ya are now. Takin’ me so well like this, lettin’ me fuck you after not seein’ me for so long.”

　His praises were the straw that broke the camels back as you clenched around him, swallowing him whole as you came.

　“Good,” He breathed out, fucking you into overstimulation, “So fuckin’ tight for me, baby.”

　You met his thrusts with shaking legs, and you felt his seed spill inside you, coating you and filling you, creating a creamy ring around Joel’s base as he fucked you until he physically couldn’t.

　With a shaky breath he pulled out of you, sweat beading along his hairline and sheerness covering both of your bodies. He rose from your bed, pulling on his boxers before disappearing into your house, coming back seconds later with a wet washcloth.

　He gently wiped the mess between your legs, trying not to laugh when you twitched from the friction against your overworked clit. He put the cloth on your bedside table, handing you your tee and watching you modestly pull it over your naked form.

　He laid beside you after that, pulling you into his arms and tenderly stroking your hair, pressing kisses to your temple.

　The neon moon peeked at the two of you through your bedroom windows, coating you both in it’s glistening beams as you stayed like that, holding each other and catching your breaths, unsure of what tribulations the next day would bring as the moon would eventually dance away.

[lovebugism]

“ Sneak out and come watch the stars with me. ” this gives me such Steve vibes. maybe something cute and romantic? I’m in my feels hahaha

thanks for your request, angel! please enjoy xoxo — steve takes his bad-at-feelings gf on a romantic outing. it goes exactly how he expected. (mean-ish!reader, fluff, 1.8k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The forest behind the suburbs of Maple Street is sparse and full of green. Illuminated by a blue moon and blinking yellow fireflies, Steve holds your hand and leads you through thin trees and tall grass. 

You follow behind him and try hopelessly to keep up with his longer strides. A cat-like grin pulls at your mouth as you joke, “You know, when you said you wanted to sneak out and watch the stars, I thought that was a euphemism for something.”

Steve looks over his shoulder at you. His honey eyes squint as he flashes you a lopsided smile. “Is that really how low you think of me, sweetheart?”

“I just forget how much of a romantic you are sometimes.”

Your sneakers scuff against the dirt when Steve stops suddenly in front of you. He takes a step closer, smoothing his broad hands up your bare arms. His sparkling touch leaves prickling goosebumps on your skin. He stops at the sleeves of your t-shirt, long fingers warm where they sprawl below your shoulders.

“That’s exactly why I have to remind you then, huh?” he singsongs, bending softly at the waist to kiss you. 

You’re too busy rolling your eyes at his cheesy remark to meet him halfway. His plush lips brush the very corner of your mouth.

A couple more steps, and the woods break off into a clearing. A black lake sits in the middle of it all, sparkling under neon moonlight. The other side is lined with thicker trees in a more velvet shade of green. It’s lush, filled with the buzzing sounds of nightlife, and smelling heavily of summertime.

It’s the kind of beauty that takes your breath away. Sort of like the pretty boy beside you.

Steve catches you staring, and you cower. You purse your quiet smile to the side of your mouth when he flashes you a similar grin. Your eyes narrow accusingly, “How did you know this was back here?”

The boy’s beam ebbs instantaneously, mourning the fleeting moment of pure adoration. His fingers wrap gently around your wrist, tugging you closer to the clearing. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just sit, yeah?”

Before you can complain about your good jeans getting dirty, he strips himself of his summer jacket and spreads it on the grassy bank below you. He shoots you a knowing look in the meanwhile — full of twinkling eyes and quirked lips — as though anticipating your protest. You meet it with a halfhearted glower.

“How many times did you come out here with Nancy Wheeler, then, huh?” you tease as you descend onto the polyester fabric.

Steve huffs when he plops down beside you. “You’re an absolute glutton for punishment, you know that?”

“I just like making fun of you—”

“Of course you do.”

“—And also, I think it’s really funny you took me to a spot you used to take your ex,” you conclude with a giggle sputtering from your mouth. Your laugh is high and airy, like it’s actually funny to you and not a confession of misplaced jealousy. 

It’s the only reason Steve smiles softly back at you. “Shut up,” he grouses quietly despite his grin. “I just wanted to get out of that house, alright? It was getting way too loud in there.”

The Wheeler’s were having a weekend get-together. There was no real occasion for it other than the want to decorate their big house and bigger backyard for the summer season. You figured that was the sort of thing rich people did whenever they got bored.

The afternoon was pretty tolerable, but the kids only seemed to get more wired as the night progressed. You could only tolerate the yelling in Mike Wheeler’s basement for so long.

“We can’t stay gone for too long,” you tell him as you settle into his side.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder to press you further into him. The side of your arm rests against his ribs. His cologne embraces you the same way he does, engulfing you with its clean musky scent.

The boy laughs. “Why? ‘Cause everyone will think we’re screwing?”

“No,” you drawl with your own breathy giggle. “Because I promised Holly we’d do your makeup before bedtime.”

A beat passes. You tilt your chin to stare up at the boy beside you. You met his deadpanned expression with a mischievous grin. 

“No, you didn’t,” he challenges with narrowed honey eyes.

“I absolutely did— right after I promised we’d play Princess and Dragons with her, actually.”

Steve’s brows pinch. “Since when do dragons wear makeup?”

“…You’re the princess, Stevie.”

“Right,” he concedes, licking his lips and trying his best to feign annoyance. He’s too full of adoration for you not to smile, though. His pink lips quirk in a crooked smirk as he shakes his head at you. “You’re lucky I love you, you know that?”

“Oh,” you hum. “You love me, huh?”

That phrase was a new one. Well, between the two of you, anyway. 

You’d said it first — blurted it, really — at breakfast a few mornings ago. Steve griped that you beat him to the punch, right before he said it back to you. He said he’d wanted to say it for a while but could never find the courage to. You haven’t quite let him live it down.

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

“Well, that just sucks for you.”

“Does it now?”

“Mhmm,” you answer wordlessly as you lean in closer to him, your mouths mere inches apart. You can smell Coca-Cola and chocolate ice cream on his breath when it entwines with your own.

“And why’s that?”

You grin when your noses brush together. “‘Cause I love you back.”

“God,” he grimaces quietly. “That’s disgusting.”

You nod. The tip of your nose brushes the structured bridge of his. “Absolutely repulsive.”

Your lips lock hardly a second later. His plush pink ones press against your own in a lingering peck. 

You didn’t know how much you missed the feel of him until now. You hadn’t felt so starved for him all day, but now that you finally have him against your mouth, you feel like he’s bringing your withering figure back to life.

You sigh against him. You feel the smile on his mouth at the feeling of the heavy breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. Steve pulls back, then kisses you deeper. His plush lips part to open yours. His tongue slips between them, warm and wet. The irregular pattern of the pink muscle juts against your own. 

You vaguely feel his hand curl around the back of your neck before you feel the dewy grass pressing against your back. 

A soft gasp is inhaled through your nose when the boy unexpectedly lays you back. Your eyes flutter open while your lips continue to be so ardently kissed. You squirm at the feeling of your shirt dampening and wonder if the icky feeling is worth being so close to him.

Before you can answer, you gasp again. This time through your mouth.

Steve pulls back, frightened that he’s hurt you. His wide chocolate eyes dart over your face, checking for any sign that something might be wrong. “What? What happened?”

“It’s Hercules!” you answer.

His brows furrow. “It’s what?”

“Hercules! The constellation! You can only see it in the summertime—” you explain, pushing your hands against the boy’s shoulders. “—Get off!”

Steve huffs and rolls onto his back, propping himself on his elbows. You rise once more with your chin pointed towards the black sky. You spare him a brief glance. A smile pulls softly at the corners of your mouth when you see the boyish pout on his face.

“You’re the one that wanted to watch the stars, remember?” you remind him.

“I wanted to watch you under the stars,” he corrects in a monotone. “That’s totally different.”

“Just c’mere and look.”

He sighs but abides you anyway. When he sits up beside you again, you reach over his lap for his left hand. You rest your pointer finger next to his and trace the blinking constellation along the velvet blue sky. “These are the legs, see?”

Steve squints. “Sorta…”

“It’s kinda like he’s running, right? And those are the arms.”

A beat passes. The boy’s puzzled gaze flits between you and the night sky. “…Is that it?”

You squint at him. “What do you mean, is that it?”

“He has no head,” he explains as if you haven’t noticed.

“…Okay?”

“How can it be Hercules if he doesn’t have a head?” the boy scoffs like it’s some unsolved travesty.

“Because it’s a constellation, Steve,” you giggle.

“Well, it looks a lot more like a crab than a Hercules, babe.”

“There’s already a crab constellation. It’s Cancer.”

Steve shrugs, pink lips jutted softly out. “Well, they got it all backwards.”

“I’ll let Ptolemy know,” you quip with the loving roll of your eyes.

“Who?”

“Ptolemy. The astronomer,” you answer in a monotone. You’re met with a pretty face contorted in confusion. “Did you not learn anything in science class?”

Steve thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nope.”

You laugh at the honesty of his answer. “We literally had Ms. Cook’s together. Twice. Astronomy One and Two.”

“I only took those classes ‘cause I knew you’d be in them,” the boy scoffs.

“Shut up…”

“I’m serious— well, Astro One, I just got lucky. But then, senior year, I dropped chemistry for Astro Two so I could spend my last semester with you.”

Your heart swells at his words, warmed by the thought that he’s been whipped for you just as long as you’ve been for him. 

You’ve never felt truly worthy of his love. Not now. Not ever. 

Girls like you aren’t supposed to end up with guys like Steve. 

Of everyone he could’ve chosen, he chose you — the girl who finds affection close to impossible basically all the time. The girl who throws out mindless insults easier than I love you’s. But he loved you, anyway. 

Of everyone else — it was you.

“Is that why you spent five months sitting behind me and annoying the absolute shit outta me?” you joke instead of telling him you love him so much you could cry.

“I prefer the phrase wooing the shit outta you,” Steve corrects with his head tilted to his shoulder. “But, sure. Yeah.”

You shake your head with a fond smile hinting at your lips. “You’re disgusting…”

“Well, it worked,” he counters, a proud grin on his face. “Here we are, two years later, watching the stars while you lecture me about Pa-moley or whoever the fuck.”

“Ptolemy,” you correct, smiling just as wide as he is.

“Right,” he hums back. His chocolate eyes sparkle when he looks at you, twinkling with stars and adoration. “I can’t imagine being out here and getting smart-mouthed by anyone else.”

Through burning cheeks, you quip “That’s because no one else can do it as well as I can.”

Steve beams. “Exactly.”

[krethes]

Wednesday WIP

@tracingpatternswrites tagged me and I've finally got stuff to share! Yay! From Neon Moon, Chapter 8

"Sure you won't be too tired? Saddle sore?" Sirius scoffed and spun around to face Remus, free hand in his hip (but definitely not letting go of Remus's hand with the other). "Saddle sore. Pfft. Please. I'll bet I've been riding longer than you have, cowboy." Remus laughed as he stepped into his boots at the door and graciously helped Sirius with his own when Sirius refused to let go of his hand. "Bold claim, princess." "Princess!" Remus cringed. "Not good?" Sirius rolled his eyes and made a show of inspecting his fingernails. "Not accurate. I'm so far removed from the line of succession, it's not even on my radar." "What?" "Yeah, I mean, I'm technically titled and all but we'd have to go back at least four generations to find some tie to the Windsor-" Sirius stopped, taking in Remus's shocked face. Shit. He'd been so caught up in this…this with Remus, he'd forgotten that most people weren't literal nobility. "...Not good?" Remus blinked and shook his head before dipping in for a kiss, more reassuring than anything else he could have said in that moment. "Just unexpected. Not bad. Your highness." "It's your lordship, actually. Well, at least until my grandfather and father die. Then it's your Grace."

[angel-of-the-moons]

Alone Time

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem! Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Fluff, smut, oral (m + f! receiving), protected sex, PiV sex, Jake has a certain kink, unprotected sex, every good mama deserves to have a train run on her, body insecurities, affirmations, porn with a big heaping slice of life, could this be considered cucking? Or voyeurism/exhibitionism?, broken condom

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

This fic is connected to "Small Surprises" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.

A/N: I had to do it lmao.

Taglist: @simp4-fictional-men @autismsupermusicalassassin @princessakirika @mochimoqa @pimosworld

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Your life was a strange one, now. You'd gotten used to the looming, musty-smelling god that lingered in your apartment and spent time with your daughter; you'd gotten so used to having the man--er, men--in your life at your side when you wake up in the morning.

You'd especially gotten attached to their little fishy friends!

But, hey, you wouldn't change it for the world. Hanukkah and Christmas came and went, so did New years. Poor Victoria, she was hiccuping and crying because the fireworks were too loud and terrified her, prompting Jake to immediately cradle her, and even Khonshu moved to slam your windows closed to muffle the sounds. (Although you lectured him about cracking one of the panes in his haste.)

And now, Valentine's Day was coming up, and you weren't entirely sure what to get for your boys.

Victoria, bless her tiny, sweet, adorable little heart, cut out some messy, colorful, and craft-herpes (glitter) covered hearts to each of them, doodling various things each man liked. Steven's heart was brown with gold glitter and had little Egyptian designs scribbled here and there, Marc had a few sports items drawn on his white and blue-glitter heart, Jake had a bright yellow and white heart, a crude scribble of his car drawn on next to his name.

She even made one for Khonshu. It was gaudy. Bright, neon pink, purple and blue glitter all over, and had small drawings of birds on it, with a crescent moon with a smiley face in the middle. His face couldn't emote, but you couldn't help but grin like an idiot (and had to elbow Steven in the gut to keep him quiet) as your innocent daughter handed her little art project to her "Cranky Bird Grandpa 'Shu". You were positive his pride took a blow when he accepted it in front of the two of you, but the way he gingerly held the little gift silently told you that he did, infact, like it.

Why Khonshu's personality seemed to shift around you and Victoria, you were unsure. You'd never asked, and to be honest you kinda didn't wanna know. You just chocked it up to, hopefully, Khonshu realized his existence didn't have to solely revolve around justice and violence. That some of his more forgotten attributes could be indulged in; such as him being a protector and a healer.

One time, Victoria fell and scraped her knee at the park, bawling as blood trickled down her delicate little leg. Before you or Marc could leap to your feet, Khonshu was there (invisible to others, of course) and whispered something to her. She repeated it, and by the time you two got there, Khonshu was gone, disappeared into a puff of mist, and Victoria was no longer injured.

Marc had asked her, worried, about what Khonshu said to her, the moment you got into the car. You were vaguely paying attention, at first, distracted at how his beard had come in, and he'd stopped being so meticulous about his appearance that his usually raven locks and beard (the one Jake insisted they grow out) were peppered with silver.

"What did he say, Vicky?" Marc asked.

"Jus' said that I had to say the words." Victoria answered vaguely, playing with her little scarab plushie in the back seat.

"What words, baby?" Marc asked, feeling a nervous sweat break out on his neck. You had to place your hand on his thigh to snap him back to reality.

"The words!" Victoria said, pursing her cute little face, her nose all scrunched up at his lack of automatically knowing what she meant. "He said, I gotta say the words to ask for help, so he can fix me!"

"...Wait." You turned in your seat to look back at her as you approached a red light, Marc watching her warily through the rear-view.

"Honey, do you mean a prayer?"

"Duh!" She scoffed, like it was obvious. "'Shu used to fix people all the time, he says. But nobody says the words no more so he can't. I had to say em so he could do it!"

You and Marc blink at each other, mulling over what your daughter just told you, a thick silence hanging in the air that was only cut through by her munching on some veggie sticks (all carefully arranged by color, of course. The red ones tasted the best, so they went first!).

"....I forgot he could do that." Marc murmured softly, looking back at the road as the light turned green.

"Yeah!" Victoria peeped. "'Shu says he can't do it no more cause it's hard. It's easier to find bad guys than fix people 'cuz they don't him ask for it no more."

You watch as Marc's jaw tenses and a look of confliction creases his brow.

Living under basically forced servitude tends to blind one to any benevolence their "benefactor" may have possessed at one point.

...And apparently still possessed. He'd never thought--none of them had--to consider that Khonshu never dispatched them to heal anyone, because A.) Nobody prayed to him for that anymore. B.) It wasn't in Moon Knight's abilities to heal anyone. And C.) Evil was just so much easier to root out.

The rest of the ride home was quiet; Marc, Jake, and Steven's headspace abuzz with this revelation.

You, meanwhile, still stressed out over what to get Marc, Steven, and Jake.

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"I still don't trust him." Marc muttered stubbornly.

"I understand why, and you have your rights to." You sigh softly, kneading the muscles in his shoulders. You were sitting behind him on the bed, his legs draped over the edge. "But you have to admit, he's strangely... sweet to Victoria."

"I don't trust it." He huffs again, his eyes closing as your thumbs work a particularly stiff knot between his shoulders.

"I know. But believe me, if he tries anything..." You mutter as your brow creases and you apply just a bit more pressure, earning a groan and a strained chuckle from Marc.

"Shit, I think the old man is more scared of you than what the Ennead might do to him if he fucks with the sky again." He says. "You and that broom."

You grin and press yourself against his back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you slip your arms around his midsection, feeling the mix of softness and muscle, there.

"Well... me and my broom are fearless companions." You chuckle.

Marc stutters out a short huff as your fingers brush the trail of hair running beneath waistband of his sweatpants. They were doing very little to conceal the growing erection that throbbed against his thigh.

Marc tipped his head and looked at the monitor next to the bed, showing that Victoria was happily snuggled in bed, curled up with her arms squeezing Digger the scarab plush and snoozing peacefully.

Thank god that little girl usually slept like the dead...

"So..." You say, leaning in to nip at his ear as you comb your fingers through his curls, small water droplets clinging to the strands. Your nails scraping against his scalp, he groaned.

"You don't gotta work for the old man tonight." You say, kissing down his neck and to his shoulder, feeling how goosebumps formed beneath your soft lips; your hand slowly sliding up from his happy trail to his chest.

"Ay, hermano, you don't say yes I'll fuck her for you." Jake's voice rang out.

Marc grunted at his unwanted offer and demand; usually when it came to being intimate with you, the two of you worked out a system, setting up times, etcetera. And when spontaneous things like this happened, Jake and Steven would leave you and Marc alone, and the other ways around.

But of course Jake would occasionally peek in to tell Marc different things to do to you to get the best reaction, or hell, sometimes he'd cheer Marc on like a weird perverted, one-man cheerleader.

"Hmmm... Jake?" You chuckle, taking a small bit of his muscle in between your teeth playfully.

"Fuck. Yeah." Marc gasped, your palm sliding slowly back down until it was all the way under his sweats, stroking his throbbing cock leisurely. He could feel Jake linger, just barely... he would be a spectator tonight, it seemed.

"Ah, should've known. Steven's a good boy and tends to leave everyone alone when it comes to one-on-one time." You chuckle, placing a small kiss to your bite mark. They'd be gone by the time he suited up next, but you knew all the boys had preferred little "badges" to wear.

With Marc, he liked your bite marks, your hand occasionally tugging on his hair. With Steven, it was hickeys and lipstick stains. With Jake, it was scratches on his chest and back, maybe a bitten lip.

However you were all careful not to make them too obvious. The one time Victoria brought up a hickey she spotted on Steven's throat, you swore you saw steam puff out of his ears and his brain explode.

"A-A bug bit me, poppet, th-that's all!" He told her.

"Oh! Okay." She replied to him, not questioning it further, content to go back to playing with her dolls. (She had mummified one of them while you two were making lunch, which concerned you because Khonshu helped so it was as frighteningly accurate as it could get on a chunk of plastic...)

Marc groaned and he bucked his hips up into your touch, his hand falling to where he felt yours beneath his pants, encouraging you.

"Damn, baby." He huffed, already feeling beads of precum begin to drop from the tip of his dick.

You tug his head to the side and kiss him hungrily, your lips connecting as your tongues sloppily danced with one another.

"Your mouth?" Marc hissed.

You nod with a hum slipping around him and to your knees on the soft carpet at his feet, your eyes dark and hungry as he lifted his hips, letting your soft, delicate hands pull his sweats all the way down.

"We honestly may as well stop getting dressed right out of the shower." You chuckle, biting your lip as you pump his cock with your hand, your cheek resting on his thick thigh while you give him a teasing look.

You press your thumb against the weeping head of his dick, sighing. "....because either way, one of you boys get wound up and we wind up naked again."

"Can't help it around you." Marc groaned as you ran your tongue up the underside of his length, tracing the pulsing vein there.

"Clothes just fly off on their own when you're around us, baby."

You snort and roll your eyes, giving his tip a little love nip before licking the large drop of sweet-salty fluid off it, and popping it in between your lips and swallowing him down.

"Fuck." He growled as you bobbed your head, sucking tight and hollowing your cheeks while he petted your damp hair shakily.

"So fucking good, baby."

You moan appreciatively, squirming as you feel your panties start to squish, your clit throbbing almost in tune with his pulse as you take him deeper.

You gag a bit when he gets a little overzealous, and he pulls you back, panting and brows pinched up in concern. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a teeny bit of a warning next time, honey." You giggled before pulling him back into the hot wet cavern of your mouth.

Marc's eyes rolled back in bliss as your tongue stroked him, his lips snagging his teeth beautifully as his eyes drift to the monitor again to check on Victoria.

Dead asleep, but this time with a little foot poking out from her blankets.

He made a soft whine as the plush of your lips squeezed his sensitivity flesh, your teeth grazing just after, providing a singular myriad of sensations.

Gods, your mouth was downright sinful. The first time you gave him a blowjob, he thought he died again, his orgasm slamming into him like a runaway train.

Afterwards, you sheepishly admitted that sometimes, the only way your ex would get intimate with you while you were pregnant was oral, because he said the sight of your stretch marks made him uncomfortable, and he had his concern for "the kid".

Yeah, it was more likely because he was already having sex with your friend on the side by that point.

But with your boys? They loved whatever they could get, and treasured every millisecond of it. Sometimes a little too much; Steven had a habit of cumming before he even properly fucked you, especially while spending time between your legs with his tongue to the point you were worried he smothered between your thighs.

So many times he'd stain the insides of his boxers and pants, just from eating you out.

Marc groaned, his cock jerking in your mouth to signal you he was going to cum; and you hummed around him greedily, sucking harder to milk him of whatever he could give you.

"Fuuuuck--" He breathed hard, the first spurt of cum shooting out and coating your tongue; his taste heavy and thick and oh-so addicting as you happily drank him down, swirling your tongue around as you pulled off.

Marc chuckled breathlessly and collapsed onto the bed, his arm resting over his face, "Shit... I swear you could suck the soul outta one of us."

You slowly crawl up his body, looking down at him as you support yourself with your hands and knees with a cheeky grin. "That good, huh?"

Marc leaned up and kissed you softly on the lips. "That good."

His hands find their way up your thighs to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he bunched your microfiber sleep shorts beneath his fingers. "Now lemme return the favor."

You squeaked and laughed as he flipped you on your back, his hands almost ripping your buttons on your shirt open to get to the skin beneath, licking and placing open mouth kisses as he moved down to your breasts, his tongue flattening over your perked nipples as his hand slides down to your tummy.

You squirmed a bit, you always do when he palms your squishy lower half. After having Victoria, you didn't "bounce back" like those gorgeous mothers online always seemed to. Your belly was stretched, visible purple marks that faded to an almost silvery sheen over time, but you just couldn't lose the weight that came with your pregnancy.

Your ex didn't like your obvious signs of your growing child within your womb, but your boys? Gods, they adored it. Because it was proof you carried that sweet, adorable, curious little girl that you all loved so much; your body keeping her safe and warm until she was ready to greet the world for the first time.

"Baby." Marc said, looking at you, his dark eyes soft and loving as his flattened his calloused palm over your squishy tummy.

"C'mon... I know that look."

"I... I can't help it." You mumble as he plants feather-soft kisses over your eyelids.

"You need to stay off those mom forums." He joked. "They're full of photoshopped women, or women who can afford surgery to hide a previous pregnancy."

"I know..."

Marc leaned down, kissing his way down your tummy, planting more and more kisses over each and every stretch mark, until his lips reached the waistband of your shorts.

"You're fucking gorgeous, baby. Every scar and bit of baby fat included."

His fingers tapped your hips and you lifted them so he could all but rip them down your legs, practically licking his chops as his eyes landed on your soaked and puffy folds, a soft patch of hair on your mons.

He kissed his way down, further, his thumb spreading your lips and labia, smearing your slick around as his lips formed an "o" around your clit.

You moaned deeply, hand tangling in his mass of untamed curls as his fingers toy with your entrance; tracing it but not sliding inside.

"Marc!" You bucked impatiently.

"So greedy." He chuckled, the vibrations from his voice sending jolts through your clit, making you jump and yelp.

The way his beard tickled and scraped your cunt and thighs had your head swimming, your slick soaking the salt and pepper hairs on his face.

When his fingers finally plunged in, your toes curled and your hands gripped your blankets tight.

"Marc." You mewled.

Marc used his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back as his index and middle fingers curled inside your tight, gummy walls; giving his tongue unfettered access to wrap around the sensitive nub.

You hips tilted and your back arched, and you had to bite down on your lip to stifle the cries that wanted to come from your mouth. Your clit was sensitive, it always was; but god forbid your baby daddy ever give a fuck about that.

Marc and the boys? Oh, they loved to abuse that knowledge every time you two were intimate. Especially when they were using their mouths on you.

"Shit, we need to find a babysitter Vicky's comfortable with." Marc growled in between open mouth kisses to your sweet lips, his fingers curling in the most devilish way.

"Wanna hear how loud we can get ya."

You hiccuped softly in an effort to control your breathing and stuttering voice as your orgasm started to creep up on you. All you could do was blabber out a short "yes" when Marc nipped at your clit again, pressing his fingers up at juuuuust the right angle, sending your eyes rolling so far back into your head you swore you could probably see your own brain for a split second as those wonderful waves of ecstasy beat away at the shores of your sanity.

Marc continued to thrust and curl his fingers, slowing down to stretch out your orgasm until you were ready, your poor hungry hole fluttering and clenching around his digits for more.

Marc, the cheeky little shit, made a lewd display of licking his fingers clean, spreading them into a wide "v" as he wrapped his tongue around each one, licking you completely clean.

You growled playfully and pulled him down to you, slipping your tongue past his lips, tasting a little of yourself in his mouth as your kiss turned sloppy and very messy; his beard soaked all the way through from how much you had gushed onto his tongue and mouth.

When you parted (because your brains finally told you that you needed oxygen to keep living) you were both flushed and hungry for more, and Marc reached down, squeezing your baby fat softly.

"All this is ours, and we aren't trading it for anything."

And damn, did he spend the rest of the night proving it to you.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

"Aunt Layla!" Victoria squealed, running and practically leaping into the woman's arms.

"'Tawar." She giggled, waving excitedly at the hippo-woman trailing just behind.

Layla laughed loudly and you grinned as she and your daughter brushed noses. It was weird, at first, meeting Marc's ex-wife (and Steven's ex-girlfriend) but you were happy they were still on friendly terms, friendly enough, that Layla wanted to meet you and your little girl.

Victoria latched onto her immediately, the moment she sat down in your living room, the curious girl pattered up to her after waking up from her nap, still drowsy as she clambered onto the sofa, and curled up in Layla's nap, resting her head on her chest.

It was so cute you almost started crying. Even the goddess, Taweret, squealed and wiggled her feet at the sight. Given she was the goddess of mothers, children, and other related things, it made sense that she adored your daughter (like Khonshu, but the old pigeon would never admit to it.)

Taweret tagged along on most visits because she wanted to meet the woman and child responsible for gaining so much trust and love from the boys to ease their pain and loneliness. She also just wanted to meet your daughter because, c'mon. Victoria was adorable and everyone so far loved her. Even the "bloody old pigeon" as she and Steven were so fond of calling Khonshu.

Layla settled and hefted your child onto her hips, walking over to give you a side hug and you two exchanged cheek kisses in greeting.

"Hey, love!" Layla said to you both. "How have things been!"

"Oh, wonderful. Victoria's started reading multi-chapter books already." You sigh, smiling in wonder at your daughter.

Victoria giggled bashfully and started rubbing her cheek onto Layla's, reaching out to touch Taweret's outstretched palm.

"Really? So soon?" Layla blinked in amazement.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's not entirely uncommon that some autistic children develop certain skills quicker. She's already reading some of Steven's textbooks to him!" You reply.

"Damn, give her a few weeks and I'd wager this little ankle-nipper will be able to put any of those scholars at the museum to shame." She snorted.

"Steven said the same thing." You chuckled. "Even joked that they could probably go into Uni together."

"Oh gods, that's cute." Layla giggled as Victoria dug her fingers into her curly hair to play with the silky mass.

"Steven had a meeting at the museum today, he'll feel so sad for not saying bye." You say wistfully.

"Eh, it's one night. He will survive." Layla scoffed playfully.

"...Thank you so much for agreeing to take her." You sighed at her.

"Hey, hey, no problem. It's Valentine's and you two have been so wound up lately you need some alone time." She winked at you not-so-subtly.

You blushed a bit at her implication and laughed nervously as you reached for Victoria's overnight bag.

"Oh--her favorite blanket and toys are in there. Her shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, Digger is in there, too, because you know how she gets without him--"

"Relax, I know this'll be her first time away from you." Layla smiled warmly. "But she'll be fine. The hotel is just a block away, and plus, nothing will happen to her. Not with a goddess and her Avatar looking out for her, eh?"

Your shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right. It's just..."

"No, no I get it." Layla's eyes twinkled. "...So how many squishmallow things has Steven and Victoria accumulated?"

You laugh out loud and point behind her, the corner of your living room where you'd had your Christmas tree was now stacked with several plushies, mostly squishmallows of various kinds, including a very large pineapple named "Maui" that Steven and Victoria loved curling up against to read together.

Layla snorted when she looked, shaking her head. "Well, could collect worse things, I s'pose."

"Like taxidermied bugs and animals?" You joke.

"Oh that's a horrible thought!" She grinned.

"Yeah, well, like you said..."

Layla laughed again and moved so Victoria could lean up to you and rub noses, and you could pepper her soft little face with plenty of kisses.

"Be good for your Aunt Layla and Taweret, okay?" You ask her gently.

"I will, mommy!" Victoria chirped, rubbing her face onto yours lovingly, breathing in your perfume.

You waved as they all left, feeling almost bereft and out of place in your suddenly too quiet flat.

You decided, after a few moments of nervous lip chewing, to walk back to your bedroom.

You walked to your closet and moved aside an old suitcase, revealing a long black box wrapped in hot pink ribbons.

After that night with Marc, something clicked inside your brain and you knew what to get for the boys.

Or rather, what to get yourself for the boys.

You set the box on the bed and looked at the article of "clothing" sitting inside the box. You'd ordered this set of lingerie after Jake and Victoria snuggled on the couch after watching Zootopia together.

You made sure to have it delivered "accidentally" to your neighbor's flat, and she handed it over to you like you two were smuggling contraband into a prison.

After all, you didn't want the boys to find your surprise, now did you?

It took a bit, but you'd stripped down and hastily pulled on your new set. All straps, the fabric was easy on your hands, so you knew Steven wouldn't be overwhelmed by the texture when he touched you.

And boy... would he want to touch you.

The straps covered up nothing and so much at the same time, leaving nothing to the imagination while still, leaving so much.

Looking into the mirror, you swallowed thickly. It looked nothing like it did on the models on the site. Where they had flat, toned bodies and perfect figures...

You had soft, rounded out features, stretch marks and of course, the baby fat.

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, your first instinct to take it all off and shove it back into he closet when you saw what you didn't like.

But... you knew that Marc, Jake, and Steven loved you. And that they would go feral if they saw you in it.

For added measure, you slid on the sheer, white stockings up to your thighs, the soft material squishing the plushest parts of your legs.

You had to shove the second one up hastily when you heard the front door unlock, and Steven's voice.

"Ey, love?" Steven called out.

"Uh--egh--fuck--hold on a minute!" You say, scrambling for your fluffy bathrobe. It concealed enough that they wouldn't see much... save for if they looked at your feet.

Steven had walked into the bedroom just barely after you'd tossed the box back into the closet and the door clicked shut, you awkwardly smiling and standing with your hands clasped in front of you.

"Heeeyyy... You!" You tried pitifully.

A thick brow raised behind those dark-rimmed glasses of his. Gods, he looked gorgeous. Dressed in a nice smooth button-up, his blazer buttoned halfway up and his curls falling into his face? His sweet, boyish curiosity had you already blushing.

He looked every bit like the kind of professor many college students would fantasize about taking "extra credit" with...

"What's got you in a tizzy?" Steven chuckled, walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Oh uhm.... Ah." You squirm, giggling at his kisses.

"Is it because Victoria is out?" He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious pup.

"Well, uh, eh... Uhm." You cough awkwardly. Oh, this was a horrible idea. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Oh! Actually, hold that bubble." Steven chirped, fishing out a small paper bag out of his back pocket.

Inside the bag, was a small box. A jewelry box.

Your hand goes to your mouth as he opens it up and grins sheepishly. "Took us forever to agree on something. Marc was being a real bellend about it, y'know?"

He frowns over at your mirror, his brows creasing as he scowls at his reflection.

"What! You were!" He snapped.

Inside the box was a silver pendant, cut in the shape of the crescent moon, with engraving on it.

"We love you, to the moon and back."

"A bit cheesey, innit?" He mumbled, pulling at his sleeves as his hands darted all over your face, his teeth snagging his lip.

You honestly felt like tearing up. It was so... so cheesey, and so romantic. Very much a Steven thing to do. But you could tell even Marc and Jake had a hand in it, too. It was a united effort.

"Steven...." You begin, lifting your eyes to lock with his doe-like brown ones.

He tosses a nervous, awkward smile.

"I love it. It's gorgeous." You say, your thumb brushing over the shiny material.

"Let me put it on you?" Steven asked you hesitantly, as if worried you'd say no.

"Sure." You smile warmly at him, noticing how his demeanor lights up and he cheerfully brings the chain around your neck as he moves to stand behind you, carefully locking the clasp so the moon hung just beneath your collarbone.

You hear Steven go "huh" under his breath as his fingers brush beneath your bathrobe, touching the straps of the lingerie you were concealing.

"What's this, love?" He asked you, and you jolted slightly.

Oh, shit. Right. The lingerie. You'd almost forgotten it!

"Uh.... It's.... Eh...." You stammer out awkwardly, stepping away to fiddle with the sash of your robe.

Steven watches, curiously and patiently waiting for you to speak, his head tilted to the side.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what to get you guys for Valentine's day, y'know? I was stumped, trying to think on what I could do, so... I... Um."

You looked at Steven, his curls flopped over his head, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he nods, urging you on.

'Damn it, now or never...'

Your fingers undo the knot of the robe and let the fluffy material slip down to hang from your forearms, your face erupting in a heated flush as you feel his eyes rake slowly up and down your body and hear him gasp just barely audibly.

"Oh, love." He breathed. "You... That looks--"

He snapped his head to the mirror, his face scarlet red. "Sh-shut it! I was--no! You just shut it!"

You watch as he looks at you again, bashfully as your eyes reconnect. He rubbed the back of his head and said sheepishly, "S-Sorry.... Jake just won't... Stop being Jake right now."

"Oh..." You reply, licking your plush lips anxiously as Steven walks closer to you, his hand reaching out to brush the various straps, moving to delicately cup one breast, his thumb brushing over the strap that covered your nipple as he continued to look at you and that silver pendant that hung from your neck.

You really completed a gorgeous image; like a swan perched elegantly on a lake's smooth surface.

Sometimes, Steven felt like a clumsy and loud goose next to you. He knew it was a poor comparison, that you would never look at him or Jake or Marc that way, but he had his own insecurities as much as you did...

"Do... you like it?" You ask slowly as his other hand, warm and more than a little sweaty rests on your hip.

"We love it." He replied, leaning in to kiss you softly on the lips. As he pulled away, you noticed his dark eyes become almost smoky--heavy.

"We.... Wouldn't mind seeing this on you more often."

"Well... Hm." You say, feeling his hands encircle you, moving down to cup your ass as his mouth kissed your jaw.

His calloused fingers squished and rolled your cheeks beneath his palms, pulling you closer to his own body, allowing to feel his hardening cock press against your thigh while his knee parted your legs and your back connected with the cold plaster of your bedroom wall.

The chill made your nipples harden, poking through the fabric of your lingerie and you yelped at the sensation.

"Hell.... You 'right, love?" Steven asked, his curls falling over his forehead as he looked at you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You chuckle, goosebumps erupting on your body. "The wall's a little cold."

"Oh...." Steven says, his lips brushing your ear.

"Then... we best move to the bed, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You were positive there were going to be bruises on your hips from how desperately Steven had gripped them, rabbiting into you, his cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of slapping skin sinfully loud inside your bedroom.

"S-Steven!" You squeaked, your poor cunt abused and sensitive as he fucked you, the texture of the condom he wore sending little shocks through your body with each drag of his hips.

You had already cum--twice--once from Steven's hands and mouth, and once more from how he'd fucked into you.

Steven had cum while his face was buried between your legs, rutting his clothed hips hard against your mattress as you squirmed and writhed against him. The way he looked when he pulled back, lips swollen, face flushed; his beard wet from your juices, his hair tousled and hanging over his brow. He looked utterly fucked out and he hadn't even been inside of you yet.

"....k-know, love." Steven whimpered, rutting into you a bit more, practically bent in half over you as he kneeled between your legs, his cock angled at an eye-rolling tilt so it slammed once more against your g-spot.

"Almost--almost--" He panted hard, his grip on your hips slipping a little because of how sweaty you both were, so instead he hooked his hands through the straps that still adorned you and used them for leverage as he relentlessly pounded into you.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as you pulled him down, mouthing at the apple of his throat as it bobbed, tasting the thin layer of sweat that dewed his skin, sucking a bruise onto the skin, there.

"L-Love!" Steven whimpered, his pace stuttering as you feel him twitch inside of you, the condom beginning to swell a bit as he pumped his load into the safe cocoon of latex.

His hips slowed into languid rolls, prolonging his orgasm just by a tiny bit as he came down from his high.

You kissed his temple softly, petting his sweat-damp curls as his breathing began to even out. You feel him slump against against you and his arms lock.

You feel a shuddered breath escape him before his breathing finally became steady.

"Steven?" You ask him softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

He lifted back and supported himself on his forearms, looking down at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"Think again, cariño."

"Jake." You breathed, already feeling a thrill creep up your spine as his lips traced your jawline.

"Steven got to have you all dressed up," His fingers playfully snapped one of the straps on you, making you squeak softly. "Now it's my turn. Can't let such a nice, pretty present go unwrapped."

"Oh.... So you're gonna take it off me, now?" You asked, shuddering as he pulled out, still rock hard.

"Nah." His hands went to your hips and with a jerk, flipped you onto your belly, pulling your ass up, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he looked down at you.

He moved the panties to the side to see your red, puffy cunt. "Coño más bonita que he visto."

He didn't change the condom; instead, he pushed right back into your pussy, groaning deep in his chest as he felt your heat grip and squeeze him invitingly.

"Nice..." Jake hissed through his teeth, pulling back slowly before sinking back in, relishing in how your body so eagerly welcomed him back inside of you; your thighs glistening so beautifully, wetting his own, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls as he started fucking you into a steady rhythm.

He winced himself, feeling tense as the body had cum while Steven was in control, so his nerves were still highly sensitive to everything right now. He wasn't going to last long, he knew and it frustrated him. He made a mental note to remind the other two to leave him alone with you for a day or so at some point, wanting to be able to ravish and ravage you properly.

He leaned over, kissing the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered against you.

"Touch yourself for me, mamí. Want to feel you choke my cock." Jake rasped.

You moan weakly, complying with his request as your fingers slide down beneath you, grazing circles over your engorged clit, choked-out whimpers coming from you as Jake began thrusting into you hard and rough, his skin slapping you so hard you thought there would be red marks from the sheer ferocity of it.

"Oh, god--Jake--" You wail into the pillow, your fingers swiping and circling more and more, trying desperately to match his pace as your squishy, wet walls crushed his cock beneath their fluttering onslaught.

He growled and fisted a large bit of the straps in one hand, pulling your ass back against him, watching as your skin rippled and jiggled with every slap as he fucked into you over and over.

"Fuck, yes. Just. Like. That." He hissed, each word punctuated by a slam of his hips into yours.

You could feel another orgasm just about to burst, your head swimming in that blissful haze as Jake plowed into you at a bruising, aching pace.

"Such a gorgeous mamí." Jake said to you, his voice was heady with arousal.

"So fucking pretty, such a good fucking mamí. Sabes lo bonita que eres, ¿no?"

Your mind was turned to mush as your orgasm washed over you, filling every pore with a dizzying pleasure, rendering you barely aware of what he was saying, let alone to translate it as his hips snapped into you one final time.

However... You felt a new sensation inside of you, and with a few jagged, harsh thrusts, you felt Jake cum inside of you, flooding your deepest reaches with his thick load, making your eyes snap open.

"Shit." He groaned, pulling out of you, watching as the ripped condom clung to his cock, a thick ring of white at the base as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"Well, now. This is a pickle." He laughed.

"Jake, you--you know that--" You sputter, groaning as you roll over to look at him.

The bastard didn't seem upset in the slightest; that cheeky little shit!

"Yeah, yeah, mamí." Jake smirked at you as he pulled the ruined condom off of his cock as he caressed one of your spread thighs idly.

"Then why aren't you--FUCK!" You wail, feeling him bottom back out in one deep thrust, your nails scraping his skin at the blinding sensation.

Jake grinned as he nipped at your throat, "Baby, whatever happens, we aren't going anywhere. Even if that means I stuff you so full--or Steven or Marc--that your belly gets all cute and round."

You whimpered and gripped at the meat of his shoulders as he started fucking into you again, blood once more rushing straight through his dick, renewing him with more energy and drive.

"I think Vicky would love a baby brother or sister, no?" He muttered out, his tongue dragging over your fluttering pulse as it hammered against your skin. "So... Why don't we give 'er one?"

"D-did y-you even a-ask M-Marc or St-Steven?!" You cried, bouncing and pushing against your pillows and blankets as he fucked you.

"Don't have to... They've fantasized about it enough already." He laughed.

His lips kiss and glide over your skin as he rips the upper part of your ensemble down, freeing your breasts to bounce free from their strappy confines as Jake whispers in your ear.

"And believe me... Marc definitely wants to fill you up, now, bebita."

[joelsgreys]

do you have any joel miller fic recs?

so i only just started having time to really read now that my schedule has opened up slightly, i want to make a fic rec list once i get semi caught up but most recent fics that I have read can be found under the tag vee’s recs (they aren’t all just Joel tho) and I also have a few of them on my list which you can find under tbr shelf

but until I can get a proper post going, here are some fics that i have enjoyed in the past and that live rent free in my brain

Soft & Sweet, Neon Moon, and Burlesque by @cavillscurls (all her work is great though so go snoop that masterlist)

Ghost of You by @thetriumphantpanda (also has a ton of great work, once again, go snoop that masterlist)

In My Hometown by @swiftispunk (if i remember correctly a little bird aka han teased on she might be working on something related to this universe so it’s been on my mind)

Honeyed by @softlyspector (I need to catch up on all parts, but the first one had me head over heels)

bloodshed, crimson clover by @morning-star-joy (this was an amazing story, you’ll blow through all 12.1k so fast you’ll be like wait it’s over?!)

one more cup of coffee by @cupofjoel (also a masterlist worth snooping tbh this piece is so beautiful and if your favorite color isn’t brown, it will be after you read this)

Seams by @fuckyeahdindjarin (this series can cheer you up no matter what, i am willing to bet my life on that)

June by @atinylittlepain (i advise that you read this with a box of tissues in hand)

so these are just a few of the fics that i have read before and think about often, again, i want to make an effort into making either a fic rec post or doing some kind of weekly or monthly recap like so many of my mutuals do, so hopefully i can figure that out soon. 🤍

[morganitering]

Survive the Night (Mahito x fem!reader)

Warnings: Non-con/Rape, Graphic Depictions of violence

Contains: Smut, PWP, PIV - penis in vagina sex, degradation, psychological/emotional manipulation, face-fucking, threats of violence, fuck or die, sexist language, reader is into it lowkey

Word count: 5,1k

Summary: You had readied yourself for a party with your best friend, only to find Shibuya in a disarray, and yourself caught up in a war that wasn’t yours. Somehow escaping the monsters, you end up running into the lap of another kind of predator - an intelligent one.

A/N: Hey hey, this is my first fic and first smut! And ofc, I started with the most degenerate bs I could do. I don't even simp Mahito, but my bestie is down bad and what type of friend I'd be if I didn't help them out. English isn't my first language and no beta. Be aware of the warnings, they are there for a reason. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3!

Read on ao3

It was utter madness. There were screams so chilling that your heart started to ache in an empathetic rhythm, but this was no time to be kind and understanding. It was time to survive and survive you wanted, but your legs refused to move.

You saw people running around like headless chickens, crossing the roads, bumping into each other, as creatures of various sizes and colors roamed the heart of Shibuya, hands and mouths gaping open, reaching to anyone they could. You stood still despite the sheer fear in you.

You looked at your friend, cold sweat forming on your brow as you assessed the situation. Her golden wig falling on the ground in the force of a purple hand grabbing her. She cried out to you. Her Sailor Moon wand replica fell to the asphalt with her other belongings. You had a good bit of distance between the two of you since you tried to run over the crossing road in a hurry towards KFC.

The purple hand squeezed remorselessly. You could see it in her face, the sound of little crackling of her rib cage turning to bits and pieces inside her body, puncturing every vital organ one by one.The hand kept on squeezing, probably not even using force. The creature dropped your friend’s body next to her items. She was disfigured and limp like a soggy rag doll. You had seen death once after losing your grandparents, but this was no peaceful death due to old age, this was a god forsaken massacre.

It was supposed to be a fun night out. You hadn’t dressed up in anything special, but you wanted to support your friend so you had gone to her place, a few hours prior ending up going outside, hoping for the warm buzz of alcohol in your veins and maybe, if you were lucky, a lover you could regret in the morning.

But in all honesty, this was a script from a horror movie. You had always joked with your friend how you both would be the first ones to die in one, but neither of you had been serious about it.

“Fucking move!” You heard a man yelling, snapping you out of your trance. The purple creature’s multiple eyes were all looking in different directions in search of another victim.

You did what the stranger told you to.

Your body pumped out adrenaline forcing your limbs to finally move with strength you did not recognize in yourself. You started running as fast as your legs could take you, neon lights of advertisements flashed on your face as blood of other party goers covered you as they were snapped open, ripped in half, guts and viscera leaking on the ground. Puddles of blood splashed on your calves when the soles of your boots hit the ground. You were just livestock running away from the butcher in a small room, knowing full well that there was no escape.

Metallic taste popped in your mouth as you evaded monsters and people alike. Some folks were brave enough to fight against the creatures of the night. You were not one of them.

You took a turn on the left. An alley behind some type of shady restaurant. You noted that somehow the screams had quieted down. Your breath came out at an uneven pace as your lungs fought for their life to give enough oxygen to your struggling body.

You leaned on the brick wall, heart beating in every part of your body utter exhaustion knocking on the door. Instead of collapsing you just trembled. This is not real. This is not real. This is not- a sob interrupted your frantic mind.

Searching for the source of the sound your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit alleyway locating a hunched over figure. A man? He cried heavily, rocking himself back and forth on the dirty ground as his hands fisted the black fabric of his trousers. He was sitting next to a dumpster that was filled to the brim with plastic bags almost not being able to contain the multitude of waste. In hindsight you probably should’ve left the man on his own to tend to the trash.

You assumed him to be a victim of the attack too. Or maybe he was just drunk, you told yourself with suspicion in your mind.

“Sir? Are you ok?” You asked as you got closer to the sobbing man. It seemed like he didn’t even notice you, he just kept shaking and muttering to himself in between sobs. You were fairly sure that he knew you were there and since there was no answer you decided to attempt consoling him.

You dropped down on his level and stroked his arm gently. You weren’t the best at this type of stuff, but you felt pity towards the blue haired stranger wallowing in his thoughts. Suddenly you felt his arms stretching around you holding onto you like a child embracing their favorite toy during duress.

Panic seeped into you. You didn’t know this man at all, but you figured that he needed this and honestly maybe you did need it too. Awkwardly you placed your hand on his head, your blouse getting wet from the stranger’s snot and tears. His hair was luscious and soft, in a different situation you might have even been jealous.

“It’s going to be.. okay?” That was honestly the best you could do in your state of shock. There was a weird sort of kinship in his breakdown. Had you not been still full of fight or flight reaction you would probably be in the same situation as he was. Instead you felt calm as a day almost clear headed.

Bit by bit he collected his demeanor. His shoulders still shook, but it no longer felt like he was a spare leaf in a summer storm.

“I know a place,” he said, head still against your chest. You heard him but you were confused by his words.

“What?”

He raised his head now looking at you with his mismatched eyes. His face was full of stitch patterns as if he had been broken down and put together multiple times. You soon noticed him having that on his arms as well.

“Sorry, I meant that I know a place. I don’t think we are safe on the streets yet,” he said sniffling pathetically.

“You’re probably right. Where is it?” You asked.

Patch faced man stood up and offered his hand towards you which you gladly took and pushed yourself off from the asphalt. Having been in this place longer now, you really did not want to spend the last moments of your life next to the smell of biowaste and piss.

You walked behind the man who took determined steps towards the main street that was completely empty.

“Sorry I probably gave you a big scare,” he brushed his hands through his hair, swaying a few sections of almost ponytailed hair to the other side of his shoulder.

You wanted to say that there was no bigger scare, than the stuff that went down in the heart of Shibuya. A crying weird dude was a welcome change to the horrors, but you stayed quiet.

“My name is Mahito. Thank you for being there for me,” he smiled gently at you. You tried to return his smile as you told him your name.

“I like your name,” his tone was easy going and friendly.

“Here,” he pointed at an empty restaurant a few blocks further away from the alley.

The restaurant was still lit up, but completely empty. Its decor was homely and somehow very industrial. The lighting was warm and yellow with few pink-ish tints on the brick wall with a statement piece made out of pipes and lightbulbs. Overall it looked like a hipster’s favorite lunch place.

Some of the tables had half drunk beverages and meals. There were some spots where tableware had dropped on the floor and pieces of porcelain lay on the ground with napkins soaking into cream sauce.

Mahito found you both a clean booth and sat you down there as he sauntered over to the restaurant bar. You looked at him in confusion as he grabbed two clean glasses pouring soda from the soft drink dispenser.

“No harm in drinking something sweet after all this, right?” He said trying to smile again, yet it did not really reach his eyes. He seemed awfully cheery for a person that you had found crying just moments ago. It was as if he was wearing a mask. Maybe it’s a shock reaction, you intellectualized his behavior to yourself.

Mahito placed the drink in front of you as he sat next to you on the booth. You were squished between him and the restaurant window with nowhere to go. You hadn’t really noticed how big he was until now. You took a sip from the sweet drink looking at the bubbles that were forming on top of the dark liquid.

“So what happened to you?” You asked him, curiosity taking the best of you.

“I-,” he started confidently but quickly stopped. Mahito looked down at his hands that were placed on the cold table. You saw sadness on him.

“I watched how my friends died," he said quietly. “It was horrible. We were supposed to go to our favorite club. They were supposed to have some type of costume competition,” he explained.

“What are you supposed to be? It looks neat though, really real.” Maybe you tried to lighten the mood or maybe you were just really socially inept.

“Thanks, but uh, I’m not really supposed to be anything. I just learnt to play around with some sfx makeup. My big sis taught me,” he reminisced.

“I hope she’s not here too.”

You both fell silent, whether it was awkward or kind of nice you couldn’t decide. You had not even thought about your other friends that might have been stuck in the area as well. If there were any gods left you would make sure to pray to them every day were you to survive this hell of a night.

“I saw my friend dying too, by those monsters,” you said, sharing your own story.

“Really? What was it like?” His face seemed to light up in awe and as he did that you raised your eyebrow in slight annoyance.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I just. I don’t know. It all happened so fast,” he quieted down again, seeming regretful of his words.

“Disgusting,” you said, not addressing his apology.

Mahito’s eyes were now on you staring at you like a hawk. You didn’t really notice that as your eyes seemed almost glassy looking at nowhere in particular.

“She had spilt her guts onto the street,” you choked out the words as the picture of your friends dead body stayed on your mind like a thistle.

“Was there a lot of blood?” You felt the warm breath on your cheek, but you were so deep in your mind that only displayed the picture of the hand closing on your friend. You saw her eyes again, her mouth open in a shrilling scream that almost got drowned in the other voices, but to you it was almost amplified, it was the only scream that really mattered. You saw the blood that she coughed up as her own body got crushed and what was meant to protect her and hold her upright punctured her to death.

“Yes.” It was just a whisper of a voice. A tear fell down on your lap and your lips were slightly parted, your body shuddering at the horrible memories. Mahito’s face was now nuzzled in your neck and his eyes were half lidded with a slight smile decorating his face.

“You poor thing,” he cooed. “I’m sorry”, something about his words did not feel sincere at all. The blue haired man’s body started shaking and you heard the most absurd sound that returned you to this moment. You knew you had not said anything funny, so why was he laughing?

Mahito was almost doubled over as he roared next to you. He started clapping his hands like this was the best thing he had heard in the century. He opened his eyes that were now watering from all the laughing and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You humans are truly pathetic!” He kept on giggling. You pushed his hand off from your shoulder, your mind still in disarray trying to grasp the things he was saying. His words hurt you and it felt unbelievable that this is the way he would react since he had lost someone too or was his sob story a lie? Part of you wanted to curse at him, but some part of you, supposedly the sane one, told you to tuck your head down.

“Oh noo, my little friend had spilt her guts onto the street. Oh woe me! I saaw someone diiiee.” Mahito drew out every syllable as he was mocking you and your tone, making exaggerated sad expressions and he brought his fists to his cheeks to make a boo-hoo movement.

“You idiots die all the time.” Mahito’s face turned serious as he sneered at you. His mismatched gaze steeled on you as he stared you down saying nothing for the time being.

Every alarm was blaring in your mind. Time felt like it was stopping just like it did during the attack. Mahito no longer looked like the almost boyish lost figure that you had found having a panic attack. Now he reminded you of a crazed beast toying with its food and you weren’t about to stay to find out how far his unhinged behavior could go. You had to take your chance of leaving.

You pushed the table with all your might as you took hurried steps out of the booth quickly giving thanks to whoever had decided to not to nail the furniture on the ground permanently. Glasses of soft drink toppled over and rolled to the floor and shattered into hundred little pieces as you hopped clumsily over the crazy man’s body.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Mahito grabbed your wrist, his nails tugging into your flesh painfully. He had now stood up and was towering over you with an unreadable face.

A faint smile appeared on his face and he looked almost gentle again.

“I’m not going to kill you,” his voice was smooth like one of the finest silk.

“Look- I’m sorry for you and whatever happened to you, but this clearly was a mistake. I hope you have a goo-”

“Shut up.”

Mahito inhaled as if he was smelling the most appetizing meal, relishing in the lack of your voice.

“Much better.”

He was still holding onto you as he raised his free hand on your face to caress your cheek in an attempt to calm you down. Guess it was his turn to be in this role, although at least you had been sincere about it.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Mahito repeated, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“I do have something else in mind,” he said, taking his gaze back to your eyes.

You gulped audibly and managed to squeak out a question of what he had in mind then. You knew already. Of course you did.

“This theme of death and destruction. It reeaally has got me worked up,” Mahito monologues on.

“I might be a curse, but I’m not beyond needs. I am interested in the human soul and its weaknesses as well as its wickedness,” he kept talking as his thumb started to trail down slowly towards your jawline “but I’m also interested in this”, his hand stopped at your throat.

His touch was feather light and had it not been this psychopath of a man touching you you’d gladly welcome it. Mahito’s words didn’t make a lot of sense to you, but you got the gist of it with threats and all.

“You can choose to fight me.”

He now had his whole palm on your oesophagus, his mismatched eyes shining dangerously.

“But you will lose.”

Mahito squeezed gently as a warning and let go of the wrist he was holding. He grabbed you by your scalp, bunching up some of your hair to tilt your head upwards.

“Do this with me and I’ll let you live. Maybe you even have a good time as well, or maybe I don’t care for your comfort at all and I’ll ditch you to the streets half dead with your panties tangled up in your ankles for the whole world to see your shame,” he blabbered on and stopped. He looked like he was thinking about something really important, pursing his lips together, tipping his head side to side like a cartoon character.

“I haven’t really decided yet,” his voice was sinister.

Your body had gone cold. Do this and he’ll let me live, you thought to yourself fighting the urge to flee. You didn’t want to anger him further, not that there was any winning chance with this man at all. Everything had gone the way he wanted from the moment you had laid your eyes on him.

“Okay, I want to live,” you rasped out.

Mahito looked content, almost affectionate. ”They always do.”

After those words the world turned into a haze. His lips were soft and plump. He was a demanding kisser, not that you even had imagined him to be a kisser in the first place. You thought that you would be simply bent over, but Mahito proved you wrong. Not because he cared, but because he simply did what he wanted to and this was what he desired.

He might have promised you pleasure, if you agreed to do this somewhat willingly but his soul was tainted, and you knew that were you to find enjoyment under him, it would be just a happy surprise to you.

His tongue delved into your mouth. It felt gross. Invading. His hands had moved to your waist going all the way down to your ass squeezing too hard to your liking. He swiftly lifted you up and placed you on the now dirty table where you had been hanging out just moments prior. His boots made crackling sounds as he stepped on the pieces of glass.

You felt sticky as the cola seeped onto your skirt’s fabric but Mahito did not seem to care. He pulled your hair, exposed your neck and bit as his other hand groped your breasts with force bordering on pure pain. Tears were forming in your eyes as your body and mind fought each other.

“You know you should feel special,” his breath felt hot against your neck. “Not everyone is able to see me, let alone touch me”

“Yet here you are.” He pressed his tongue on your cheek and licked away the one spare tear.

He ripped open your blouse cold breeze kissing your torso, before Mahito’s hands were on it. He grabbed your bra, stretching out the fabric with both of his hands until it snapped. He threw the remnants of your underwear on the ground placing his palms on your bare chest. He played and kneaded the tender flesh, arousal waking up in your core.

Mahito pulled you closer to him, your skirt hiking up till your hips with the fabric pressing on your skin, leaving you feeling uncomfortable. You felt him against your clothed sex, only his trousers, your stockings and panties between the two of you. Your breath hitched and his eyes darkened even more.

“I like this look on you humans, when you feel conflicted as to what to feel,” he teased you with shadows dancing on his face as the overhead light got covered by his head.

“He’s a bad man, he’s a crazy man, but why oh why do I like it?” His voice got higher as he imitated a feminine voice, playing up the caricature of a woman.

He pressed his hand between your legs, swiping slowly up feeling the moisture that had gathered there.

“Case in point,” he grinned satisfied. His fingers stopped at the sensitive bud and he started making slow circles looking intently at your face savoring every micro expression as you involuntarily bucked your hips up.

Your cheeks were burning up as small moans escaped your lips. You fought with yourself, tears threatening to spill over as your body moved on its own. What would your friend think if she saw you like this? She had suffered the most tragic death and this man had mocked you in the middle of a crisis and now you were enjoying his attention.

It was as if Mahito knew what buttons to press to get you going. You closed your eyes as you panicked under his touch. He applied more pressure on you as you helplessly grabbed the side of the table. Mahito’s grin widened the stitches on his face stretching out.

“Any self respecting woman would have run by now, even if it meant that they’d get killed in the process, yet you chose to spread your legs wide open to me,” he mused as he continued playing with you.

“You really must want me!” He let out a cold chuckle. Everything he said and did felt like an amateur theater student’s performance. He loved excess, big movements, big emotions - he was like a chaos incarnate. Insane, you thought to yourself, that’s what he was.

His fingers traveled on your panties over to the spot where he reckoned your entrance was and pressed lightly inside leaving a wet mark on the fabric.

He snaked his hands under your stockings waistband and started pulling them down with your panties. The only clothes you had on yourself were the buttonless blouse and a miniskirt that hid nothing. Mahito opened his trouser’s zipper and pulled himself out, giving a few languid pumps to his length.

“What do you say, you show me how much you want me and we’ll see how wet you can get when you service me?” He proposed already dragging you off the table and pushing you towards his cock.

You lost your balance and both your knees and an arm pressed on the glass shards on the stone floor as you tried to not to fall on your face. You winced from pain and you saw blood trickling down as Mahito laughed at your discomfort. Thankfully the pieces were not very big and they’d only leave a surface level wound but it still didn’t lessen the pain.

“Say aah!” Mahito grabbed your chin pushing his cock on your lips, smearing himself over your face.

You took him in your mouth hesitantly, a slightly salty tasty spread on your tongue. Unlike you, he did not hesitate and quickly snapped his hips forward setting up a brutal pace. You tried to be careful of your teeth as Mahito’s hands found themselves in your scalp.

It was hard to breathe, drops of saliva dripping on your chin and bare chest. All you could do was gurgling pathetically at his assault.

Mahito’s grip on your hair tightened as he hummed and moaned happily, an expression of pleasure on his wicked features. His voice got loud, unashamed of the way he was sloppily face fucking you. His sounds did something sinful to you, sending sparks straight to your core. It was a losing war you were fighting and Mahito reveled in it. You moved your own hand into your folds in a desperate attempt to relieve the burn in you earning genuine laughter from the man.

“Now we are talking, you’re getting into this aren’t you?”

Mahito pushed you towards his pelvis forcing himself down your throat, your nose pressing onto his skin. You were choking and your body involuntarily thrashed around him, but he kept you firmly in place.

“Relax, keep it there,” his voice was out of breath as you spasmed around him helplessly. You tried to bear it, but every passing second proved your task harder. You squeezed your eyes shut feeling the trails of mascara in various stages of drying on your cheeks.

Mahito pulled himself out with a loud groan. You were gasping for air as violent coughs shook your frame, his cock still standing in front of you in all its glory.

“You’ve got a splendid mouth, but right now I’m craving your cunt.”

There were no breaks for you as he manhandled you up and pushed your torso against the table. Your tits pressed against the cold wood, your hips pressing on the sides of the table. You felt messy, degraded even, as your slightly wet face came in contact with the surface.

Mahito started pushing in you carefully and you gasped, when you felt him widening you forcing you to make space for him.

“W-what about protection?” You talked for the first time.

“Not on the pill, eh? Well don’t worry your pretty head about it, it wouldn’t work anyways,” he said and sheathed himself fully in you.

Then it began. Skin against skin, noises of pleasure filled the empty restaurant leaving only your ever increasing cries reverberating in the establishment. His hips kept snapping onto yours, chest heaving as he panted and moaned. You loved the sounds that you both made your cunt tightening around him when an especially beautiful whine left his mouth.

You cried out loud when he found that one spot inside of you after one particularly powerful thrust. Your brows furrowed, hands seeking a place to hold onto as you quietly said his name. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. Riled up from your reactions he made sure to angle himself so that he’d get to see your further succumb to the decadence of his actions.

His hands trailed towards your neck admiring how your hair was sprawled out messily, some strands sticking to your swollen lips. He massaged your back finally digging his nails into it and scratched it for fun.

“Isn’t that- ah- something”, you tried talking, “I’m supposed to do?” You were referencing his peculiar actions.

“Already thinking of the next position? We’ll see about that,” he jested but his words lacked bite as he pleasured himself using you.

Your back was burning as he kept swiping across leaving pink streaks on your skin. He grabbed your throat and squeezed gently, not trying to restrict the flow of your breath. He had had enough of that for now. It was merely a gesture to show who had the real power here.

You were getting close feeling the familiar coil about to snap. His movements got rougher and more sporadic. He drove into you like a beast, going deep into you at times hitting your cervix. You babbled incoherently, no longer caring for how you appeared, the only thing occupying your mind was the need to sprint to the finish line.

Your thighs trembled as you were on your tiptoes. The table inched forwards every time Mahito drove his cock in you. He was nearing his own end. He placed his fingers on your clit rubbing it haphazardly, partially disregarding how sensitive it was, hoping that this would drive you off the edge.

You didn’t know where pleasure and pain started or ended. They melt together creating one hell of an addicting concoction and you wanted more. Gods, how you did want more, your juices dripping on your thighs. You felt lightheaded and suddenly the sparks turned into a flame that engulfed you, spreading to even the most distant parts of your body.

Mahito fucked you through your orgasm and somewhere in your haze you felt him still when his cock pulsated in you as your body involuntarily returned the favor. Some part of your brain that was still present wanted to push him off, tell him to mark you somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The blue haired man collected his breathing as relaxation coursed in his body. He pulled himself out of you looking curiously at the spot where you were just connected, delighted when he saw him trickling down your cunt. “Beautiful,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the wreck of a woman in front of him. The woman stayed put, probably too tired to move.

The restaurant door opened and heavy footsteps thumped on the floor.

“Is this really the best usage of your time?” He was disapproving.

Ah Choso, ever the killjoy. Mahito turned around not caring that the man who just came in would see all of him.

“God, put that thing away,”Choso said exasperatedly.

“We’ve been looking for you. Geto’s getting antsy when he doesn’t know our whereabouts,” Choso explained, taking a quick peek at the woman laying against the table not looking one bit more aware of her situation.

You were vaguely conscious, body and mind bruised from the event that just took place. Hands still ghosted over your skin even though you knew that Mahito was not paying attention to you at all. You felt exhausted, so exhausted that you felt yourself slipping to your mind looking for somewhere safe. It was like a dark veil was put on you, your vision blurred looking at the two outlines of men. Who was the other one again?

“Aw, that’s a bummer. I wanted to have more fun,” Mahito said, pouting.

“I think you’ve had enough of that already. Let’s go,” Choso turned his back to the idiot of a curse.

“Goodbye sweetie, try to get into a better position. You’ll break your neck like that,” Mahito addressed you jokingly as the wooden door shut behind them.

Breathing heavily you watched the two men walk outside from the huge windows. Mahito was practically skipping forwards while the dark haired man put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Muffled laughter reached your ears and you were sure you’d recognize that sound for the rest of your life.

You maneuvered yourself up, body wobbling as if you were training to walk on a tightrope. You stretched out your arms rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension gathered in your tired muscles. You pulled your skirt down and tugged at the remnants of your blouse against your chest in a desperate attempt to cover yourself up.

You looked around the restaurant spotting a low table with couches as the seats. They were too small for an adult to lie down on, but that would do. You fluffed up the pillow and curled up into a ball skin feeling sticky due to all kinds of substances, but that was the least of your problems.

You wondered miserably, did this count as survival. If it did, the gods that let you still draw your breath had a shit sense of humor.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

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On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

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There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

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A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[giantpacific-octopress]

Book #25!

Fic: Apep Swallows the Moon

Fandom: Yugioh!

For: Me, the author!

A rebind of my very first bind - same fic, but updated with new skills, supplies, tools, typeset, and design sensibilities! This fic is about some horrible painful body transformations (weredragonism) and ritualistic axe killings in the woods at night, so I wanted the cover and the end-papers to reflect the bloody, uncanny, torn flesh feeling. I first cut a strip of the neon red slub and lay it across the (bradel bound) bookboards; once that was glued down, I tore up the scaly paper until I had the ideal shape for the cover. The end-papers are, of course, Crepaldi.

Typesetting details below the cut!

The fic also deals with ancient Egyptian myth and magic, so the typeset has ancient Egyptian elements, like a panel from the Book of the Dead where the gods kill the demon snake, Apep, that I used for the title spread. Apep is in the odd-page header of every chapter, but each chapter has a different hieroglyph in the even-page header, reflecting a key character from that chapter: the cat, the brother, and the Pharaoh.

BEHOLD! Demon snake!