#steven exe has stopped working

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I Didn't Know You Smoked

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Steven has a secret habit.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Everytime I write something I feel myself putting on the clown make up more and more.

Warnings: Use of ‘fag’ as the British and Australian slang for cigarette, reader doesn’t smoke, blow job, fingering, p in v sex, cream pie, maybe kind of a cream pie kink from Steven if you look closely, swearing, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2741

The scent of smoke caused you to pause midstep. You shrugged off your backpack and hung it up on the side as you walked to the kitchen and put down your shopping bag. You’d been able to start cooking when you realised you were missing a few key ingredients and had made a quick dash to the corner shop. 

The smell of smoke hit you again, and even though it was very clearly cigarette smoke your mind quickly spiralled to smoke from a fire. Shit. Had you left a candle on in the bathroom? 

You’d lit one when you had a bath after work, the image of the flame somehow catching the towels and running up the walls burst into your head. 

You rushed to the bathroom, yanking open the door with such a force that the hinges groaned under your exertion. 

Steven practically jumped out of his skin, whipping his head around to look around at you, his eyes wide. “What the fuck?” He yelps.

“Shit, Steven, sorry, I thought I’d left a cand…” You pause, and truly take in the scene before you. 

He’s stood on the toilet, crouched a little so that he can reach the tiny top part of the window that actually opens. There’s a cigarette in his left hand. You can just see it from your angle. Steven’s hand outside in the cool evening air.

“You’re smoking?” There isn’t any judgement in your voice, just surprise. 

“Yeah, fuck, sorry,” he turns to hastily blow smoke out of the window, practically trying to shove his whole face outside before he grabs the old jar from were he had propped it on the window sill and stubs out his cigarette hastily. He puts the butt in there after and screws on the lid. 

You’d seen that old jar on his desk plenty of times. Just assumed it was filled with odds and ends. You didn’t realise it was his secret ashtray. 

The sight of him blowing out the billow of smoke is kind of… nice actually. Despite his obvious panic there’s something about it you can’t quite put your finger on. You shake your head. 

“No, don’t worry, I just… didn’t know you smoked?” 

Jake smoked, you could set your watch to his cigarette breaks; they were so precise. But he would always, without fail, go outside. Rain or shine, freezing cold or oppressive heat. He didn’t seem to mind if the lift was broken or not, outside he would go and the butt would go in the bin on the street after. Never on the floor. Jake was a stickler for that, had got into more than one verbal (and physical) fight with strangers who just flicked their fag onto the pavement. 

Marc had smoked, several years ago. But had quit and never touched another one since. It always used to puzzle him when he had the craving for one after not smoking for over a decade. 

Most other ex-smokers he spoke to talked about being revolted by cigarettes once they had fully stopped for a few years. Now that he knew about Jake, and his continuing habit, whenever the urge got too strong he just tapped out and let Jake go for a cigarette. (Marc still argued that smoking was bad for them, while Jake countered that technically Khonshu’s suit healed any damage every time they wore it. Which had led to a very lengthy debate over if Jake’s true reasoning for serving the moon god was so that he didn’t have to quit his nicotine fix.)

They didn’t smoke often, and Jake went more than out of his way to minimise any smell that clung to them. But it meant that you never found it puzzling if they smelt like smoke. It just meant Jake had had one. 

Steven had never mentioned smoking himself, in fact he often scolded Jake for it. 

“I don’t smoke, I mean,” Steven blushed a little, his shoulder slumping. “Well, that’s a lie, innit? I smoke… sometimes?”

“Sometimes?” You repeat with a small smile.

“Sometimes… just sort of,” he shrugs. “Feel the urge sometimes. I used to… before I met Marc and Jake, once or twice a month, just one fag, you know? I hid a packet under the sink.” 

“Under the sink?” You laugh kindly and Steven smiles and nods. 

“Yeah, here,” he gets down off the toilet and points at a little space under the taps. “And then I’d smoke out the window so I didn’t set the alarm off or stink out the place. I tell you, I used to always get confused because sometimes I would smell a bit like smoke, even though I hadn’t touched them in weeks.” He shrugs again. “I thought that’s just what happened.” 

You chuckle. “And you still sneakily have a fag every now and then.” 

He nods and grins bashfully, “every now and then… I know I should be good and go outside like Jake does but… it’s like, part of the ritual now. You know? Stand at an awkward angle and half hang my head out of the window. Wouldn’t feel right otherwise… plus sometimes I just can’t be fucked.” 

You laugh loudly and he smiles, glad that his little joke amused you. 

“Marc and Jake don’t know…” He says shyly. 

You nod and mime zipping your lips and he grins again. 

“Thank you, love.” 

You lean to give him a quick kiss but he pulls back a little.

“Sorry, I mean, I definitely taste like smoke, disgusting, you don’t want that do you? No.” He shakes his head. “I’ll brush my teeth.” 

You screw your face up a little in what Steven at first assumes is agreement at not wanting to kiss him while he tasted of cigarettes. 

You let out a little grumble and take hold of his cheeks, holding him firmly as you place a kiss on his lips. 

Even though the action is brief he does taste like smoke. And it’s kind of… nice again. A strange little spark of heat begins to grow in your belly and suddenly you can’t get the idea of fucking Steven with a cigarette dangling between his lips out of your mind. 

The way you know he would writhe and whimper, biting down on the butt to try his hardest to stop it from slipping out of his mouth. 

He moans low against you as you slide your tongue against his, spreading that smokey flavour across your taste buds. 

“Hmm,” he pulls back just a fraction to speak, even though his hands slide to your hips to pull you closer. “What’s gotten into you, love?” He grins.

“Nothing,” you mumble and kiss down his jaw, running your teeth over his neck and leaving sloppy bites.

Steven shivers, a little gasp of air hitching in his throat as he urges you even closer. You bump against his quickly hardening cock and he groans, bucking his hips forward to rut against you. Kissing his neck was always his weak spot. Practically guaranteed to get him hot under the collar at a second's notice. 

He whines a little as you move away from him for a momentarily, his fingers tighten instantly against you, trying to keep the space between your bodies to a minimum. 

“Here,” you grab at the cigarette packet on top of the cistern, and pull one out before you offer it to him.

Steven raises his eyebrow at you. 

“Just, erm, can you put it in your mouth?” 

He pauses for a second, chewing at his bottom lip nervously. “I don’t want to smoke in front of you love, if I’m messing up my own lungs then-”

“No, no, you don’t have to light it… just…” 

His eyes widen ever so slightly and a small smile pulls at his lips. “You like it, huh?” He teases softly. 

“No.” Heat burns at your skin but you can’t help but laugh lightly. “...yeah.” 

He chuckles and takes the cigarette, nuzzling into your cheek. “Alright, but… let’s not tell Jake about this, yeah?” 

You raise your eyebrow at him this time. “And why is that?” 

“Oh,” Steven shrugs, moving the cigarette between his fingers in an almost hypnotic pattern, “no real reason.” 

“Really?” You grin.

“Hmm,” he smiles playfully, “Jake gets lots of things.”

“Does he?” 

“Yeah… and maybe I want this to be my thing.” He kisses you quickly before he puts the cigarette in his mouth and leans close to your ear. “I bet if I stuck my hand down your trousers my fingers would come back soaking, wouldn’t they?” 

“Steven,” you try to chastise but your voice comes out all whiney and desperate. You can’t take your eyes off the way the cigarette just hangs from the corner of his mouth, bobbing with every word. 

He chuckles, taking it from between his lips so he can kiss you roughly, and hold the back of your neck with his other hand. 

You lick hungrily into his mouth and push him back against the wall, trying to regain some control over yourself and the situation. 

He lets you, in all honesty he always lets you do whatever you wanted, smiling the whole time when you pull back like the cat that got the cream. “Never thought you’d have a smoking kink, love.” He puts the cigarette back in his mouth.

“It’s not a smoking kink,” you scowl playfully and drop to your knees. 

“No?” He teases lightly, pretending to take a long drag. 

“No.” You unbuckle his jeans, pulling down the zip and relishing the sound of his contented sigh as you palm his cock. 

There’s a little wet patch of precum already soaking into his boxers from the tip, a visual cue of how desperate he is despite his quite commendable effort at seeming calm. His dick twitches as you touch him, as you languidly push his trousers and underwear down his hips and take his length in hand. 

“No,” you repeat, “I have a you smoking kink.” You give him a little smile as you look up at him before you run the tip of your tongue along his velvet warm length.

He shivers, letting out a small cry of satisfaction as his eyes close and eyebrows pinch together. The sight of him pressing his head back against the tiles with the cigarette at the edge of his mouth sends a sharp thrill down your spine. 

You lap at his slit, board, flat licks that have him shaking and squirming in no time as you lightly squeeze and pump him from the base. 

He tries to stay still, to let you play and tease at your own pace for as long as possible. But his self control is rapidly dissolving. 

By the time you suck his bulbous head into your mouth he’s practically crawling up the walls. He groans low in his chest, glancing down so he can watch you slowly bob your head back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper each time. 

You moan around him, trying to open your jaw and take him further but he’s so thick it’s nearly impossible. 

Heat burns distractingly at your core and you can’t sit still, shifting on your knees to rub your legs together to try to relieve a fraction of that maddening ache. 

He wants to grab you by the back of the neck and force his cock down your throat, wants to buck and trust and cum so deeply until he spills from your lips. 

Instead he bites his teeth together, almost severing the cigarette in two and claws at the tiles as bliss twists and grows in his stomach. 

You manage to take him a fraction deeper, your throat aching as you pick up the pace, squeezing his thighs and swirling your tongue around his tip as if your life depended on it, as if his pleasure was the only way for you to breathe. 

His stomach muscles clench, balls contract and you can tell he’s painfully close by the little whimpered moans that slip past his lips with every breath. You’re about to-

Suddenly he grabs hold of your chin, pulling you back off him and groaning at the trail of salvia that connects him to your mouth. He pulls you up and into his arms with a rare show of his strength and kisses you deeply, the cigarette falling to the floor. 

“Steven,” you moan, the sound muffled by his lips. 

“Off, off, off,” he mutters, undoing your trousers and pulling off your top and bra. He strips you so fast it makes your head spin, and then he’s sitting on the toilet lid and pulling you down onto his lap to straddle his thighs. 

Your hands fly to his shoulders and you have just enough time to tug his t-shirt over his head before he presses two thick fingers into your entrance. 

You moan, keening as he curls them, the sensation like lightening along your nerves and Steven swears.

“Oh god, you’re so fucking ready for me,” he mumbles, salivating as he sticks his fingers in his mouth and pushes you down onto his needy, weeping cock. His hips instinctively buck up as his tip notches in your entrance, sheathing himself halfway.

You moan, high pitched and throwing your head back as he stretches you deliciously. You barely have a second to adjust before he grabs your hips and forces you all the way down and it’s perfect. So full and hitting so wonderfully deep that you gasp. You can feel your slick gushing out of you, making a mess of him as he bounces you on his cock. 

He groans, eyes glazed over, blurting out fragments of sentences with every thrust. “Can’t believe you like me smokin’ that much, fucking amazing, so wet, squeezing me so tight, ah,” he moans loudly, pushing his forehead against yours and kissing you messily, so hungry for every part of you. 

You gasp against him, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own and chasing that sweet release so desperately. 

“Gonna fucking smoke everyday, become a chain smoker just so I can always have you whining on my cock, every single second, just keep you filled up and- oh shit!” Pleasure cracks into his being, surprising him with its suddenness and intensity. He moans loudly, rutting against you as he pumps you full of his spend. His skin sweaty, his hair clingy to his forehead as his hips slow and he comes down from his high.

Steven looks up at you with dark eyes, “fuck, sorry.” He kisses you sweetly, still breathing hard. 

“It’s okay,” you stroke his head and he preens up into your touch. Your thighs twitch, your need still thudding hard and making you squirm ever so slightly. 

Steven hisses softly at the movement, overstimulation flooding his mind with both pain and pleasure. 

“Sorry, I-”

“Keep moving,” he groans, pressinging his face against your shoulder and lightly biting your skin. “Cum on me.” He mutters, keeping his left arm wrapped around your waist while he snakes his right hand down between your bodies and rolls your clit between his nimble fingers. 

You gasp and whine lightly. Rocking yourself up and into his touch. 

Steven moans again, mouthing at your skin and the wet mess between your legs as you move. He thrusts upwards shallowly, rubbing you in perfect time. 

“Steven,” you pant, squirming as your legs start to spasm, the pleasure so close it’s on the tip of your tongue. 

“That’s it love,” he whispers so softly, “that’s it.” He looks up at you with his large doe eyes, completely enraptured with you in that moment. “You can do it.” 

You cry out, so, so close it’s driving you mad. The pull of his fingers, the rock of his hips, the fact that he’s still hard inside of you and pushing so deep. 

“You can cum for me,” he bites his bottom lip, his voice like silk. “Can’t you?” 

Pleasure spikes up and overtakes you, blossoming out and hitting every nerve. You moan, quieting yourself ever so slightly by pressing your lips to his and kissing him messily. 

Steven echoes the sound as you cum, your walls squeezing him so tightly and sending an aftershock of deep satisfaction through his veins. 

You breathe heavily as you calm, and he hugs you tightly, grinning and still looking up at you with those beautiful eyes. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[imtryingbuck]

You Promised

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: Steve and reader have an argument and Sharon’s there to cause trouble

Word count: 1,178

Warnings: Steve’s a dumdum, mentions of cheating, Sharon-ew. very very terrible writing. Ending is…well it’s terrible

Masterlist

Waking up in his old room at the tower, the memories of last night’s argument hit full force. Steve groaned as he sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he knew how right she was. He knew he had to fix things between them. He understands that she’s worried about him, he does. He just hates how it feels like he has to choose his job or her, because he truly doesn’t know which he would pick. His girlfriend who he loves or his job that he loves.

They’d been arguing ever since he came home with fresh cuts on his face.

“Steve all I’m asking is for you to take some time off from doing missions please!” She stood there with tears filling her eyes.

“It’s my job”

“I know and I’m not asking you to quit, I would never ask you to do that but at least do what Bucky does and take some days off, even if it’s just a few days every month! Please Steve”

“I can’t Y/n you need to understand!”

“I understand why you do what you do but you can’t keep doing every single day-“

“Don’t be dramatic it’s not every day!”

“It is Steve. You’re never home-“

“It’s my job Y/n!” He screamed at her.

“One, stop cutting me off! And two don’t scream at me again Steven. You nearly didn’t come home from the last mission, you nearly died” A sob broke past the barrier of her lips.

He was about to say something but then his phone started to ring “I need to take this Y/n it’s Sharon, why are you rolling your eyes?”

“Are you cheating on me with her?”

“W-what? Don’t be stupid!”

“Yes or no simple answer Steve”

“…No I’m not cheating on you”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’ve got trust issues I’m not like your ex who cheated on you every single chance he got!” His voiced was raised higher than before. He didn’t even bat an eye when she flinched at the mention of her ex. He didn’t let her respond instead he answered his phone.

“Yeah I’m on my way doll, alright, you too, of course I mean it” looking at his girlfriend “I’ve got to go”

“Y-you called her- you are cheating on me with her, I fucking knew it I just didn’t want to believe it”

“What?”

“Just go. Your girlfriends waiting for you”

“I’ll be home soon. Bye”.

Only problem was being that he never went home that night. He berated himself mentioning her ex, he didn’t even try and correct her when she called Sharon his girlfriend. He hated himself for shouting at her, not once in the three years they’ve been dating has he ever so much as raised his voice at her. Searching for his phone which was normally on his bedside table when the bathroom door came open.

“Oh you’re awake, just needed a quick shower” Sharon says as she stands there with just a towel covering her naked body, her wet hair leaving droplets on the laminate flooring.

“Yeah that fine, I guess. Have you seen my phone?”

“On the dresser, I put it there after I spoke to Y/n. She was quite rude if you ask me”

“Wait, you spoke to her?” And the realisation that she showered in his bathroom “Why was you using my shower?”

“Yeah I told her you was still sleeping and she put the phone down on me”

“Okay but why are you using my shower?”

“Mines not working” shrugging her shoulders “hey can I borrow a shirt please?”

“No. Get out”

“What?”

“Get out of my room Sharon.”

“Alright mr grumpy pants”

Just as the door closed he jumped out of the bed going straight for his phone. Ringing Y/n and not getting any response he grabbed his jacket from the back the chair and headed straight out the door to head home.

His heart stopped at the sight of Y/n packing all her things.

“B-baby what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving”

“No baby stop” every time she turned around to grab more things he was taking the things that was already in suitcase, out. “Y/n I’m sorry for not coming home last night the paper, baby please stop! The paperwork took me ages to get through. I ended up crashing in my old room”

“I told you I can’t go through being lied to and cheated on again, I told you and what did you do huh? You promised me Steve that you would never do that to me. You promised” The tears wouldn’t stop falling no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

“Doll I have never cheated on you, baby please believe me”

“Sharon told me Steve so just stop”

“Told you what? Y/n I’m not cheating on you please believe me!”

“That you two having been sleeping together for weeks. Move out of my way”

That, that made him stop. He wouldn’t lie if you asked him if he had a bit of a crush on Sharon when he first met her six years ago, but it faded away after a few months. When he met Y/n he didn’t think much of her then over the course of a few months he developed feelings for her, it took him over a year to confess his feelings for her.

Because of a lie that Sharon told now he was losing everything.

“Bab-baby she’s lying, I have never even so as much as kissed her! Y/n please please listen to me love”

“Why would she lie?”

“I don’t know but she is! Y/n, baby please I swear to you I have never even looked at another woman! I don’t want anyone that isn’t you”

“Why would she lie though Steve? Why was she in your room this morning? I rang you too apologise and to my surprise it’s her that answers, the she tells.. she told me Steve”.

“I-I don’t know. I really don’t. I was asleep and she came into my room and used my shower, I don’t know why she did but doll nothing has ever happened between me and her I swear!” He shakes his head “Y/n I love you, and I’m sorry for the argument last night. I’m sorry for earlier but doll I swear I’ve never cheated on you.”

“You’re telling the truth, oh God, Steve I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’’m sor-“

“Baby it’s okay! Stop apologising it’s okay, come here I’ve got you” Holding her tightly to his chest he repeats the words over and over.

~A month later~

“Baby, come on Buck and Sam’s here”

“I’m coming hold on!”

He sees her coming out of their bedroom and he can’t help but smile at her, as she got closer towards him he took her hand into his “I love you do you know that?”

“I love you too”

Sharon ended up transferring. Steve listened to Y/n by taking a few days off every week, their relationship was so much better now.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #steve rogers #steve rogers x gf reader #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers and reader #steve rogers captain america #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x y/n #Steve Rogers x yn #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers yn #steve rogers sad #captain america steve rogers

[slayingqueenchal]

busy days | marc spector x f!reader

Warnings : mentions of steven and Jake, but marc is fronting, ANGST, before harrow, ammit, and they already know about eachother

Summary : feels like the boys doesn't care for you anymore, read to find out!

"Sorry sweetheart, Khonshu needs me"

"Oh, y/n, I'm so sorry but I can't go"

"Sorry, maybe we'll do it on Wednesday? I'm busy"

And so many other. You feel empty. Back before all of this, you used to cuddle every night, be all lovely, and even when this happened he still tried as hard as he could to get an extra minute to spend with you. But now, it's as if he doesn't even bother.

Even now, everything is some how your fault. When you gave him a book, a simple book at his birthday he was angry. After he told you about his mom, you understood, and that was your fault.

You couldn't do this anymore. He's always busy with work and, the only person that truly makes an effort is steven.

Still that wasn't enough. One time, he told you he asked you if you wanted to go on a date, and you obviously said yes, but, no one was by your side when you left the restaurant.

One time you held a birthday party, and you invited some friends from work and him. But no one came. If it was your co workers it would make sense, but your own boyfriend?

And, finally when he was home, you finally picked up the courage to tell him.

"Marc? " You said. He has not been Marc for a long time, he's often 'baby' or 'love'. You'd expect for him to notice, but he doesn't, getting a cold reply "what? Can't you see I'm tired".

"Marc. I think I need to take a break" You said, sitting on the couch. "Sleep" The guy said. "Marc! How-how much of an idiot can you be! You spread all of your love and care and when you come home there's none left for me! So I'm ending this! It's for the better anyways" You said. Strong, strong, you are strong, y/n you repeated to yourself.

"What? For the better? You're breaking up with me? " Marc says In shock, as his eyes move to you. "Yes, Marc, I'm breaking up with all of you".

"No, no, no, i-ill fix this, i-what do you want I can give it to you" He begs. "For you to stay here for at least one week at a row" You said,simple, just one week.

"Love, you know khonshu is not negotiable" Marc says, walking closer to you. "Then, neither is our relationship" You cried. And you felt so defeated when you let him hug you.

"This is our first hug in a few months, funny how it's when we're about to break up" You scolded. "No were not, we're not going to break up, I'm going to talk to khonshu, we're gonna be just fine"

"No, Marc, I need to take a break, and, I need a little getaway too, we're not breaking up I just, need space" You said, ending the long hug.

"Okay, I understand, but please come back, yeah?" The accent changed, and suddenly it was steven. "Of course ill comeback".

You didn't. You haven't came back since that awful night. And that was six months ago.

And finally Marc gets a taste of his own medicine. He has never felt more lonlier. Sure he had steven and Jake, but, he felt empty.

These days, Jake has been fronting the most. It's because he's the strongest mentally and physically amongst the three. So, Jake has been cruel. Now he works more for khonshu, and kills people without a single drop of mercy.

Steven has been miserable, he never really talks anymore, when he fronts he gets drunk, he's just a messed up guy now.

But there you were, talking to khonshu in a small, dark, alley.

"Y/n" The tall god says. "What? Now you stalk your avatar exes?" You said. "Sorry, he didn't say anything about breaking up. But it is important to me that Marc does well and lately he hasn't. You promised to come back"

"And so does he, he promised to go home and ne an actual caring boyfriend for me, and its not even his fault. It's because of you! He can't even stay home for three days before you ask him to do your work, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving him! And as selfish as this sounds I hope he's feeling miserable because I've never felt so alone and so terrible! " You said wanting to leave. B

Suddenly, someone grabbed your wrist. "Oh funny! You're here! Did you set this up? " You looked at Marc, then khonshu. "I'll go now" The God says, disappearing into thin air.

"Are you guys besties now? Partner in crime? " You scoffed. "Y/n I'm sorry, please just listen"." Fine, I bet I won't even hear a thing anyways" You looked away.

"If you come back with me I'll stop working for him" Marc says, half begging, half demanding. "M-marc that's not fair, Steven loves this whole thing with Egyptian gods, Jake practically worships him, you can't just quit it"

"I can actually, if that means I can have you back just please" He begged. "Marc.. You swear you love me right? ", " Right", "that's all I need to know. Go back to khonshu, cause, you gotta love your self too and you, Steven, and Jake kinda love this job" You said.

"We-we kinda love this job but we love you! Please y/n" Marc cries, which was a rare thing. "I love you too, but I just can't, alright? We should just stay what we used to be before this chaotic thing and I know that wouldn't happens so no, we can't go back with each other.

You left, expecting miracle to happen,but, the world just got darker.

#fanfic #fanfiction #y/n story #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockely x you #jake lockley #steven grant x y/n #moon knight #marc spector x y/n #moonknight angst #angst #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x oc #jake lockley x you #marc spector x oc #marc spector x you #steven grant x oc #steven grant x you #moonknight series #mcu fanfic #mcu moon knight #marvel cinematic universe #mr grant #moonknight #reader x marc spector #reader x steven grant

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [3]

description: With Marc and Steven captured by Harrow's men, Layla has no choice but to work with her ex-husbands mistress to get them and the scarab to safety. But things take a turn when Seth comes to reap his reward. word count: 9.4k trigger warnings: GORE, blood, Dove absolutely wrecks the jackals I won't lie. Very explicit imagery used for their deaths. Swearing. Layla thinks Dove is the mistress and is angry, talks of dove not owning her body anymore, talks of having bodily autonomy taken away. Quick hint at Dove's dark past. main masterlist | series masterlist

authors note: I hate writing action scenes so if this seems rushed or bad I'm sorry, action is not my strongest point!

Please reblog and comment for your authors!

She watched as Steven was led in cuffs to the black BMW that gave away no hint at being a real police car, eager to scramble back into his apartment from off the moss covered rooftop that had her second death of the week written all over it. 

Layla was quick to hop back inside behind her, nearly shoving her out the way to get to her backpack. 

“They wouldn’t kill him, would they? Marc said-” The younger woman started, trailing after Layla like a lost dog. This was way out of her depth. The way Marc had described it made it seem like he had it under control. About as under control as Egyptian Gods and resurrecting dead people goes, that is. He had said nothing about his ex-wife showing up or Steven being taken hostage by police impersonators. 

Layla stopped at the sound of her husband’s name leaving the girl’s lips. 

“Mention Marc one more time and you are walking to wherever Harrow is taking him, you hear me?” Layla seethed, looking at her with eyes cold as ice despite being a beautiful, warm brown. 

Dove choked on her words for a moment, swallowing whatever she was going to come back with and instead choosing to nod once. 

“Yes- Sorry-” 

“Good,” The woman hissed, turning on her heel and heading for the front door. “And remember what I said about talking,”

“Gotcha- right,” She stammered in reply. Layla was more intimidating than Marc had been, more than Donna even. He was annoyed when they’d spoken, sure. Cold? Absolutely. But to Layla, she was actively a pest. A bug. A rodent that had crawled into her marriage bed and weaselled her way into her husband’s life. Which wasn’t true of course. But she understood that Layla had more than enough reason to be upset with her. 

Heading after the woman, hot on her heels, she bit her tongue the entire minute they spent in the elevator, neither of them willing to start a conversation with the other. Whether it be pride (Layla) or sheer wanting to avoid getting punched in the stomach (Dove), the two women stayed silent until the metal box dinged and released them from the horribly tense atmosphere. 

Layla set off for her moped that she’d parked on the road, unlatching the red leather seat upwards to reveal a spare helmet in the cubby. Shoving the smooth, maroon hard hat into the younger woman’s arms, Layla strapped her own onto her head and swung a leg over the caboose. 

Dove followed suit, hopping onto the back, her arms faltering slightly as she looked for some kind of handle to hold onto. 

“What now?” The driver’s annoyed voice snapped as she caught on to the fussing from behind her. 

“Where do I put my arms?” Said a quiet tone, hating the helplessness in her voice yet the embarrassment was too much for her to have asked otherwise. Layla rolled her eyes, grabbing the woman’s hands and bringing them around her waist.

“Just hold on,” She ordered, a hum of energy blasting into the engine as she kicked off the curb and set off. The motor jumped to life, and the two women were speeding after the fraudulent fed car in no time. She clutched onto the front woman for dear life; she had always hated amusement park rides, and she was sure Layla was at least somewhat tempted to stage an accident with the way their morning had gone. 

“I’m really not sleeping with Marc, you know,” She braved to speak, gripping tighter in fear the single comment would tip her counterpart over the edge. 

“What did I say about-”

“I know! I know!” She called, loud enough for Layla to hear her over the bustle of London traffic, “I just wanted you to believe me. You’re more than right to be unhappy with him. Truth be told, the one time I’ve met him, he’s not exactly been a charmer.”

That seemed to perk up his ex wife’s ears. “You’ve only met once?”

“Yes. Like I said, I work with Steven at the museum. I only met Marc this morning when he told me-” She cut herself off, unsure of just how much he would want Layla knowing. How much she already knew. She didn’t even know he had a dissociative disorder, it wouldn’t be wrong for her to assume his wife wasn’t privy to other things too.

Maybe that was why they were divorcing? But that was none of her business. 

“Told you what?” Layla pushed, which only caused the girl at the rear to sigh heavily. Layla didn’t need to know much. And besides, it was her burden to bear now, not Marc’s. She could tell her if she wished. Hell, perhaps Layla could even help her seeing as she already knew so much about the scarab. 

“He told me,” She paused, coming to terms with how insane she was about to sound if Layla didn’t know much about her husband’s second, well third, life. “He said I died being chased by one of Harrow’s jackals, and the only way for him to save me was to give my body up to Setekh in exchange for becoming his avatar,”

Layla was quiet for a moment, the car Steven was in not too far ahead of them as she hung back to avoid suspicion. 

And then, after a few seconds, she laughed. 

Loud and bitter, but laughed at her nonetheless. 

“I just told you I fucking died, and you’re laughing?” Her passenger asked, aghast, which only made Layla laugh again. “Well, fuck you too,”

“No, sorry, it’s just,” The woman shook her head, taking a semi sharp right in order to stay on their tail, “Trust Marc to meddle in someone’s life and end up keeping her around because he feels guilty,” 

Her face warmed. So Layla really did know her husband then. 

“His meddling saved my life,” She tried to protest, the image of Marc’s eyes softening slightly when she’d grabbed his hand that same morning flashing in her mind. Without Marc, she wouldn’t be here. She tried to pretend the idea he was only keeping her around because he felt responsible for her now didn’t sting. 

At least Steven wanted her around. For now, that is.

“Did it?” Layla asked, all remnants of humour gone, replaced with a cold seriousness. Not mean like she had been all day, moreso a sobering tone of reality, “My father told me every story there was about Seth.”

“He’s a historian?” Dove asked, curiosity winning over her bitterness that the woman had laughed at her. She thought now maybe it was out of disbelief, maybe even pessimism at hearing the nefarious god’s name.

“No, an archeologist,” Layla replied, “He said Setekh was once worshipped as a way of protecting crops and villages from the storms he created. He said it was thought because he was the god of foreigners he was responsible for all the oppressors attacking the people. He became the one who caused all the bloodshed, the evil, the barbarity. Every bit of chaos and violence was down to his hand,” The woman said, speaking with a passion for her country it was clear she had lived, slept and breathed everything her father taught her, “It was said while Anubis was the first God of the Dead, Osiris took the role during the later centuries. And when his brother, Seth, slaughtered him and scattered him in pieces around the world, he took on the title of God of the Dead,” 

“Glad I’m not invited to that family reunion, then,” The other girl muttered from her place at the rear of the bike. Layla smirked to herself, not willing to let the younger woman know she’d drawn a small smile from her.

“They were always at each other's throats. And when they weren’t, they were usually marrying their sisters.” To which Dove recoiled in horror. The BMW started slowing down ahead of them, which they were both quick to notice as it took a right hand turn into a less populated area. The sky had been quick to overcast shadows, the April air turning cold and darker fast. As if someone up there knew what was coming. 

“Lovely,” She mused, “Well, my family doesn’t talk to me anymore so I’m sure we’ll be okay as far as incest marriages go,”

Layla’s expression faltered. She hadn’t expected the quiet mouse of a girl to drop something so heavy, yet it was clear from her widened gaze she didn’t quite mean to say that so bluntly. To set off such a bomb on their already awkward ride. The striking woman wheeled up onto a curb around the corner from the narrow street the car had pulled into, trying to avoid the gazes of the few people they saw communing there. 

Cutting the engine and hopping off the seat, Layla held the bike steady as the other woman did the same, all but falling off the back of the moped with a newborn fawn-like grace. 

The two women looked at one another, the younger one handing the helmet over sheepishly. “Look, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” Dove murmured, unable to quite meet the beautiful woman’s eyes, Layla’s lips neither drawn into a sneer nor a smile. More a mix between pity and as if she were still weighing up the girl who picked at the loose skin around her nails anxiously.

“It’s alright,” Layla said with a long huff, swinging her bag over her shoulder, “Marc tends to leave people to deal with the shit he gets them into,”

The girl bit her tongue, pleased that she didn’t seem to be on Layla’s hit list anymore. They had bigger things to worry about now, like the fact Steven was essentially kidnapped or that they had yet to find somewhere to keep the scarab hidden. 

She felt it burning in her pocket, as if it were buzzing with the glory of being what everyone had their sights set on; of being such a harbinger of trouble. 

“Maybe so,” She said, handing the jewelled bug over to Layla to keep it safe, “But trusting him is the only hope I’ve got right now. Marc said Seth will be coming for me any day now,”

Layla looked at her for a moment, dark eyes raking over her forlorn figure some few years younger than her. The girl's eyes were soft, new to the world and the shit storm that was about to hit her, but her hands were what gave away her condition. The slightest touch of her fingers to her own where she handed her the scarab and Layla was able to feel just how cold her skin had become. Dead. Corpse like. As if the life truly had been drained out of her ten times over.

She wondered how her younger accomplice would fare as an avatar. Though Layla had swore that once those papers were signed this was not her fight anymore, she couldn’t help worrying just how badly her ex had seemed to mess up this young girl’s life in the space of one evening.

Seth was not a god you wanted to upset. Nor was he one you wanted to be of interest to. If everything that Abdallah El-Faouly had told his sweet daughter was correct, then that girl, barely mid twenties as she was, was in for a lifetime of torment and pain.

“Well, if that’s true, I hate to be the one to tell you to run and hide as soon as you can,” Layla said, her voice empty of emotion but her eyes genuine, “If Seth is the one looking for you, I can guarantee you’ll wish Marc had left you for the jackals,”

“Where is the scarab?” Harrow and his followers cornered Steven, still as lost and dazed as he had been all day. He just hoped that wherever Dove was, she was safe and far away from this mess that his other self had dragged her into. 

“We have it.” Steven’s head whipped around at the sound of Layla’s voice, clear and commanding and filling the abandoned building. 

And sure enough, his sweet friend stood next to her, eyes wide and clearly thrown off by the El-Faouly woman’s plan to draw attention to them. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She whisper-yelled as the two women trailed through the crowd of Ammit’s followers, both of them watching carefully for anyone getting ready to attack them. 

“I’m drawing their attention, Marc will deal with them easily,” Layla replied under her breath as they neared the two men in the centre of the room. It seemed Harrow and his followers had renovated some kind of church or antique building to become a communal hall. Community food lay out on tables around, a projector playing an old documentary on the dusty wall. 

Harrow’s followers didn’t seem to have anything particularly off about them. In fact, they seemed like regular citizens you would see around the streets of London. Nothing about them screamed evil, yet that only served to make them more menacing. They could be anyone, anywhere.

Dove knew all too well villains and monsters didn’t look like Ancient Egyptian mummies or jackals. They looked like regular people, like the man sitting next to you on the train. Like your family friend. Like your milkman. Or your school teacher. Or the shop clerk. Or young, female gift-shoppists that had a hopeless crush on their seemingly married co-worker. 

It didn’t matter who they were, what they looked like, they were tainted to their core. 

“That’s a great plan, except he’s not Marc, he’s Steven,” The young girl hissed, as Harrow stared at her with a smug twinkle in his eye, holding out his rough hand to Layla. 

“You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding. Let me have that, I’ll keep it safe,” Harrow asked calmly, though it was clear with the way his focus trained on the jewel that he wasn’t quite so relaxed as he was making believe. 

He was clever with his words, manipulative. Making himself seem honest and responsible to anyone who didn’t understand the scarab. But Layla did. She wasn’t like the ordinary woman Harrow took her for. She was smart beyond belief, and knew more about the legends than Arthur could ever learn from seeing into people’s souls.

“Summon the suit,” Layla ordered under her breath as they reached Steven’s shaken figure. Her almond eyes scoured around the building for the nearest way out as her younger accomplice shook her head in despair and picked at her nails with furrowed brows. 

“Sorry what?” Steven asked, just as Dove had suspected. He had no clue what any of this meant. 

Layla’s brown gaze cut to his, chagrin mixed with a hint of fear boiling up in her expression. “Summon the suit,” She said again, stepping closer to the man who gawked at her with a lost look.

“‘Summon the soup’? What are you saying?” 

“The suit,” She said again, shoving the scarab into his chest, before turning to where Harrow was reaching for his staff. “And keep this safe,” 

“So be it,” Harrow said tiredly. Deciding they were in too thick to continue this little joke of Marc’s, she reached behind her for the younger woman, dragging her towards the only available exit she saw. 

Layla’s frantic brain caught sight of a flight of stairs that led to the first floor: a wide ledge that overlooked the rest of the room and had tiny archways where passageways wove into the sandstone walls, scaffolding and more of the plastic tarp scattered over and around the steps. 

A quick loop around the top of the stairs took them to a second set of steps that led only to an upper ledge and a large arched hallway with natural light coming from the end of it. A fire escape maybe? An open window? Bingo. 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Layla hurried, grabbing Steven on the way as one of the men lunged at her. She was quick to rip his hand off her arm, shoving him into a table so hard he went tumbling over the edge and knocking into another of his men. 

Forcing Dove ahead of her, Layla directed the young girl towards the first flight of stairs, ducking around the scaffolding that lead to the first floor seemingly still mid-renovation. Steven trailed behind them quickly with a gasp as he dodged another of Harrow’s men. 

Practically swinging around the railing on one hand, Dove felt her tired legs ache as she ascended quickly, the only thing keeping her from stopping being the two people behind her breathing down her neck, relying on her to keep going. The temporary staircase wobbled for a moment as the floor shook, small chunks of brick crumbling free from the delicate wall at the movement. A flash of amethyst purple light reflected around the building, filling the space with something odd; something tense that crawled up her spine, like a foreboding that cut her right through her gut. 

Reaching the first level, she was quick to stop in her tracks as a man ducked out from one of the tiny corridors woven into the stone walls, and lunged for her. She felt Layla dart behind her and start scaling the second flight of stairs to the open door that hopefully spelled freedom. The man was quick enough to grab her wrists, but Steven's arm was swiftly wrapped around her waist, holding her from being thrown off the edge of the barrierless ledge. 

She kicked at the man a few times, desperate for him to let her go. That is until she got one of her hands free and was able to grab him by the collar of his coat. 

Remembering how tightly she had been able to grip Marc’s arm that morning, she found it unnaturally easy enough to lift the man a solid few inches off the ground, the stitches of his clothes ready to give way at his body weight. The menacing look on his face dropped when he realised with a cold slap to the face that no amount of holding onto her arms could do anything seeing as she had him scruffed and held like a little dog that was misbehaving. 

He let out a sharp squeal as she threw him with ease over the edge and down the ten foot drop, not enough to kill but enough to hear a loud crack from his ribs and legs.

“How on earth did you do that?” Steven asked, his baffled breath rolling over her neck in a way that had her stomach churning up a storm. His arm still held her tight to him as he guided her the way Layla had taken off to, the warmth of his hand alone seeping through her top and onto her bare skin underneath that was still as cold as a cadaver. 

His touch gave her a taste of life again, of humanity.  Like she didn’t exist again in this world until he touched her. As if his hand alone could find her in the afterlife and pluck her back to mortality.

Which technically he had. 

“Come on,” She brushed off his question, urging him towards where Layla was now pummeling the shit out of another assailant that had tried to make a grab for her. She made equally quick work of the attacker, shoving him off the same way the other woman had and sending him flying off the building frame and into a pile of wood that cracked easily with his weight. 

Grabbing both their arms, Layla led the two stunned watchers through the open archway that luckily expanded into a long corridor. Tarp lay around the bottom of the huge windows, moonlight filtering in through the surprisingly clear glass panes being the only thing allowing them to see their way. 

The three sets of footsteps pounded down the stone hallway, Harrow’s chants chasing them through an echo, spoken in Coptic the younger woman had surmised. It seemed her degree in Ancient Languages wasn’t entirely a waste. She was able to grasp at bits and pieces of what he was saying despite the rushing of blood in her ears from her running. 

Something about Ammit’s wrath, eradicating enemies. Calling on the ancient goddess to help him carry out her justice. 

Then came the shriek. Familiar at this point, the vengeful growl that reverberated down the hall and harmonising with Harrow’s hex. 

Summoning pure evil. She caught that part easily as they skidded around the corner awaiting them at the end of the hallway, coming to a set of huge, varnished wood doors. She threw her shoulder into the left one, hearing it give a small creak of protest before it gave way and slowly swung open. 

Her heart dropped as she quickly realised they were at a dead end. It felt almost de ja vu like as they entered the room, her eyes frantic to take in any way out as Layla and Steven rushed to block the entrance off. A thick, brick wall complete with an old fireplace on the right, and two huge windows in front and to her left. By all means it was a beautiful room, but it was an enclosure. A trap. A casket. 

“Here. Bolt the door,” Layla ordered, heaving a metal bar through the handles to give them some sort of protection of whatever it was Harrow was conjuring. 

More tarp over the floors and piles of bricks, dust and building tools, the windows reaching higher than even the ceiling to the museum. Sarcophaguses piled around the room, some fake but most seeming authentic, as ancient as the exhibits she walked past regularly at work, yet they were just thrown to the sides of the abandoned room as if they were not priceless objects. 

A dirty mirror lay to her right leaning against the fireplace, white plastic wrap draped over half of the looking glass, ridden with dust and a deep crack that made it unusable, no doubt why it was dumped here with the rest of the pieces of history they deemed rubbish. 

Layla and her rushed to the windows, Layla taking the one on the left and her heading for the one opposite the door, each attempting to jiggle the bottom of the panes, looking for a latch they could flick open to give them an escape. But the glass was thick. Taking up an entire wall, meant only to let light in and keep air firmly out. Meaning there was no movement from any of the panes. The lit up buildings across the street laughed at her attempts in a silent mocking, the block of flats watching the desperate women struggle. 

“Oh my god,” Steven said with a tone of utter despair, “I’m going to die in an evil magician’s man cave,”

She would have laughed. Any other day and his words would have cracked her up. But she barely heard him over the desperate way she tugged at the white, chipped frames, urging the damn thing to come loose, her nails splinting painfully at the force she used to try peel the rusted metal from their seals.

It would be no use anyway, she realised. Looking down she realised they were up high, on the third floor to be exact, and the only way down was a long fall onto solid concrete. Seeing Layla turn away from the other window, she guessed she had no luck with that either, and cursed under her breath. 

Layla stalked towards Steven’s piteous frame, grabbing him roughly by the arms. “No-no. Hey, listen to me,” She started in a panicked voice, though it was clear she was attempting to be kind to him. The three of them turned to the door as the sound of scratching signalled that something big was out there, waiting for them. Long, sharp knife-like claws raked down the old wood, carving out channels in the barrier, the pieces of timber creaking with the weight of it, like a dog begging to come into the sitting room. 

A moment of silence, before the doors began shaking in their hinges with loud thumps. The animal threw itself against the doors, the metal bar jittering in its place at the sheer weight of it. 

“Your name is Marc,” Layla said calmly, holding onto his shoulders to keep his attention on her, “There’s a suit, I’ve seen you use it. You bring it out,” Her dark eyes pierced him with something cold and scared hidden in them, as his face flustered and his breathing picked up. 

“No,” He mumbled, shaking his head that dripped with sweat, feeling his chest constricting as she grabbed him harder. 

“Where are you? We need you to fight!” She yelled, shaking him now as if to hope to snap him back into his senses. 

“Let me in, Steven!” Marc’s voice came from the abandoned mirror, his reflection twisted into a cruel sneer as Marc watched him freeze in place, Steven’s bright eyes lost and scared. 

It was too much for Steven. He was expected to be something, someone, that he had no idea existed until a few days ago. This was no longer about waking up late or funny dreams, or sand around his bed and tape on his door. This was real. Real consequences. Two very real women depending on him to become this hero and save the day. 

They needed him to be Marc. But he wasn’t. He was Steven Grant. And that was all he’d ever be. 

“No, I can’t please. Stop it both of you,” Steven’s voice snapped Dove out of her focus on the outside, her fingers sore with where they gripped the window frames distraughtly. 

She saw his overwhelmed figure. The way Layla held him in an iron grip, her voice raising in distress as she kept asking him to snap out of it, to bring out ‘the suit’. She saw the way Steven’s eyes flicked between the woman and the mirror, his voice clogging up with unshed tears. 

Finally giving up on the windows as an option, she stormed over to where the two of them stood, grabbing Steven by the shoulder and pulling his arms away from Layla’s desperate grip.

“Cut it out, you’re scaring him,” She growled, feeling Steven make a grab for her hand as she confronted the woman. 

“He should be scared! If he doesn’t get the suit the three of us are going to die, do you not get that?” Layla’s voice raised, but even the younger woman could see her face was rigid with fear. It was fear causing her to be so harsh, not malice. Layla was only human after all. The memory of that thing that had chased her through the museum resurfaced painfully, a phantom stab blooming over her stomach that seemed entirely healed, as if it hadn’t practically ripped her guts through her soft flesh and spilled them onto the marble floor.

“Shouting at him isn’t going to fix that, it’s not his fault. We just find another way out, okay?” Dove snipped, shutting down any other argument Layla could give her, and turned to Steven with a soft expression, “Okay?” She asked gently.

Steven stayed quiet, but he nodded, tears welled in his eyes, his face just as scared as she felt inside. She was shitting herself, her muscles tensing up with every grunt that came from the creature on the other side of the door. But cornering Steven and asking so much of him when neither of them truly understood what was happening was only doing harm. 

“Alright,” Layla mumbled in defeat, her lush brows drawn into a frown, despair lingering in her hazelnut eyes as she headed back to the smaller, side window and peered out to the building below, “I can see a fire escape on this roof-”

But no sooner had the woman come to terms with the fact there was no hero coming to save them from this mess, the barricade had given way with a loud pop as the metal bar split clean in two. 

A single breath, a moment of pure silence where Layla’s head whipped from her fraught attempt at seeking an escape route, where Steven and Dove clutched onto each other just that bit tighter. The doors swung wide on their hinges, smacking into the walls with the force and crumbling the bricks into piles of red dust on the already dirty floors.  

A figure stood in the entrance. She could only think to describe it as a tall man trying to wear a dog’s body. Its limbs were gangly, skinny, mottled and rotted skin stretching thinly over them. Four feet at the end of boney elbows carried dagger like claws, thin wisps of white hairs poking from its spine. Its face was that of a possessed wolf, skeletal and gaunt, its mouth opening into a roaring snarl with two yellow-green eyes staring back at them with a haunting glow. 

The air escaped Dove’s lungs the second it let out a familiar hum of hunger. This was the thing that had attacked her. That had killed her last night. This was the thing that had plunged its hand into her stomach with no remorse, tearing her organs to shreds in a single swipe.

The creature, the jackal, looked ahead at the two of them, holding onto each other for damn near life, her nails digging into his toned arm at her sheer trepidation. Its jaws fell open, saliva dripping from its dead lips as it gathered its legs up and prepared to lunge. 

“Jackal, J-JACKAL” Steven yelled, his hands beginning to shake as he pointed at the creature. 

“Oh my god- Oh my-” His friend could barely get out her words, panic constricting around her heart that thudded through her ribs hard enough to have her choking on her sentence and stay quiet, mouth agape in disbelief at the sight of the thing. 

She much preferred when she couldn’t see the damn thing. 

The Jackal took a breath, and the girl set in its sights could have sworn she heard it laugh, before it bolted at them.

The two of them screamed, Steven shoving her to the floor as its lithe body made contact and sent both their bodies flying through the glass, falling, falling, falling down all three levels and onto the hard concrete. 

“Oh my GOD!” Layla shrieked, her eyes trained on the huge gap in the wall where her ex-husband had been thrown through by some invisible force, before they lowered to where his not-mistress was cowering on the floor after being manhandled away from the danger. She caressed her scraped elbow silently, her gaze also locked on the broken glass.

Realising the girl was in shock, Layla leaned down to a pile of bricks, grabbing one and promptly raising it above her head, bringing it down onto the side window harshly. The glass cracked slightly, before she hit it again a few more times and it gave way completely, scattering across the tiled roof on the other side. Throwing her jacket over the broken glass, she hopped over the window ledge and onto the slanted roof, careful not to skid on the smooth stone. Whipping back to the girl that had seemed to come to her senses and was now looking at her bewildered, Layla yelled a single “Come on!” through the gap in the window, before turning and heading towards the fire escape alone.

Steven. Not Steven, please not him. Steven’s gone. Steven’s dead, or at least he will be soon, no doubt his body crumpled on the floor, practically laid out as a buffet for that monster. 

He’d thrown her out of the way, given his own life for one so undeserving as her own. 

A man so kind and gentle, good, shouldn’t have rescued her, someone entirely not that.

Being dragged out of her daze at Layla’s yell, her head snapped to where she’d managed to create an escape, the woman looking at her expectantly before she turned and headed towards the edge of the roof. 

Steven could still be alive, she told herself, he could be okay. 

Holding that hope close to her chest, she pushed herself to her feet and ran towards the exit Layla had taken. 

Please be okay. Please be okay. I’ll give every life I have to give if it means you’re safe. 

Her hand was seconds from gracing Layla’s jacket when she heard it. Another growl. 

No, not a growl. A chuckle. Dark, deep and rolling, an amused laugh from a thick chest that was loud enough to fill the entire room with its timbre. 

And she knew. She didn’t understand how, but she knew. She knew who waited for her to turn around. To meet his black, inky gaze with fright. 

But she was frozen. Despite her body being cold for the past day, the chill that ran through her spine was enough to have every single one of her hairs stand on end. Her voice was gone, her chest tight, her throat closed up. 

“I know you’ve been waiting for me, my little monster,” 

His voice was a rumble, though a smile laced his words. His every syllable sent a thrum of horror through her veins, her body going numb. As if she weren’t here. She was watching a movie through her eyes, and the villain was coming, the story was ending. The credits were about to start rolling. 

She said nothing. Didn’t dare move an inch, praying to anyone listening that she could become as invisible as that jackal had been. Yet she felt him getting closer. His feet made no sound, but she felt him draw near. The same way a person feels they’re not alone in a haunted house. Like seeing shadows in the corner of your eye. Like feeling something watching you from the darkness when you wake from a nightmare.

A hand trailed down her loose hair, running long, slim fingers through her locks, he gave a growl of praise. “I’ve been waiting for you too,” 

She started crying. Her face got hot, her eyes stinging as she tried to hold the tears back, only for them to scorch her cheeks as they rolled down, her expression pulling into an ugly whimper. 

Closing her eyes, she told herself if she couldn’t see him he was just a voice in her head. If she didn’t look him in the eye he had no control over her. It was just a bad dream. A side effect of the stress. An auditory halluc-

“Oh, don’t cry,” A cold knuckle dragged over her cheek, swiping away a tear. His finger alone took up half her jaw. “I’m here to help you. I’m here to save you, little beasty,” His voice was dark, but gentle. As if he cared. As if he didn’t want her afraid. “Think of what we could do to Harrow, together,” 

She didn’t doubt he had ideas for what torture he wanted to rain down on the man. But that wasn’t her. She didn’t want to be feared, or to hurt people, or to kill. She didn’t want to be bad. Or to feel even more so that there was something crawling out of her soul, a demon that showed everyone just who she really was. What she really was. 

“No,” She whispered, shaking her head and taking a small step away from him. 

“No?” He asked, a deadly calm washing over his voice. “People have taken from you your whole life. Taken and taken for their own selfish needs,” Seth cooed, circling her with his behemoth frame as more tears flowed over her cheeks, her eyes squeezed shut with a frown, “I see your anger, your need for vengeance. To make them hurt the way they hurt you-” 

“NO,” She yelled this time, her hands coming up to grab at her hair, her body giving in to his words. He knew her. He knew her like an old friend, like he knew himself. Like she knew him. Like he’d been there for every bad thing that had happened to her. Like he was there for the whole of that time, he was there that day. 

That day. That body. What she’d done to him. 

“You hurt, little beasty,” Seth said, coming to stand in front of her. She felt his two huge hands hold onto her shoulders, one coming to her chin to tip it up to his face. 

If she opened her eyes now she’d see his sable black eyes looking down at her in an aching hunger. As if he revelled in the fact she was so pliant to his touch, that he could snap her neck within a flick of his finger and she could do nothing about it. She clamped her eyes shut harder, desperate to not fall for his gentle words, or the familiarity that came with his touch. No, he wanted this, he wanted her to concede, to trust him. To give into him.

No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“I see the way you hurt. I see the fear in you that came long before I did. That they’ll all see you as I do,” He said, caressing her jaw with his sharp claws, a single ounce of pressure too much and her skin would be slashed open. 

“Stop,” She begged, her face wet with tears, her throat closing with a sob that drew out her request like a child. 

“Stop?” Seth’s voice was different now. The semblance of kindness that had been there in a fleeting moment was gone, replaced again with a thunderclap of a laugh, “You poor sweet morning lamb. We’ve not even begun,” 

Her eyes opened for a split second when she felt her body tense up, the feeling as close to rigour mortis as she could imagine, as a dark flash of movement, a row of sharp teeth, and insidious black eyes were all she saw as he took over every part of her body. 

Death took her body for the second time, though this time she felt everything. 

Layla watched its jaws open as its head flicked to her, its deep grunt of annoyance echoing through the empty street, before it's long, slim arms were thrust outwards and grabbed the two of them by the jugular, boney, rough fingers wrapping around their throats and squeezing. 

Steven was lifted off the ground, Layla suffering the same fate after she had thrown an empty beer bottle at the demon’s head, the tiny shards of refracted light bouncing off the glass like a mirrorball and outlining the head of a monstrous creature. 

Layla felt the brick smack harshly against her spine as the thing threw her to the wall, the same way Steven was tossed against a parked car, the passenger window cracking from the pressure and the alarm wailing in protest. 

They both stood up again immediately, Layla’s eyes scanning the floor for anything to use as a weapon, before her almond eyes fell on the neck of the bottle she’d thrown, the jagged edge of broken glass sharp and fatal. Diving for the shiv, she swiped at the area she thought the creature could be stood, though her attempt only proved futile as her wrist was grabbed almost too easily and the weapon was ripped out of her hands. 

The woman made a sound somewhere between a yelp and a cry as she was tossed to the hard ground like a ragdoll, Steven being thrown next to her as he made a move to grab the monster as well.

The two of them gasped as the hands seemed to swipe them to the ground harshly, like a cat toying with its meal, dragging the torture out as long as possible before they gave up and submitted to being ravaged. The two of them looked at each other in alarm, Steven’s eyes a bright white behind the suit, as they felt the jackal grab their ankles and drag. Their bodies scraped against the pavement, the two of them kicking and squealing, writhing to get out of the monster's grip, only to be yanked into the air once more, the blood rushing to their skulls the second they were pulled from the concrete earth. 

“Steven, do something!” Layla wailed, her cheeks pooling a purple colour the longer they were held, though she never relented in her hits, her arms and free leg waving around for any soft tissue she could get at. 

“Marc’s the one who fights these shits, not me!” Steven called back, trying desperately to reach for his batons to inflict any damage he could. 

Layla felt her head building with pressure, her eyes becoming painful to shut as she blinked slowly, the darkened streets turned upside down in her mind. Her thick, dark brows furrowed, her eyes locking in on a figure standing at the other end of the wide street, unrecognisable to her dazed eyesight. 

“Steven?” Layla murmured drunkenly, her hand coming up to grab his arm that was still flailing around. 

“What?”

“Who is that?” The woman asked, pointing to the dark silhouette that stood and watched them.

Steven’s illuminated eyes followed her finger to see the figure still with statue-like grace, silent yet never relenting their dark stare.

His eyes trailed from their body, muscled and in a wide, casual stance, their arms resting at their sides. Their entire body seemed to be in some kind of black, chestplated one piece suit, pads of armour on their vulnerable parts, thin spindles of gold wrapping around the suit in a skeletal fashion. The armour spread over the backs of their hands, opening out into golden claw-like razors at the tips of their fingers that didn’t so much as twitch with fright at the sight of two strangers suspended in the mid air. 

A black muzzle wound its way over their mouth just above where the suit ended at their jaw, their hair falling over the back of their shoulders to reveal more of the golden weaves that fell around their neck and over their breastplate, accentuating the woman’s curves whilst also giving off the look they were wearing a set of bones on their armour. 

Two six-inch shells of armour protruded from their headpiece, curved yet in lithe points, like long dog ears, like a Whippet’s, high and alert. 

“I-I don’t know,” Steven murmured, though he found himself unable to take his eyes off the shadowed figure. He wasn’t even sure they were breathing at the way they were frozen solid, their head tilted slightly as if intrigued by the scene in front of them. 

It was then that it seemed the Jackal realised they had company. But this jackal wasn’t alone. It had brought friends too. 

The figure seemed to cut out of their daze as another of the behemoth beasts came stalking out of the darkness, as if to have been waiting for the scraps of the kill. But it had prey of its own now. This mystery woman. 

Steven’s heart fell into his mouth, which wasn’t too hard seeing as he was still being held upside down by the creature. 

“Run!” Steven called to her, though she seemed to take no notice of his cries, “Get out of here!” 

But the woman stood still, head snapping to where the jackal walked forward, slowly and with a hungry grin on its face as a deep growl rumbled from deep within its chest. This thing was going to rip her to pieces, Steven thought numbly. And it was going to be all his fault for not giving the body back to Marc. 

“Marc,” Steven said with a panic as the thing stepped closer to her still, her head tilting more at the sound of its approach, though that was the only inch she moved, “Marc- take the body- Marc- MARC-”

But he was too late. Steven winced as the jackal lunged towards her, jaws wide open and large enough to swallow her entire skull with one bite. He wanted to look away but his eyes couldn’t tear themselves off the scene, though he knew a blood bath was coming. He felt the bile rise already at the idea of it, though maybe that was the gravity talking.

But Steven’s heart practically stopped when his eyes caught another slight flicker of movement from the woman and he realised exactly what he was seeing. 

The Jackal’s jaws were pried open, stuck in the moment the creature had leapt forward. It took Steven a second to realise the woman’s hands were the ones holding them ajar, her sharp nails latching into its snout and chin, blood already running down her hands at the sheer vigour at which she held onto the dead flesh. The beast gave a whine, its body jolting forward as it tried to overpower her, only to have no luck. She didn’t budge a single hair's width. 

Steven’s eyes widened, the beams of light engrossed with the scene before his eyes. Who on earth was that? How could she see the jackals like he could, let alone wrestle one? 

“Steven, give me the body,” Marc demanded from inside his head, though Steven caught the trace of nerves that rang at his voice like a church bell on a silent morning. 

“Who is that, Marc?” Steven asked, his eyes widening when he saw the figure forcing the jackal to back down a step as she forced herself towards the creature, clearly stronger than the monster twice her size. 

“Steven, I will explain everything later, just please give me the body or she’s gonna get hurt,” Marc said with the same edge to his voice that he had before. The way Marc dodged his question had sirens wailing in Steven’s chest, louder than anything else the American man inside him had said. 

Steven’s voice cut out when he watched the figure grab the beast's jaws even tighter, yanking them apart with a sickening crunch as the joints popped out of their place. She didn’t stop there, not even as the creature gagged and squirmed, a yawp of pain echoing around the street as it scrambled to get out of her grip. But she was relentless. She tugged apart the lower mandible even wider, wider than could ever be natural, and a gut wrenching rip came next. 

The creature stopped moving. Stopped crying. Stopped everything. It slumped to the ground in defeat, the woman standing over its body with no mercy as she held the wad of flesh in her hand, blood running from her fingertips as smooth as water. 

The creature's lower jaw was thrown to the ground, its face a mush of exposed muscle, its throat torn cleanly open. It was then her gaze set onto the other jackal with a slow turn of her head and a low growl echoed through Steven’s bones.

It took him a second to realise it wasn’t the creature that held him that was making the sound. It was coming from her. 

Layla and Steven were dropped to the ground as she approached the creature, the two of them gasping for air, their heads spinning with the blood crashing around their brains. 

The jackal set its sights on her too, eager to avenge its fallen companion, the two of them circling one another for a moment. She made the first move, her black boots near silent against the cobbled street as she leapt with cat-like grace to tackle it to the ground. 

She was able to get her arms around its neck as it met her in the air, her muscled arms quick to begin choking the thing, squeezing until they heard the sound of its shoulder popping out of place. The jackal gave a yelp similar to the other one, only it dragged out into an angry snarl as its huge clawed hand grabbed onto her by the scruff of her neck. 

It threw her away from itself, desperate to get her strong hands off its body, and tossed her a good ten feet away, into the middle of a busy road where she bounced over the bonnet of a car and smashed its left headlight in. 

Steven was quick to jump to his feet as the monster’s head flicked away from the woman, back to where he and Layla stood. 

“Steven, you’re being dumb. Don’t do this, you can’t do this-” Marc protested, though Steven felt whatever bravery he had left collecting together as he clenched his hand together in a tight fist. 

“I think- I think I can,” He replied, the Jackal stalking closer to him with its three good legs. It stepped forward, its confidence shaken by the woman that was now getting back up and pacing her way over to the two of them much too calmly for someone who had been thrown so harshly. “You want some more do you, you mangy, Macedonian mutt?” Steven tried to taunt, though he could feel the tinge of fear still quelling at his chest at the sheer brute size of the thing even when wounded. 

The creature roared in response, gathering its hind legs up to lunge again, as Steven drew back his arm to swing. 

But he was too late. The woman had returned with a silent agility. Steven saw nothing but a flash of black and gold as she dived for the jackal’s throat, clawing and snarling at its chest as she took the thing down with her in one swoop. Steven watched with an agape jaw as she lifted the creature up as if it were nothing more than a sack of grain, and threw the jackal into the same parked car already cracked from where Steven had hit it, the opposite window getting the brunt of the attack as it smashed and the door caved easily. 

The creature lay still for a while, giving Steven time to confront the woman who had helped him, and hopefully answer the questions that Marc had dodged. 

“Oh my god,” Steven started, approaching the woman from behind where she was stood, barely out of breath for what had just occurred, “Excuse me, who exactly are you, you’re just bloody amazing-”

Raising his hand to touch the woman's shoulder gently, Steven practically had the wind knocked out of him as she turned on her heel in less than a blink of his two white eyes, and threw him to the ground as easily as she had the creature. Kneeling over him, his body mushy underneath her sadistic strength, he felt his knees go weak as she grabbed him by his collar and brought him to her face where her eyes trailed over his own face, a horrifically deep snarl emanated from her chest, shaking his lungs with its power. 

“WOAH, Woah wait. I’m not going to hurt you, though I supposed I should be more worried  about you hurting me-” It was then that he actually took in what he could see of her face. 

The colour of the hair that fell around her face as she leant over him, the shape of her face that wasn’t covered by the black muzzle that wrapped around her mouth and over her nose, thin and metallic and yet making her sounds all the more terrifying. Her eyes, the iris gone and replaced by inky black pits of darkness that blinked down at him with famine. 

But that face. He would know that face anywhere, he would know it in the thickest of fogs, the darkest of Winters. He could find her in any crowd, in any life. And if he was to go blind by morning, he’d know her by the way she breathed alone. 

And he did. Despite the fact her breath was laden with grunts, he knew her. He knew her. 

“Dove?” Steven muttered, hands coming to hold her face gently, his brows furrowed with confusion, “Dove, what happened to you-”

His hand had all but brushed her cheek, a gentle action that normally would have had her preening to his touch, had her snapping at the bit, and Steven was sure she would have taken his hand clean off had she not been muzzled like a rabid dog. 

Steven jumped back as she came closer to him, an even louder rumble of fury damn near bursting his ear drums as she warned him off of touching her. She was not his dove. Not the girl he knew. Not the girl he loved. She was a feral beast untamed and wild, eager to hurt him as much as she had attacked the jackal were he to get too close. 

“Dove?” Steven asked one more time, though he kept his hands in surrender as she manhandled him, pushing him to the floor more as she pinned him down, her black eyes empty and raw as she stared at him, “It’s me, Steven. Your Steven,” 

Nothing. He gained no reaction from her, not so much as a blink. This was not her. This was a savage creature that knew no such thing as gentle touches and loving words. 

She did nothing but stare at him, waiting for him to make a move out of line so she could tear him to shreds. And yet, Steven lay there as if to submit his body to her if she wanted to do such a thing. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t fight back. Could never lay an unkind hand on her even if it came to his last moments on the earth. He could die by her hands and he would still consider himself lucky to have been touched by such a creature. 

She raised a clawed hand up to bring down on his masked face, a strength in the hit strong enough to tear clean through the ceremonial armour and likely leave him disfigured, if not cleave his skull in two on the spot. But she didn’t get a chance to strike. No sooner had she raised herself up to end it all, the Jackal launched its beaten body at her crouching form, the two of them tumbling away from Steven’s shaking body and rolling amongst one another in a flurry of wails and growls. 

She flew off him spitting and yowling like a feral street cat, a sound no normal human should make as the creature bit down on her arm hard. 

Steven felt two arms dragging him upwards and away from the scene, Layla could only imagine what was going on as the mystery woman’s arm sprayed her own blood over the concrete with every swipe of her claws. 

“What is that?” Layla asked breathlessly, practically yanking Steven away as he trembled under her hands. She froze when Steven said her name, her name, the name of the girl she had left in that room to make her own way out. “What? Is this Harrow’s doing? Turning her into some crazy dog-woman?”

“I don’t know,” Steven said with a defeated tone, his chest aching at the way she had looked at him with no recognition of who he was. “I think…” Steven thought for a moment, “I think Marc will know how to help her,” 

Layla nodded at him, her eyes taking in his broken expression, patting him on the arm gently, “Okay. Okay, bring him out,”

Steven turned away from her, sparing a small glance to the woman who held his life so closely in her hands, who had been seconds away from ending it, who he gave himself to entirely were it to be that he saw her in his last few moments of living. She scrapped with the jackal, two wild beasts gaining on eachother, drawing blood whenever and wherever they could. 

“Marc,” Steven said, his eyes never leaving her blank face, spots of blood now sprayed over her nose like freckles. He felt his alter perk up at the name, his body already tensing up as Marc clawed at the reigns to take over now.

“Yeah, buddy?” Marc asked, though he could see everything Steven was seeing, and his heart already sunk at the unrecognisable thousand mile stare she had. 

This was it. Seth had her now. “Save her,”

authors note: I used an AI to create what I think Dove looks like in her suit and-

These are the vibes we’re going for! Please feel free to imagine her as ANY shape, ANY ethnicity and ANY height however, these were just what the AI generated!

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[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Hey! Hope you're having a good day.

I would like to know if you would write a short one shot about the moon boys.

Prompt: reader and the moon boys are friends and they are telling reader about their past and how Marc was married to Layla. Reader goes on a rant about how they're stupid because they let such a wonderful woman get away from them and the boys are like "we made a mistake, and now we're trying not to repeat it. We love you, and we want you in our lives forever"

~Second Chances Don't Wait~

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none really, brief mention of a random guy being a creep but nothing big

Genre: fluff of course

Summary: Finding out your friend has an ex-wife is probably the weirdest segway to a confession

A/N: Hello dear~! Thank you for requesting! It's- not as short as I planned it to be but I hope it's to your liking anyway. Have a lovely day <3

***

"Marc don't burn the popcorn!" You shout from the bathroom as you change your clothes.

"I can handle a microwave y/n!" He shouts back and you can practically see him rolling his eyes from the kitchen.

You smile to yourself, switching your work clothes for a hoodie and some comfortable shorts. Marc, Jake, and Steven are over at your place pretty often these days but tonight they insisted you come to theirs for your weekly movie night. You came straight from work, only because to get to your place you would pass his first so you simply brought a change of clothes to work today. Your friendship with Marc and his alters is one for the books for sure but whenever you think about how you got here, it makes you laugh.

You'd met Jake first which is somewhat hilarious considering how much he hates people. You'd been picking up some snacks from a corner store and some guy got way too close just as Jake walked in. The dude had cornered you in a part of the shop that was out of sight of the store owner but Jake came over and told him to leave me alone so menacingly that his words chased the guy right out before he even bought anything. You'd tried to thank him for it but he walked off before you could even get the words out. So with your items in hand, you walked to the register, and upon checking out you thought of a new way to thank him.

"Hey Louie, whatever that gentleman in the cap buys, it's on me. If this doesn't cover it somehow- I'll be back 'round later in case I owe you more for it, okay?" You quietly slipped Louie an extra 10 bucks assuming that should cover it.

"Got it, dear." He nods and you walked out with your items, thoroughly pleased with yourself. Until a few moments later a voice shouted after you.

"Hey!" You spun around to find Jake stomping towards you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I can pay for my own stuff."

"I don't doubt that, I'm just saying thank you. For taking care of that guy."

"You could have just said thank you."

"I would've but you stomped off before I could say anything. I figured you didn't wanna be bothered so I found another way." You shrugged. "I don't see why you're angry. Who gets made at free stuff?" You'd frowned. He shot you a glare that most people would've withered against but for some reason, you didn't back down.

"Whatever." He eventually muttered and stormed off. 

"What a grump." You'd muttered to yourself shaking off the icy chill of his stare. If you asked Jake today why he bothered to help you back then he'd probably deny there being any real reason for it.

It was a few weeks later that you'd met Steven and what a strange day that was. You'd gone to the museum he worked at and after a couple hours of wandering, you hit the gift shop hoping to find something to memorialize your visit. When you'd picked out a few items and dropped them on the counter you couldn't believe the face staring back at you.

"Woah! It's you again." You'd said before you could stop yourself.

"I- I beg your pardon?" Steven had blinked at you with such confusion on his face that you stepped back.

"We- we met a couple of weeks ago. At a corner store- don't you remember?"

"I- I apologize you must have me confused with someone else." He'd shook his head very hard and it was then that you realized the accent in his speech. The guy from the convenience store did not have a British accent.

"Well I'll be damned. Guess so. My mistake, you look scarily similar to a guy I met a few weeks ago. He talks very differently though. You might wanna talk to your parents about a long lost twin though- the resemblance is- uncanny." You'd told him as he rang up your items.

"Statistically every person has 7 doppelgangers. It's- though unlikely, possible this man you met and I are one of those statistical 7 for each other." Steven had told you in response.

"Ya don't say." You muttered. You wrapped up that transaction and left rather quickly, still a bit unsettled by the fact that this Steven looked just like the man from the corner store. Whose name you still didn't know at the time.

Marc you met the next day. On the bus. You had gotten on and ended up standing right next to him.

"Oh hey- you work at the museum, Steven, right?" You'd said to him.

"What are you talking about?" He'd frowned at you. A different accent this time.

"Okay. Wait you have got to be punking me."

"Do I know you?" He'd looked at you like you had two heads.

"We have met twice already! Except yesterday at the museum, you were British and three weeks ago at the corner store, you were a grumbly Latino and today you're a New Yorker. I know you said that everyone has 7 doppelgangers but I refuse to believe that in London only there are 3 people walking around with identical faces all sounding like they're from 3 different continents!" You'd huffed out. Marc had blinked at you very unsure of what to do. After all, somehow they'd accidentally revealed themselves to you and you didn't even realize it.

"How about we grab some coffee?" He'd asked after a moment.

"What?" That is not what you expected him to do.

"Coffee. Or tea if you prefer that. I'm Marc by the way. We should- talk, about what you think is going on here." He'd offered.

Reluctantly he told you about his situation, he was surprised they'd been reckless enough to get caught by a stranger but you took the information better than he expected. After all how often does someone you don't know share their medical conditions before they know your name? It made friendship kind of inevitable though, I mean- he could've lied, but you appreciated the honesty and quickly proved to be quite the confidante for the trio.

"What are you doing in there y/n?! Sewing a hoodie from scratch?!" Marc's voice from the living room ends your reminiscing.

"Shut up you impatient loser!" You roll your eyes as you grab your phone and pull open the bathroom door to join him.

"You're postponing movie night I am well within my rights to complain." He shrugs.

"We watch a movie together every week, don't whine." You take the bowl from his lap and grab a handful of popcorn as you sit down. "What's the genre for tonight again?" You ask grabbing his remote to queue up a movie.

"I think tonight is romance."

"You're actually going to watch a romance movie?!" You blink at him.

"Don't start." Marc points at you.

"Okay well- do you want to watch an intentionally bad one? We can laugh at all the Twilight films, or any Netflix original, or like something from the early 2000s. Or we can watch one of my favorites."

"You have a favorite romance movie?"

"It's only a romance movie by technicality." You shrug.

"What does that mean? Is it a Disney movie?"

"I don't like the way you said that first of all. No it's not a Disney movie. The main characters are married but it's more of an action movie than a romance."

"You've intrigued me." He hums.

"Then we'll watch that." You say finding and starting the movie before he can change his mind. When the movie ends it's Steven who's fronting.

"So they're spies and they're married but they're told to kill each other?!" Steven asks.

"Correct." You nod.

"Only you would pick something like that as your favorite 'romance' movie." He laughs.

"Hey! It's a great movie!"

"I mean we liked it, Jake especially- it's just- barely a romance really. Don't you like any of the normal ones? The notebook, princess bride, aren't those romances?"

"Well yeah but- the notebook is boring. Princess Bride, I like though, but I didn't think Marc would like something like that." You shrug.

"Oh he hates it. But if you asked him to I'm sure he'd sit through one." Steven shrugs taking the empty popcorn bowl to the sink.

"Now why do you want him to suffer?" You giggle standing from the couch to stretch your legs.

"I'm not saying make him suffer I'm saying watch a normal romance movie." He says.

"Fine. Next time we're doing romance I'll pick a 'normal' one, or you can pick one." You say just before your foot kicks a little box peaking out from under the coffee table. "Yo yall have got to get better at organizing, why is this box under your table?" You bend over to pick it up and check what's inside of it. A ring and some old photos it looks like but before you can do any more digging someone is at your side grabbing the box from you. You're not sure until they speak who it is.

"Don't." Marc says hiding the box behind his back.

"What is it?" You ask. There's a stretched period of silence and you're sure he's arguing with Jake and Steven over something so you snap a few times. "Hello! Earth to the system. I asked you something?" You frown.

"It's nothing." Marc says quickly.

"You're- keeping secrets now."

"No." He shakes his head.

"But you won't tell me what's in the box?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Correct."

"Why not?"

"Because... it's not important." 

"People typically don't feel the need to hide things that aren't important." You mutter. It's not like Marc's not allowed to have his secrets but he could at least be honest and simply say it's something he's not ready to share.

"Aye this is getting ridiculous the box is about Layla, his ex-wife." Jake interrupts your back and forth with an exasperated sigh.

"Ex-wife?! Marc, you were married?!"

"It was years ago okay? It didn't work out and I never brought it up because it's- not a fun story so thanks for that Jake." Marc huffs out.

"Well sucks to suck Marc now you have to tell me about her. I can't believe you were married and never said anything?!"

"Can we maybe not?"

"Not an option." You say pulling Marc onto the couch beside you. "Start talking." You tell him. Marc sighs heavily but tells the story from start to finish. He details how they met and how impossible she was to win over at first, he talks about their wedding and their time as husband and wife, and how he up and left her like a crazy man. Steven even chimes in several details because apparently, she was part of how he found out he was an alter- Steven's review of her is glowing, almost saddeningly so. It seems like he started to love her as Marc had and you try not to let it get to you. When the storytime is over and your questions are answered you lean forward to smack Marc on the side of the head.

"Ouch! Hey, what the fuck!?" He hisses.

"You're a fucking moron!" You tell him.

"Excuse me!?"

"She sounds amazing and I can't believe you were stupid enough to let her get away. Not only that you pushed her away. What is wrong with you?"

"A lot of things! Hence the fractured conscious thanks." He huffs.

"Marc I'm being serious. Why would you walk away from her?"

"Y/n you don't need to lecture me I'm very well aware that I fucked up with her I'm trying very hard to make sure I don't make the same mistake twice."

"Wait are you going to try and get her back?" You ask. It's genuine curiosity, you're his friend before anything else.

"What? No. That door is long closed. I'm talking about you."

"Me?" You blink at him.

"Yes, you. I screwed things up with Layla obviously and I have no interest in fixing that at this point but I won't let it happen again. I'm in love with you- we all are and we really can't live without you so- yeah, there's that."

"You have such interesting timing Marc Spector." You muse.

"Look we're sorry if you don't feel the same and this makes things-" You lean forward and press your lips to Marc's gently, cutting him off.

"Don't get all twisted up, of course I feel the same. Telling me about your ex-wife is just a weird way to confess your feelings." You laugh sitting backwards again.

"Well to be fair this wasn't how I planned to tell you and I tried to tell you not to worry about the box." Marc says pulling you back towards him.

"You know better than to do that I'm far too curious." You muse.

"You're lucky you're cute." He smirks.

"I'm lucky? You're the one that gets to date me."

"Do I?"

"If you ever get to the part where you ask me on a date then yes."

"How about we go to dinner tomorrow night then? It'll be our first date." He suggests.

"Now you're the lucky one." You nod.

"Without a doubt." He says kissing the top of your head as he simply lays with you on the couch. He was never one to think everyone deserved a second chance, but if the universe was kind enough to grant him this one he was not going to be stupid enough to waste it.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfiction #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant #moonknight fluff #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #requests

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Family Affair

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in The Shape of Youniverse

The Prompt: Jake wins a bet between the boys, so he gets to grow a mustache, which means your family’s first group Halloween costume is The Addams Family

Requested by: @pleasehidemyficshit

Pairing: Jake x afab!reader, background Steven x afab!reader and Marc x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶🌶, Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.2k

CW/TW: We’ve earned all four peppers here friends - obviously Jake has a mustache and looks too good with it, there’s talk about sharing D.I.D. with loved ones, groping, a touch of roleplaying and spanking, f!receiving oral, destruction of clothing, breastplay, lactation kink, and titty-fucking (it’s back!)

A/N: Y’all I started writing this before Halloween and wanted to have it for everyone by then... but shit’s been crazy on my end. I’m behind in asks and responses but it was in an effort to get this out and honestly to keep my head above water! Hope this fic and the filth below is entirely worth and thank you all, especially my darling requester, for patience with me! Spanish translations at ze bottom of ze fic!

“Damn babes, never thought I’d say it, but Jake can pull off a mustache,” Charlotte mused while the pair of you stood in her reception room, currently decorated for a spooky, but not scary, Halloween party.

You immediately shushed her. “Stop that! What if he hears you?” 

She threw her hands up in surrender, yet didn’t appear at all contrite. Charlotte and Harry’s place was palatial by most Londoners’ standards, but sound could carry from one end of the room to the other rather easily. “Here, come with me to the loo, I need help with my wig anyway. We’ll talk about it there.” 

This Halloween, your first as a mother, was quite different from previous ones. The last year you had been too queasy to go out, and the year before that, you and your husband had been out all night hopping between various pubs and parties. While your couples costume, Hugh Hefner and a Playboy bunny, was admittedly and totally misogynistic, it had led to the night culminating in some rather fantastic sex just as the sun’s rays began to kiss the horizon. Plus, Jake called you “conejita” now sometimes in bed which never failed to make you shiver. 

Tonight was the diametric opposite. You had to be home 9:30 sharp so as not to completely fuck Nyla’s sleep schedule, you and your husband hadn’t so much as seen each other’s genitals in days, and your family was attending precisely one fête, this one at Charlotte’s house. She and Harry had welcomed a daughter of their own, Abigail, a few months before Nyla was born. Their low-key house party was the perfect festive, baby-friendly occasion for the holiday. Come to think of it, your previous costume and activities were a rather fitting way to send off your pre-baby body and persona.

“This is lovely by the way,” you told Charlotte, crowding into her downstairs loo with her. “I can’t believe you were able to clean and decorate this place while Abby is teething.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, genuinely touched at the comment while she helped you to recenter the part on the long, black haired wig you’d donned for the evening. “Honestly, I have no worries about going back to work for my MP now, the House of Commons is a cakewalk compared to the chaos it took to get this house together today.”

You laughed, the truth of her sentiment resonating with you. Even if you didn’t work in government, everything else was a breeze after having a baby. 

“Though I must say, it’s a bit cunty for my best mate to show up looking as good as you do tonight,” Charlotte teased, “If I hadn’t seen you pregnant myself, I’d doubt you even carried Nyla.” 

“HA!” You squawked in disbelief, “either you’re already pissed or need to get your eyes checked. Besides, black is a very forgiving color.” 

Though Halloween with a baby meant no more all-nighters and fuckfests, it did mean something else that was arguably just as exciting: family costumes. Given that earlier in the month Jake had won a contest between him and his alters on who could change Nyla’s diaper the quickest, he was currently sporting a mustache. You weren’t exactly chuffed about its presence on your husband's face, but it did inspire you to make everyone dress up as the Addams Family. You’d ordered a darling little Peter Pan-collared black dress for Nyla as well as a crocheted hat with braids, a slinky (and apparently very forgiving) long black dress and wig for yourself, then a pinstripe suit for the boys. 

You didn’t know why it had never occurred to you before, but your husband, specifically Jake who was fronting tonight, made a perfect Gomez Addams. While you needed a full face of makeup and wig to recreate Morticia’s look, all Jake needed to do was slick back his hair and trim his mustache. He had surprised you in the midst of your process mimicking Morticia’s winged eyeliner by asking you for some eye makeup of his own for the evening. 

You were all too happy to oblige his request. Nyla was napping, you were almost done, and it made you endlessly happy that your husband got into the Halloween spirit as much as you did. Jake sat on the closed lid of the toilet while you straddled him to apply the kohl. To his credit, he stayed still for the most part while you drew and smudged the black pigment onto the delicate skin of his lids. It was remarkably intimate, given the closeness and the vulnerability the act required.

However, this was Jake, so right as you finished he growled “Nena”, then pulled you into his lap to feel the hardness swiftly growing there. 

“Absolutely not,” you protested, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “I have worked too hard on this makeup, plus Nyla let me dress her without any fuss, so no.” 

“Pero nena, este vestido,” your husband whined, canting his hips against your core. “What am I supposed to do when it frames your tetas so perfectly?” 

“Luego,” you declared, your dismissal as harsh and final as a judge’s. 

Jake’s resulting pout was downright comical. Yet, it was worth delaying nookie in your opinion for getting to Charlotte’s at a reasonable time and getting family photos before Nyla inevitably rebelled on her braid-cap thingy. 

“Alright but Jake,” Charlotte circled back now that your wig was sorted. 

“Jake,” you echoed, switching spots in front of the mirror so Charlotte could touch up her witch makeup. “Well I told you he strong-armed me into letting him grow one, and it must be the Latino blood and you know…energy that means he can pull it off. I can’t let him think that though, because he’ll never shave it.” 

“What do the other two think about it?” 

Charlotte and Harry were two members of the small circle of people who knew about your husband’s D.I.D. You’d been friends with her for years before you met Marc, and it didn’t occur to you to share his condition with Charlotte until you learned that her mother-in-law also had D.I.D. It brought you both all that much closer since you each had someone safe and knowledgeable to talk about it with, plus Harry was a reassuring example of someone who had been living with and loving someone with D.I.D his entire life. 

“They’re not pleased because it’s resulted in less sex,” you divulged. “Marc’s been telling clients it’s for cancer awareness, despite No Shave November starting, well, in November. Steven teaches a bunch of Gen-Zers who think it’s part of some new TikTok trend.” 

Charlotte burst into laughter at your assessment. Before you two could gossip any further, there was a knock on the bathroom door. It was Harry, who once he identified you, called to Jake, “They’re in here!”

In the span of a second, a frantic Jake rushed over to you with his arms full of a very unhappy Nyla. 

“Where have you been?” He snapped. 

You knew Jake was flustered about his daughter crying, so you sent him a smile, and in a carefully measured tone asked him, “Would you like to try that again?” 

“Sorry,” your husband softened at once, “but it’s not her diaper, I took off her wig-hat thing, I even tried taking her around the block in her stroller, but nothing’s worked so—“

“She must be hungry,” you concluded for him and held out your arms for him to pass your still-wailing infant over. 

As easy as it was to jump down each other’s throats when Nyla was upset, you had to give your husband grace. Especially since technically, he’d only been a parent for a third of as long as you’d had. 

Once Nyla was securely in your grasp you cooed at her, “Oh baby Wednesday, what’s wrong?” 

Charlotte joined in your attempts to soothe Nyla and offered you their bedroom to feed her. Unfortunately, time on the boob didn’t make your daughter a happier camper so you and Jake decided to call it a night. As disappointing as it was, leaving early was the right move since Nyla fully conked out on the car ride home. 

She mercifully didn’t wake up when you and Jake transferred her into her crib, which left you and your very sexy husband still in costume with nothing to do at 8:45 on Halloween night. 

“We could put something on?” you suggested. 

“Or,” Jake countered, “we could have a Halloween party of our own.” 

He captured your hand and kissed the back of it, making you stutter when you asked, “And what would that entail exactly?” 

Jake hummed, trailing his lips up your arm in true Gomez Addams fashion, and when reached the juncture of your shoulder and neck, you mewled. Encouraged by how you were swiftly melting into his arms, your husband bit down, worrying the sensitive skin there with his tongue.  

He escalated his delicious assault on your body by stepping behind you so each of Jake’s large, sure hands could cup and squeeze your breasts. The act ripped a whine from your throat, given that your tits had been made incredibly sensitive by nursing. You flinched and turned your head to the side, thereby exposing more of your neck for his teeth and tongue to attack.  

“Been thinking about these tetas all night,” he rasped into your ear. 

“Yeah?” You urged him on. Both he and Steven were downright obsessed with your lactating bosom. “What are you going to do about it?” 

“Wanna stick my cock between ‘em,” Jake divulged. His words made you even weaker in the knees. 

“Mmm, Papi,” you keened. 

He bit down on your earlobe and corrected you, “Gomez.”

Oh, you were doing that tonight. You turned the Morticia on, twisted in his grasp, clutched Jake’s lapels, then told him, “I want you to ravage me, my love, tear me apart like an animal then put back together as only a lover such as you can.”

You were unsure if it was dramatic enough, but it certainly did the trick, seeing that suddenly your world shifted since Jake threw you over his shoulder to cart you off to the bedroom. 

You and your husband were never much for role playing, so this was a surprise. And since Jake looked so much like Gomez, why not give it a try? 

Jake snapped you out of your thoughts when he landed a slap on your ass before depositing you onto the bed. You tried to assume a sexy position spread out on the bed, the long black wig you still wore fanning out across the comforter. 

While your husband usually went straight for your ass, tits, or mouth, Jake surprised you by yanking on your ankles to pull you further down on the bed. He contrasted his first brusque move with a softer one, dropping his lips to the delicate skin of your ankle. Once again emulating the character he was dressed as, Jake drew a line of kisses up the length of your leg. Every press of his lips against the tender skin of your shin and thigh made you convulse as Jake continued toward his prize. 

It was impossible to stifle the yelp you made when Jake ripped the fabric of your costume to further open the slit of the dress so he could get at your pussy. Once he had the necessary space, your husband wasted no time pushing the now soaked crotch of your thong aside and kissing your quivering core. He treated you to little licks up and down the seam of your cunt, before focusing on swirling it around your clit. 

“Jaaake,” you keened, too far gone to use the characters you were supposedly role-playing as. 

He lapped at your slit voraciously. It was tempting to allow your eyes to flutter closed and surrender to your pleasure, yet the image before you was too intoxicating to ignore. It was thrilling, with the different hairstyle, the eyeliner that made his dark gaze pop, the glimpse of the pinstripe pattern across his broad shoulders…Jake looked just enough like a stranger between your thighs. And that sent an extra swell of excitement through you. 

Jake hummed against your folds, the vibrations making you shudder and allowing another high-pitched yip to escape from you. The brush and tickle of his mustache added another layer of novelty and titillation to your already trembling form. 

“Don’t stop,” you urged him. Pleasure was now zinging across every corner and crevice of your body. Your mounting orgasm made you toss your head from side to side on the pillow, while you attempted to find purchase for your fingers within Jake’s shellacked strands.

Though Jake often liked to be the boss in the bedroom, he heeded your order, dutifully continuing his rapacious attentions on your core. He could usually feel when the proverbial band of your peak snapped and coursed through you, but this time, Jake could hear it in the plaintive, pleasure-drunk calls of his petname. 

When “Papi..Pah…Puh…” became “oh fuck Paaaaaaapi,” he knew he’d done his job, that your climax was lighting up every last nerve ending in that pretty little pussy of yours, and that your ecstasy was entirely his doing. 

Jake wanted to give you more time to catch your breath as you came down, he really did, but he’d been hard ever since Nyla’d been deposited into her crib, which meant unfettered access to your tits. The way your chest had heaved while you lost yourself in the bliss of your orgasm hadn’t exactly helped his patience either. Your husband snatched the two panels of fabric that made up your dress and tore the garment clean in half. 

“Necesito estas tetas,” he growled, his hands once again sailing straight to your breasts. 

You jerked from the surprise contact as Jake swooped down onto your bosom and whimpered. Your breasts were tender to begin with, and your body was still being wracked by little aftershocks from your climax. Thankfully, your husband noticed, and his touch became much gentler in the span of an instant. 

“Oh nena,” he murmured, tenderly playing with each teat, reveling in the breastmilk that had begun to dribble from them. “Fuiste tan bueno para Papi, déjame cuidarte. Tu sabes que Papi le encantan el sabor de tu leche.”  

You’d barely translated his word in your head before his warm, relentless mouth had found your right nipple and began suckling at it. Feeling the suction of Jake's mouth coaxing out the buildup of milk in your already engorged boobs nearly had you levitating above the sheets. Not only was it incredibly arousing, but the relief that coursed through you with every pull of his lips, especially since Nyla didn't eat much earlier, only made you feel more divine. 

It didn't take you long to figure out that your husband’s worship of your chest was two-fold. Sure, Jake was sending you into the stratosphere by suckling at your breasts, but when he switched mounds by leaving open-mouthed kisses across your sternum, it was clear he was also getting you wet so he could wedge his throbbing dick between them. 

“Mmmm Papi, you gonna put that huge cock between my boobies?” you intoned to egg him on. “Gonna fuck these big titties?”

Jake replied with a snarl and detached himself from your now thoroughly-abused nipple. “Ven aqui.” 

The next thing you knew, you were no longer splayed on the bed, rather on your knees with your criminally handsome husband towering over you. You watched hungrily as he slowly, tantalizingly unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, but when you reached to shuck off his trousers altogether, Jake caught your hands. 

“Ah ah,” he tutted. “Mi traje se queda puesto.”

A dark whirlpool of excitement churned in your stomach at his statement. There was something extra electrifying about being left in your cum-soaked thong while Jake was fully clothed, drawing his turgid length out of his costume’s zip. You spurred him on by squeezing your tits and pushing them together. 

“Joder, nena,” he swore at the sight. “Voy a follar esas tetas tan duro.”

“Qué estas esperando por, Papi?” you goaded him. 

Jake needed no further encouragement. He stepped toward you and wedged his dick, flushed wine-red and leaking, between your heavy breasts. It was a different position, but you knew that Jake would want a similar treatment to one his alter got on your holiday to Cornwall. 

Steven had made an absolute mess of your chest and the sheets at the cottage you’d rented in the countryside, so naturally Jake would want his chance to top him. This time, you were less bashful about your husband fucking your tits, which emboldened you to give him a show. Not only did you dart your tongue out to lap at his cockhead each time Jake thrust it between your boobs, you massaged them around this shaft to stimulate him further. 

“Fuhhhhh, nena,” he groaned at the stimulation, the movement of your milk-laden breasts making him piston his hips harder into the valley of your chest.  “Jo–oh, joder.” 

There wasn’t much talking after that, the feel of your breasts suffocating Jake’s cock rendered him speechless. You concentrated on licking his swollen tip, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth with every swipe of your tongue. 

The two of you made a lewd symphony between the slick slip of his cock between your breasts, the jingle of his zipper against his thigh with each shove of his pelvis, plus the little grunts and moans you traded with each other. You knew Jake’s climax was fast-approaching when his grunts picked up pace. 

Within moments, his seed was painting your tongue with hot stripes. Jake’s face was blissfully open and unfurrowed as his peak consumed him. It was a welcome sight to see your husband’s features wearing only pleasure and release. To you, that was sweeter than any candy or treat Halloween could offer. Well, that and the absolutely adorable family photos you managed to sneak in earlier this evening before Nyla took a hard left into fussytown. 

Once Jake’s orgasm subsided, you slipped off the wig, relieved to no longer have it on your scalp since your previous activities had worked up quite a sweat. Jake collected you in his arms, and kissed you surprisingly gently for how intently he was fucking your tits just minutes previously. 

“¿Quieres una ducha?” he whispered. 

You nodded, “Si Papi. Gracias.” 

You followed him into your en-suite bathroom. As he put the water on, you remarked, “Big day tomorrow.” 

“Mmm?” came Jake’s response as he at last stripped himself of his costume.

“Shaving Day,” you supplied. You, Marc and Steven had been counting down. 

“Actually, I was thinking–”

“No no! We all agreed!” you stopped him. “Besides, you had your fun tonight, didn’t you? What a sendoff.” 

“That’s exactly why I should keep it baby,” he purred, crowding you with his now naked body. “Don’t think I haven’t seen your leg twitching when I kiss this pretty pussy con mi bigote. Se siente bien, ¿no?” 

“Nice try, Lockley,” you countered, scampering past him into the spray, “but a deal’s a deal.” 

Jake wanted to argue, but the sight of you - nude and wet in the shower - silenced him for the time being. There would be plenty of time to concoct another scheme/bet/what have you for his mustache’s glorious return. Right now, he simply wanted to be close to, and joined you under the stream of water. 

A/N: Leave it to me to intend to write straight up filth but needing to writing idk, a thousand or so words of world-building before our dude gets his cock out. Classic moi, am I right? Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed!! Only two more prompts to gooooo 

Translations: 

conejita - little bunny 

Nena - babe 

pero nena, este vestido - but babe, this dress 

 tetas - tits 

Luego - later 

Necesito estas tetas - I need these tits 

Fuiste tan bueno para papi, déjame cuidarte. Tu sabes que Papi le encantan el sabor de tu leche - You were so good to daddy, let me take care of you. You know that Papi loves the taste of your milk

Ven aqui - come here 

Mi traje se queda puesto - my suit stays on 

Joder, nena - fuck babe 

Voy a follar esas tetas tan duro - I’m going to fuck these tits so hard 

Qué estas esperando por, Papi - What are you waiting for? 

¿Quieres una ducha? - you want a shower? 

Si Papi. Gracias - Yes thanks. 

con mi bigote. Se siente bien, ¿no? - with my mustache. It feels good doesn’t it? 

Taglist: 

@twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042, @nikitawolfxo​,  @weirdo125  @damnzelsoul​ @missmarmaladeth

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley #jake lockley x female!reader #jake lockely smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfiction #bit-dodgy's 500 follower celebration #bit dodgy's 500 follower celebration

[oceandiagonale]

Sooo...recently it has been very heavily implied that Penny's father is Peony, which would make Rose her uncle. Which would make her taking her girlfriend, Spare, to a family party even more awkward than normal for various reasons.

"Spare, this is my Uncle-"

"Rose, Ex-Chairman of the Pokemon League of Gallar."

"...of course you already know who he is. Anyway, please don't attack him. Uncle Rose, this is my girlfriend Spare DelRosa, a champion rank of Paldea and Ex-Hero of Arceus."

"...Ex?"

"Dad is an asshole so I quit. Still waiting on child support for Mom, the bum."

okay, I finally looked up where people were pulling that from and whoops, I should probably play the . team star backstory and mochi madness things sometime huh. 😳

anyways this is incredible tbh, can't believe Spare's not only following the Protagonist tradition of dating a former "villain" but also adding onto that by having one of them be her girlfriend's uncle FKJDSHFKJDS

(also this sent me down a thought rabbithole. Is Rose still allowed to stay in Galar? Did he get a trial even though Interpol/The United Regions Court doesn't have jurisdiction over stopping villains? Who decided his sentence? I'm so sorry I'm derailing this and rambling about Rose but it made me think a lot 😳)

I like the Star Trek concept of "jail" only being used as a last resort for people who are currently a danger to people around them and only as a temporary measure while working out some other supports, since the current prison systems all over the real world suck in unique and horrifying ways. But more importantly, I never ever saw that as a viable sentence for any of the villains anyways -- not even Lysandre, so certainly not Rose.

(................jury's still out on Ghetsis, but he's allowed to just wander around Pasio without much fuss so I guess he's fine too as long as someone's keeping an eye on him.)

More importantly, Gene was there to vouch for Rose's honesty about wanting to make it up to Galar. He definitely got community service, but what KIND? And were Archie and Maxie precedent, or did they even get a trial? None of the villains BEFORE them did, and Rose was the first one AFTER them to let himself be "caught."

When Guz first finds out that Archie and Maxie are undermining Lysandre, he says that Gene was happy that they stepped up to do environmental work, which means that the League was the organization taking responsibility for them, NOT Interpol.

But there's never any mention of paperwork regarding them, so I'm pretty sure Steven was just keeping an eye on them from there on out (especially since he was invited to their wedding later).

By the time Rose does his thing (checks watch) 6 years later, there ARE forms for each kind of incident. I'm pretty sure Gene wrote those himself.

So here's my thought: the League was still the organization that "caught" Rose. They were the ones that pressed criminal charges against him, mainly to set a precedent for future incidents (at Rose's request), and he met the same fate as Rose does in the Pieces AU: working in Hoenn as a scientist with Archie and Maxie's team on their environmental project. (Unfortunately, those two are too busy with Ultra Flare to be there much atm.)

After a while, he's able to go back to Galar to work on the energy crisis (with non-League personnel in the Villain Cleanup Division keeping an eye over his shoulder just in case and generally keeping him away from Leon so as not to distress him).

All that to say, yeah. Canon encounter.

#oceandi answers #oceandi arts #chairman rose #penny pokemon #spare protagonist #generic protagonist

[soufcakmistress]

Unveil

Part IV

A/N: I know yall wanna fight me LOL I couldn’t figure this next part out to save my life. But my brain is working a little better now, and I wanted to get this out. Not me posting two fics two days in a row! Don’t get comfortable because this is out of the norm LOL stay tuned boos!

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black Reader

Snoring peacefully in the king bed of the guest house with an open window, the loud buzz of a lawnmower startled you almost to death. Erik’s baritone carried over to the guesthouse, guiding the landscaper while giving him notes. Rolling your eyes internally at the thought of Erik, you gather up the courage to roll over and pick up the burner Erik gave you. It was time to let your best friend know what’s up. Knowing her cell number by heart, your fingers tremble as you input the digits. It only rings once.

“Y/N???? Y/N? Sis is that you??” Denitra sounded like she had been waiting by the phone the whole time for a call from a number she wouldn’t even recognize. You immediately burst into tears. Everything from the past is flooding back. You and Nitra busting ass for midterms. You supporting her when she crossed and wrangling all the balloons at her probate. Y’all squealing over the gigantic engagement ring Eddie proposed to you with. The last embrace you guys ever had before you left behind all that you ever knew.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry. It’s just so good to hear your voice. I’m okay! I’m okay.”

Denitra shut her office door closed, and paced back and forth nervously. “Where are you, Y/N? Are you alone??? Do you still have money? Has he tried to still—“

You give a good belly laugh with your face still wet with tears because that’s how your best friend is. Making sure A and B equal C. “Nitra, take a breath sis. I promise I’m okay. I’m not gonna tell you where I am, so do not ask. Just know that I’m being taken care of properly.”

Nitra looked at her phone like it had three heads. “Bitch, who is taking care of you???” More belly laughs from you. Y’all chat it up for the next 30 minutes. You’re very careful about revealing any info to your best friend. If there’s anything you know about your ex fiancé, it’s that he will stop at nothing for information. Giving her plausible deniability could save Nitra from his wrath. Or push him further into mania. You had to believe in your heart of hearts she would be safe if she didn’t know anything, for your own sanity.

~

“Miss Y/N, I have prepared breakfast for the house in the dining room. I would love for you to join us!” Leah, Erik’s middle aged housekeeper, spoke over the intercom to make you aware. Maybe you and her could spend some time alone today.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll be there!” You finish up with your best friend, shower and cross the pool to the house. The house smells absolutely amazing— a spread was made of scrambled eggs with cheese, turkey sausage, and homemade biscuits. “Leah, this is awesome! Thank you so much!!”

Leah was definitely one of those Black women who could throw down in the kitchen and cherished when people enjoyed her food. She leaned back on the island and sipped her coffee with pride. It was only you and Leah downstairs, but you did happen to peep some luggage by the front door. Who’s leaving? Black Barbie? Or Black Ken?

Holding no qualms about your outer appearance, you dug in. You were starving, and Leah put a hurting on them biscuits. Light steps are heard coming from the upper floor and Monica appeared looking completely ethereal. “Good morning everyone!!”

It was still a bit early for her to be elongating her vowels but you greeted her accordingly. Leah didn’t speak, just peeping over her coffee mug. “I unfortunately have a day trip to Cali—Christopher John Rogers’ publicist has been incessant about me modeling their new spring collection. I’ll be back tomorrow evening though! You ladies have a splendid time!!” Monica split a biscuit in half, gave you an unexpected bear hug, and traipsed out the door.

“Thank God. I’ll at least have one person to talk to with more than half a brain cell.” Leah washed out her mug, and you snickered when she said that. It was petty. But, oh well. Leah winked at you, when Erik decided to show up.

“Ladies. Good morning.” He typed away at his phone while he made himself some coffee. Leah responded. But not you. What could you say to him now that you seen what that dick was hitting for? It’s evident he caught you looking last night and he wanted you to look….right? Not stopping to sit down at the table with you, he picked up a biscuit and headed back upstairs. From the bannister on the upper floor, Erik could look into the kitchen from above. You lost the fight not to gaze at him. Looking up, he was already staring at you before going into his office and shutting the door. Why is this man so intense…

Leah began clearing the table since you were done eating and cut her eyes at you. Something was up between you two, but she didn’t push. Erik told her everything about your situation and how you both came to meet. Leah was trustworthy and lived a lot of life before working full time with Erik. She empathized with you wholly, seeing that you were lost in the world. She was proud of Erik for doing the right thing—the boy was certain he was damned to hell. This was proof he wasn’t.

“I’ll wash if you dry.” You offered. Leah accepted happily, nice to have someone who didn’t act like she was a personal maid. You noticed that Leah didn’t say much. She was always watching though.

“Leah, what do you have planned for today?” Putting your hand on your hip, you turn to her with a smirk on your lips.

“Well, I do need to coordinate with the pool boy, wash a couple loads, vacuum the guest rooms, start on lunch—“

“Ehhhh, that can wait. Let’s go shopping. I gotta get off this property or I’m gonna go postal. Erik’s a big boy, he’ll be all right for a few hours. I’ll go tell Caleb to start the car.” You leave to let the driver know, not even allowing her to respond. Fun was majorly needed.

Meeting Leah at the front door, you pile in the expedition to head to the nearest mall. Scratching your veve tattoo on your side, your thumb scrolls through the mall directory when you get an iMessage from an unknown number.

“Going somewhere?”

Who else would it be but him? It was purposeful to leave without telling him. Erik had you twisted all the way up inside…….it wasn’t totally smart but this gave you some semblance of control back into the dynamic. Being a helpless damsel in distress wasn’t a good look on you and you didn’t want it to start now….even if you really did need all the support you could get. You weren’t gonna pass this moment of brief freedom up. “Yes I need things. And I need some fresh air.”

“This ain’t no damn vacation. Get what you need, and have Caleb return you ladies back to the property.”

Oh? He is feeling very jazzy this afternoon. You leave him on read, and hop out with Leah. She’s very patient and a very good listener. She can sense the wheels turning in your head, sorting what to do and what’s already been done.

The two of you scoured through Old Navy, Five Below, Rainbow, Bath and Body Works, Aldo, and left a whirlwind in Macy’s. Caleb fought his frustration watching you traipse from store to store. Retail therapy was a balm to your open wounds. The cares of your world fell away trying on different jeans and comfortable jumpsuits while you reconciled everything. A blessing also came in the form of companionship with Leah.

Widowed at 45, the Nashville native was blessed to have two pensions and an empty nest. She let you in on how her and Erik met and how he was like a son to her now more than anything. The two of you conversed over piping hot Japanese teriyaki in the food court surrounded by department store bags. “He reminded me of my son Travis. His father died when he was so young, and it was an uphill battle to wrangle him back from the dark side. Erik has his demons and yet he still has a code. I could never deny that boy.”

You listened intently and soaked it in. Demons huh? You figured he had access and resources being an alleged government contractor but it appears his baggage is a bit more nuanced. What had Erik seen and done? Why go out of his way to help a stranger? You had more questions than answers but were still somehow pleased with the new info.

Caleb had been staring a hole in your head for the last half hour. You put him out of his misery and he comes to gather your bags. Leah squeezed your arm and y’all headed to the car. The mean grinch awaits you both and had lashings for you for sure.

~

“Split up. Go. Ven allá!” Eddie directed his goons to search the town square in the sleepy little town of Randolph, Vermont. Two guys took the north end, while three guys took the south end. They questioned jewelers, shoe repairmen, butchers, ski shop owners, hotel clerks, etc. Nothing revealed any inkling of you. Eddie himself called every single roach motel in the surrounding area and nobody by the name of Y/N Nazario. He even asked if you went by your maiden name, and still nothing. “Something’s not right.”

Him and his goons reconvened at a late night diner. They couldn’t look more out of place—Cuban and Haitian American men with no sense of humor being served by lily white folks whose most lively occurrence were a cat getting stuck in a tree. “Boss, could she have been tipped off?”

Eddie ran through the scenario again and again in his mind. There should have been no time that you would have known he was coming. “Are you guys sure that she didn’t see Arturo at the train station? If she saw his fuckin face, she would have been spooked.”

Eddie’s lieutenant, Carmen insisted personally that he didn’t. Arturo wouldn’t be able to eat without a feeding tube for a while to make sure of that. “Let’s go. We need to pay a visit.”

~

Back at the ranch, you and Leah have situated all of your new purchases in the closet and bathroom in the guest house. No more living out of a purse. To end the night, you guys head back to the main house while Leah popped the cork on a Merlot that was to die for while some smooth jazz played on Erik’s surround sound.

He comes from his garage after playing around with a transmission for an old school Chevelle he’s been restoring, to see you two cozied up. At least you found someone to confide in. “Thelma and Louise have returned I see.” You both cackle and pour him a glass.

“Better watch your wallet!” You bust out laughing, clearly tipsy.

“Wel I’m glad you had fun but can you please let me know that you’ve left the house before you just duck off like that? We’re trying to keep you safe remember? I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.” Erik gives the warning tenderly but with some steel as well. Leah says nothing and sips more of her wine, secretly amused at his overprotective nature. She knows he means well.

You drain your glass and go to pour another one. “Yes Dad. I’ll always check in before curfew.” Red wine always does this to you.

“Well kids, I’m going to lay down for the night. I’ll see you both bright and early for breakfast.” Leah rinsed her glass out and placed it in the sink and kissed Erik on his cheek. “Good night, son.”

“Good night, Leah.” His dimples make another appearance and your stomach does a hurdle. She squeezes your shoulder and heads upstairs. You take your glass and the whole bottle to the couch, and you feel his eyes on your back the whole time. How was this going to work?

The wine fills your mouth adding to your buzz and your eyes close as you bob your head to the jazz. You feel the couch dip as Erik sits right next to you. “I see someone ran it up today.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? With all things considered..”

His eyebrow raised and he inhaled more of the Merlot. “No complaints from me, Y/N. Just pointing out the obvious. I see you and Leah have gotten close. She’s an outstanding woman.”

“Yes she really is. So sweet and so wise. I enjoy her company. Reminds me of my mom..” Damn. How long has it been since you’ve spoken with her?

“Have you used the burner phone yet? I hope you have, I told you it can’t be traced.”

“Yes, I reached out to my best friend. She’s sworn to secrecy. Not my parents though. One word from me and Eddie would absolutely know something right away, they can’t hold water.”

Erik drained his Merlot and poured the rest of the bottle into his glass. “Well at least you know who to trust with certain information. Can I ask you a question?”

Your heart fell in your butt when he said that. Oh God. You weren’t ready to reveal that you been daydreaming about his bare body all day. “Shoot.”

“Your tattoo. It’s a Haitian veve with a Kongo cosmogram around it. Does it mean something?” Erik was fishing for info for sure. How could someone so sweet and tender as you get caught up in such an evil force as Mr. Nazario?

“We’re gonna need more wine, if we’re going to get into that.” Erik immediately got up and got another bottle of Merlot and a corkscrew and poured generously for the both of you.

Words start pouring out of you. The whirlwind of you and Eddie’s romance and how intense and handsome he was had you under a spell. It didn’t take much for him to convince you to become his queen of his empire. Erik listened intently and engaged with you. It’s no wonder why Monica is head over heels. He’s fine as fuck, incredibly sharp and got bank. But he’s holding something back.

Him and Eddie weren’t that different in that regard you found. Erik revealed very little about himself yet was able to extract information from you with ease. Too easily, for that matter. Eventually, you were all talked out, and fell asleep on the couch. Erik was comfortable himself and didn’t want to move. He pulled the throw blanket over the both of you, whispered “sweet dreams” in your ear, and dozed off himself.

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#soufcakmistress #erik killmonger #erik killmonger smut #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik stevens #killmonger x reader #black panther #wakanda forever

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

One day I'll be dancing on your grave...

Summary:

Lucien “Luci” Greco, you’re piece of shit ex, has come to NY looking for you. He's the reason you had to leave everything behind in the first place. Didn't stop him from searching for you though. The long lost mafia princess. He needs you if he is ever to rightfully take over the family from your father Declan. Little does he know you're doing mercenary work for the highest bidder. He still thinks you're some wilting damsel, a spoiled little princess. Your daddy didn't raise you that way though. You've been primed to take over since birth. Too bad he beat the shit out of you so badly you had to run for your safety. Somehow, even trying to stay under the radar you've befriended the damn Avengers family. A misfit mafia if you’ve ever seen one. You’re all after the same enemy afterall. Maybe, it's time to finally let someone or several someones in, so you can live life without constantly looking over your shoulder. Question is, do you even want the crown anymore?

Warnings:

Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Mafia Avengers, Mafia AU, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top

Notes:

Hello Heathens! Welcome to this dark little mafia world I've created. Please be aware there are dark themes throughout this story so be sure to check the tags with each new chapter just in case there may be something that triggers you. Happy reading! Banner @cafekitsune Divider @firefly-graphics

“Well if it isn't the White Wolf and his Captain.” You deadpan as you enter your living room.

“Jinx.” Bucky speaks from his place on the couch. 

“To what do I owe the displeasure of finding you in my home?”

“We came to return this.” Steve places a dagger on the coffee table. “Seems you left it behind.”

“Oh Steven. I don't ‘leave’ anything behind. Every blade has a purpose. You should know that by now. That one was left as a reminder of what happens when people underestimate me.” You start to clean the dirt from under your blood soaked hands with another dagger.

“Now if you're done posturing or whatever it is you came here to do. You can kindly show yourselves out. I have a date with my clawfoot tub, a bottle of 151 and season 2 of the Witcher to get to.”

You turn on your heels and head down the hallway towards your bedroom, undressing and leaving a trail of bloody clothes behind you along the way. You're faithful Doberman Hades on your heels. The pair of enforcers sat on your couch are fixated on the sway of your hips until your form leaves their line of sight.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “What do you want to do about this? I’ve never known her to kill just for fun. Clearly someone with deep pockets hired her to take out Sitwell. Not that I’m complaining. That Hydra piece of trash deserved it.”

“Tony is going to want answers. Answers that only she can give.” Steve shrugs.

“If she’s willing. She’s not the biggest fan of Tony.” 

“Thankfully she loves Pepper. Let’s see if she’ll come to the compound with us voluntarily first.”

Arching his brow and  giving Steve a sly grin. “Afraid to get your hands dirty Stevie.” 

“More like I’d prefer to have her tied up in my bed than in the back of my Range Rover.”

“Don’t we all Stevie. Don’t we all?”

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror as your phone begins to vibrate along the counter. You glance down and upon seeing the name flashing across the screen you take a calming breath and answer. 

“It’s done. There was no need for you to check in on me.”

“That any way for you to talk to your Da? I know it’s done. I had 100% faith in ya to finish the task. I did raise ya after all. So what if I wanted to check in on ya. You’re so damn far away now. I’m not allowed to call my daughter?” Declan proclaims.

“Da. What do you need? You never call to just check in. We don’t work that way. If you wanted to see how I was doing, you’d fly a goon of yours out and stalk me for a week before deciding if it was worth it to come out here to see me. So what is it? I can’t re kill Sitwell for you.”

“Alright. Alright. I get it." He sighs into the phone. "I have some info I feel ya need to know.”

“And that is?”

“Lucien has been gone for a week. Said he had some business to attend to out of town. I just came to find out from one of his little lackeys that said business seems to be in your neck of the woods. Be careful, petal. Keep your eyes open. He very well may be there for some reason other than to hunt you down and drag you back, but I won't risk it.”

You freeze at the mention of your toxic, waste of space, abusive ex. The reason you had to run away to NY in the first place. You swallow and test the water for your bath.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll stay vigilant, as always. Now leave me be so I can enjoy my post kill ritual.”

“Never one to waste words.”

“I got it from you. Night Old Man.”

“Night Petal.”

Placing your phone on the tray next to the tub you proceed to submerge yourself in the steamy water. You tilt your head back and exhale as tortured memories bring themselves to the surface.

“Sunshine” His voice is getting closer to the darkened corner you’re hiding in. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” He throws one of the dining room chairs away from the table. “Come on baby, I won’t hurt you. I promise. I didn't mean to scare you. You know how I get when I have a shit day and your dad calls attention to my fuck ups in front of everyone.” 

His steps get closer and the next thing you know his hand is in your hair and he’s pulling you out into the living room. Tossing you harshly on to the coffee table. You barely get your hands out in front of you before your face can connect with the solid wood. 

“You know better than to hide from me, Sunshine. For that, I’m gonna deny you the use of my tongue to open you up. Hopefully you’re wet enough cause I’ve got a lot of pent up anger that I need to get rid of. Don’t move if you know what’s good for you and take this dicking I’m so graciously giving you.”

You brace yourself as he slams himself inside you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and craning your neck back so he can wrap his other hand around it. He’s squeezing so tight you know there will be finger shaped bruises left behind. 

You find yourself zoning out as you try to preserve your precious air and he continues his brutal pace. It’s the only way to get through it with your mind intact. Your body will heal. It’s the emotional trauma you're most afraid of. Before you get too lost in your head, he speeds up, hips moving erratically until he stills and you feel him empty inside you. Thank the goddess is stamina is so shitty.

“Much better.” He kisses the back of your head. “See how easy that was Sunshine. Go get yourself cleaned up so we can have dinner. I don’t feel like staying in so wear something that’ll help cover those bruises. Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

You numbly nod your head and limp off to your ensuite bathroom where you stare at the mottled mess of purple around your neck. You heave a sigh and get to work covering up his handiwork. 

Hades emitting a low growl, snaps you out of your daydream when the pair of Super Soldier enforcers saunter into the ensuite to see if they can persuade you to come to the compound of your own freewill. You decide then and there to have a little fun with them first. A sort of quid pro quo if you will. You're keyed up from your kill and want to drown out the memories of your past that seem to want to flood back tonight. What better way than with some orgasms. 

“Can I help you? As you can see I’m trying to relax.” You announce to the steam filled room.

“Tony would like to see you. He has some questions pertaining to your last kill.” Steve states.

“And before you give some snarky ass comment, we’re asking if you wouldn’t mind coming in with us of your own accord. Although I’m more than okay tying you up and dragging you in myself.” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and shoots you wink.

“Okay.” You casually declare.

“What?!” The soldiers stare at each other in shock over how easy that was. Too easy.

“What’s the catch?” Steve asks.

“It’s simple, really. It’s a win/win all around. I’ll go if Bucky uses those metal fingers of his and gets me off, then lets me ride him while I suck on that golden dick of yours Captain.”

“Deal!” Bucky blurts out, making his way over to the tub as he rolls up his left shirt sleeve.

He wastes no time submerging his hand in the hot water and seeking out your folds. He lightly runs his fingers along them and up to your clit where he makes a couple light circles, eliciting a moan from you. 

“Fucking soaking and it aint even from the bath water. You’ve thought about this before, haven't you Doll.”

“Wh-what can I say? The metal is sexy. Oh Fuck!” He slides two thick digits knuckle deep inside you and curls them upward. “Yes. Yes. Right there. Right fucking there Wolfie.”

Your head is thrown back in complete pleasure as you give in to the manipulation of Bucky’s metal digits. Steve is off to the side, all of his blood having run to his cock, making his pants extremely uncomfortable, watching you writhe and make the most delicious sounds.

“That’s it. Come on babygirl. I can feel how close you are. Give it to me and then you can take me for a ride. I know you want to be stuffed full.”

His words have the desired effect and your pussy squeezes down on his fingers as you detonate and ride the wave of your orgasm. 

Before you fully can come down from your high, you're pulled from the water and impaled on Bucky’s thick girth as he sits on the edge of the tub. The stretch and feeling of being so full almost sets you off once again. You take a moment to let your body accommodate him.

“Thought you wanted to ride me, Doll? So ride. Before I change my mind and bend you over this tub instead.”

Your hips move of their own accord at his threat. Undulating and bouncing to a sensuous rhythm. Losing yourself in the moment. 

That is until Steve strolls over and teases your lips with his precome coated tip. “Open up, Doll. Gotta make good on that deal.” 

You gaze up at the Golden Adonis standing to your right and give him one sweet kitten lick before you take him down to the root. Hollowing your cheeks, you begin to bob your head along his length, sucking the life out of him. He can’t help the moans and groans slipping out of his mouth as you suck his dick like no one ever has before. 

Knowing your mouth is setting the Captain's world upside down, you pick up the pace, grinding and bouncing on the dick splitting you open. You set a tempo that has the room filled with nothing but the wet sounds of skin against skin, moans and language that would make a nun blush. 

Bucky has a firm grip on your hips as he pulls you down one final time and erupts inside you, triggering your own orgasm. You come screaming around Steve’s length, setting him off as well. Rope after rope of his hot white seed coats your tongue and throat as you swallow every precious drop. 

Releasing him from your mouth you lick any run away drops off your lips and proceed to lift yourself off of Bucky’s lap. “Fuck that was even better than I imagined it’d be. We most certainly need to do that again. Many many times.” You grin devilishly. You are a glutton for sin after all. 

You grab a washcloth, dip it into the hot bath and begin to clean up the mess Bucky left behind. Satisfied with the level of cleanliness, you turn towards the out of breath enforcers. “I’m nothing, if not a woman of my word. Grab yourselves a drink and recoup while I throw something presentable on for the big boss man. What are we riding in by the way? Will I need my leathers or are we in a cage tonight?”

“As much as I would love to see you in your leathers, straddling me on the back of my bike.” Bucky bites his lip at the image presented in his mind. “Stevie here, brought his Range. So cage it is tonight, Doll. Gonna have to save that ride for another time.”

“No problem. You’ll just have to enjoy that sight when you're watching me from behind as I sped past you on my Ducati.” You tease.

“You won't be ahead for long, sweetheart. And once I catch you, I’ll gladly bend you over it and fuck you til cant stand, let alone handle you bike and are stuck riding bitch with me.” He cockily proclaims.

“Promises. Promises.” You smugly smile back.

Steve interrupts your moment before it escalates further. “Okay. Enough you two. Although I would love to watch that transpire, we do have somewhere to be. Come on Buck, let our little murder queen get dressed. We’ll be ready when you are Jinx.”

You walk up to Steve and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Always so polite. Even after you just had your massive dick shoved down my throat. Oh you're the best kind of dangerous. I can’t wait to see you unhinged.”

With a whistle to Hades you head back into your room and your walk-in closest to throw on some clothes and be on your way to the Avengers compound.

"There's the woman of the hour. I thought you'd put up more of a fight with the Super Soldiers. Guess I was wrong this time. We were just talking about you." Tony gets up from his chair, grinning.

"We?" You question.

"He'd be talking about me." You gaze down to a blonde head of slick back hair and a voice that haunts your nightmares sitting in front of Tony. 

"Jinx, I'd like you to meet…"

"Lucien Greco." You deadpan.

He stands from his seat and turns in your direction. His blue eyes scan you from top to bottom. Cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Hello Sunshine. I was hoping I'd find you here."

"No one calls me that anymore." Another emotionless response from you. 

"So I've heard. Jinx. Fitting if I do say so." You barely restrain the growl that wants to emit from your chest.

"You know him?" Bucky asks.

"Yeah. He's the asshole who gave me this.” You lift your shirt and pull up the center of your bralette, showing off the jagged scar in the middle of your sternum. “Right before he left me for dead on the side of the road."

“I didn't leave ya for dead darlin’. I was always coming back. Just needed to teach ya a lesson first.” Lucien imparts.

Before he gets a chance to even take a step, you have him pinned against Tony’s desk. Your favorite dagger, precariously placed under his chin. Blade pressed so close against his throat, a deep breath would break the skin.

“Tony. Please get on with whatever it is you need to discuss with me. Every second that passes I’m one step closer to slitting his throat and that’s just too quick of a death for him in my book. So make it quick and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Tony lets out a sigh. “Unfortunately you’re going to have to deal with him for this discussion. Says he knows who hired you for the hit on Sitwell and that we’re all after the same thing. Revenge.”

“Of course he knows who would have hired me for this hit. He’s been working for him since he was a teenager. Been around him his whole life actually. He is correct about revenge though.” You state a little too calmly.

“Are you implying Declan Scott paid you for killing Sitwell?” Tony questions.

“Never said I got paid for the job.” You shrug your shoulder.

“Why didn't you get paid?” Steve utters.

With a smug little grin Lucien answers for you. “That’s an easy one, boys. He killed her mother. In fact he was the reason she went into labor. Little Sunshine here was born in blood. Taking her first breath as her mother took her last.”

“You’re extra chatty tonight Luci? It’s a pity those words just might be your last.” You look him dead in the eyes, a look of murder in yours.

“Wait. Wasn’t Declan’s wife murdered while pregnant? He has a daughter right? She’s been MIA for the last 3 years.” Bucky adds in.

“That would be, correct gentleman. Although I wouldn't classify her as MIA any longer now would I darlin’.” Lucien chuckles.

You press the dagger in a fraction harder and watch as a trickle of blood begins to slide down his neck.

“Alright. Enough with being vague. Just tell us what you're trying to say, Greco.” Steve growls out.

Smug as ever he lets them know what’s going on. “Alright. Alright. I’ll lay it all out. You’re little Jinx here, is Declan Scott’s one and only daughter. The rightful heir to the Bay Area Mafia. I’ve come to drag her back home where she belongs before Hydra makes good on their threat and ends her fathers life.”

“I’ll be going nowhere with you.” You say through gritted teeth. “You seem to have left out the part where you only want me home so you can lock me up and throw away the key. That way you can run things solo. Not happening. I’d rather bleed out in a ditch again than see you take over for my father. Whatever deal you thought you’d strike here it’s over. Your word is as good as a knife in the back. Your mouth is full of nothing but slick words and a poisonous tongue.”

“You used to love my wicked tongue Sunshine.” You press the dagger in a bit further once again. The tiny river of crimson soothing your raging emotions.

Not wanting to have to clean blood out of the carpets Tony takes charge of the tense situation. “As sexy as it is watching her hold you at knife point, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Seems you are no longer needed for this conversation.” 

He presses a button on his desk. “Happy. Would you mind escorting our guest off the premises please. Take him wherever he wants to go, as long as it’s far from here.”

“Will do, Sir.” Happy replies.

“Thanks. Now Jinx. I’m gonna need you to step back from the deadbeat ex so Happy can remove him.” 

Bucky comes up behind you and places his flesh hand on your hip and his metal one around the wrist holding the dagger. He whispers in your ear so only can hear. “Let’s make him wish he never stepped foot in here thinking he could get one over on you.” He kisses along your neck as he lowers your hand away from the lowlife's, guiding it down to your thigh, where he helps you return it to its sheath.

“That’s my girl. Head on over to Tony now. Steve and I will be right behind you.” He places a final kiss on your lips and turns you toward is awaiting boss. 

You walk over to Tony and he grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. “We have a lot to discuss, little one. Seems you’ve been holding back on us.”

You laugh. “Don’t say I didn't warn you.”

#poc reader #avengers x reader #avengers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #mafia au #steve rogers x reader

[limerencecalls]

So I’ve no real experience writing my own fanfic, but since I’m going through a relationship break this kinda wrote itself for my own therapy, and because why can’t Steven Grant exist in this universe for us during our post-breakups? Sigh.

Minor warnings of soft nsfw, more sensual than sexual except for the last bit. I know it ends abruptly. 😏 Maybe I’ll write more soon…

Warmth. Soft. Comfort. Safe. The fuzzy edges of wakefulness prod at your sleepy brain, your senses letting you know that you feel safe. This is wonderful, you think, and wonder why you feel this at ease. You stretch, noticing the gentle puff as the blanket slides over your bare skin.

Wait— your eyes pop open as you register that it’s not only the blanket touching you — for a confused moment you don’t remember if you’d been the one to ask or him to offer, but Steven’s there curled towards you, wearing the same thing from the night before, sound asleep.

It had been late and you’d been so exhausted, physically from the long work day and emotionally due to the barrage of spiteful texts from the ex who had been blowing up your phone all day. Blocking only helped for so long, before he made another number in an app and used it to harass you. By the time you’d been done your evening shift, the tears and anger had boiled over and you were grateful that Steven had sensed you needed a safe person to be around. So you’d asked him over to try to occupy you with takeout and tv. The moon had crept across the sky as you distracted yourself with pad Thai, a documentary about ancient Egyptian architecture, and your sweet coworker who insisted half of what the documentary person said was inaccurate.

You glance down at yourself now and see that your shirt has come up during your sleep, exposing your stomach and breasts to the smoothness of the blanket. It often happens, but knowing he stayed the night makes you feel embarrassed in case he was still awake to notice it happen. But he’s asleep now.

You watch him for a moment, grateful he stayed. Then, as you reach up to pull your shirt down, you feel a small stirring in the depth of your belly that causes you to stop. The feeling rapidly growing, you instead reach out to his white tshirt and gently tug it upwards so that his torso and chest are bare also, letting your gaze trickle over the gentle ridges and valleys that rise and fall in time with his breath.

He doesn’t seem to sense as you inch close to him. You hesitate a moment, but the desire to breath in his scent and to smell of him overrides that pause quickly. Raising up on one elbow, you lean towards him tentatively, watching his face for any sign of waking. Then slowly, deliberately, you press your bare self to him, sighing as you feel your breasts squish against his skin. His warmth radiates over you, coaxing out a bit more confidence and a surge of longing.

But— he lies blissful in sleep, unaware. As much as you want to lean in and start kissing down his body, you hold yourself back. After all, he just spent the whole night and didn’t try anything. Maybe he isn’t attracted to you. It would be wrong to assume he did and wake him up in an awkward and compromising way.

Then again, your shirt had been lifted up. Maybe that was him? Your eyes trail down to where your fingers are tracing the edge of his sweatpants. Curious things with a mind of their own. They brush down with intention and you stifle a groan as they edge the thick outline of his bulge just under the fabric. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask him to stay last night. It had been only a few weeks since the breakup, but sex had been such a frequent part of life before that and these past weeks had left you with constant unmet need.

—————-

THE END, for now 😜

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #moon knight smut #steven grant angst

[ichorai]

stork & owl ; steven grant.

track four of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; steven grant x museum tour guide!gn!reader

synopsis ; you often walked around with a storm cloud hanging over your head. good thing steven always carried an umbrella.

words ; 2.8k

themes ; fluff, slight angst, museum au, tour guide au

warnings / includes ; light profanity, mentions of a past break up, talks of egyptian mythology, you and steven are NERDS, flustered steven being infatuated with you <3 and reader has it rough rn :( this fic is set a bit before episode one of mk !!

main masterlist.

Steven thought you were rather beautiful. Both in the physical and the metaphorical sense. He enjoyed watching you a lot, observing the way you’d gnaw on your bottom lip whenever you were in deep thought, or the way your eyebrows would twitch downwards just a bit when you were engaged in a conversation you would rather not be a part of. There was this expression that he was most fond of—the one where your eyes would light up with awe-struck wonder when you spoke to the tour group about the wonders of the museum, clear passion seeping through your tone. 

But that expression would seldom appear. You were a pretty closed off person—sure, you were civil towards your coworkers, but Steven didn’t really know anything about you.

So it was a shock in it of itself when Steven found himself forming a little crush on the museum’s lead tour guide.

It was small at first, starting when he began listening in on your tour sessions. Gradually, he began seeking you out on purpose, finding himself taking the same lunch hour break as you just so he’d be able to see you more often. You didn’t speak much, and that made Steven all the more curious about you.

A part of him wondered if you ever even noticed him. You’d never really acknowledged his presence, other than that one time you bumped into him on your way to the bathroom, muttering a quiet sorry under your breath before moving along. Steven thought you had the prettiest eyes—he’d stood rooted at the spot for two whole minutes after you were gone, just thinking about the colors of your irises and how they gleamed with the light, until Donna yelled at him to get back to work.

It was soon revealed to him that you weren’t a fan of Donna either. He hadn’t heard the entire conversation between you and his boss, but he caught sight of the way your nose wrinkled in distaste, and you calmly gritted out, “Stay out of my business, please.” You then made your way out of the gift shop, brushing past him in the process. You smelled good—something fresh and slightly minty that Steven would give anything to drown himself into.

The next day, you appeared through the doors disheveled, dark bags adorning your weary eyes and clothes seeming a little rumpled. Steven still thought you looked radiant—in fact, he didn’t think there’d ever be a situation in which you wouldn’t look good. After all, he was no stranger to appearing unkempt. Absent-mindedly, Steven carded a hand through his dark curls, trying to get them out of his face.

When one of the museum curators, a handsome chap with dark skin and round glasses, had come up to you holding a thick file of papers and wearing a clean, pressed suit jacket, you shot him a nasty glare, eyebrows quirking downwards like they usually did. Rumor had it that the two of you were exes and had dated way back in the day, but Steven didn’t really like to think about it. You were too good for him, anyway.

He hadn’t meant to overhear your conversation with him. 

“Y/N,” the man said, near dripping with contempt. “I need you to review these plans for museum renovations. Tell me what you think by tomorrow—it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”

“I’m the lead tour guide for one of the largest museums in England, you think I just sit on my ass all day?” you protested, eyes sharp and tongue even sharper. “Ask someone else and stop bothering me, will you? I feel like you forget we’re not in a relationship anymore, Dev.”

With that, you set your jaw, leaving the agitated curator behind. He called out after you, “I’m the one that broke up with you, of course I didn’t forget!”

Anger bubbled through Steven’s veins. How dare he speak to you like that? He gulped loudly when Dev swiveled his gaze over to the gift shop, immediately averting his gaze elsewhere, awkwardly whistling out a broken tune. 

The day passed on otherwise uneventfully—that is, until you showed up in front of the cash register near closing time with an uneasy posture.

Oh, you were very pretty. Nevermind your windblown state, you were breath-takingly beautiful. Everything—from the slope of your nose, to the curve of your cupid’s bow, to the way you held yourself with such dignity despite the fatigue evident in your expression. Steven not only admired you, but he respected you, and respect was hard to come by these days.

“Hi. Erm, what can I do for you?” Steven nervously asked, drumming his fingers against the counter.

Wordlessly, you placed a falcon plushie beside the cashier, fiddling with the beaded bracelet around your wrist. 

“Horus?” Steven asked, picking up the toy to run it over the scanner. “God of the sky. One of my favorites, actually.”

For the first time, your eyes lifted from the ground to meet with his. There it was���that expression that Steven loved so much. The gentle curiosity in your gaze made him feel so warm yet so cold at the same time.

“Interesting,” you rasped, blinking at him in surprise. It pleased him to see no downwards quirk in your brows. “It’s quite the paradox, really—he’s considered to transcend the mortal understanding of morality, yet he’s known as a protector.”

Excitement bubbled in his chest. “Yes, I’ve always thought about that! His symbol was used to protect the pharaohs—it’s often confused with the Eye of Ra. Whereas Ra stems from fear of violence and represents the sun, Horus represents the moon and gets its powers from deflecting evil forces.” He paused in his quick words, nearly wincing. “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, I’m sure you know all about it already.”

“I do,” you admitted, bobbing your head once. “But it’s nice to hear it from someone else.”

Good God, if Steven wasn’t careful, he might’ve found himself already infatuated with you. That small smile twitching the corner of your lips upwards certainly didn’t help his predicament. 

Your gaze flickered down to his name tag. “Well, Steven, thank you. I was having a pretty bad day honestly—thought I’d get myself this to cheer me up.”

Without thinking it through first, Steven found himself blurting out, “I heard Dev speaking to you earlier. I didn’t mean to, really. I know it’s not my place to say anything, but he’s a right wanker, he is. Don’t listen to arseholes like him—you deserve a lot better.”

A part of Steven wished a hole would open up beneath him and swallow him completely. Why would he say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid—!

“That’s… I really needed to hear that, Steven.” You blew out a shaky breath, and he was partially mortified to find your eyes glossed over with a layer of shiny, unshed tears. “Maybe I’ll come by later this week and you could tell me more about Horus.”

Steven felt himself flush hotly. “It’s a date!” he said, so flustered that he completely forgot the motor functions in his arms and had to hastily shove them into his pockets. “I’m here…” He trailed off in uncertainty, recalling all the times he’d been late to work and other blacked-out days he’d just entirely forgotten. “I’m here most of the time. I’d love to see you here again.”

You broke out into a smile—the kind you try repressing but you just can’t no matter how hard you try. Heavens, Steven wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already in love with you. He could just feel it. 

“See you later, Steven.” You saluted him with two fingers as you started walking out of the gift shop and he swore he nearly melted into a puddle as soon as you turned away.

It rained the next day. Cold and misty; a natural lullaby to his ears. Steven pulled out his umbrella, yawning behind a fist as he shucked it open, stepping out of the museum with a quiet goodbye to the night shift security guard. 

Much to his delighted surprise, you were outside, huffing in annoyance as you crammed all sorts of files and papers into your bag, looking like you were preparing to run out through the pelting shower.

“Y/N?” he asked, tilting his head and gesturing to his umbrella. “You okay, love? Need some help? It’s raining pretty hard.”

When your eyes shifted upwards, Steven nearly felt his knees buckle. Just what were you so gorgeous for? As he walked closer to you, he noticed that you looked slightly less disorderly than you did yesterday, but your eyes still held the same distress. 

“That’d be amazing, Steven. Thank you so much.”

“Of course! I’m honored to be your knight in shining… wrinkled button-ups.” He chuckled sheepishly before shooting you a sweet beam, shifting so that the umbrella would hover over the both of you. You could only fix your eyes to the wet ground so he couldn’t see your own flustered smile. The two of you started walking forward towards your car, parked at the far end of the staff lot. “How was your day?” 

“Oh, it was—” You were about to spew off the same old ‘it was fine’ crap you always did, but you stopped yourself. Steven was different—you didn’t want to lie to him. “Not so good, honestly. Looking forward to getting back home and watching Star Wars or something before going to bed.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Steven said, genuinely. “Dev being a pain, again, innit?”

Humming in confirmation, you nodded once. “Same old, same old.”

“Did you say Star Wars? I love the movies—I much prefer the older ones, though. Can’t beat the classics, I always say.” The two of you were now just standing in front of your car, and you didn’t really want to get in if it meant having to say goodbye to Steven.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” you said quietly, looking towards him with such raw affection that it shocked Steven into a spluttering mess. He hadn’t ever seen you wear this expression before—not even for the darling kids that chatted your ears off during your tours. “First, Egyptian mythology and now nerdy franchises, too. Not to mention you’re quite handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Steven was far beyond comprehension at this point, his mind whirling with an amalgamation of delight and confusion.

When you laughed, all tinkling and breezy, utter ambrosia for his ears, Steven could feel his heart give away. This was it, he was going to flat-line and pass away in the rain from utter happiness.

You didn’t grace him with a response, as if the very question to his physical appeal was absurd because of course he was handsome to you. In a way, it was quite similar to how he felt for you.

“Thank you. I, uhm, I think you’re handsome, too,” he stumbled over his own words, shuffling forward slightly—so close that he could see every minuscule detail of your face. The small scar over your nose bridge, the birthmark to the left of your eye, the way your teeth worried over the plush flesh of your bottom lip. “I think you’re beautiful. No, no. I know you’re beautiful. You are beautiful.”

It took everything you had within yourself not to grab him by his shirt collar and surge forward, slanting your lips over his. Kissing in the rain, like in those cheesy romance movies—Steven would’ve lost his damn mind. “You’re a sweetheart, Steven. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’ll be taking the bus back to my flat,” he said, fumbling with his grip on the umbrella within such close proximity to you.

“Do you want a lift?”

Steven being in the same car as you for longer than five minutes? He’d probably spontaneously combust into flames. “I wouldn’t want to be any trouble—” 

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured, opening the car door for him. “Hop in.”

Not wanting to protest any further, Steven shot you a grateful grin before ducking in, and you quickly ran around to the other side, your smile so wide that your cheeks burned from the unfamiliar stretch. It’d been a while since you smiled so hard for so long.

“Thank you, again.” Steven’s heart was pounding against his rib cage so fervently he wouldn’t be surprised if the muscle just burst right out of his chest. Even your car smelled like you. 

“Anytime,” you said easily, starting your car up smoothly. “There’s just something about you, Steven. I don’t give car rides to just anyone, you know.”

Steven caught sight of the crescent moon-shaped car fresheners hanging from the mirror, jostling as you drove over the uneven roads of London. He smiled softly. “To be honest, I’ve noticed you for a while now. Just never worked up the courage to come and speak to you.”

“I’m glad I bought that Horus plushie, then,” you hummed, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel. “Where to?”

As Steven told you where to go, you drove into the streets, the pitter-patter of rain filling in the comfortable silence. Slightly hesitant to break the tranquility, Steven spoke soft and slow. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but are you… okay? These past few days you’ve been…” The words on his tongue died off, unsure of how to articulate his thoughts without somehow coming off offensive. 

“I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or flattered that you’ve noticed. It’s been rough,” you admitted quietly, stopping at a red light, but not taking your eyes off the road. Steven did notice how your fingers curled tighter over the steering wheel, though. “It’s hard to sleep sometimes.”

“Don’t I know it,” Steven agreed, nodding emphatically.

You shot him a quick glance of amusement before continuing, “Everybody just seems… against me, you know? Donna, Dev, my folks at home. Call it paranoia, but it’s just this constant onslaught of feeling like everyone has it out to get you. Everybody but you, I suppose. It’s like everybody’s raining down on me for every little mistake but you’re the only one who brings an umbrella.” You gestured to the umbrella he had slotted against his leg by the car door. “Quite literally.”

“You know what?” Steven threw out any prior inhibitions and decided to be upfront with you. You deserved that, at least. “I really like you, Y/N. A bit more than I should, considering we barely know each other. But I really do like you.”

“I like you, too,” you uttered through a relieved grin, much to his delight. Slowly, you turned the corner and stopped in front of his apartment. Steven wished he didn’t have to get out, that he could just stay in the car with you forever.

The flickering orange streetlights cast an amber glow over his features, pretty shadows elongated over his handsome visage. Your eyes traced over his dark curls hanging messily over his forehead, looking as if they’ve been carded through a million times today. His dark eyes, tired but exuberant all the same, and dilated with pure affection just for you. 

“Maybe we could rewatch the old Star Wars movies together. If you’re up for that,” he suggested, a hopeful glint in his irises.

A huff of a laugh fell from your lips and Steven just soaked it up. If he could hear you make that sound at least once every day, he’d die a happy man. 

“It’s a date,” you softly murmured, parroting exactly what he had said the day before. “I’m free this weekend. Do you have a number I could—?”

Before you could even finish the question, Steven was already rifling through his pockets for his phone with sudden vigor, handing it to you so you could type in your number. You handed it back to him with a jubilant smile painted golden over your lips once you keyed it in.

God, you were just so beautiful without even trying. How’d he ever get so lucky?

Steven really didn’t want to leave the car, but he pushed open the door nonetheless, murmuring a sweet ‘good night, love’ to you before ducking under the onslaught of rain and sprinting into the building. In his haste, it didn’t occur to him that he’d accidentally forgotten his umbrella in your car, but it was alright. He’d want you to have it, anyways. 

After all, he’d give you the moon if you asked.

#steven grant x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant fanfic #moon knight fanfic #steven grant drabbles #steven grant imagines #steven grant scenarios #steven grant fluff #moon knight drabbles #moon knight imagines #moon knight fluff #marvel fanfiction #moon knight steven #moon knight steven grant

[howaboutcastiel]

HowAboutCastiel's Fic Masterlist

I guess I’ve written enough fics that I kinda need to make one of these now 🤷‍♀️

Request Rules

Currently, I have fics published from the Moon Knight, Daredevil, Mandalorian, and Last of Us universes. Feel free to request beyond these fandoms, though <3

Star Wars

Din Djarin x Reader:

Out of This World (18+): You only get to see The Mandalorian when he comes to visit your cantina in Mos Espa. He seems to be finding more reasons to stop by.

The Apostate (18+): Din broke the creed. He removed his helmet and, as a result, opened himself up to possibilities he couldn’t have ever conceived of before. (Plus an expansion)

And Also With You (18+): As an ex-Jedi, you had found a good planet to hide on, and you were satisfied with the quiet. That was, until a mandalorian with a reputation wandered into your quaint little village.

Din Djarin x Cobb Vanth:

Find a New Way (18+): For the safety of his son, Din attempts to escape the cult he was raised in, with help from the sheriff of the next town over.

Moon Knight

Steven Grant x Reader:

All I Desire (18+): Reader has not been in a relationship in a while and is scared to have sex with Steven for the first time.

On My Command (18+): You want to wind down after a bad day at work, but Steven is over-eager as always.

Let Me Take It: (CW) You had a bad day that leads to a spiral. Steven tries to help you through it.

Set The Record Straight (18+): In the heat of an argument you imply that Steven is a pushover.

Helping You Through II

Hold Me Together: Hey! Could I make a request for one of the moon bois (your choice!) helping you out after you get home from a particularly rough therapy session?

The Tour Guide (18+): The reader has never been in a serious relationship, and now things are moving forward in her relationship with Steven.

From the Ground Up… Again (18+): After you were injured on a mission, Steven helps you get back on your feet with some tender love and care.

Marc Spector x Reader:

The Silver-Plated Moon: An overstimulating day away from your boys leads to a meltdown, causing you to accidentally break one of the most precious gifts you’ve ever received.

How Do I Ask? (18+): You loved the way that your boyfriend Marc made love to you. That being said, sometimes you longed for something… rougher.

Keep Me Warm: it’s cold outside. Like, really really cold. Marc doesn’t seem to mind, and he likes to tease you about your intolerance to the ice and wind.

A Reminder (18+): Marc x Reader x Layla. Thats it. That’s the plot.

Helping You Through I

From the Ground Up (18+): Getting lost on a mission is a terrifying experience. Being found in the nick of time by the man you love most is a captivating one. (Marc x Male!Reader)

Uncharted Territory: "I was wondering if you could do something with the reader and Marc are going to make love for the first time and she’s nervous bc she has SH scars and her and Marc never talked about that part of her life?"

Jake Lockley x Reader:

Make Your Acquaintance (Chaptered): You’re in a committed relationship with Marc and Steven, but have only heard of Jake through their descriptions. Intimidated by his reputation, you don’t know what to do when a mission gone awry brings Jake right to the front.

The Teddy Bear: The reader has a stuffed animal that they can’t sleep without. Embarrassed, they hide it away whenever their boyfriend, Jake, comes over.

Just a Bit Closer (18+): I was wondering if you could maybe do something with Papi Jake? Soft (only for his princess) Where the reader is craving some on-one time with him.

The Regular Surprise: (Extreme CW) On the night of a big town festival, she reaches her breaking point. A familiar face at an unfamiliar time may just be her last hope.

The Birthday Fic: It’s your birthday. You hope someone will remember.

Moon boys x Reader(2 or more):

Lunar Therapy Masterlist

Not My Intention: "maybe they’re at an office party and some guy comes to her when she’s alone and the boys get jealous since it’s obvious he’s trying to flirt with their girl."

The Birthday Fic: It’s your birthday. You don’t think anyone will remember.

That One Angsty Fic (TW): Sometimes you're your own worst enemy. The moon boys understand that, even when you don't at first.

I Can’t Help Myself (18+): Jake accidentally touches a cursed artifact while on a mission.

A Threatening Paradise: “Could you do a one shot where there’s an unwanted pregnancy scare eventually leading to a marriage proposal?”

Where’s Taweret When You Need Her?: You start your period and you don’t know how the boys are going to react to it.

Looking Good, Four Eyes: could you pls do a fic with the three moon boys where they’d see the reader with her glasses for the first time? 

Two Steps Forward (18+): A fun night with Jake ends up backfiring as Marc is triggered to front mid-coitus.

A Change of Heart: The reader is kidnapped by Harrow as leverage for Moon Knight to hand over the scarab.

Carry me home: Kicked out of your parents house at 16, you find yourself under the care of a cryptic taxi driver. (Jake Lockley accidentally adopts a teenager)

A Reminder: Layla and Marc punish you.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Non-Insert

Fire Within My Soul (Chaptered): Marc and Steven have a lot to contend with after they return from Cairo. The one thing on their minds, though, is Layla El-Faouly.

More Than Alright (18+): it’s Steven and Layla’s first time together. He’s nervous.

Marvel

Matt Murdock

Having sex with Matt in a stairwell (headcanon)

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

The Robe and Crown [18+]: Joel and Tommy are raiders. Not by choice, not for the thrill. They’re doing what they must to survive. So why, then, is Joel letting you tag along when you’re just another mouth to feed?

That Good Old Way: Picking up right where The Robe and Crown left off, Joel has decided to stay with you.

#steven grant #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #masterlist #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian #Joel Miller #layla el faouly #The Last of Us #Star Wars

[justmeinadaze]

Playing the Game Part 7 (Steve X Plus size reader)

Warnings: Daddy/ Dom Steve and all that that implies (I regret nothing!), The reader suggestions they try some of the more rougher stuff and the aftermath is talked about in detail. More so Steve's feelings about it. There's no actual smut in this one. More angst and feels than anything.

Word Count: 3008

Steve stares at the ceiling as you sleep softly beside him replaying the night in his head. He had come over to your place extremely frustrated after having the worst day of his life. While at work his ex and her new boyfriend decided to drop by to rent some movies. He subtly watched them out of the corner of his eye as they moved about the store. When they finally walked up to the counter Rebecca had painted fake surprise on her face. 

“Oh my god, Steve. I had nooooo idea you worked here.”

“I worked here when we were together, Rebecca.”

“Hey!” Her boyfriend pointed his boney finger at Steve. “Don’t be rude.”

After work, his dad decided to surprise him outside of his store and invited him to dinner. He spent the entire meal berating him about getting his life together.

“Steven, it’s time to grow up. You need to get a real job, make some real money, find a good woman.”

“I have a good woman.”

“Pffft, not the way I hear it.”

“Dad…”

“I know. I know. You think you’re in love but…”

Steve chugged the liquor in his glass and gestured to the waitress for another.

You moaned slightly as you rolled over on to your back. His head turned to look at you, noticing you wince as your skin moved against the sheets. He scooted over to you and pulled down the material to look at your body. Your wrists were starting to bruise from where he held you down. Your stomach, arms, and legs had little welts and teeth marks from where he sucked and bit. Your inner thighs had imprints his fingers and hands left. Steve reached over and delicately turned your head to face him. Your cheek was bright red still from where he smacked you.

He felt like an asshole.��

Your fingers run through his hair as you listen to his slightly inebriated babbling. 

“Gah! And what pisses me off the most is how her boyfriend and my dad talk to me. Shut the fuck up! I’m talking. I’m in charge of my own life. You know?”

“I know, baby. I understand.”

He leans his head against the back of your couch. “I just hate feeling out of control.” You don’t respond and his eyes scan your frame. He reaches his hand out and glides his fingers up your spine. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just venting.”

“Do you want to feel in control?” Steve sits up straighter as you push your hair behind your ear and turn to face him. “We’ve never really talked about it. You being…MORE dominant like that.”

Steve looks at his shoes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, Daddy, I know. I just think it might help you. We can create a safe word and if I’m uncomfortable then I can say it and we stop. I’ve never tried anything like THAT before but I DO feel safe with you.” You reach for his chin and turn him to look at you. “I want to help.”

You never once used that safe word so he didn’t stop. He let out all of his aggression and you took it. Hell, he even made you cum more times than he could count. But looking at you now… it killed him. Steve couldn’t take this anymore. He covered you back up with the blankets after getting out of your bed, quietly dressed and left your apartment. 

####################

“Where is he, Robin?!”

“Y/N, for the one thousandth time, I don’t know. Keith said he was using some vacation time so he wouldn’t be coming in. I’m surprised you don’t know where he is.”

“So am I!” You huff out a breath as you try and regulate your tone. “I’ve called him but he doesn’t answer. I went to his apartment and waited outside. He never showed up. I ask around and no one has seen him. I’m worried.”

“Let’s think this through. I’m Steve. I don’t want anyone to know where I am especially my girlfriend who knows me better than anyone. I won’t be at my usual spots because, of course not. So, I would want to hide where no one would expect to ever find me. The last place I would ever want to be.”

“I know where he is.” You give Robin a big hug as you run out the door.

##################

You bang on the gigantic door but no one answers. 

“Someone open this door or I swear to god I will camp outside here until someone does!”

You start beating on it again until the door swings roughly open and Mr. Harrington stares down at you angrily. 

“Young lady!”

“Bill.” You push past him into the house. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“Your son. Steven Harrington, you come out here right now!”

“Miss, from what I can tell he wants some time apart so you should respect his wishes.”

You start power walking through rooms, banging open doors. “Oh, what like you do? And my name is Y/N. Not ‘Miss’ or ‘Young Lady’. Steven!” You were purposely calling him by the name he hated hoping it would get enough of rise out of him to face you. 

“Maybe it’s time for you to accept that this fling you have with my son has come to end.”

“Steven! Steven Harrington, you fucking coward! Face me like a real man and make your daddy proud!” You turn to face his dad. “Not that it will matter because nothing he does for you is ever good enough.”

The last door at the end of the hall opens and Steve stares at you with a vacant expression. The relief you feel at finally finding him is replaced with fury now that you have found him. “Well look at that, Bill. Here he is.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“No, dad! I got this. Just finish getting ready for your flight.”

“And holy shit, he can speak!”, you say sarcastically as you enter his room, grabbing his shirt by the collar, and closing the door. 

######################

Steve folds his arms as he leans his back against the wall while you stand in the middle of what you assume was his bedroom when he used to live at home. 

“I’m going to try and remain as calm as I can but I furious with you, Steve. When I asked you if you wanted more control, I didn’t mean this. I have been looking for you everywhere and I find you here of all places.”

He doesn’t move or even look your way and you feel your blood start to boil. 

“I woke up and you were fucking gone. Not only were you gone but you disappeared. What? Did you get what you wanted from me? Were you like ‘Hey I finally got to rough her up. I guess I’m done now.’” He flinched at your words. “Steve, talk to me, god damnit!” 

He pushed himself off the door, grabbing your arm, and pulling you in front of his full-length mirror. He pulled your turtleneck sweater over your head, bringing your shirt with it. “Look at this!” Steve points to your neck before his hands run down your arms holding them up for you to look in the reflection. “Look at what I did to you!”

“Steve, that’s what the safe word is for. I didn’t use it.”

“Why?! You should have.”

You’re eyes open wide with shock. “Oh my god. This type of relationship and dynamic requires trust. It’s not just me trusting you and trusting you’ll stop when I say the word but that you trust I know when to use it! You’ve known me for almost 8 months. What makes you think I would allow you to do this to me and me not be okay with it?!”

“Did you enjoy it? Me fucking destroying your body like this.”

“Yes! Until you left me!” You put your hands on your hips. “Part of this relationship, Steve, is aftercare. You’re so good with taking care of me after we play. But the one time I really needed you to be there, you weren’t.” You grab your shirt and pull it over your head, turning your face away from him so he doesn’t see the stray tear that fell. “Look, um, maybe we should take some apart and then when you’re ready we can talk about us and, um,” You try to walk past him but he reaches out for your hand. You pull away roughly.

“Do you see the difference? This right here is fucking destroying me.”

#######################

Two a.m. that morning you heard a small knock on your door. The tears hadn’t stopped since you got back home and sleep never came. You drag yourself out of bed, opening your front door to find Steve leaning his hands on either side of the frame. 

You say nothing as you let go of the door and walk back into the apartment. He follows you in, closing the door behind him. He stares as you kick a box towards him with your feet. 

“Here’s your stuff you’ve left here. Just take it and go.” You voice was gravelly from crying. Steve wasn’t sure if you were aware but you were wearing one of his shirts. Seeing you like this, in his clothes, in so much pain… NOW he was being an asshole. 

“Y/N, I—”

You hold your hand up to stop him. “Steve, I can’t. I can’t hear it right now. It just hurts too much. Just leave, please.”

He presses his lips together as he nods his head. “I, um… okay.” Steve picks up the small box without looking at you. He starts to leave but stops halfway as he turns his head in your direction, his tone low as he speaks. “You have every right to be mad at me. I fucked up, baby girl.” Your bottom lip trembles at the name as a tear escapes your eye. You hug your arms tighter to you. “I’m sorry.”

With that, he power walks out your door, down the hallway to the elevator. His body starts to shake with anger at himself. He hated seeing you that way, seeing you so small. Steve understood what you meant now. When you two were playing the other night you never once looked at him the way you looked at him just now. 

He wanted to scream but he was in your complex. Steve threw the box in his hand violently against the adjacent wall. He stomped on the contents, his toothbrush, clothes, and other essentials, with his foot until they were unrecognizable. 

“Steve?”

His head shot up, looking towards where you were standing outside your door. He watched as you ran towards him, jumping into his arms as he caught you, wrapping your legs around his waist. Steve carried you back into your apartment, slamming the door with his foot. He leaned his back against the wood, sliding down to the floor, bringing you with him. 

He gently lifted your head from his shoulder, pressing his forehead to yours as he wiped your eyes with his sleeve. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I will never, do you hear me? Never hurt you like this again.” Your heavy eyes looked into his knowing he meant what he was saying. 

Steve leaned his head back, hitting your front door with a loud thud. “Ow.” He softly smiles as an exasperated chuckle leaves your lips. He takes your hands in his as he rises off the ground, pulling you up with him. “Come on, baby.”, he whispers as he guides you to your bedroom. 

He lifts you off your feet placing you under your covers into your bed. Steve starts to head for your living room when your panicked voice stops him. “Where are you going?”

“I was just…going to sleep on the couch here.”

“You don’t want to lay with me?”

“Of course, I do.” Steve looks down at the floor in shame. “I didn’t think I deserved to.”

“Please, Daddy.” Your voice comes out so tiny it breaks his heart. He takes off his shoes, crawling under the covers beside you. You pull him tighter to you with your arms and he feels his heart crack open even further. Steve knows part of the reason you’re clinging to him is because you’re afraid he won’t be there when you wake up. 

################

Steve wakes up to the feeling of you lightly pushing at his chest. “Baby, your dad is calling.” His eyes open wider, completely confused. 

“What? How did he get your number?”

“Take one guess.”

His head falls back against the pillow as he rubs his eyes. “I’m going to punch Ben in the face again. I swear to God.”

“I tried to tell him you weren’t here but…”

Steve takes the phone from your hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes are still kind of puffy from last night and your voice is raspy. He gives you a reassuring smile before he brings the phone to his ear. 

“Dad…”

“Steven, I am not a young man. I can’t handle all this bullshit. You came to me saying you needed a break. I let you into my house before that girl came causing a scene—”

“She can’t cause a scene in front of one person.”

“DON’T interrupt me. This has to stop now.”

“What are you trying to tell me here, dad?”

“I’m telling you that either you end this little romance now or I’m cutting you off!”

You heard every word as his dad shouted it into the phone. You hugged your knees under your chin as you waited for Steve to respond. 

“Well, I guess that’s that then.”

“Good. You’ll see, son, that this is for the best. There are plenty of better fish in the sea.”

“But none like her.”

His dad grows silent and you stare at him with your mouth open. “Steve…”

“Steven. I want you to really think about this.”

“I don’t need to. I love her and there’s no dollar amount that can replace her.”

He leaned over your side of the bed and hung up the phone. You watched him as he got up, pulling his shirt over his head and flinging it to the floor. Steve came up behind you and lifted you, snaking his arms behind your back and under your knees, carrying you into your bathroom. Setting you on your feet, he gently removes your garments before turning on the shower. It isn’t long before the room is filled with steam. Steve takes off his pants and boxers. He holds his hand out to you and you take it as he helps you step into the tub. You close your eyes as the warm water hits your head.

You let out a sigh when you feel Steve’s long fingers massage your shampoo into your scalp. His hands cup your face as he gently tilts your head back into the waterfall emitting from the shower. You open your eyes again when you sense a sudden change in the atmosphere. You glance down to see Steve on his knees in front of you, focused as he runs the soapy washcloth along your body. 

His eyes trace along the faint bruising still imprinted on your skin. He leans forward, softly placing kisses over every mark he finds. You reach down and run your fingers through his damp hair.

“Steve, you didn’t have to do that. With your dad.”

He rises to his feet as he continues gliding the cloth along your body and up your arms. You search the eyes staring at your body but the only emotion you see is care; care for you. You grip his face with your hands. That familiar fire slowly starts to blaze through.

“He can cut me off. I don’t care. I’d rather live in a box on the street than a fancy upscale place without you.” You start to open your mouth but he gives you a look of stern warning. He’s made his choice. A small laugh leaves his lips. “Plus, I’ve never met someone who talked back to my dad the way you did.” He mimics your voice. “It’s Y/N. Not Miss or Young Lady!”

You playfully punch his chest as Steve laughs a bit harder. “There was a part of me that wanted him to call you ‘Little Girl’ to see how you’d react.” Out of habit an annoyed growl escaped your throat. Suddenly a thought hit you. 

“Steve, oh my god. I was shouting ‘Steven’ hoping it would get you to come out. I know you hate it but—”

He cut you off by bring his mouth down on yours. “I know. I didn’t make things easy for you. I don’t blame you. No punishment required.” He smiles down at you mockingly.

“Maybe just a little bit?” He chuckles as he pulls you to him wrapping his arms around you. “Maybe,” you tilt your face up to meet his gaze. “Maybe Daddy needs to punished.” Your teeth bite on your bottom lip as you feel his cock press up against your thigh. “For running away and hiding. Making this little one worry.”

Your fingers glide up his arms and down his chest. “I think your right. I do need to be reprimand.” Steve leans behind you and turns off the shower. “I am a practice what you preach kind of guy.” He steps out of the tub, extending his hand for you to follow. Placing a towel over your head he shakes it through your hair eliciting a giggle from you. 

“If the tables were turned, I know you would expect me to do the same so,” Steve dries himself and throws the towel you two used on the floor. He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm towards your bedroom. “Baby Girl, if you please. Teach me lesson.”

#################

@eddiethesexy @sammy-is-not-smiley @spungen-tirxie

#dom!steve harrington #daddy steve #steve x plus size reader #steve x reader #brat reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #joe keery smut #steve harrington angst

[faretheeoscar]

But Steven I love Him

Swiftie! Steven Grant with mini HC (self insert)

•Steven is a hardcore Swiftie and has been listening non stop to TTPD since it dropped out last week

•The day it came out he was eagerly awaiting in the living room refreshing non stop all platforms available until it popped up

•He also immediately got the hoodie and has been wearing it non stop like the cute fanboy he is 🥺

•After Fortnight started playing, Steven cried not even 20 seconds into the song

•Also….Is that Harrow on the music video almost lobotomising Taylor?!

•He info dumped and theorised on which song was dedicated to which ex man in Taylor’s life, surprisingly he has a vast knowledge on Taylor’s love life (he denies it but has a HUGE crush on her, who is her trying to fool? Me? Nah)

•When he listens to The smallest man who ever lived he starts ranting about how outrageous the song is

“This song is definitely for that muppet Healy”

“HE DID WHAT?”

“Oh my days, what a bloody shame for us brits”

“I need to apologise to her in behalf of all British men”

“Cause we are not like that and you know it luv”

•He’s definitely annoyed towards that certain band member I’m wearing a sweatshirt from

That he totally got pissed also for me buying it when I went to the concert with my friends last month (He’s low-key jealous of “muppet Healy” )

“Luv what do you mean this was 70 quid?”

“Steven you spend much more money in books and other stuff”

“Yeah but is educational, I don’t spend that much amount of money on an ugly washcloth” *sighs*

“But you spent 85…”

“I’m gonna go online and try to buy you a decent sweater like mine, we don’t want to keep seeing you with that sickening thing”

•I think due to his personal beef TTPD is now definitely his favourite era

•and of course his favourite song is “So Long London”

“Are you kidding me? She wrote that indirectly for me, it’s basically my old life!” (Before I found you 👉🏻👈🏻)

In conclusion

My hyper fixations clashed again and I needed to doodle it cause that’s how my brain works.

I’m a 1975 enjoyer but also I’m a swiftie BITE ME STEVEN, I will keep wearing the sweatshirt to annoy you 💜

Shout out to both my friends Alyssa that screamed the same things to me that steven is pissed about when we listened to the album together

Also in a month I finally get to go to The Eras Tour! yay’

Let me know if you have theories about Steven being a swiftie!

Taking the liberty to tag 🏷️

@winniethewife @marc-spectorr @justafandomgvrl @femmeanonymelives @rams00

#sketch #see what I did with the title of this drawing? #moonknight fan art #moon knight #steven grant #steven with a v #self insert #self ship #taylor swift #swifties #headcanon #ttpd #ttpd era

[nyx-aira]

Headcanons: Moonknight characters with a sarcastic reader

Characters: Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Layla El-Faouly, Arthur Harrow

A/N: Yes I caved in, I will write both of them :) It's just too good of an opposite to write and I'm gonna regret not writing both so yeah.

Also thanks for 900 followers, you guys are awesome ❤

TW! Swear words (that's it)

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

PSA c/@ynscrazylife

Steven

Steven can be just as sarcastic as you are.

If not indefinitely worse, when he had a bad day.

So your bond just came naturally although he still gets flustered sometimes on how blunt you can be because although he uses sarcasm too, most of the time he keeps his thoughts to himself.

When you followed them to Egypt you had always some comment to make.

"Yeah it's definitely a good idea to visit a tomb that most likely has something inside that wants to murder us"

Marc

Steven couldn't agree more but you went inside anyways.

Your only comment as things went south: "great, its not like I predicted how this would go at all"

Steven loved your bluntness but was always afraid it would get you into trouble - and it did - but that didn't stop you.

You have a competition on who can make Marc cringe more at your comments. Steven is loosing but he doesn't care. He just likes seeing you laugh and being happy.

Layla

Marc. Now Marc had a difficult relationship with sarcasm.

As he has been sharing his body with Steven for almost all of his life he was used to it but you? You were on a WHOLE OTHER LEVEL.

He would act all annoyed at your comments but secretly he loved them.

He loved how you could just make any threat seem so harmless with just a couple words and how you never felt afraid to say what's on your mind.

"Hey bone pigeon! Leave Marc the fuck alone with your stupid bullshit."

"Please stop referring to an ancient god as bone pigeon."

"What, he does look like one! Also what's up with the toilet paper obsession?"

He usually had to listen to Khonshu ranting about your antics but he ignored the gods remarks most of the time.

You were just looking out for him after all.Now Marc knew that most people would not understand your humour but he didn't care. He would glare at anyone who made a stupid remark and ignore the stares that were sent your way.

Arthur

Layla was surprised when she heard your sarcasm for the first time.

She was shocked for a moment but soon found herself laughing at your comments all the time.

You definitely spent way too much time with Steven.

"Yay let's follow your ex on a murder mission."

She very much agreed to that statement but just snickered as Marc glanced your way.

Layla loved your way with words and could listen to your rants for hours. Which she did most of the time because that was quality time to you two.

Layla would absolutely root for you in your competition with Steven.

"Listen I trust your judgement but that shirtless bitch on a horse doesn't seem too trustworthy."

Your comments were rude but true most of the time.

"Ha, told you so!"

"We're getting SHOT at! Can your victory dance wait a bit?"

"Fine but I was right."

Layla would lie if she said your comments didn't brighten her day.

-----

Oh boy did you annoy Arthur sometimes.

Not in a bad way, no, but if your partner just reveals to you that his mission is to free an Egyptian goddess and has explained basically his life work to you and your response is simply "sure sure" and you continue eating your chocolate bar it can be a bit disorienting to say so.

None the less Arthur loves you and your humour more than anything in the world.

You would make his day brighter and light up even the darkest situations with a sarcastic off hand comment.

"Let's follow an ancient scarab into the sands of Egypt, he said. What could possibly go wrong, he said."

Arthur really had to suppress laughter in front of his followers from time to time as you would whisper something in his ear.

"Is it just me or doesn't the moonlight suit look like some fancy toilet paper."

Your comments were always very blunt but that's what he liked so much about you. You always spoke your mind.

Weirdly enough you also had a thing for printing your comments on t-shirts.

So while Arthur walked around in his typical clothes you would trail behind, a shirt with the imprint "let's go and die by the hands of a mummy" on, as you headed to Egypt.

You had a collection of those shirts and Arthur loved, loved, loved gifting you new ones.

He would send his followers out to find the most horrendous shirts they could find just so he could watch the smile on your face as he gave them to you.

(He sometimes wore them to sleep as well but shh don't tell anyone)

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @sokovianheadtilt @wandaswifeyforlifey @scarthefangirl @procrastinatingsapphictrash @ineffablebean @official-clint-barton @wlwlovesreading @multifandomfix @fairydxll @itsyourgirlmalise @eilarch @marvelwomen-simp @vostokoffscottage @sapphic-stress @dopeqff @adamcarlsenslvr

#marvel moon knight #moonknight #steven grant #marc spector #layla el faouly #arthur harrow #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader #arthur harrow x reader #moon knight headcanons #headcanons #marvel #mcu

[midgardian-witch]

Suggestions

Robbie wants to explore his newly found kink with the Reader.

AO3

tags: hypnosis kink | praise kink | humiliation kink | voice kink | sub!Robbie | Dominant!Reader | gn!Reader | coming in pants | coming untouched | unrealistic depiction of hypnosis

ships: Robbie Paulson/Reader

tagged list: @steven-grants-world @secre-flower @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (I'm tagging you too because it's our baby boy Robbie)

You bite your lower lip, visibly trying to keep yourself from asking, for what may have been the hundredth time, if he was sure he wanted to do this. He can almost feel the gears turning in your head. You look uncomfortable, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you sit next to him on his bed. His eyes keep flickering between you and the floor, anxiously waiting for you to start. 

Finally you give up and ask again: "Are you sure you want to try this? Just because you're curious doesn't mean we have to-" He holds his hand out, stopping you from finishing your sentence. "I am sure! I just- I am a little nervous, OK?", he clears his throat, one hand nervously rubbing his neck.  

Robbie had told you about his therapy sessions. He had also told you about how they had tried hypnotherapy a few times now, in hopes of helping him overcome his guilt. As it turns out Robbie was an ideal candidate for hypnotherapy. He's very suggestable and has an easy time going into trance. And it seemed to work. He felt better now, the hypnosis sessions having helped him more than he expected at first.

You two talked more about the topic. He hadn't thought a lot about hypnosis before he started hypnotherapy. Before that it was nothing more than the plan of some villain in a comic book or the fake magic trick done by a stage magician, nothing that actually worked. You seemed a bit cagey about the subject. After a bit of prodding you explained that you've had some experience with hypnosis, just not in the context of therapy or fantastical literature. No, your experiences were of a more adult nature. 

Hypnosis hadn't been a topic that you had been interested in until one of your previous romantic partners had approached you with their very specific kink. You told Robbie then that you were terribly nervous about the whole thing at first, inexperienced as you were. But it came easier and easier to you the more you guided your ex-partner into trance, leaving suggestions and small triggers, all with their consent of course. He listened to you attentively, every salacious detail making him blush more than the one before. Simply the idea of giving up control so utterly, to have someone play with his mind like this, left him breathless. 

The idea of using hypnosis in the bedroom had stuck with Robbie. Truth be told he couldn't get the thought of it out of his head. After weeks of wet dreams, waking up with an uncomfortable hard-on and an unending amount of erotic fantasies he finally gathered the courage to approach you. 

Which brings the two of you to the current situation. 

"Are you sure we shouldn't go through everything one last time?", you ask hesitantly, wanting to make sure he could still tap out. He looks up at you with an unimpressed look on his face. "We went through everything at least six times already. I know what you're going to do and you have my full consent, so can we please do this?", he whines. Robbie was getting impatient. He didn't want to beg (just yet) but his nerves were frayed. He wants this more than he was willing to admit out loud, his excitement wreaking havoc on his mind and body.

His impatience and neediness make you laugh in response. It was one of his favorite sounds; it warmed his heart knowing that he was the cause of it. Even if he was the butt of the joke in a way. 

He watches you in anticipation, his teeth worrying his lower lip. You take a deep breath and smile at him gently. 

"Alright then, since you can't wait any longer. Let's do this." 

You instruct Robbie to lay down and relax. As he does as he's told and gets comfortable you kneel next to the headboard. You’re positioned right beside his head, your arms resting on the mattress. From the corner of his eye he can see you watching him while he shuffles around. It’s difficult to relax when he can feel your eyes on him. Robbie feels naked under your gaze even while fully clothed - it both excited him and made him even more nervous. 

After a few moments he's sure he feels as comfortable as he is going to get. He clears his throat and tells you that he is ready. With a pleased hum you praise him, and just with two words you have him flushed and almost choking on air.

“Good boy.”

He bites his tongue, desperately trying to hold back and swallow the pitiful moan threatening to escape. He loved when you called him that. 

Your praise excited and aroused him like nothing else could. 

Frankly it’s embarrassing how little control he has over his body. But wasn’t that what he was asking you to do to him right this second? To take control of a part of his mind, of his body, to do with as you pleased? Wasn’t that what had him hot and wanting for all those nights since you first planted the idea in his head?

Your calm voice pulls him out of his musings as you ask him to close his eyes and focus on his breathing. Robbie nods quickly, eager to follow your instructions. He breathes in deeply, holding the air in for a moment and then breathes out again slowly, his chest rising and falling gently. 

"Very good. Just breathe and relax," you keep your voice low and even, helping him to relax even further, "Just listen to my voice."

It’s easy to let everything else fade away. He loves your voice, the sound of your laughter, the way you whisper in his ear or the way your voice drops when you flirt with him. He can feel himself zone out, your words reverberating inside his head. At first he can clearly make out what you’re saying and without any conscious prompting he can hear himself answering you.

You love to listen to my voice. He does. He loves your voice. He always wants to listen to you talk.

You’re perfectly safe. Nothing can harm you here. Of course he is safe. He’s with you. You would never hurt him.

You know you can trust me. Everything I say is true. Yes, he trusts you completely. You’re the love of his life. Why would you ever lie to him? So of course everything you say must be true.

Good boy. You’re doing so good for me, Robbie. Now, listen very closely and remember that everything I say is true…

He can hear you talking still and he is trying so hard to keep his focus, to listen to what you are saying but he keeps drifting off. He feels like he is floating in water, your voice surrounding him but he can't quite make out what you are telling him, the meaning of your words eluding him. If he was fully conscious he might have been scared but all he can feel is a deep sense of calm. His lips move on their own accord but he can’t hear, doesn’t know what words leave his mouth while his head is drifting even further, deeper, following your voice.

His mind is floating inside an ocean of darkness, calm and content, happy and carefree, safe and sound. Nothing can hurt him here. Your voice is everywhere, just as it should be, just how he wants it, just how he craves it.

Suddenly there are words again, words he can clearly hear and understand - numbers, a countdown. They pull him out of the water, out of the ocean made from your voice. He doesn’t want to leave but with every number the water drains, the fog clears, and he can feel his body again.

"And one. Wake up, sleepy-head."

His eyes blink open. It takes a while to find his bearings. He stares at the stark white ceiling for a moment before he turns his head towards you. You’re smiling and his heart starts to flutter at the sight. You are so beautiful. 

"How long was I out?", he mumbles, his tongue feeling too thick in his mouth. 

"Just a few minutes," you answer. You sound proud, of your work or of him he can’t really say, "You told me that the therapist said you go down easily but that was really fast. Kind of surprised me."

He shakes his head, snort-laughing at your words. "Yeah well. I’ll take that as a compliment.”, he grins at you before his face turns mock-serious, “Though if you make me cluck like a chicken we will have words." He gives you a wink right after he says it and you laugh. 

In theory he knows what you did, or at least what the two of you agreed on. You were supposed to give him a trigger word or phrase to arouse him instantly, like an on switch for his libido. He wasn't sure if it would work but he wanted to try. The problem is that you didn't tell him what words you would pick. So as you are talking Robbie is sitting up on his bed, nervously wringing his hands and waiting for you to say the words. He doesn't know which words but he wants to hear them, craves it with his whole being. Yes, he doesn't know if it will work but he wants it so badly. 

"Is everything ok?" 

You stand up and look at him with concern. He chews nervously on his lower lip, watching your every move as you sit back down next to him.

“What did you pick?”, he asks finally, too impatient, unable to wait for you to make the first move. “Hm?”, you tilt your head, “What do you mean?” For a moment he is taken aback. You genuinely sound like you don’t know what he is talking about. “The trigger. What did you pick as the trigger?”, he clarifies, his eyes fixated on your face. His gaze falls to your lips as they curl into a sly grin. You were playing with him. “Ah yes. Curious about that, are you?”, you giggle. It’s a little humiliating and he feels embarrassed by how he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. He nods eagerly. Your grin spreads even wider.

“Well, if you ask nicely then maybe i will tell you.”

Robbie swallows hard. You were teasing him. After your stalling and worrying and mother-hen-like behavior you had the gall to tease him. And fuck he loves it.

Your praise and humiliation excited and aroused him like nothing else could.

“Please! Please tell me! I want to know. I need to know. Please, I’ll do anything.”

His voice cracks slightly. He sounds wrecked, pathetic, needy. And just by the look in your eyes he knows you love it.

“Good boy.”

Your words shoot like lightning through his body; heat curls inside his abdomen, blood pumping faster, flooding downwards. Robbie can feel himself harden, his cock swelling with desire. He gasps, the sudden arousal making his head spin. His eyes lose focus and a choked off gasp rips through his lungs. 

“Robbie, are you alright?”

You sound worried again. That’s not what he wants. He wants, no, he needs…

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“Say it again. Please. I’ll beg again if you want. I’ll do anything.”

“Feels that good, hm?”

“So good. Please, say it again. I need it- I need more, please”

You grin, his whining and pleading pleasing you. Good. He wants to please you. He’ll do anything to be your-

“Good boy.”

He shudders with the flood of desire overcoming him again, even stronger this time. His cock hardens further, his pants getting oh so tighter. But it wasn’t enough. Robbie wasn’t sure it could ever be enough.

He gets up from his place on the bed and slides down to his knees in front of you. Pleading eyes stare up at you, unfocused, pupils dilated. He doesn’t even care how pathetic he must look at this moment. He doesn't care about anything anymore but for you to say those two words, those beautiful, intoxicating words.

“Please. I need more. Please say it again.”

You reach out for him, your fingers running through his hair. He leans into your touch, chasing it, the feeling of your nails gently scratching against his scalp making him shiver. He shuffles closer, eagerly pressing his face to your knee, rubbing his cheek against your clothed thigh. “You’re so pretty like this, Robbie.”, you praise him and he whimpers in response. Praise him, degrade him, he doesn’t care. He wants it all. As long as he can please you, pleasure you, as long as he can be yours. 

He looks up at you again with glassy eyes, silently pleading for more. With an indulgent smile you repeat the words that make his eyes roll into the back of his head:

“Good boy.”

His knees start shaking, his hips thrusting into nothingness as his pants turn unbelievably tight. His wanton moans fill the air between you as he shudders in pleasure before you. He’s dizzy with it; he can’t think. His mouth hangs open as he moans shamelessly, drool slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He is a wreck and you have never found him more beautiful.

“I wonder…do you think you could cum like this?”

He can only groan as an answer, words having left him, burned out by the heat curling inside of him. No blood left in his brain as it’s filling his cock. He doesn’t know. He can’t think. But he wants it. He needs more. 

Robbie nods eagerly, groaning against your thigh, his drool seeping into your clothes. 

“Well, if you’re so sure about it.”

You lean down, your plush lips pressing against his forehead. He can’t fight the whimper that escapes him. He tries to get closer to you, he needs to be closer. He needs to feel you, touch you, kiss you. You hover over him, your fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck, as you whisper:

“Good boy. Cum for me.”

His brain short-circuits. With a groan he reaches his peak, spilling his seed in his pants, his cum soaking through his underwear. Robbie’s whole body shakes with his orgasm. You hold him through the aftershock, hands roaming over his body as far as you can reach, endless praise spilling from your lips.

It takes a moment before Robbie comes to. He blinks at you, a sated smile playing across his lips. You return his smile.

“Did you like it?”

“Hm, loved it. 'was so much more than I could've hoped for.” His words are slurred, he sounds and feels drunk. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I liked it too.”

With shaky legs he gets up from the floor and returns to his place next to you on the bed. He leans into you, face hiding in the curve of your neck. You wrap your arm around him, pulling him even closer to your side.

“How long does it last? The trigger, I mean?”

With a devious smile you answer him: “Oh, you’ll see, baby, you’ll see.”

#robbie paulson #robbie paulson/reader #robbie paulson x reader #robbie paulson fanfic #reader fanfiction #this may be the most niche character I have ever written for #and I will write more for him #fran-writes #Also yes I made that shitty gif myself and I am kinda proud of that