#my mom was talking about him and now i just cant stop thinking about him and i dont know what to do im | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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medium-rare-bimbo · 9 months

Text

Stepdad hopper!!

♡Masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

Contains: stepcest, dubcon, age gap, cheating

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ your mother hadnt been home as much as he wanted her to be meaning he had a lot of pent up needs that he needed to release :(( his hand wasnt soft enough to give him the feeling he wants, his rough callous hands would pump his cock for hours yet still be unsatisfied not to mention the playboy magazines didnt compare to a real womens body

♡ he would be lying if he said he didnt like you before the blue balls hit in fact he had these perverted thoughts as soon as his eyes laid upon you and your short dress and frilly socks, your doe eyes peering up at him as your mother introduced you both, the quiver of your lip as you watched him stalk closer, taking in his entire form

♡ hed be lying if he said he didnt think about you when he slept with your mother. Hed be lying if he said he just saw you as a daughter. Hed be lying if he said he didnt listen to you touch yourself. Hed be a bigger liar if he said he didnt watch you through the gap in your door.

♡ he comes home, angry, a bad day with bad people, he sees you all cute and pretty wearing his favourite sundress with the pink frilly apron he got you. He cant help himself, his instincts are practically howling at him to pick you up and force his cock inside you

♡ you turn to him, wide eyes a smile on your face as you grab the plate of cookies you had made earlier in the day, unsurprisingly your mother is nowhere to be found so it's just you and him in the house

♡ "hey kid where's your mom?"

"mom said she would be home late, something about work and paper, so I made dinner for us! I made cookies too but you can only have one right now, I dont want you to ruin your appetite"

♡ god how he loved you, always taking care of him like the good girl you are, making sure he eats, making sure he gets to work on time, checking up on him, asking how his day was. He adored you <3

"What are we having?"

♡ he pulls out a chair, ready to sit at the dinner table until you stop him

"We can sit in the living room! Mom isnt here so she cant tell us what to do OH! and we're having chicken alfredo"

♡ your eyes crease as you smile at him looking for approval as you peered up at your stepfather, he smiled back, a small smile but a smile nonetheless. He grabbed a cookie, muttering a thank you before popping it in his mouth as he walked to the living room

" you- um you can take a shower if youd like, um-the food wont be done until later a-and you can be all clean before you eat"

♡ you meek voice called out to him shaking with nerves as you talk to him. He huffed out a laugh and nodded his head, turning to head up stairs behind him, he heard your sigh in satisfaction as you watch the big man clamber up the stairs

♡ he groaned as the water hit his tensed muscles, the stress from his body leaving as the warm water came down on him. He was tempted to touched his cock but he feared that he wouldnt be able to control the noises that croaked out of him, despite all his fantasies he didnt want you to come into the bathroom thinking he was hurt only to see his cock out

♡ he dried himself before cursing realising he forgot his clothes. Hopper wrapped the towel around his waist before calling out to you

"Y/N! can you get me some clothes I forgot to grab them"

♡ he heard you shout in confirmation as he leaned back against the bathroom sink. Hearing your footsteps he trotted closer to the door prepared for your hand to shoot in with his clothes, instead the door opened and you stood there with his folded clothes. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed trying to stutter out a response as your face heated up

"I- um- I- okay"

♡ His giant body loomed over yours as you stood frozen in place, staring at this god of a man. Droplets of water dripped down from his neck to his chest going lower and lower until they hit the towel hanging low on his hips.

"'Okay'? Can I have my clothes now?"

"YES- I mean um yes here you go"

♡ you didnt walk away as he grabbed them though, you watched as he took them from your hands, his finger brushing over yours. He stared you down like prey wating for you to do something. the moral part of him wanted you to leave but another part wanted you to act on the thoughts swirling around your head

"Are you going to leave?"

"Yeah I just um- yeah.."

♡ you made no attempt to move too busy gawking at him to hear him properly.

"If you keep standing there you'll have to see things you wont be able to unsee"

♡ that seemed to snap you out of whatever daze you were stuck in, your eyes flicking up to his face as your pupils seemed to turn into black holes. Your mouth trembled as you tried to blurt out anything that came to mind but the thoughts were unholy and youd ruin your mothers relationship if you spoke them

♡ he lurked closer to you letting you smell the musk of his newly fresh body, your thighs pressed together drawing his eyes toward them, Hopper stared down at you reaching his hand to your shoulder and placing it there.

"Are you going to be a good girl and leave?"

♡ You nodded yet still made no attempt to move, breathless and lust driven. He scoffed as you stood still, backing away and unfolding his clothes. Before you could process what was about to happen the towel dropped and in all its glory stood his semi hard cock, He pulled his boxers on and then his pants smiling to himself as your eyes continued to eat him.

♡ he while putting on his shirt he heard a quivering murmur leave your mouth to which he looked at you, staring at you as if asking you to repeat what you said

"I didn't say anything I just- i was thinking out loud"

"Thinking out loud? About what?"

"I um... i cant say"

♡ he huffed out a laugh rolling his eyes

"We're both adults here you can say what you want I wont take offense"

"I um.."

"Go on baby.. repeat what you said"

"I said.. I said my mothers a lucky women"

♡your voiced phased out by the end but he xouldnt care less he understood what you whispered perfectly. His skin prickled with excitement he had been waiting for this day, waiting for you to say something.

"Really? You wanna play house then?"

"I- what"

"You can be mommy and I'll be daddy how about that?"

"I'd love to but I dont think-"

♡ Hopper cuts you off with his lips, silencing anything that came out of your mouth after "id love to", his arms wrapping around your body holding you against him.

♡ he breaks the kiss, pushing you against the wall and once again slamming his lips into yours, stopping any noise from exiting, his moustache scratched your face as you clawed your way at him look for something to steady yourself with, teeth, tongues and spit collided with eachother as he claimed your mouth. Your legs wrapping around his waist as he encased your body

♡ his hands inched their way between your thighs grazing up and down the soft skin, slowly but surely working his way to the pantie covered mound. Hopper circled the area where your neglected clit lay, a single finger swirled around your most sensitive area.

♡ he let your hips jerk up for more stimulation (hed have to teach you some manners later) his bear like hands made their way to the middle of your panties feeling the wet spot your juices had left behind. He groaned into your mouth, an animal like snarl as he pried and groped at your most private part of your body

♡ his cock ground into your thigh the thickness of his manhood pressing against your skin and all though he was wearing pants the tight confines of the fabric didnt shy away from the intimidating size of it. Your head threw itself back as you released a pornagrpahic moan

♡ pulling your panties to the side he finally feels you skin to skin, he growls as his finger get sticky from your slick. his heavy finger eased itself into you stretching the tight hole to prepare for his cock. Despite your wetness dripping from you and soaking his fingers you were still so tight compared to him.

♡ his finger swirled inside you getting a feel of the spongy walls he so desperately thought about. When he slipped his another finger inside of you it felt like a scolding knife and although the pain burned the pleasure burnt brighter, you collapsed into him head laying on his chest and arms curled up in his shirt

♡ his hand left your hole inching it's way to his pants pulling them down to release the throbbing monster attached to his body. Hopper rubbed the swollen precum coated head along you cunt feeling you juices cling to him inviting him to enter you

♡ hopper forced himself into your tight hole, stretching you so much that you dont think any man will be able to fill you the same, you could feel every vein of his thick cock, the way it pulsed as it breached your hole, the way precum leaked out of the swollen head almost begging to enter your womb. You could feel all of him and at some points you felt as if you were going to rip in two from how big he was

"Thaaats it take it for daddy baby"

♡ his thrusts started out slow, tempered and gentle letting your now ruined cunt get used to the abuse he was putting it through, each vein caught on your walls making you fall limp against him however his rhythm picked up as time went on, he was a strong man but not strong enough to control himself around you

♡ your legs are pinned to your chest by his massive hands, your calves resting on his shoulders as he pounds his thick cock up into you, each thrust faulting as he breaches your cervix, youre jolting everytime his dick twitches, his hands forcing your body into itself pressing down on the bulge in your stomach.

♡ you dont know where to put your hands too overwhelmed with the appendage abusing your cunt, your slick and juices are dripping out of your newly damaged cunt and onto hoppers balls and down his thick hairy thighs.

♡ the house is filled with moans, groans, squeals and the sound of skin smacking together but neither of you care. His entire body is encapsulating yours, his frame hanging over you as he uses you for his own pleasure

"My good girl- my- my girl- fuck-"

"DA- daddy- plEAse please please please oh god- PLEASE gentle! Be gentle y'go-gonna break me cant- cant take this! S'too muuuuch"

♡ your sobs seem to fall on deaf ears as his instincts kick in. his mouth made subtle marks on your neck the feral part of him wanted to mark you until you couldnt breath, until your neck collapses in on itself and you have no other choice but to show everyone who you belong to but.. he knows it wouldn't go over well with your mother, he knows that you would never tell her, he knows that youd lie and he knows your mother will pry pry and pry until she figures out that her husband was fucking her daughter.

"That's it baby doing so well for me- T-" he thrusts into you body harshly causing you to pathetically squeal "TAking it so well"

♡ the noises coming from you were nothing but sounds, too cock drunk to form a sentence (not that he minded, he knew his little girl couldnt take him without getting dumb) whines and choked moans flowed out of you as he ruined you

♡ any steam from the shower didnt compare to the condensation on the mirrors your bodies were causing, You clung to eachother like velcro, feeding off of eachothers pleasure

♡ his thumb pressed against your clit swallowing it whole as he circled it like a shark. Your hips jolted as the stimulation became to much, you cried out as he picked up his pace clenching around him as you came on his cock, juices squirting onto his stomach and down his legs.

♡ hopper howled as he came. short yet harsh thrusts continued fell out of him like possessed man as he tried to get his cum as deep in you as possible.

♡ you lay in eachothers brace, still held against the wall as you tried to regain feeling in your body and mind. Praises poured out of his mouth in whispers as you fell in and out of that post orgasm feeling

♡ the jiggling of keys unfortunately broke you both out of your dream like state, hopper placed you down, pulling you underwear over your newly filled cunt before fully dressing himself. Your mother called out to the both of you but luckily she was too concerned on who left the oven on to come look for you. You steadied yourself on the wall as you walked like a newborn doe to greet your mother (hoppers orders)

♡ you stayed the rest if the night eating the, thankfully, edible chicken alfredo, occasionally your leg would jerk up as you felt hoppers thick cum leak out of you, your mother was none the wiser. he stared you down from across the table his foot playing with your ankle as you licked up the white sauce from the corners of you mouth.

#stranger things x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #hopper smut #tw: stepcest

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bluecollarmcandtf · 6 months

Text

Trying Them on for Size

My stepdad's eyes rolled back as my friend leapt into his body. Thanks to my distraction, he had a clear jump, and the possession was instant. The beer in his hand didn't even slip as a new guy took over the thick hunk of meet.

"Goddamn, this guy is big!" my stepdad's voice rumbled in uncharacteristic glee, "My arms feel like a ton heavier with all this muscle!"

"I...I cant believe it worked," I stammer, still processing the fact that Sam, my best friend, is inside Paul, my jerk of a stepfather.

Sam lifts a heavy arm and takes a whiff. "Wow, your dad smells rank! Does the pig shower much?" he groans and laughs, "What'd you say this idiot does again?"

"Mechanic, and he's not my dad," I answer, still trying to get over my nerves, "How's it feel...to be in him?"

"Man, he's so muscular and dense. I mean, I can feel how heavy he is, ya know? He's like really sweaty and kinda gross too, but I feel like I could beat the shit out of anyone right now!"

Sam takes a swig of Paul's beer, making the body look just like the alcoholic stepfather I knew and hated. Normally, I'd avoid the guy at all costs. He'd usually only speak to me in grunts, and that was only when he wasn't ignoring my existence. Now, Sam was using his mouth to yap off like an excited puppy.

I think Sam notices that I'm still a little tense, because he stops staring at his massive arms and puts the beer down. Paul's body steps right against me and grabs my hands as he looks down into my eyes. My stepdad would certainly never have done this before.

"How you doin, man?" Sam asks, but I can't help but feel like Paul is talking.

"Good," I lie, "This is just so surreal."

"Well, what do you want to see your old step daddy do for ya?" he asks playfully, "The jerk is at your whim, dude."

"I don't know..."

"Come on, sonny boy! Wanna watch as daddy Paul gets on his hands and knees and crawls to you?"

Sam pilots the muscular body to the floor, while staring longingly up at me with Paul's normally hateful gaze.

"Wanna see your big bad old man, stick out his tongue and lick your shoes?"

Before I can react, Paul...I mean Sam...has stuck out his tongue and started dragging it up the length of my sneaker. God, the sight of my harsh stepfather licking my shoe is incredible! He'd be so humiliated right now.

Sam pulls away from my feet and up to Paul's knees, "Maybe he needs to find another way to express just how sorry he is to his favorite boy."

Sam's lips hang open as he inches towards my tenting pants. My heart is racing with the anticipation of getting Paul's lips on my aching cock.

"I'm home!" a singsong voice echoes through the house.

"Shit, your mom!" Sam growls with Paul's hoarse voice, "I mean, my wife."

"Shut up," I snap, "Let's go to your house. We can get an early start to phase two."

My grizzled stepdad smirks, and we sneak out. Phase two involves Sam's biggest bully: his older brother, and he just got off work.

Michael was even easier to distract and jump into than my stepdad was. I may have been a little nervous, but after watching Sam do it at my house, I was practically a pro.

"Woah," I gasp in a much deeper tone than I'm used to, "Your brother is tall."

"Yeah, he was the basketball star before he graduated. Now he just bums around in the basement and beats me up after work," Sam explains.

I have to admit that it's a little weird to hear my friend complaining about getting picked on when he's wearing a super mature and muscular body. Though, Paul does look less intimidating when I see him from the towering height of the stud I'm in.

"Where were we?" I suggestively purr, getting a hang of using this guy's voice.

"Paul was about to apologize," Sam flashes a smile which looks foreign on Paul's face, "But I think you should make Michael apologize to me first."

I chuckle and take a step towards him, but almost stumble over the massive feet I have on.

"Damn, he's clumsy," I laugh, "Your brother deserves some sort of punishment, but what do you want him to do? Drop down and kiss your ass profusely or maybe bend over and take a good beating?"

"Both," Paul's mouth gulps as his calloused hands struggle to hide a growing hard-on.

"Or maybe you want to hear your brother grovel and beg for forgiveness?" I go on, dropping Michael's body to its knees, "Or maybe you can find a better use for this pathetic mouth."

"Shit, man!" I hear Paul's voice whine, "We're definitely going to make these straight assholes screw each other! But then we have to take them out tonight. They need to be put through something more public!"

"Oh I like that!" I moan from inside Michael, "Offer these jerks' bodies up for use at every gay bar!"

"At every gas station!" Sam excitedly claps Paul's hands together.

"They can pound Michaels ass while Paul tongue-polishes their boots!"

"Come here!" Sam growls.

"Yes, sir."

I jump into Sam's arms! Well, Michael jumps into Paul's arms. As electric as it feels, I can constantly sense that we don't own the bodies we are in. We're just puppeteering them.

That thought makes me wonder if Michael or Paul can feel all this somewhere deep down. It's a fleeting thought, because I'm already lost in the experience of making out with the jerk of a stepfather while Sam enjoys playing with his bully of a brother.

God, these bodies are hot. By the time, Sam and I are done wearing them, Paul and Michael will be the hottest pair of messes in town...

#mind control #gay mind control #male transformation #gay ai art #gay possession #body swap #male body swap #body suit #body theft

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spookberry · 2 months

Text

Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

#shadow high #rainbow high #my art #fanart #i had to write down all my ideas just to get them outta my head #now im free

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diejager · 2 months

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hi so big fan :D, im terribly obsessed with literally all of your cod fics but oh my god stepdad könig + horangi drives me nuts-

just wanted to throw an idea in your brain because i cant stop thinking about it but imagine if reader used to go braless around the house (because its just her n mom) but after the introduction of 2 new unfamiliar guys in the house she puts on a bra when she leaves her room (but she also forgets sometimes and they call her a tease for it)

With time however, with all the fucking and the constant attention horangi and könig have been giving her nipples, theyre so fucking sensitive she like shudders when they scrape on surfaces on accident (ex. the edge of a table, fabric of her clothes) so she starts wearing a bra all the time to stop that from happening but könig and horangi don't like that so they take ALL her bras-

oh also another idea that popped up but what if reader who usually dresses rather tomboyish/masc also occasionally enjoys wearing very fem/provocative outfits. BUT könig and horangi have only ever seen reader wear masc outfits since theyve known each other. reader still wears her fem outfits but now she wears it under a bulky jacket and baggy jeans and changes out of it in uni/public toilet.

so like one day horangi is out and has to do a double take on reader out in public because they dont recognize them in their outfit (ex. a form-fitting sundress or a mini skirt with sheer tights and cute leg warmers) and he remembers reader leaving the house in something else. fuck i just know könig and horangi are going to get SOOOO many ideas on how to punish reader for that.

any ways thats it from me love ya <3

Hii, I looked at your illustrations and I LOVE them, they’re all so clean and nice.

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, smut, size kink, possessive behaviour, delusional, tell me if I missed any.

König used to enjoy stripping you, the act of ripping your bra off and watch your breasts sway from his rough treatment. There was something empowering to it, a show of dominance and possession over you when he could strip you naked under him or watch Horangi straddle you and pull your shirt and bra off, sliding your panties down your thighs. He found pleasure in doing so when you walked around in baggy clothes, hiding your shape and curves from his hungry eyes, it was like unwrapping a long-awaited present that he’d been teased with for so, so long.

If he was especially lucky, he’d find you without a bra, your perky nipples pressing against his chest or peaking under your shirt, two small and hard nubs that tempted him with the prospect of something sweet to bite and suck. He liked admiring them, all swollen and slick with his or Horangi’s saliva, spitting or letting drool fall on your tits while they fucked you, marking your sensitive skin with the indentation of their teeth and dark splotches all across your chest. You always whined about it hurting, pushing them away with frail arms, fighting with weak hits and slow kicks. What you thought would be a deterrent, was fuel to their growing hunger, they were men who liked the fight, the struggle, a prey that wouldn’t fall too easily.

But now, he was growing annoyed that you always wore a bra, like an incessant pest that slowed him down from getting to his prize, even Horangi had complained about it and how intricate your choice of bra straps you bought, all the complicated knots and crosses that made their job much harder than it should when they were pleasuring you. How could you make it so difficult for them? They always made you come, their thick girth splitting you in half and filling you in hot and bitter cum. They tried talking you out of wearing bras, but in your rebellious phase, you glared and ignored their words. There wasn’t much they could do to convince you to stop wearing them, there wasn’t truly anything they could hold against you. So they took them away, making you ask for them if you wanted to wear one and it had to be reasonable.

It seemed that you didn’t like their decision, coming to them for a bra every two day to go out, it left them watching you walk out the door in nothing but jeans, a shirt under your jacket, headphones holding your cap down and a backpack slung over your shoulder, hanging low on your back. It irked him that you always hid your beautiful body, something you should be proud of showing off, but perhaps it was to keep your body for themselves, to dance and writhe in your nude for them only, a treasure that only König and Horangi were privy to. He figured it was something he should be proud of.

Then Horangi told him how he found you in a short skirt and a shirt that rode up your abdomen and showed your pretty bra if you raised your arms, the soft jacket you left home slung around your shoulders, dipping low enough to show your back, but your jeans, shirt and cap were gone, stuffed in the now-filled bag. König couldn’t help but mimic the deep sneer on Horangi’s face, teeth tearing into his lip at your audacity of wearing such promiscuous attire for the world to see and hiding yourself from them. It made them wrathful, a deep-seated anger and envy that boiled until you got home, changed into the same baggy clothes you left with. This warranted a punishment, to teach you a lesson about lying to them and holding out on them.

“Come here, du scheiß Gör,” König growled, glaring at your shuddering figure. [you fucking brat.]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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jeansplaytoy · 3 months

Text

‘ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 .

part four !

part three here. > if u didn’t read it. no proof read , sorry for the wait 😣 this parts kinda boring butttt i gotchu later.

you were confused. really confused.

“what’re you doing at my window?” you whispered after opening it. “can you let me in? this ladder ain’t that sturdy.” armin muttered, glancing down.

you glanced back at your door and sighed, shaking your head and stepping back to let armin in. you went over to your door and locked it. “you should be happy we’re friends, because if we weren’t-“

“i know. i know.” armin mumbled, stumbling through the window and closing it behind him. he placed his backpack to the side and sat on the edge of your bed. “fuck.” he whispered to himself, resting his face in his hands.

“you okay? what happened?” you frowned a little and stood in front of him.

“what doesn’t happen at that dumbass house?” armin mumbled, laying back on your bed. you pursed your lips together. “was it your dad?” he looked at you. “hell yeah. it’s nobody else but him.”

you didn’t know much about armin, or learn much about him that night, other than the fact that his dad was a complete asshole and his mom was basically helpless when it came to him.

“you know.. theres not a lot i can say about the situation. but i think you need to talk to somebody about that. because it goes left.”

“tryna get me killed?”

“i’m tryna help.”

armin scoffed. “yeah, ‘cus telling somebody that my dad got physically with me is gonna help.”

“i didn’t know that.”

he stayed quiet after your statement. you couldn’t do anything but sit beside him and stare at the wall. “ion wanna involve you in nothing but…. you think i can stay here?"

you frowned. "what? are you… dumb?"

"no. or i would've ran away by now. but im asking someone thats actually willing to help."

"how do you know if im willing to help?"

"you cant say no."

you smacked your lips. "armin, you really piss me off sometimes. but i’ll help, just because i don’t want you to get in trouble or sum shit.” you stared at him with bored eyes. “but we gotta keep this a secret. if you’re gonna stay here, you have to stay in my room, unless you wanna go home.”

“believe me, i don’t.” he yawned.

as you looked at armin, you couldn’t help but notice the small bruise forming on his collarbone. “is he always like that?”

you could tell the question surprised armin, like he didn’t know you were gonna even bother to ask more about what him and his dad had going. but he answered anyway.

“he never got physical as in punching and shit like he did today. but ion really care.”

“well you should care because that’s not something a dad does.”

“well it’s something my dad did so what.” armin sat up and looked at you. “just because your dad doesn’t do that to you means my dads not gonna do it to me?”

“i never said that.” you stared blankly at armin.

he started back before resting his eyes. “right.” he muttered before standing up and reaching in his backpack. “there’s a shower in this room? or i gotta risk going out?” he looked at you. “there’s a shower in here, but make it quick. it’s already late, and my moms knows i don’t shower late.” you said.

armin nodded in response, taking his clothes in the bathroom. he stopped at the door. “is there men’s soap in here?”

you looked at him for a second.

“you fuckin serious?”

you couldn’t even get your words out from how long you were laughing at how armin smelled.

“you smell like a babyyy.” you said, wiping the tears that formed from laughing so hard. he basically used your soap instead of whatever soap you told him to use.

so there he was, standing there with shorts on, no shirt, pursing his lips together at how awkward it was.

“it’s literally not even a problem armin. you used my soap, i didn’t tell you to do that.” you shrugged as you got up to get your clothes ready for a shower. “you’re annoying.” he raised his eyebrows and sat down on your bed.

“well you’re gonna be here for a while, so you might as well get used to it.” you poked his head.

as time passed of you showering, armin looked around your room.

“peculiar ass room.” he mumbled, standing up to look at your dresser for things to cure his boredom.

you had random things on your vanity, like a random journal that he didn’t really care for looking in. or he did, he just didn’t wanna invade your privacy. and then random little glass figures like angels and stuff.

as his eyes glanced over almost everything, he picked up a bottle of perfume. he opened it and smelled it, it smelled good. like you, most of the time you were together. but as he shook it he saw it was almost gone. he bummed and put it back down.

then there was a picture. looked like you as a chubby little toddler. and someone else. armins eyes softened. he knew what he was thinking. he just didn’t wanna ask. yet.

that was until you walked out of the steamy bathroom, sighing loudly. “i’m done. after boiling for forty minutes.” you mumbled, waving yourself to cool off. he didn’t look up until you went over to him. “whatcha lookin at?”

“who’s this?” he pointed.

you tilted your head before raising your eyebrows. “that’s my dad.” you said, staring at the picture. “what happened?”

you thought about it. what did happen? “my mom ran him off. but she tells me he left because he didn’t want anything to do with a kid anymore.” you muttered while turning around to lay across your bed.

“fucked up.” armin said, picking up the frame. he looked at it. it looked like there were more pictures underneath. as he took the main picture out, smaller ones started to fall out. like little polaroids and cut outs.

“ain’t then when we was little or sum?” he held up another picture for you to see. “why’re you looking at those?”

“cause you’re life’s more interesting than mine.”

“so.”

“so tell me about it.”

part 5 soon.

#armin arlet x reader #armin arlet headcanons #armin fluff #armin x black y/n #armin x black reader #armin x fem reader #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin arlert #armin aot

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cyberkitty1 · 11 months

Note

Hi can I ask for a miles 42 x telekinesis reader

Like she and miles got in an argument about how he hasn't been around and not making time for her at least

Miles knows she has powers

She knows he's the prowler

She gets mad and the objects in the room start flying around

She doesn't notice and keeps ranting to him about how he's shit and she slowly lifts herself from the ground

Still not noticing BC she's angry

Make the ending fluffy and cute

I tried, I got lazy because ive been getting similar asks with the same character so im trying!!!

“ So where have you been?” You say leaning against the doorway looking at Miles who came home at 2 am in the morning. You closed mouth smiles at you “ I’ve been out ma, you know.”

You sigh resting your face in your hands “ Miles no I don’t know, where have you been? You keep leaving early in the day and coming home next day at like 3 am!” Raising your voice a little.

“ Chill out I’m home right?” he says shrugging you off. “ No I’m not going to “chill out” how am i supposed to when i never see you. Why are you always gone?”

In the moment you are able to see what he’s thinking “ It might be time for me to tell her, shes getting suspicious.” You tense looking at him in his eyes, feeling like you could see his soul.

“ Time to tell me what? What are you hiding from me Miles” He sighs looking at the ceiling muttering “shoot.” So you do it again, if he’s not going to tell you, you will figure out on your own.

“I am The Prowler”

Those words in bald pounded though your brain. “ Why? why would you keep something this big from me? I told you about my powers yet you cant tell me that you are a gauntlet, mask wearing vigilante? or what are you?” He opens his mouth to say something. “No stop! stop talking! You’re telling me you have been lying to me this while time? how long have you been this” making hand motions everywhere.

“ Miles I have always been there for you since day 1! ok?! Day one! and now your going out killing people?!” everything in the room starts to shake. Miles looks around realizing what happening “ Please calm down, mal explicar todo.” (ill explain everything)

“No you cant just explain and everything’s all better! Miles this is the biggest lie you have ever told me? Do you know how i feel?” The tears start to fill your eyes, vision becoming blurry. Everything around you was floating even your hair. Miles was freaking out.

“Please please calm down ill explain everything” when those words left his mouth you felt your body get lighter.

“Miles there is nothing you need to explain! I get it; you are the prowler! Someone who kills people robs people and does it with no remorse! How could you keep something that big from me?!”

You were about 1 foot above the ground when you finally realized, am I in the air? Everything around us is in the air. You see the fear in his eyes, maybe you do need to calm down.

Taking a deep breath you release everything including yourself, you take a deep breath eyes closed. “ Im going to give you 10 minutes to tell me”.

“ Desde que murió mi padre, mi madre ha estado trabajando turnos extra, llegando a casa cansada y sin energía. No podía soportar verla así. ella es mi mamá, me ama pase lo que pase!”

(Ever since my father died, my mother has been working extra shifts, coming home tired and drained. He couldn't bear to see her like this. she is my mom, she loves me no matter what!)

“El tío Aaron consiguió un trabajo en el que pudo dejarme participar para que pudiera obtener más dinero para ella.”

(Uncle Aaron got a job that he was able to let me participate in so he could get more money for her.)

“Hice algunos y obtuve mucho dinero, pero cuando traté de retirarme, no me dejaron. Si me iba, te matarían a ti y a todos los que amaba. No puedo perderte.”

(I made a few and got a lot of money, but when I tried to withdraw, they wouldn't let me. If I left, they would kill you and everyone I loved. I can not lose you.)

You just looked at him taking in everything, you overreacted most definitely. “ why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you” “ No it was easier that you didn’t know i didn’t want you to worry mi vida.”

He continues to explain his troubles to you, telling you what he’s been thinking when he pauses.

“Sabes que te amaré siempre ¿verdad? Todo lo que quiero es que estés segura”

(You know that I will always love you, right? All I want is for you to be safe)

“ I know Miles and I thank you for everything you do for me”. You say kissing him on the forehead.

“ And I love you so much” you look at him with the most loving eyes you could muster.

—————————————

A/n: Guys I think i’m going to finish my last 1-3 requests about earth42! Miles Morales and not take anymore for a while because I feel they are getting repetitive and I don’t want you guys to get bored of what i’m writing so if you would like to request other characters i would love that so much!!!

#earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #fluff #miles morales #miles morales x reader #angst #fight #reader has powers!

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geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

Text

Friday I’m In Love

A/N: So jokes on me because I didn't expect to love Eddie Munson this much. @allaboardthereadingrailroad told me he was going to be the it girl of this season and I said absolutely not.

Warnings: Smut, lots of it. Drug use. Judgemental teenage girls

Parings: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Eddie invites you to his show, and holy shit. You show up.

“Remind me why the hell were here again?”

You’d never been to The Hideout, a shitty hole in the wall off the highway outside of town. You’ve driven by it like, a thousand times and never once had the urge to go inside. Now, as you stand next to your friend, Shelly’s, mom’s Subaru in the half empty parking lot your nerves are going haywire, over eager to walk through the doors.

“Because, we were invited” you answer simply. Duh. Sweeping more glittery lip gloss on and fluffing your hair before adding “plus it’s not like we had anything else to do”

“We could literally be doing anything else then this- isn't Clair throwing a party tonight?”

“Yeah, but all her parties are always like, major depressing. Ever since Heather you know”-you make a gurgling choking sound and cross your eyes “Its like, why do we have to do a toast to the dead girl, every party. I get once- but it feels redundant”

You get it. Claire and Heather were best friends. You’re also not in the mood to go hold her hand while she cries about it. Again.

Also, Heather had put gum in your third grade. So-

“For one- you're a horrible person” Shelly accuses, shaking her overly curly head “For two, we could’ve gone to the movies or something”

“You think the theaters boring, plus like. Won't it be fun to try something new? Come on” you grab her hand and pull her along behind you. Sparing one last glace at the familiar van, parked idle towards the front of the lot.

“So like, this has nothing to do with you and weirdo Munson, right?”

“Right- and its funny the way that you only think he’s weird after he sells you weed. Asshole”

Well- its not like you we’re expecting anything fancy from the Hideout. No expectations, no disappointment, right? The bar is the textbook definition of a dive.The lingering smell of stale beer hits you straight in the face as you walk in. Seedy lighting that makes everything look shadowy and almost green-

“Oh look! They have pool tables!” you point out because that could be fun. Maybe?

“Oh great” She replies, voice fasle sugar sweet before dropping “I want to leave”

“Shh” you elbow her, hard. “We just got here. Play nice”

And she does, for the most part. Sit down at one of the sticky tables with you. Avoids the looks of the bar's patrons- older. Wasted. White trash, for sure. You wouldn't talk to them, not ever but like. Whatever. You can just ignore them. That’s easy enough.

Especially when they get on stage. The Dark Wizards, Eddie at the lead. Even though he's not singing, even though he’s off to the side with that bright cherry red guitar of his. He’s the star.

“We’re the Dark Wizards, and we’re about to rock your mortal world”

You don't know when this…thing you had for Eddie developed. Somewhere between smoke laced conversations and late nights glued to your phone, him fighting the shitty static of his own line to talk until one of you called uncle, the thing had taken a life of its own.

He’s odd. Yeah. But no other guy has ever been this nice to you. Eddies odd, but he’s not cruel. He’s not like the asshole jocks or elitist math nerds. He’s not even like the rest of his leather clad D&D playing posse.

You wish you could get everyone else to see that. Get your friends to see that.

The singer is trash, the drummer can't keep a beat to save his life, but the guitar riffs are melodic. Smooth and sharp, and your heart catches the tune and beats in time. Blood flow slowing and stopping until your all but hypnotized.

You clap and cheer and cant manage to tear your eyes away until the final note plays, their set is over-

“Oh my god, you're so into him” the statement is disgusted, mostly. Fascinated. Your friend looks at you like she's watching a car crash- violent and bloody, but she can't take her eyes off of it.

You just shrug because like. Yeah. Obviously.

“Oh fuck no” she groans, face palming hard.

Eddie hurries out from behind the stage, which is really just their supply room. Grinning from ear to ear, beaming arms spread out wide. “Look who came!”

“You invited me, I told you I’d come” You try to contain it, but you're giddy. Even more so when he throws a gangly arm around your shoulder. “It’s no biggie”

“No biggie? You came all the way out here to see little ol me. Huge biggie, my friend. Huge” He holds his heart with his other hand dramatically-

Always so dramatic. Always so enamoring.

“You deserve a drink. A real one, what is this?” He dips his pinky into your friend's drink and her nose scrunches up something fierce and offended “Sprite? Nah, that's a peasant drink. Bartender kind sir- pour us something strong. And…fruity”

The bartender, who looks like an Ex-con, actually makes a mean Mojito.

------------

“It’s totes okay, I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?”

You're in the parking lot, again. Except for you're not leaving in the car that you came in.

Shelly’s tucked into the Subaru, staring out at you with all knowing eyes.

He’s just going to drop me off at home.

Uh Huh.

Seriously.

“Yeah whatever you better call me later- I want all the dirty details. Use protection- bye” she waves before her tires screech, hauling ass away from the Hideout. You flip her the bird all the way.

“Okay let's blow this popsicle stand” you plop into the passenger side of the beat up old van, bouncing along as you go. Glad for the low cut blouse you’d donned because Eddie's eyes follow your chest, comically, animatedly. Up and down.

“Whatever you say, mi’lady. Your house?”

“I mean- I don't have a curfew or anything on the weekend- we could go somewhere else. If you want to?”

Eddie looks pensive, lips pursed, before a light bulb goes off in his head.

“Want to go to the end of the earth with me?” He questions as he reverses, and well. How can you say no to that offer?

-----

The cliffs of Sattlers Quarry are jagged and high. Eddie parks too close to the edge- takes you out. Holds your hand tight as you screech, not being able to look over for more than a second.

“Its okay,” Eddie chuckles, herding you into the open back of the van. “I come here all the time, were all good Y/L/N.”

The seats are ripped out, posters of dragons and bare tittied ladies plastered on the metal walls. Black Sabbath plays lowly from the crappy speakers and he lays an armful of threadbare blanket down for cushioning, for the two of you to curl up on.

You cling to him just to do it. Keep close as he rolls the cleanest joint you’ve ever seen. Spark and smoke and laugh- all attached to hip. He talks about Tolkien as fluidly as he does Karl Marx, he likes pineapple on pizza and was born the day before Valentines. Cats are superior to dogs, and he like lives off of peanut butter crunch cereal.

His dad split when he was in eight grade and living with his Uncles not so bad, really. It’s kind of like rooming with a chill homie, but definitely nothing like having a real parent.

“I'm boring you aren't I? Just tell me to stop, and I’ll zip my lips. Locked. Key is thrown, right off that cliff” He makes the motions, zip. Key, tossed and you lean your face into his jean clad shoulder.

“Mmm, no. I like listening to you talk” its not a lie, not the usual shit you blow up guys ass. Everything out of Eddie’s mouth is unexpected, he tells stories with words. Vivid pictures, film on a loop. With your lungs burning and THC running through your system it's even better.

“I like you. In general” Eddie whispers, and you hide your face even more. He shrugs you away though, turning. Face to face, no way to run from his dark eyes “I like your eyes” he leans in, and you think finally he’s gong to kiss you. Instead he gets close enough. Blinks fluttery fast, his lashes against yours. Butterfly kisses

You shake your head, cheeks burning, chest tight.

“And your hair? I really like that- even if it is better than mine which is rude. And don't even get me started on your perfume because that? That’s my favorite. And your-”

You slap a hand over his mouth pushing until he gives way. Until your on top thick thighs caging his waist “Stop it, jeeze I lied. I hate your voice, shuddap!”

He makes a few muffled attempts, squirming a bit before giving up. Going lax, bringing his hands behind his head and looking at you with dark eyes that shine and sparkle. He's enjoying this, and the long languid lick he gives to your hand shouldn't feel as good as it does.

You like Eddie, like the way he feels. You like the way he lets you be who you want to be, do what you want to do. Other guys would’ve thrown you off, too heavy. Too dominant. They didnt want to play, but Eddie. Eddie’s wanted to play with you since you hit that doobie behind the gym.

You unbutton your blouse slowly, letting him watch you. He can have it. All of it. Everything. You unhook your bra and those dark eyes go wide.

“This okay?” you ask, taking your hand off of his mouth, resting on his shoulder.

He nods, quick, adam's apple bobbing “Are you even asking me that right now? Yes, fuck yes I am a-okay. The best, really-”

The kiss you cut him off with is messy, too much tongue. Too much want. Why had you wanted this long? Maybe it should’ve have been more romantic- but then again maybe it is? It’s own version of romance, its own courting and dating and being cared for.

Eddies hands are everywhere, eager and exploring and its almost funny until he thumb brushes over your nipple, just on the right side of rough, making you gasp sharp into his mouth, and grind down onto his hard lap in tight circles. Eddie pulls away, just barley. Dragging his slick mouth acros your jaw, down your chest, your hands fist tight his hair as he runs the flat of his tongue along the nub.

It feels too good, mind numbing. Base instinct, two teenagers and in a fogged up car. Breathing eachothers air, tasting each other spit. Fumbly and needy, too fast.

Struggling out of your clothes, you wiggle out of your tight acid washed jeans as Eddie shed’s layer after layer- Hell Fire Club Tee, Leather Jacket, Denim vest. The floor of his van littered. You’re tugging on your pink panties when he blankets himself over you, pushing you back down. The blankets rough on your bare skin.

Eddie’s a weirdo, not a virgin. And most importantly, he’s good with his hands. The long ring donned fingers work magic. The real life kind that gets your back arching and has sounds that would embarrass you to think about later clawing their way from your throat. Feels almost too good as he rests his forehead against yours, noses bumping as he pounds his fingers in and out of you.

He likes it, watching you squirm, watching your hips shift every time he tries to pull his hand away.

He keeps condoms in the glove box, mostly for show. Hope. The off chance that some girl gives him a chance and wants to hook up- once in a blue moon shit. He’s glad for them now, even if it means pulling away from a whining writhing you

When he slides back between your thighs it's a heady feeling. He’s almost vibrating, shaking out of his skin, nervous excitement making him clumsy. He misses. Doesnt slide into you easily, the two of you shifting and giggling, gasping and nosing at one and other until.

Oh.

There.

The inhale you take is shaky and sharp and Eddie groans and buries his head in your neck. Breathing in your sweet perfume as his hips begin to pump.

“O-oh my god. Eddie-” You stutter, holding on to his shoulders. He’s not the thickest guy you’ve been with, but his dicks long. Longer then average forsure. Jabbing at that place inside you, pleasure pain bursting behind your eyelids and you cling to his shoulders. There's no real pace, not from the nineteen year old, but the friction of sweaty bodies feels good, the rocking rhythmic and almost peaceful as you stare up at the van’s ceiling. You like it, the way he moans, the way he tells you how it feels- he really doesn't ever shut up.

Its quick, you’re young and Eddie’s never been with anyone who feels so tight. You can tell when he’s close, when he speeds up to nothing more then a dirty, desperate grind. When his whole body goes taught and his arms tighten around your waist, holding onto you as he rides it out. As he shakes and shudders, needing the grounding. You hold him in the cradle of your thighs.

He pulls out with a hiss and slumps, heavy and boneless on to you and you stroke his back, trail your fingers across his shoulders soothingly. It felt good the minutes that go by in overexerted bliss. It wasnt like you weren't used to not getting yours. Guys just had a one track mind, right? No big deal, you’ll handle it when you get home-

Eddie's head perks up from your chest. Almost like he could read your mind, Isnt that one of his D&D elf powers or whatever?

His animated, recovered enough to have regained that mischievous look. He waggles his tongue, vulgar and pushing corny

“Your turn, mi’lady”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

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luveline · 1 year

Note

if you’re up to it!! maybe a single dad!steve w twins? i cant stop thinkin about one of your posts saying he’d have a really rambunctious lil girl and a sweet shy lil boy 🥺 maybe a meet cute with r? or the lil boy warming up to r and letting her hold him for the first time? idk!! also no worries at all if you’re not feeling this! just thought i’d throw it out there okay ilysm mwah

thank you for your request, this was so fun, and I'd been thinking about the twins for a little while now so it was fun to actually write them!! ♥︎ single dad!steve x fem!reader 2.2k

"Sarah," Steve says loudly, "you gotta hold my hand, or we'll have to go home."

Sarah's eyes widen and she grabs for Steve's bigger fingers. Her palm is sticky with ice cream. No part of her remains unscathed from the disastrous dairy — her blue dress is now purple in splotches, bubblegum ice cream stains like fingerprints, and her blonde hair is darker towards the tips where she'd accidentally leaned into her sundae. Steve doesn't mind, she looks like she enjoyed herself, and her little sighs of joy had proven it, but he worries other people will look at her and think he isn't looking after her properly.

He's lucky in some ways to be a single dad instead of a single mom. Most people commend him for doing the bare minimum. He's a saint for 'giving mommy a break'. Oh, please, he thinks, rolling his eyes internally each time.

"But, how come Charlie doesn't have to hold your hand?" she asks, pouting at the injustice of it all.

"Your brother does need to hold my hand," Steve says.

"He's holding onto your pants, dad," she grumbles.

It would be more accurate to say Charlie is hiding behind Steve's pants, rather than holding them.

He frowns. "Come on, buddy," he says softly, stroking the downy hair from Charlie's face. "It's alright. We're gonna go on the swings."

His mentioning of the playground has Sarah's hand straining in his. She tugs her small family with huge willpower down the path until the top of the swingset and jungle gym are in sight, and she lets go of Steve's hand. Steve grabs her as kindly as he can.

"Hey," he says, leaning down. His backpack shifts against his back, their water bottles no doubt crushed under the weight of their coats and lunchboxes. "What's the rules, Sar-bear?"

She fizzes up like a can of soda as he brushes sticky strands of hair behind her ears. "Um, to be nice. And to not go where you can't see us, and," —she pauses as Steve wipes her mouth, the old spirit and polish marring his shirt sleeve— "to, uh…"

"To be careful," he finishes for her pointedly.

"Yes!" she agrees.

Steve would ask for a kiss here but Sarah's already jumping on tip toes to give him one, her little kiss print more spit than anything else against his bottom lip. He snorts.

Sarah rushes through the gates and Steve and Charlie follow. There's only one other parent at the playground, a mom with a book in her hands and a stroller by her knees, a child Steve assumes to be hers swinging on the swingset. It's too many people for Charlie regardless, not half as eager as his sister.

Steve sits on the bench opposite the jungle gym where Sarah's already climbing, and Charlie holds his arms up to be lifted into his lap. He does so obligingly.

"You don't wanna play?" Steve murmurs warmly in his ear.

"No," Charlie says succinctly. He's adorable.

"I can push you on the swings?"

"Not for now," he says.

The twins are at mostly all the same developmental milestones. They sound clumsy when they talk, but they talk, big vocabularies and sentences that make Steve well up because they're getting older so quickly. Sarah tells stories like nobody's business. They're good enough to capture even her brother's attention, full of animals and magic and people. Charlie likes listening, will sit enthralled at her feet, and most people who meet him think he's quiet because his sister is so loud, but it's not true. Charlie likes to talk too, he's just timid. Only at home does he come out of his shell, playing out scenes with imaginary characters, singing gibberish karaoke at the top of his little lungs.

Steve doesn't mind that Charlie's shy around others. He's grateful to see his baby boy's loud side at home. He wishes Charlie would put himself out there, though, for his own sake.

"The little boy won't mind," Steve insists. "Come on, baby, it'll be fun. We don't wanna sit here watching Sarah all day, do we?"

Charlie tips his head back against Steve's chest. "I like Sarah."

Steve laughs, an extreme affection warming his heart. He wraps his arms around Charlie's front and rubs his baby's head with the tip of his nose.

"I like Sarah, too," he says. His smile is audible and catching.

They sit there for a while. The sun shines down, the sky a bright blue and dotted with eggshell clouds. Sarah races over rope fixtures and spring boards until she finally reaches the monkey bars. Steve regrets letting her up there when he realises how tall it is and how small she is, shepherding Charlie with him to stand at the side.

"Daddy," she says, clearly pleased at his arrival and talking with near factual efficiency, "I need your help."

"Yes you do, honey."

He puts his arms out. She grabs one bar and tests it to see how her weight will feel, her bottom lip disappearing between white shiny baby teeth.

"You want me to hold your waist?" he asks knowingly.

"I think so."

"I think so too." He holds her waist, her legs against his chest, and tries not to make it too obvious that he's holding the majority of her weight. "Have a go, honey. One hand at a time."

Sarah 'swings' from handhold to handhold until she gets to the other end of the bars, where she uses his chest to push herself up onto the metal floor. She cheers and rushes to sit down at the top of the slide.

Charlie stands at the bottom. Steve has to pluck him from in front of it before Sarah rockets her Mary Jane's into his chest, which makes Sarah laugh and cheer even more.

"Woah, Charlie! I almos'd kicked your face!"

"You want a turn?" Steve asks him. "We'll use the other side to go on the slide, should we?"

Sarah had chosen the hard way up to the slide via monkey bars. Charlie takes the easier side, a gentle wooden ramp with a rope for him to hold onto. He climbs to the top of the slide, sits happily at the precipice, wind ruffling the hair out of his bright eyes, and Steve thinks he's going to be brave for a moment.

Charlie looks at Steve worriedly. "You'll catch me at the end?"

"Yeah, I'll catch you."

Charlie slides down to the end, the metal squeaking under his pants, and Steve catches him before his feet can hit the floor as promised.

Sarah is ecstatic, already at the top waiting for another turn. "Go Charlie!" she shouts, pushing down and slamming into Steve's knees at the end.

"Excuse me?"

Steve turns, one kid clinging to his chest, the other his legs.

You're standing at the gate with a stack of fliers in your arms. Steve's worried he's about to get cold called, thinks, wow, she's a little too pretty to be selling vacuum cleaners curbside, as you hold out a flyer.

"I'm looking for my friend's cat," you say. "I'm really sorry to interrupt you. Her name's Evangeline and she's orange. She's kinda chubby. Have you seen her?"

Charlie's pressing his face as far into Steve's neck as physics will allow him to while Steve draws closer to you. His breath warms Steve's skin in hot puffs.

"I don't think we have. Did you see a cat today, Sar-bear?"

Sarah holds her arms up for a flyer. A smile flickers across your face, and Steve can tell you're immediately indoctrinated into the Sarah fan club. She has this charm about her that can get just about anyone on her side, even Hopper.

It helps that she's beautiful. Steve will admit to parental bias, sure, but Sarah is gorgeous.

"Thank you," she says, mumbling but not shy as you give her a flyer of her own.

LOST CAT, the poster says. PLEASE CALL THIS NUMBER IF YOU SEE ME. I AM VERY FRIENDLY. EVANGELINE, SEVEN YEARS OLD, GINGER. I DONT BITE BUT PLEASE DONT PET MY TUMMY, IM PREGNANT.

"Oh no," Steve says.

"Daddy, what does it say?" Sarah asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion.

"It says," he begins, "that she's a really nice cat, and she's about to be a mommy."

"Ohh… I didn't see'd her today."

"No, I didn't think so." Steve's arms are aching from holding Charlie for so long, but knows from experience he won't be put down. Steve doesn't bother trying it, just shifts Charlie on his hip to encourage his gaze to you where you're standing, patient and a smidge awkward.

"How about you? Have you seen any cats today?" he asks Charlie.

Charlie peeks up from Steve to assess you. You're wearing jeans and a dark green jacket, unzipped. There's a smiley face on your t-shirt, black against grey-white. Charlie sees this, sees the very real, very gentle smile you wear on your lips, and relaxes just a touch.

"I don't remember, sorry," he says quietly.

You visibly weaken. Steve gets it. His kids are ridiculously lovely.

"Don't be sorry, babe," you say sweetly, leaning down to meet his eyes. "Can I ask you for a favour?"

Steve rubs his back. Charlie nods.

"Could you keep an eye out for me, would that be okay? We don't want Eva to have her kittens by herself. Maybe if you see her daddy can call the number on the poster?"

You look to him with a different kind of smile.

"Sure we will!" Sarah says, eyes fixed on the black and white photo of Evangeline.

You fish a pen out of your pocket. "Maybe you could call me." You smile. "You know, if you find her."

Steve blinks. It takes a second for his body to remember how to talk to girls, pretty girls who want to talk to him. It's been a while.

"Uh, sure." He hates himself. He can still save it. "What's the reward?"

He can't save it.

"If you find Evangeline? We were hoping whoever helped get her home would do it from the goodness of their heart, but I think I could make an exception." Your eyes flit between the twins. You scribble down something Steve can't see on a new poster and offer it to Charlie with an encouraging nod. "Hey, thank you. Any help at all means the world. You guys go on and have a good day, alright? Thanks, handsome."

"You're welcome," Steve says, a millisecond after he realises you'd been talking to Charlie.

You laugh and wiggle your fingers at his kids. You're gone as quick as you came down the stone path to the ice cream parlour.

Steve's boiling. It isn't from the sun.

"What'd she write, daddy?" Sarah asks.

He tears his eyes from your retreating figure and lowers Charlie to the ground with a tired groan. He sits on the end of the slide and the twins follow him as they always do, like magnets since the days they learned to crawl. They all squeeze on the end of the slide together.

"Can I see yours, bud?" he asks.

Steve puts Charlie's flyer on top of his own. Next to Evangeline's chunky body, you've written a tightly packed message. Your handwriting looks like your voice sounds. Steve doesn't know how to explain it.

You've put down your phone number. Under it, you've written a sloping message:

find her and maybe we can celebrate! ♥︎

"Dad?" Sarah prompts.

"Oh, right. It says if we find the cat we can celebrate."

"What's 'celebrate'?"

"Uh, we can celebrate, we can have a reward and a little party."

"A party?" Sarah asks with a gasp.

"Well, not always?" he says, his heart still pattering from the sight of your number.

It's too late to amend what he's said. Sarah's heard party, and she wants a party, though her definition of what a party is inaccurate. She thinks parties with Aunt Robin are better than Christmas, movies and popcorn and jiffy pop and Depeche Mode singalong.

"Dad, we have to find that cat!"

Steve's thinking the same thing. Any excuse to call you is one he wants to take, not just because you'd been pretty, but because you'd seen him and the kids at the same time. He doesn't wanna be presumptuous, maybe you write your number on all the posters, but even as he thinks it he doubts it.

Your biro heart feels like a beckoning.

Or Steve's an idiot. It wouldn't be the first time he was.

"Can we go look, dad?" Charlie asks.

Steve has a lot of chores waiting for him at home, laundry and dishes and bills he has to do over the phone. He doesn't have time to look for a wandering cat, even if you were super pretty, and you'd talked to the kids like they were golden, and the smile you'd given him at one point felt heavy with something unspoken…

"Let me get my bag," he says, standing up. "You guys are gonna need your jackets if we're staying out. It's getting cold."

The twins rush to join him.

—

my requests are open so if you'd like to see more of steve and the twins let me know, hopefully they can find poor evangeline! and if you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it means the world <3<3<3<3

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