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sarahghetti · 7 months

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moving day; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how marc and steven learn to live together, how you come to live with them, and how jake finally lets himself live at all.

warnings: basically a BIG character study into our boys, fluff, hurt and comfort, angst, insecurity, mentions of marc's childhood, mentions of violence, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

word count: 9.9k

notes: this one got away from me and might also be the best thing I've ever written (i'm very proud of it 😭). part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'is that my shirt?'”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Even though it was (and still is) under Marc’s name, the flat was Steven’s first. Marc just helped set it up a little.

He rented out the first decent unit he found in the city and kept every piece of mismatched furniture the previous tenant left behind. The essentials had to be filled in himself—a bed, couch, and desk. A table to go with that rickety stool to eat meals on, a coat rack near the doorway. The only belongings of his own that Marc left behind were his old Egyptology texts, unceremoniously shoved into a corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that he hoped Steven would like.

(The fish was unexpected, though. Steven already had everything he would need, and it was Marc’s mistake to be scrolling through Facebook Marketplace on one of his last days before he handed it all over to his alter. A complete aquarium set was being offered for next to nothing; attached: a photo of the original poster’s late goldfish. Backlit from the tank light, blank faced and innocent.

He just couldn’t move on.)

But it was Steven who then took Marc’s—their—card and ran with it. Every free surface was prime real estate for another journal, another tomb. The used bookstores of London never stood a chance; it was almost impressive to watch him scour the shelves for the most esoteric topics and still come out with his arms full of what he was looking for. Marc would wake up in the body to find Steven’s collection a little bigger than before and ghost his fingers over the spines during those brief moments of respite before having to put on the suit.

It didn’t stop at the books. Of course, it didn’t. Steven’s always had an affinity for oddities. Marc wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the new paper lantern hung over the living room, or the pumpkin-esque footstool that was coloured as though it was plucked off the vine just a tad too early.

The pieces were quaint at best. If there were any psychological meaning as to why his alter gravitated towards dingy, threadbare upholstery instead of an IKEA like a normal person, it was beyond Marc.

However, he couldn’t not admit that it all kind of worked once put together; the clashing mix of materials and colours sort of became its own style when combined under the wooden rafters. Even when the books started overfilling the storage capacity and ended up in piles on the floor—it only added to the charm.

Marc was sure to erase every trace of his presence around the flat to avoid interfering with Steven’s life, but that didn’t stop the sense of longing to return to their—Steven’s—home during missions.

It was still a mess. A mess where everything has its place, yes, but there was no way that Steven could trip over several odds-and-ends in one day and claim that he was any degree of neat or tidy. Marc silently griped to himself about it all the time, but he’d sooner eat that dusty-ass rug Steven got for free before he saw anything get thrown away.

(It was like this back when they were kids, too. Marc’s childhood bedroom in Chicago—a room he never finds himself thinking about outside of his nightmares—was filled with joy. Medals from peewee baseball. Posters from his favourite movies, carefully smoothened out and taped to the walls by his dad. Drawings by him and Randall piled at the corner of his desk.

Right after the—the accident, all his stuff remained, immortalized in place. As if keeping everything the same would somehow also make Marc’s life the same as it was before, and Randall would come bursting through his door at any moment to ask him to come play. It was an overarching belief in their household. Even on her worst days, his mother’s anger never touched their home. Only him.

But then things began to change. His old action figures, collecting dust, would be strewn about the floor, waiting for someone to continue the battle. A collection of particularly smooth rocks began appearing on his windowsill despite the fact that he hadn’t gone outside in days. He’d wake up to grass-stained jeans and a scraped knee which Marc didn’t know how he got, for once.

Steven has always been like a crow, bringing all these little gifts for Marc to enjoy—these signs of life—even when he wasn’t aware of it.)

Coming back from Cairo feels like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was, but after the dust settled on Harrow and Layla decided to return stateside alone—a decision that seemed a long time coming, if Steven’s being honest—there was nothing else to do other than to go home.

They have one blissful, uninterrupted day of sleep. Steven was the one to wake up sixteen hours later, mouth dry, and instinctively panicked at the thought of losing days again before realizing that Marc was also (and still is) out cold.

When he finally woke up a few hours later, half-asleep even in the reflection of the mirror, Steven couldn’t help himself from asking, “What now, Marc?”

Because Marc was the original. Marc was the one with a real life and legal status. He might never want to walk the streets of Chicago again, but that didn’t change the fact that he only came overseas to run away. Everything around them was a temporary measure.

Marc straightens. “I won’t bother you too much, I promise.”

“You still have your own life,” Steven reminds him.

“Still—”

“Oh, don’t start—”

At least they agreed on one thing: they were going to stay in London.

Marc cleans out his storage unit, bringing home an array of bins and duffel bags and that shitty fold-up cot that he still refuses to toss. Steven immediately got him his own dresser when Marc tried to insist that he ‘didn’t have much’; that was a blaring warning that he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial, and Steven had to put his foot down before a nearby charity got a donation of some well-loved button-downs.

It’s almost funny, how predicable Marc was when unpacking. Steven watched as he pushed all their new furniture against the walls then methodically unpacked bin by bin, stacking the empties inside one another like Russian dolls. Like Steven, everything he owned had a place, even after months spent stored away. Marc was just a lot more neat about it.

“Move my stuff if you want,” Steven pipes up. Marc doesn’t react, only continuing to store his notebooks on top of a filing cabinet. “Really, I’ve already read everything on that middle shelf there—we can put them somewhere else.”

Marc glances around the bookshelves. “Aren’t these alphabetized?”

“Well, mostly, but give me an hour or two and I’ll free up some space.”

It’s like a puzzle, and Steven’s always liked puzzles. Marc’s gone quiet in their head, out of excuses as to why he can just shove all his belongings out-of-sight so that Steven wouldn’t have to go through the effort. Now, if he would just believe Steven, then he’d know that reorganizing his books was hardly any effort at all.

And even if it was—he’s been meaning to do this for a while. An alphabetized collection is great until he gets a new book, because then everything has to be shifted over, and—well. There’s a reason why there were so many books languishing on the floor.

They pass off the body like that for the rest of the day, moving things around in the flat in order to accommodate Marc. It looks no less hectic in the end, despite Marc’s best efforts to tidy up a little, but it also doesn’t look any worse, which Steven sees as a win.

There are still so many things they need to talk about. Scheduling, routines, the fact that they’re currently both out of a job—either one would be lying if they said that this new life didn’t make them a bit nervous. But when Marc finally flops down onto their bed, a movement as easy as breathing, the pieces begin to settle into place. The last of his bins have been put away. His jacket hangs beside Steven’s as if it’s always been there.

In the headspace, Steven beams. Whatever comes, however hard—they’ll face it together.

Somehow, Steven wakes up one day and feels great.

There are a few minutes more until his alarm goes off, but he turns it off early. The usual grogginess that accompanies him this early is completely absent, and he rolls up to a seated position without a single mental or physical protest. He feels so good, in fact, that he even considers skipping his morning cup of tea.

(He doesn’t, of course. They quickly figured out—well, Steven did, Marc already knew—that they differed in their caffeinated beverages of choice. Steven, a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold with a healthy splash of milk and a teaspoon or two of sugar. Marc, a simple drip coffee, black, made from the most generic-looking brand of medium roast beans.

Not to say that he wishes to be separate from Marc or anything of the sort, but Steven imagines his feelings to be like that of a sibling who was always dressed in matching clothes as his brother. Marc might’ve graced Steven with an interest in Egyptology from his mercenary work and Gus from his—their?—brother’s drawing a lifetime ago, but as far as they know, his preference for tea was just a quirk.

Steven likes having something just for him.)

Marc had the body last night—he must’ve gone to bed early. Must’ve drank camomile tea and avoided blue light the entire time he was fronting because Steven could run a marathon like this and still go into work afterwards. He’s about to ask Marc for his secret when he spots an unfamiliar rumple of fabric on the pillow where he laid his head.

“What’s this now?” Steven murmurs, gathering the soft material in his hands. A woman’s sweater, obviously, with its feminine cut and style and faintly sweet scent that short-circuits his brain for a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize how it got inside their flat, what with how there’s a whole other person living in his head, and it would explain the strange marks he found on his neck the other day—

Heat blooms in his face and Steven nearly drops the sweater back onto the pillow in embarrassment. Distantly, he knows that he should’ve seen this coming. Marc is Marc; Steven’s witnessed the quiet confidence the man extrudes from inside their headspace and the resulting, ah, attention it attracts.

In the corner of his eye, his reflection stills. Steven doesn’t even bother turning around—just holds up the offending sweater and asks, “Fun night?”

Marc, strangely, is quiet. It’s not like he’s one to talk about his romantic pursuits, but Steven at least expected a dry comment or two. He shakes the sweater like a bag of treats until Marc scowls. “Stop that.”

“Not judging,” Steven says, “but don’t suppose you got a number? Should I make a run to the donation bin for you?”

“No.” There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, and he purses his lips when he realizes that he responded a little too fast; Steven’s questioning look is pointedly ignored. “Just leave it on my desk for now.”

“Is she coming back or is this just like a—” Steven makes an ambiguous gesture, full of innuendo “—thing for you?”

“What? No—what?”

“Okay, okay,” Steven finally lets up because the groove between his alter’s eyebrows has become something fierce. He slips out of bed to place the sweater on Marc’s desk as requested, then throws one more comment over his shoulder for good measure, “Bring her home for dinner one day, would you?”

“Steven!”

“Is that my shirt?” You move towards the armchair, a smile tugging at your lips as you pick up the folded garment. It’s been freshly laundered. Marc wouldn’t burden you if he could help it.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t stir from his seat on the couch, tracking your movements with fondness in his eyes. You’ve been to their place plenty over the past few months and quietly, he relishes in the domesticity.

They’re simple things, like knowing your preferred spoon in their drawer or how you like your toast; the ease in which you curl into the cushions next to him—your spot, he can’t help but note—draws a contented little sigh from him.

“You know, if you want me to do your laundry, you can just ask.”

He would. Steven would prod endlessly as he does with all things related to you, but Marc’s managed to get this far with vague explanations and stubborn hand-waving. He’d endure the nosiness if it were for you.

“Although,” he continues, giving you a once-over. His eyebrow quirks at the familiar cotton long-sleeve enveloping your torso. “I’m not even sure you have laundry anymore.”

“Well, maybe if your clothes weren’t so comfortable, I’d stop stealing them,” you tease.

(His clothes aren’t boring, Steven, just—utilitarian. Between Khonshu and his mercenary work, Marc needed plain, flexible pieces; ones that made him blend in anywhere and ready for anything. Nothing that he could get too attached too, either. Everything he wore was at risk of getting ruined by grime and/or blood and/or tearing from various weapons. Of course, he doesn’t own anything ‘nice.’

Not like Steven. Not with his hodgepodge closet filled with colours and patterns, everything just a tad too large on their frame. Marc groans about it every time he takes over in the middle of the day—just a size down, just one. But the issue is that Steven likes it like that, likes the comfort and roominess he finds in his thrifted pieces, and so Marc dropped it as a serious topic, even though he still doesn’t quite get it.)

“This why you had to wear my jacket the other day?”

Steven’s sudden appearances don’t phase Marc anymore, even when you’re around. He just gives him a slight nod without missing a beat. “At this rate, I won’t have any clothes left for you to take.”

“Guess I’ll just have to borrow something from Steven then, hm?”

Before Marc can even begin to think about what to say to that— “I think my white jumper would suit her really well.”

He shoots a glare into a nearby mirror and just barely catches a glimpse of Steven’s grin in the reflection. Part of him wants to tell Steven to stop hitting on his girlfriend, but hesitates when you look at him expectantly, still waiting for his response.

He’s not ashamed of Steven, far from it. Still, a sliver of self-consciousness worms its way into his chest at the thought of talking to him in front of you. He’s done it before, but—he knows how it can look.

You’re more perceptive than he’d like. Marc sees the moment when it clicks in your head. “Is he here right now?”

Excitement bleeds into your voice. You’ve been wanting to meet Steven for a while. Marc showing up to a date with tousled curls and a colourfully-printed button-up instead of his usual streamlined style, a slew of scribbled papers piled onto the armchair you like to lounge on, a sticky note left on one of your books (‘oooh good choice! x’)—all these things that sent panic strumming through his veins were only ever endearing to you, for some reason. It’s lessened his worry by orders of magnitude.

Still. Letting you meet Steven is one step closer to talking about his childhood. His mom. His brother. He’s given you a high- high-level view of things (“It wasn’t great.”), but the thought of going any further makes his throat tighten. There’s a whole failed marriage that proves his inability to be vulnerable.

So, it must truly be a bout of madness that makes him say, “The white one.”

“What?”

“The white sweater,” Marc continues, because he’s already thrown himself off the bridge—there’s no use trying to backtrack now. “He says you’d look good in his white sweater.”

Your face slowly morphs into an expression of pure joy; you do nothing short of jump off the couch to bolt to their bedroom. Steven chatters excitedly in his ear, only pausing momentarily when you slip off Marc’s shirt.

“Oh! Um! She’s—she’s very—wow—" Marc feels the strangest urge to punch himself in the face again—

—And then you reappear into their field of view, a dream in fine knit. Steven’s sweater be damned, your beaming smile is more than enough to render them both speechless.

“How do I look?”

The sweater isn’t his, but it stirs the same syrupy feelings in Marc anyway. You’ve spoken about it before—and him privately with Steven—where Steven stands in your relationship with Marc. All he’s ever let himself hope for was for you and Steven to be cordial, maybe even friends. Of course, he’d have to actually let you guys speak to each other for any of that to be possible, but you two seem to have grown comfortable with each other regardless.

Now, he sees you in Steven’s clothes and his thoughts run rampant. Ours. He tests out the word and his heart skips a beat. It’s always been a possibility; one you all were open to if it ever happened. But he could never ask either of you to try to love each other on his behalf.

God, that word does something stupid to his brain—Steven’s rattling off compliments and other things of his you should try on and invites to go thrifting—and Marc just sits there, dumbfounded by his own hypothetical scenario. “Come on, Marc, say something!”

You move to stand in front of him, and his thighs part automatically to have you close. It takes your hand on his cheek, gentle as you stroke your thumb over his skin, to pull him back to reality. “You okay?”

“You look incredible.” His voice dips in the way he knowsmakes your stomach swoop, and is promptly rewarded with your flustered smile. The moment doesn’t last—not with Steven cooing in his ear over you.

A pang of possessiveness runs through Marc. That smile was for him, thank you very much.

His mouth works faster than his brain. “Steven has something to tell you.”

You light up. “Really?”

“Wants to tell you himself, actually.”

Steven splutters, nerves coming on in full force. Marc bites his tongue to keep a straight face. “Well, now, hang on a minute—”

Steven’s introduction was always going to be a well-thought-out but casual event, as to not make a circus out of it. It was just who they were, after all. They wouldn’t switch in front of you—Steven would change into his wardrobe and ‘do’ his hair beforehand; Marc worried it might be too much for you to see him but hear Steven. He would’ve prepped you both plenty in the preceding days, regardless of how necessary it was.

It definitely would not be the stunt he’s pulling right now.

Your eyes narrow at the placid look on his face, too casual to not be suspicious, but meeting Steven must outweigh the want to catch Marc in the act of whatever he’s planning because you don’t call him out, hands frozen on his face. It’s cute, watching you struggle between overt enthusiasm and not wanting to pressure them into anything.

Marc would even enjoy it a little longer if it weren’t for the confused and alarmed word vomit spilling out in his head.

“Stop messing about—I mean, it’s not—not odd, yeah? For me to front a little? Just a little chat, can’t be all that bad. Please be messing with me, but I can do it, s’not a big deal. Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever—oh, boy."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Marc quiets him with a steady glance into the mirror. “You sure, buddy?”

Slightly shrill but no less serious, “Are you sure, Marc?”

And then Marc’s fun little charade teeters on its head—is he ready for this? You and Steven wouldn’t hold it against him if he pulled the plug on it all right now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. The band-aid has to come off, lest he lets this fester for the length of another relationship.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his flare of panic comforted by the patience in your eyes. More confidently this time, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steven’s smile is clear in his voice. It mirrors your own.

“About time, innit?”

Moving into their flat isn’t a decision you make all at once, but rather a slow, steady conclusion that you’ve been unintentionally working towards ever since you first visited.

The clothes were just the start. It’s not like you didn’t have perfectly good clothes before you met Marc, but his were just better somehow. Soft and simple, all in that neutral colour scheme he seemed to gravitate towards. The warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric, making you want to bury your nose into the garments and go right back to the source—

You just couldn’t help yourself from borrowing something whenever you came over.

(That pleased, half-lidded gaze you receive each time you slip on his shirt, or his heated touch whenever he drapes his jacket over your shoulders during chilly morning afters—well. Those are just a bonus.)

So, maybe you left a shirt or two behind in the process. And maybe you realized that you should probably have a pair of sweatpants there as well, and a good book to read during quiet nights in. Once, you forgot your toothbrush only for Marc to pull out an extra from their medicine cabinet; now you have a toothbrush in their bathroom.

After you finally met Steven and his adorable, eclectic self—all bets were off. You bond while scouring vintage shops and finding new pieces for the flat. A little basket of throw blankets gets added to the living room (always neatly sorted by Marc, without fail). Candles—tall and stout, festive and fruity and spiced—start to litter the shelves. A particularly good haul at a used bookstore, a bit heavy for you to carry home, is instead slotted amongst their collection; the contemporary fonts and colourful covers are a stark contrast against the yellowing older texts, and you love it.

Your fingerprints are all over the place by the time Marc officially empties some space in his dresser for you, uncharacteristically avoiding your eyes as he speaks, “Just in case you wanted to keep some more stuff here.”

You were already using their closets before then (in both the storing-your-clothes sense and the stealing-their-clothes sense); you’ve practically taken over one of his drawers. But to give you one outright, to admit that he’s carved out some space just for you instead of silently accommodating your things as he always has—

“Thank you, Marc,” you whisper, brimming with emotion that you wonder if you’ll ever be able to fully express. He’ll flit about and clean and care for you because words will never capture the depth of his feelings. You see this for what it is, like all the gestures that have come before: a declaration.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and press a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

It’s not much long after when Steven comes home from work grinning like a madman, one hand held behind his back. He beelines towards you, not even bothering to put his bag down.

“Hey, you.” You peck his lips and feel his smile stretch impossibly wider. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The words come out in a rush. “Havesomethingforyou.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.” You can’t help but laugh a little as you follow the direction; Steven’s excitement is utterly infectious. “Okay, now hold out your hand.”

“If you give me a bug, I swear to God—”

“I would never.” His seriousness is a bit too heavy-handed, and you get a feeling you’re going to need to be on guard for a while.

You’re distracted, however, by the brush of his skin as he places something small and rigid into your palm. The metal is warm from being clasped inside his hand, but the shape is so familiar that you recognize what it is immediately.

“You can open—”

You’re already looking down—at the silver key to the flat nestled in your hand. Lonesome without the Koala plushie on Steven’s keyring, without the little charm you got for Marc’s—no, it’s meant to be your copy.

“We were thinking, right,” he starts before your heart has the opportunity to beat right out your chest, “Marc and I—well, you’re here with us most of the time. You should have your own key. Beats having to come grab mine from the museum, right?”

You let out a choked little laugh, too caught up to remind him that the only reason why you went to the museum was because else he would’ve dropped everything to deliver the keys himself. Spent his entire break and then some to commute back home so that you wouldn’t have to wait for his shift to be over, even though you could’ve amused yourself just fine outside until then.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to get out before stepping forward, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steven’s love is unbridled; he holds you close, going on about how glad he is—how glad they both are—to have you, how he was practically bouncing off the walls at the locksmith, waiting for the key to be cut.

They’ve been your home for so long now that while the new addition onto your keyring makes you giddy and smile stupidly whenever you get to use it, it also just feels right. You go grocery shopping with Marc and watch him scrutinize apples like they personally offended him. Steven tangles your legs together as you wind down in the evenings, and always always smiles whenever he catches you looking at him. You rank the restaurants around the neighbourhood and line your favourite mugs beside each other on the shelf; you sit in the comforting quiet of the flat and wonder how you got so lucky.

When it’s eventually time to renew your lease, there’s no decision to be made. You’re relieved from dinner prep to write the email to your landlord on their couch. It’s sent off with no fanfare and quickly forgotten about when Marc’s voice rings out, asking what you want to eat.

“Anything,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips; he hates it when you say that. Marc grumbles a little, but you mean it this time. You have them and they have you. Curled up in one of Steven’s sweaters, Marc’s playlist on low in the background—anything is just fine by you.

You are the bane of Jake’s existence.

First, you meet Marc. Terrible. Khonshu is riding his ass about a mission in Liverpool—they’ve now been geolocked to stay under the radar—and Marc plans a date. An actual, Godforsaken date with a set time, throwing a wrench into their plans because Steven’s been scheduled to work on the surrounding days as well. How is he supposed to sneak off to the other side of the country now?

Even worse, you stick around. There are more dates between the two of you. For how much he hates texting, Marc responds promptly whenever you send him something. He frets over what to wear before picking you up. You stay over at the flat and he holds you in his sleep like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; Jake has been unluckily enough to wake up in the middle of the night, planning to slip away, only to be hit with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Then—and then—Marc has the bright idea to introduce you to Steven. The hope that this is just a casual, temporary thing is dashed away the second Jake sees that lovesick expression on the idiota. It’s more overt than Marc’s, but still the same blaring warning sign that Jake’s life is only about to get harder from here.

Keeping a low profile has become incredibly difficult since the others decided to be normal. Marc never questioned whenever Jake took over in a tight spot, too hyped up on adrenaline and too stubborn about their condition to follow up on his blackouts after the fight was done. Steven was clueless about everything for those first few months, then just blamed his blackouts on Marc.

But now? They talk to each other. They have a year-long calendar on the fridge with a magnetic pen holder to keep track of their schedules, colour-coded blue (for Marc) and green (for Steven). They’ve gotten distracted and added another consciousness for Jake to deceive in order to do his thing. He can’t take the body for more than a few hours, and certainly not by force, without drawing suspicion.

Jake’s happy for them. Really, he is. They’ve finally begun to move on from the trauma of their childhood into something that resembles a normal life. Steven’s gotten rehired at the museum as a tour guide. Marc’s taken up security consulting. And despite their respective anxiousness and ten-foot-walls, you bring them peace.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Khonshu’s avatar now. That a lifetime ago, when the work began to wear down on Marc in all the worst ways, Jake was the one who cut a deal with the god for his release. All he had to do was take his place.

(Foresight might not be his strong suit, but he refuses to take responsibility for what happened next. He could never have imagined all the puppetry that’d occur with Layla in the mix, or that they’d actually divorce one of these days and end up with someone new.

Except this time, you know about their system and not about Khonshu. He wonders how well you’d take that whole mess.)

In short—Marc and Steven still need him. He can’t just up and disappear into the recesses of their mind; he has a job to do.

So, when Steven presses that fucking key into your hand, Jake’s so frustrated he could scream. Unfettered access to the flat—as if you weren’t there enough already. As if he weren’t already jumping through every hoop imaginable, just to keep his existence a secret. He would’ve made them drop the copy down the nearest gutter on the way home if he didn’t know that they would simply go right back to the locksmith and ask for another.

Steven watches as you slip it onto your keychain; that all-encompassing, vibrant burst of joy in their chest be damned—you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jake, even if you might be the best thing to ever happen to them.

Steven had the flat, Marc had his storage unit, and Jake?

Jake has his car.

Multiple, actually, but the limousine is the legal one (thanks for your identity, Marc) and serves as his homebase. Supplies are stashed in compartments around the cabin—weapons, clothes, cash—and with its heavily tinted windows, he can do anything he wants inside and passersby would be none the wiser. When Khonshu’s booming voice echoes around his brain about some new target, at least Jake can recline into a soft leather seat.

The only issue is that he can’t keep everything there. No, the parking garage is a fair distance away from the flat and sometimes, he doesn’t have the opportunity to make the trip before setting off. This means that he has to keep a change of clothes in the flat to avoid accidentally ruining some of Steven’s or Marc’s. He’d never actually wear anything of Steven’s to begin with (at least, not on a mission), but Marc’s wardrobe is minimal by choice—if something went missing or got a new, unexplained hole in it, he’d notice.

That’s why Jake is currently slinking through their living room, ready to change back into Steven’s pajamas before hiding his clothes on the loft above their bed. Nothing up there but empty bins and poster tubes. Marc regularly dusts the area during his monthly deep cleans, so Jake doesn’t even have to worry about leaving behind any tracks.

It was an easy job tonight, done in little less than an hour and not a speck on Jake to show for it. He could take a shower if he wanted—you’re staying over at a friend’s place right now, as noted in red on the calendar. But he shouldn’t keep the body for longer than necessary; they still need sleep, after all.

He slips off his flat cap, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. God, they’re getting old. Even this stolen hour will be felt by whoever wakes up in the morning, slightly slower and groggier than usual.

(Jake doesn’t think about the future—has never needed to. The only future that exists to him is the next minute, and the minute after that, and what he has to do to ensure the body makes it there. Him and Marc were similar in that aspect for a long, long time.

That calendar on the fridge, while helpful to his vigilantism, stirs something uncomfortable in his gut. He’s seen them flip through the months to mark down birthdays and reservations. Vacations, work events—Marc’s going on a completely normal, non-violent work trip, which Jake still can’t quite wrap his head around—and it’s all so far ahead.

How can they be so sure that nothing will change between now and then? That their life won’t blow up again, and force them on the run? Everything they add is just another handful of salt to be pressed into the wound when it all goes to hell. But they still write things on that stupid calendar. Confident, excited even, about the plans they think will come to pass.

How do they know?)

There’s a rustling in the bedroom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—

“Marc?”

You shift a little under the covers, trying to peer at him through the darkness. Jake’s never been more grateful for Marc’s sensible taste in fashion; with only a silhouette to go by, of course you’d mistake him for Marc—straight-cut jeans, a collared jacket. His flat cap would tip you off though, and he presses it into his chest to hide it from your line of sight. Marc would never wear a flat cap.

He forces a casual tone. “Hm?”

A small sigh of relief escapes you as your head falls back onto the pillow. Still watching him, though, you mumble, “Bad dream?”

You know about Marc’s time in the military and as a mercenary. Not everything, obviously, but enough. Jake nods, and can imagine the worried purse of your lips in the shadows. In the best impression he can manage, his accent turns Chicagoan. “Just had to take a walk.”

If he were really Marc, he’d already be in bed by now, letting you brush curls away from his face and press a kiss against the furrow of his brow. If he were really Marc, he’d ask you why you were back here instead of with your friends as expected, and you’d talk things out until dozing off in a tangle of limbs, comforted by each other’s presence.

But Jake’s not Marc. He brushes off the subtle tightening of his chest as just a lingering remnant from his alters. The body knows you, even if Jake doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

You whine, a sleepy and pitiful but inviting noise from the back of your throat as he continues to stand in the living room. Alarm bells go off in his head; he has to placate you before you get up and try to drag him over yourself.

“Just need to change,” he says, soft and low, warmth injected into every word. Nausea courses through him, to his own confusion, as he continues to play Marc. This should be easier—he’s been hiding for as long as he can remember. This is probably the tamest thing he’s done to keep his cover. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

He takes two steps towards the kitchen then stops, feigning—feigning something, fuck if he knows—waiting for your breathing to level out again. Silence falls over the flat, but Jake’s mouth runs dry.

There’s no way you don’t bring this up to them in the morning, and there’s no way they won’t immediately suspect another alter. They know he exists, have seen the aftermath of when he fronts. It’s only his secrecy that has kept them off his back for this long, and it will all come crashing down in a few hours.

For better or for worse, he’ll have to meet the others soon.

Marc will never tire of waking up beside you. Even though there’s a heaviness weighing him down, body aching for just a few more minutes, he pushes through because you’re already awake. With one hand on his chest, the other tracing over his jaw—the small, lazy smile on your face has already made his day.

You turned over while he was asleep, but his arm is still slung over your waist; he pulls you closer to press a kiss onto your forehead. Lips moving against your skin, “Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” you murmur. “Feel better?”

Mind hazy from sleep, Marc doesn’t question the odd wording. He just let’s himself settle into the lingering fatigue, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter shut again. “M’tired. Stay with me a little longer?”

Concern laces your tone. “Was the dream that bad?”

That breaks through to him. He peers at you curiously, more alert than before. “What do you mean?”

You blink, confused. “Your nightmare last night. You left to take a walk?”

Marc sits up, furrowing his brow. Reality seeps in, and he checks the date on his phone. Aren’t you supposed to be—? “I thought you were staying over at a friend’s place.”

“I was going to, but she had a family emergency—I came back here around three. Don’t worry, they walked me home,” you explain with a soft pat of your hand at the end. That—that is one mystery solved, and he is glad to hear that you weren’t walking alone at night, but his shoulders remain taut with tension. His mind gets caught on a detail.

“Three?” He’s a light sleeper, he would’ve woken up when you came into bed. But—your words replay in his mind. He wasn’t here when that happened, was he? “I went on a walk?”

His stress begins to spill over to you, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, fiddling at the blankets. “Um, yeah. We spoke a little when you came back—I was already in bed, remember?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, and the words die in this throat. Marc does not, in fact, remember. He apparently went outside in the middle of the night, long enough for you to come home and settle in without him, then had a whole conversation upon return—and none of it is familiar to him. Not even a hint of déjà vu.

He throws off the covers, on his feet in seconds despite your protests. All hisblackouts, the ones he thought were finished after traversing the Duat—

That third sarcophagus—

Is this what it was like for Steven? To wake up, not knowing what your body has done, where it’s been—if it’s hurt someone?

Marc might actually puke if he thinks about it for too long. And God, you live with them now: him, Steven, and what Marc wishes was a complete unknown. But the truth is—they aren’t an unknown. No, Marc is fully aware of what this alter is capable of.

“Oh, bugger, what’s going on?” Steven must feel his panic, reflects it in kind. He must be expecting bloodshed with how fast their heart is racing.

Marc says nothing and flings open the tri-mirror on the wall, bracing himself with both hands on the sink below. He sees himself in the center, a bull primed to fight. Steven’s to the left, so fearful he’s nearly frozen still. And to the right—

To the right—

So. Jake hasn’t really prepared for this situation, to be honest.

He’ll face anything head-on to keep the body safe, but imagining himself as the threat? Never crossed his mind. There’s anger in their blood, and Marc’s liable to cracking the porcelain with his grip. If looks could kill, Jake would be dead ten times over.

The few times he wondered what it would be like to actually meet Marc and Steven, the worst that could happen was that they disliked him. Unfortunate, but he’d live. He didn’t need their approval to do his job.

But through the blood rushing in their ears, he can hear you; still in bed, barely breathing as you watch everything unfold. And that’s when he remembers—

You are the bane of his existence.

Because Marc and Steven aren’t just thinking about their own self-preservation. No, now they have you to protect, and the lengths that they would go to do that, well—Jake begrudgingly has to admit that they might rival some of his own efforts for them.

He’d let them stare at themselves forever in the mirror if it weren’t for that fact. They would never give up on trying to talk to him. Steven was clever enough with the sand and tape and ankle restraint; he doesn’t want to think about what sort of traps they’d create with Marc in the mix. Jake would probably still evade them all, but they’d drive themselves crazy in their attempts.

They’ve really left him no choice. For the first time, he lets himself be seen.

You’ve watched Marc and Steven talk to each other plenty of times. It’s really no big deal. They’re just normal conversations where you can only hear one side, and usually taken through the nearest reflective surface.

But this? This is an interrogation. Marc slackens his jaw for just a moment before everything in him tenses again. He speaks through clenched teeth, as if barely controlling the severity of his thoughts—you can’t help but brace yourself for impact. “Who are you?”

The pause as he waits for the other alter, whoever they are, to respond is maddening. It wasn’t quite fear that gripped you when you realized that it wasn’t Marc last night—to be honest, you don’t know what to feel—but the scene in front of you has you reevaluating your initial reaction.

That initial reaction being, well—the same thing you felt when you Marc told you about Steven: curiosity. You wanted to meet Steven. Almost begged for the chance near the end. Whoever this is—

“Jake.”

The name grates itself out of Marc’s throat, and you cling to the information like a life raft.

“Jake.” You can’t help but test it out on your tongue, squinting a little as you look at your boyfriend and try to see yourself calling him that. Marc looks towards you. There’s a storm of emotions in his eyes, but there’s no time to decipher any of them—a moment later, he turns back towards the mirror with a scowl.

“Why should I believe you?” The lines on his face deepen; Marc grits his teeth so hard you yearn to hold him, but you’re frozen to the spot.

“I don’t know that. After you—” his eyes dart between you and his reflection so fast, you might’ve imagined it “—after what you’ve done?”

A wave of dread washes over you.

He’s not talking about last night.

No, Marc—Marc has interacted with Jake before, and whatever happened must’ve crossed a line. Must’ve crossed several lines because of how he’s acting right now, and you want to bury yourself under the covers, still fisted tightly in your hands.

He laughs bitterly. The sound rakes through your ears. “You call that protecting us?”

Your blood runs cold. With no real context and spiked with adrenaline, your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, connects all the worst dots.

There’s no way—

“Lay a hand on her and I swear—”

You want to run and you want to hide and you want their arms around you, assuring you of—of anything. You need to leave this building and also never go outside again, because your head begins to pound with each thought that passes through.

You can still see the worry flare in Marc’s eyes when you accidentally grabbed the handle of a hot pan, the dutiful and tender way he held your hand under the tap for no less than fifteen minutes—

You can still hear Steven’s babbling when your new shoes rubbed your ankles red and raw while on a walk, distracting you from the pain the best he could until you got back home—

You are just so acutely aware of their love—that Marc and Steven would never dare hurt you. It’s impossible to reconcile your memories of them with the picture that’s being painted of Jake right now.

No. You can’t believe it.

You’re not even hearing their conversation anymore, your heartbeat is too loud. Breathing returns to you in a rush—you never even realized you stopped—and your vision swims with light-headedness.

None of it makes sense.

It—it can’t—

The mattress dips beside you, but you barely feel it. Someone’s cupping your cheeks, grounding you back into the flat, your home, and you know these hands. You know this voice, soothing in your ear, even as you shut your eyes.

They say that they’re sorry. They say that you’ll be okay.

They call you princesa.

It feels strange walking around the flat, knowing that he’s welcome there now.

Jake’s seen every nook and cranny through Marc and Steven, but to actually be able to explore the place himself—he’s like a kid in a toy store. He can’t help but run his fingers over everything. The spines on the bookshelves, the mismatched dishware in the cabinets. That velvet throw pillow, which you are so fond of playing with during movies—yeah, he gets it.

He’s not going to be talking to you for a while, though. After his rocky first meeting with Marc and Steven, which also coincides with the absolute worst possible first meeting with you—

It’s best to steer clear for a while.

Jake let the other two do the explaining. He watched silently as Marc told you about his past—told you about why he was discharged from the Marines and the scenes he’d wake up to after Jake had fronted—hands shaking as they held onto yours. He watched as Steven took over when it got to be too much, adding in the finer details and clarifications, steadier but no less genuine than Marc. Their arms were gentle as Steven held you in their lap, patient as you stumbled through how you felt.

“Marc seemed so mad at Jake.” You clutched at Steven’s shirt, sniffling into his neck. “I didn’t know what was happening, I—I was scared.”

No. Jake furiously shakes his head as if it would jostle the memory out of his brain. Just thinking about it threatens to unravel him, and he has to keep it together. He’s on thin ice as is.

You had been the one to temper their emotions—the sight of you panicking on their bed grinding all other issues to a halt. The conversation couldn’t continue until you were okay, and this time, Steven kept you in the loop.

Steven is wary. Steven needles him about what he’s been doing all this time, asks him what he’s going to do now with short little mhms. Steven is also the one to buy a new set of pens (because black is already used for non-individual specific events) and designates him as orange.

Marc doesn’t trust Jake at all and admits it outright. It’s—it stings more than he thought it would, but he understands. He always knew that Marc would take a while to come around, especially with you to consider—

Jake doesn’t know why he worries so much about your opinion. Protecting you is an extension of protecting the body, but he never used to care about what Marc or Steven had to say. He hates the caution in your voice when you talk about him and can’t help but appreciate you trying anyways.

He pinches himself. You’re not his to think about, period.

Acknowledging his existence also, sort of, comes with accepting it. Steven somehow finds the space for another dresser in their already cramped bedroom. Jake doesn’t even have enough possessions in general to fill that thing—not counting all the weapons and ammo that Marc would definitely have their head for if he brought them into the flat.

It’s an olive branch on both sides, though. They’re committing to having him around. He’s committing to being around, instead of lurking in the background of their lives.

His clothes only fill up the first drawer but—it’s nice. Jake stares at the thing a lot more than a used, scratched-up piece of furniture probably warrants. He can barely admit it to himself but this, all of it—going outside during the day, eating a freshly-cooked meal, even just relaxing in bed without immediately trying to go to sleep in order to Protect the Body—it really is just nice.

(Since when did he describe anything as nice?)

Then—your keys turn in the door.

Jake hits the eject button so fast, Steven’s probably going to get whiplash.

“Nice reflexes,” he grumbles as you enter the flat. It was funny the first few dozen times. Now? That twat’s just being a coward.

“I’m home!” You call out as Steven rounds the corner to greet you, tote bag nearly bulging in your hand. He pecks your lips as he helps you out of your jacket, then hangs it up beside the three others on the rack. “There was a little creators’ market in the park—you should’ve seen it!”

“Think I’m seeing it now,” he chuckles, moving to help you with your tote. You slink past him at the last second, grinning. “Come on, love, show us what you got!”

“They’re gifts! Just hang on.” You place the bag on the dining table and enraptured, he pulls up a stool. His head rests on his chin as he waits for you to unpack. “Okay, first, for Marc—”

You reach your hand inside and reveal a pair of black leather gloves. Not driving gloves like Jake’s—there’re far less embellishments all around. But they’re warm and flexible, perfect for colder weather. Inside, the lining is made with a material so soft that when trying one on, Steven can’t help but laugh a little in disbelief.

“Treading on my territory, pendejo?”

Marc snipes back, “Like you own a monopoly on leather gloves.”

Steven lets Marc pull to the front. An easy smile spreads on his face as he flexes his hand, testing his movement. “Thanks, baby. I really like them.”

He takes your chin into his gloved hand to thank you properly, slotting his lips against yours with no shortage of appreciation. His grip is an anchor, holding you in place as he kisses you, deep and languid. Like you have all the time in the world despite the heat flickering across his skin. When Marc gets like this, it’s not long before you start squirming under him, and your hands paw at his neck for something more.

That’s his cue to finally pull away, smirking as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Whether it’s the leather or him or both, he can see the effect on you, the dazed look you give him when you bat your eyes open.

Let Jake try and beat that.

“Oi! Share!”

Marc sighs. Drops his forehead to yours and reluctantly doesn’t continue any further. “Steven wants his gift now.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in. “Maybe I should’ve done Steven’s first.”

Marc steals one more kiss before retreating again, and Steven is back, clearly eager for many different reasons now. After putting Marc’s new gloves to the side, you don’t make him wait a second longer; you pull out a stunning new button-up, deep navy with a pattern of large teal palm leaves and hints of salmon accents all over.

All traces of joy disappear from Marc’s voice. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“She’s an enabler. I can’t believe it.”

Steven gapes, amazed. “How did you—”

“I had to go digging,” you admit, gesturing widely. “There were so many racks, we need to go back! I only had my one bag!”

“There’s no way people actually buy this stuff.”

“Ahh, well, it’s not that bad—"

“Are you kidding me?”

Ignoring the fashion police in his head, Steven immediately switches shirts and tosses the old one somewhere behind him. Based on Marc’s grunt, he missed the couch, but also can hardly find himself to care.

He doesn’t even bother doing up the buttons, because he knows where you’ll put your hands when he descends upon your face. Kiss after kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and nose, and soon enough you’re giggling loudly into the air. Your hands are warm against his bare torso, pulling him closer even as their stubble tickles your skin.

“Stevie—Steven! There’s one more!”

He’s not letting you off that easily, though, and finally captures your lips with his. That does buy him a few more blissful seconds until you manage to push him away; breathing heavily, you point sternly in his direction—behave.

Steven schools his expression into one of perfect obedience, teasing, but you barely even react. With one glance back down at the table, it’s like the tote bag sucked away your excitement, leaving shy uncertainty in its wake. You’re biting your lip as you reach for the last gift, quiet.

Marc hums, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Steven offers you an encouraging little smile and is about to say something when you produce the last gift in a rush, still not meeting their eyes.

It’s a simple wool scarf, colour-blocked in soft browns and greys. He waits as you fiddle with it in your hands, trying to find the words.

“He doesn’t have a scarf,” you blurt out. When Steven doesn’t respond immediately, you continue. “Jake, I mean—I don’t think he has one. I thought it would be nice.”

He follows your gaze to the coat rack near the door, filled with four sets of outerwear. It clearly doesn’t fit all the jackets owned in the household, but his favourite is hung up next to Marc’s, which is hung up beside your overcoat and Jake’s collared jacket. Various cold weather accessories are layered onto the hooks as well, multiple pairs of gloves, hats—but there are only three scarves.

Come to think of it, Steven hasn’t seen Jake ever wear a scarf either. “You’re right, love. Doesn’t his neck get cold? I know our neck gets cold.”

The corners of your mouth tug up a little and he grins, triumphant. He tunes into his head, making sure he doesn’t miss any of Jake’s reaction, but nothing comes. That’s odd. It doesn’t feel like he’s gone, more like—holding his breath.

“Think he’ll like it?” You tilt your head, though your true question is clear on your face.

The words can’t come out of Jake fast enough. “I’m not here right now.”

“Jesus, man.”

Steven huffs but covers for his alter; they’ll press him about it another time. “Once he sees it, I don’t think he’ll ever take it off.”

The gloves and scarf are added to the coat rack, which is liable to falling over one of these days due to the heavy load it’s carrying. With no shortage of complaining from Marc, Steven picks up his discarded shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket. It’s almost full—he makes a note to do a load later this week.

He must look ridiculous, parading around in an undone button-up, but you have nothing but fondness for him when he returns to cuddle with you on the couch. You’ve changed into Marc’s sweater and have to move no less than five decorative pillows in order to make enough space.

Marc makes a distressed noise when Steven throws one of them to the side. “It’s fine—”

It hits the standing lamp and you both freeze as you watch it teeter on its base, creaking ominously. After a moment, it steadies again.

“It’s only fine because of your weak throw.”

Steven splutters as he pulls you into his side. “We have the same arm!”

They bicker about the mechanics of their body, whether muscle memory crosses over when they switch or not. Marc is squarely of the opinion: No. Steven reminds him of when he punched the Jackal, and the conversation continues to devolve. Jake refrains from getting involved but spurs them on regardless with a well-placed snicker here and there.

It’s an aimless argument that has you burying your face in your hands because you’re laughing too hard; one of many that have taken place and one of many that have yet to occur.

In the morning, Marc will cook you breakfast and throw an eggshell into the bin from across the kitchen just to prove a point. Steven will go back to the market with you to buy armfuls of his favourite clothing and home goods, and he’ll add one more to his bag for every snide comment Marc makes. And Jake—

Jake will take a little while longer until he feels ready to speak to you, but you see the scarf gather raindrops and the warm, woodsy smell of their aftershave as he wears it every time he goes outside. Always see it hung up neatly on the rack, on top of his jacket so it can properly dry.

And with all four of you settled in, their cluttered little flat in London—long overflowing with books and clothes, your favourite comforts and some truly unique furniture—finally started to feel complete.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

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eccentricallygothic · 4 months

Text

| Big Brother |

Description: Fermin does not like to share you with anyone.

Pairing: Dark Step-Brother!Fermin | Naive Step-Sister!You.

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction and does not represent Fermin Lopez in any way. It also contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Dubcon/Noncon, Fermin is mean, dark!Fermin, infantilization, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, degradation, dacryphilia, dumbification, possessive!Fermin, obsessive behaviors, ddlg vibes.

Note: The Pedri one is gonna be much bigger as it has my favorite trope and Spanish man so it'll have to wait, unfortunately. Until then…

Fermin does not like to share you with anyone. He doesn't know when exactly his contempt for his step-father's daughter turned into this but he doesn't care. Nor does he try to rationalize it anymore.

You are his, as he is yours.

It's quite simple, really. You're family and no one can or should come between you. No one will ever be as sincere with you like your family– he is and being the naive little thing you are, you should know that big brother always knows best.

It doesn't matter even if he's younger than you.

Fermin says it's all about what's in the head.

And yours is as empty as a wooden doll's.

So you say nothing and simply whimper as your head lowers when he roughly drags you inside the house by your arm before taking you to his room. You want to speak up; tell him about the forgotten kid in the park that you're supposed to be babysitting.

But you know better than to speak when big brother is angry.

What he says goes.

And so you're bent over his study table within the next new minutes with your skirt pushed all the way up to your waist while you sob uncontrollably and take your punishment.

“I- I am sorry, big brother– ah!” Your back twists upwards when yet another ruthless rap resounds against your tender skin that is flush with a deep shade of red. “I- I swear! I was only helping Lucia swing– ouch!” A rough hiccup rips out of your throat when your brother refuses to show you any mercy. “Please!” Fermin is not in the mood to listen.

But he can never be wrong. Because he is big brother. So the fault is definitely yours. How many times has he told you not to speak to other boys? But you are one disobedient little sister! Big brother only wants what is best for you and to protect you because all boys except for him are pigs who only want to take advantage of you!

“I knew this job was a bad idea” your form stills and your blood runs cold. Slap. But no scream comes out of you this time. Oh no. “You're too little to be out by yourself let alone handle another kid” his voice is low; the deadly calm of his tone causing your knees to tremble. “I fucking knew it–”

“NO! NO BIG BROTHER, PLEASE!” You are absolutely powerless against him so if he pulls the plug on your job, no one will be able to let you keep it. “I swear! That boy came to me first! I swear! I have no idea who he was!”

Fermin grimaces as he clenches his already tense jaw so hard that it ticks. He lands another harsh spank on your quivering ass. Of course. You didn't even notice how that boy has been circling you and Lucia in the park for a few days now, having finally mustered the courage to speak to you only today as you are known as Fermin's sister.

“I am s- sorry…” You draw your words out as you feel him snatch the tatter of your panties away. “I promise I'll b- be better n- now, big bro-ther, p- please just- OH!” Your eyes squeeze shut as you break into another fit of sobs from the powerful slap that lands on your bare folds now.

“Tsk, how many times do I have to teach you the difference between punishment time and play time, huh little sis?” A loud squelching noise sounds in the air as he spreads your drenched pussy lips. “Shamelessly making a mess all over big brother's desk during her punishment like a silly little slut, tsk” the blood under your already flush cheeks bubbles as you whimper.

“S- Sorry, big brother…” Your toes curl as he goes about feeling up your mound. “C- Can't help…” Your teeth pull your bottom lip between them when one of his fingers start to toy with the sensitive band of your entrance. “P- Please… help…” Fermin has taught you to come to him whenever you feel funny between your legs because you have a serious condition that must be kept a secret if you don't want the scary hospital people to take you away from your home and big brother forever. Thankfully, he knows how to fix it so all you have to do is to go to him whenever it happens. Your big brother is the best, really. Because he doesn't help you like meanie doctors with bitter medicine but instead plays with you in an admittingly odd but fun way that is stranger than anything you've ever done but it is also what you can only describe as very nice at the same time.

“Tsk, are we in a position to make demands?” You wince at the way he scolds you before landing one last powerful smack to your pussy, making you cry aloud as you crash into the desk you are bent over from the force. “Disobeying big brother and putting yourself at risk and then whining about help, I spoil you too much, don't I little sis?” You bite your lip as you hear his fly go undone.

Oh God.

He takes you unprepared sometimes when he is angry or unhappy.

Today is going to be one of those days.

If only his junior -as he likes to refer to it- wasn't so big, you wouldn't be so scared.

Because his girth has nearly ripped you many a time.

“Whining for weeks because all your little friends were getting babysitting jobs and so you wanted to get one too…” Your fingers tightly curl around the edges of the desk as you feel his thick tip press against your entrance, his warm big hands clasping around your sides firmly. “Misbehaving with big brother and throwing all kinds of tantrums…” Well, yeah. You did give him the cold shoulder until he agreed. “Assuring him you would be fine only to do this–” his last words nearly melt into a hiss as he jerks his hips against yours with a powerful thrust and in comes plunging his hard shaft.

“BIG BROTHER!” A most vile moan escapes you as the upper half of your body goes limp over the smooth surface of the desk.

“Just imagine if I wasn't out front fixing my bike?” He is beginning to get breathless, huge cock moving between your channel of flesh and out of you slow yet rough. “And if I didn't save you in time?” A spank delivers onto your bruised ass but it is much lighter than all the other ones you have been subject to this evening. “Do you have any idea how badly that could have ended for you?” But his reproaches are no more than background buzz for you now. Your eyelids have gotten droopy and your senses are melting.

Big brother's dick is inside you and his thick veins angrily pulsate against your bare, sensitive flesh in the best way and that's all that matters.

“Hnnng” your lips feel dry as you bite down on them, your back arching and pussy squelching out a whine when he pulls out nearly all the way. “Big brother– AH!” His hands restrain you from moving along the force of his cock this time around so all of him can be buried deep within your cunt instead of your body slamming into the desk.

“Or maybe… big brother isn't enough for you now, huh? Is that it?” Your eyebrows furrow at his words as your eyes struggle to open because his movement is beginning to get frequent… and not in a nice way. “Is that why you're going around town like a stupid little slut with her silly little pussy in need of fixing?” Your body can't help but rock a little despite his hold on your hips as the stiff skin of his cock grazes against your sensitive flesh faster and faster with each thrust. When you continue to mewl and clench around him instead of answering, Fermin clicks his tongue before he lands a slap on one of your ass cheeks, his fingers coiling around your hair. “Well?!”

“N- No!” Your features twist in discomfort when you feel the band of your entrance forcefully expand around the base of his cock in order to accommodate his balls since your pussy is so wet and your walls so greedy that they want to devour all the dick he has to offer. “B- Big brother w- will always be e-nough for me!” Your neck cranes backwards as you feel him tug at your strands while his bottom half claps against yours loudly.

“That's fucking right” your mouth falls open when his tip works its way up your cunt and finds the spot where your nerves are sensitive today, the harsh thrust causing your head to spin. “And you better remember that the next time a silly little boy approaches you” neon stars began to appear in your vision as he moves you down and onto the table before his hands roughly move to your thighs, his hips violently snapping against yours all the while. The sound of the other side of the desk colliding with the wall next to it fills your hot ears as you feel Fermin spread your legs as far as they can go, his ballsack sinking into your sore yet much gratified entrance with each thrust now.

“Tell me you're mine” you feel him bend one of your legs before placing your knee on the table to access you even deeper. “Tell me you're all mine!”

“BIG BROTHER!” You are panting desperately like a bitch in heat, your tight insides on the verge of your first of many orgasms of the day. “I– AH! I AM– OH!” His fingers slip between your cunt and the smooth wooden top of the desk.

Fermin's back drapes over your back as you feel his lips hover over your ear, his coarse digits gliding across your slippery folds. “Say it and big brother will give you the cummies” he kisses the tear stains on your flushed face. “You like the cummies right?” He speaks to you like one does a child while obliterating you like you are his very own personal whore (you are). You vehemently nod, grunting and whining as you focus on holding yourself back because cumming without big brother's permission is prohibited and you are in enough trouble already.

“I AM Y- YOURS, BIG BROTHER! A- ALL YOURS! O- ONLY YOURS!” You scream out in agony, feeling yourself overcrowded, overstuffed and overstimulated all at once. “P- PLEA–”

Fermin loves your sobs of pure wanton. “Cum for big brother” as if a switch goes off, your orgasm barrages through you like a dam coming undone. Temporary vertigo fills your ears as your pussy tightly clenches around his hard shaft that is still pounding your seeping cunt just as hard. Your vision falters and your body gives up as the upper half of your body that you were barely keeping upright drops against the table with a soft thump.

Your body spasms as your toes curl from the overstimulation but you know better than to complain. Big brother does so much for your protection and pleasure, it is only fair that you returned the favor by being nice to him back. Yes, he is difficult to satiate and one cummie is never enough for him.

But taking care of each other is what family is all about.

… Right?

I appreciate feedback >.< Also I can't believe I neglected exam prep for this lmfaooo <3

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vinomino · 1 month

Text

Left OR Right : Main Story

Stuck in a sticky love triangle that’s trapping you further in, you have to find a way to free yourself before it’s too late.

Featuring: Togame.J x f!reader, Umemiya.H x f!reader

Contents: NSFW MDNI, explicit smut, love triangle, slight yandere!Togame&Umemiya, college au!, jealousy, masturbation, cum eating + face fucking + oral m!receiving(Togame), fingering + cunnilingus (Umemiya), squirting

WC: 5.3k

Back to the main screen? Click → here!

Being too homesick had you coming back to Makochi. You moved away for high school and dearly missed your friends, the people there, and the place itself. So you applied to a college nearby, allowing you to again, live in Makochi. The movers carry your boxes into your new apartment, “Miss, where should these boxes go?”

“Could you place those in the bedroom please?” He nods and lays the large cardboard box containing your mattress on the wooden floor. The movers wrap up and leave the space stuffed up to the brim with boxes. You had plans to meet your old friends later in the afternoon, so the first task you did was take out all your cosmetics and clothes. The giddiness you felt was overwhelming, you haven’t seen them in person since you left all those years ago. Unpacking took much longer than you anticipated, you now only had an hour left until the meetup in a local restaurant. After a shower, you get ready. While putting on your bottoms you see a pop-up on the lock screen of your phone.

Umemiya[6:21] Are you on the way?

You[6:21] I’m finishing up right now. I’ll head there soon.

Umemita[6:22] Ok!

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you head out the front doors. The streets had mostly remained the same, only spotting a few differences as you headed toward the location Umemiya sent you. You hung out with him frequently when he first came to Makochi as a kid, you would often spend the afternoons with him, Tsubaki, Hiragi, Mizuki, and Momose. High school occupied a majority of your time, along with theirs, you were busy with studying and they were busy with conquering and uniting Furin. The times you would speak to them reduced to major holidays and birthdays, sending a quick text in the group chat when you looked at your calendar. The restaurant is in view and the chime on the door jingles as you open it.

In the corner sat all your friends who had grown up a lot since you left. Tsubaki grew his hair out, Hiragi dyed his hair blonde, Mizuki and Momose looked older, and Umemiya had his hair in a style you never thought he would ever consider wearing.

“Oh! She’s here!” Tsubaki perks up, waving you closer to take a seat at the table with them.

“◻, it’s been a while.” Hiragi places his cup down on the table.

“Have you been well?” Mizuki asks.

Momose grins at you and sketches on his notepad.

“It’s been forever! Now we’re all together again!” Umemiya heartily laughs, smacking a hand down on the table.

“I missed you guys a lot too.”

After hours of eating, catching up, and talking about random subjects, the night grows darker. The restaurant owner flips the open sign to closed as the six of you stand out on the street. You all bid farewell to each other and headed home except for Umemiya, who was going to walk you back to your place. “You guys all seem to be doing well.” You note. “We had some rough patches, but made it out in one piece!” He smiles. “I’ve been meaning to ask…about your hair…” You trail off trying to find the words that fit your thoughts.

“Oh! Hiragi and Tsubaki helped me with it and I just stuck with it,” he scratched his nape. “Does it look weird on me?”

“I think it suits you really well, I never imagined you would gel it back.” Offering him a reassuring smile.

Turning the corner, you two are met with the entrance of your apartment building. “You live here? That means we live rather close, I’m a few streets away!” He beams at the revelation. “Really? That’s reassuring.” You laugh at his playfulness. He pats your head, “Head on in now. Sweet dream ‘kay?” You nod and go in, he watches outside until you disappear out of view before he goes back to his place.

Luckily in one of your math courses, you met one of your middle school friends that you fell out of touch with. She was ecstatic to see you again and invited you to a mixer to get to know people. At first, you thought it was going to be a bit rough to mingle back into social circles, so you took this opportunity happily. It was in a dim restaurant, lights strung down all over the ceiling giving off a low illuminating warm glow. There was a bar located near the back and you’re sure on a weekend it would be jam-packed. There was already a bunch of people at the table, appetizers were splayed out, ranging from gyoza to cucumber salad. They notice you and your friend’s arrival.

“Who’s this?”

“This is ◻, we attended middle school together!” She introduces you.

“Come– sit, sit!” A guy ushers you to an empty chair. You slide in and they start rapid-firing questions, making your head spin.

“Why did you come here?” “What perfume are you wearing?” “What’s your major?” “Are you working right now?” “What do you want to eat?”

“Calm down guys, she can’t answer all of that at once,” she interrupts them and turns to you. “You don’t need to answer all of them.”

Waving your hands, “It’s alright! I lived here until I moved away for high school.” They all collectively ah. To answer the last question, “I’m fine with whatever.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ◻.”

Everyone goes back to what they were doing before, talking and eating. Your friend points out each person and lists their names for you and what major they are doing. Only a few of them go to a different university. The girl sitting next to you hands you some chopsticks, you thank her and snap them apart. You didn’t participate that much in their discussion, not wanting to intrude when you just met them. Chewing on some seaweed salad, you look around the room again. A few more people came and you turned to glance at the bar. There sits a black-haired man, wearing a sweater and geta sandals, he notices and looks directly at you. He smiles and you snap your head back to the plate in front of you. The bill is split and everyone chips in except for you since they want to treat someone new. “Are you sure you’re going to walk back alone?” Someone asks you. “I live nearby, it’s only a five-minute walk,” you explain. He nods and tells you to have a good night. Pulling your coat back on, you head out the front door. You notice the handsome black-haired male standing outside sipping on a bottle of ramune. You intended to walk past him, but he called out to you.

“Hey! You’re the girl who lived in that green house and moved away. ◻ right?” He catches up to you.

“Um, yes?” You watch him pace himself beside you. “Is there something you need?”

“It’s me, Togame Jo. We were in the same elementary class back then.”

You nod, but you don’t remember something that far ago. Racking your brain for a Togame Jo, you come up with nothing. “I’m surprised you remember me.” You giggle.

“Can’t forget someone that threw a rock at my head.” Togame points to his temple. You paled. The memory of you getting into trouble for throwing a rock and accidentally hitting someone’s head pops back into your brain. “Oh…OH! You were that kid! I’m so sorry! It was an accident, really– I’m so sorry.” You clasp your hands together. “It’s fine– it’s fine. It was so long ago.” Togame chuckles, tipping the liquid in the glass bottle into his mouth. “How have you been?” You stop walking, trying to start small talk with Togame. Now, you have to tilt your head up to see him. “I’ve been good, here and there…now I’m here talking to you.” He slides his empty hand into the pocket of his pants.

“Why’d you come back?”

“I didn’t have a college I was dead set on and I was missing Makochi, so I applied nearby and got into a few.”

“Ah…I thought you would’ve gotten into a big university with that head of yours.”

Swatting your hand, “No way, I’m lucky enough to get into get into the college I’m going to now.” You laugh, “What about you?”

“Me? I’m not attending school, doing some manual labor jobs right now,” Togame grins. “It’s late, you should be heading home. I’ll walk you. You got classes tomorrow?” He quickly covers up the fact he was going to walk with you back to your place with a question. “I only have morning classes tomorrow.” As he accompanies you, he asks simple questions. What are you majoring in? Any plans after college? Do you have a job you want to do? Simple questions you didn’t mind answering. “This where you live?” You pause outside the building, “Yeah. Thank you.” Togame shakes his head, “It’s dangerous for a lady like you to be out alone. Goodnight.” You bow and turn your back towards him, heading inside. Togame stands outside the complex for a while, making a mental note of the address. He then smiles and turns on his heel.

A couple of days later, you run into Togame again at the grocery store. His tall broad physique made it easy to identify him. “It’s been a few.” You walk up to him and strike up a conversation. He turns to see who’s talking to him. “Hmm? Oh hey, it’s you.” You take a peek at his basket. Bottles of different ramune flavors, some meat and eggs, and a few snacks.

“You sure really like ramune…” You mutter.

“I do.” He smiles.

“Hmm?! Sorry, I blurted that out!” You fret and try to apologize, but he waves it off.

“Weekly shopping?” Togame points to your basket.

You confirm his question, “Recently moved back, so there’s not much in my fridge.” He nods and wordlessly reaches to take your basket in his other hand. “Togame– there’s no need, I can hold it–” Trying to take the basket back. He ignores your attempts, “I’ll carry it, go get what you need.” You thank him again and tell him you need some condiments and vegetables. Togame follows you around the store as you get what you came for. “Are you finished with your shopping?” You ask while placing some spinach in the basket. “Yeah, I have some free time.”

Togame places your filled basket at the cashier, his basket right behind yours. You place your stuff in your shopping bag and wait for him to finish as well. It was only right since he took time out of his day to offer his hand to you. He takes his receipts and sees you still there, “You didn’t have to wait for me, you know.”

“It’s no problem.” You step out of the sliding doors. “I’ll see you later.” Turning to head back home, but he’s going the same way as you. “Do you perhaps live near me?”

Togame snaps his head up, “Huh? Oh– Yeah. My place is the same way.” He lies, but you don’t notice at all. You feel the weight on your shoulder being lifted, “Togame– I can’t keep bothering you…you’ve helped me enough.” He only smiles at you, crinkling his green eyes. “It would be rude if I didn’t, let me.” After a few seconds of contemplating, you yield, allowing him to sling your groceries on his shoulder.

“Really…I don’t know how to thank you.” You grab your bag out of his outstretched hand. “There’s no need to be so formal, we’ve known each other for a long time.” He lightly chuckles. An idea pops into your head, “Togame, give me your number! I want to treat you to some food sometime.” You fumble your phone open to contacts and hold the device out towards him. “That sounds nice, I’d love that,” he taps his number. You type his name in while he reaches into his bag, “Here.” You look up and a melon ramune is in front of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He waves it around a bit.

“Thank you, Togame.” You gleam and accept the flavored carbonated drink. He eyes you for a moment, before brushing his hair back. “Goodnight, ◻.” You stare at him due the mention of your name. “Goodnight to you too, Togame.” Placing the ramune bottle in the side door, you shove your newly brought food into the fridge and close it. Unlocking your phone, you text the number Togame gave you.

You[8:40] Hi Togame! It’s me ◻. Are you free this week? I want to treat you to ramen.

Placing the device down, you get unready for bed. Finishing, you open the fridge and decide to drink the soda Togame gifted to you. The melon flavor and bubbles make you squint your eyes closed. The carbonation escapes through your nose. A buzz is heard from your bed.

Togame[9:12] I’m free all this weekend, looking forward to seeing you.

Smiling, you slip under the sheets and fall asleep, blissfully unaware of what Togame was up to.

Hastily dropping his bag down on the floor, the bottles clack against one another. Togame stumbles into his bedroom, opening the drawer of his nightstand he pulls out the handkerchief you gave him all those years ago. Your small hands press the soft fabric against his head to stop the bleeding. There’s no more blood on it though. He presses the cloth against his nose and deeply inhales, leaning back on his bed as he pulls out his aching cock, precum staining a dark circle on his boxers. He tilts his head back as he furiously fucks himself, lightly circling the tip of his cock every pump. When it wasn’t enough, he reached for his phone and pulled up your social media, the username he found out by asking that girl you were with at the mixer. Tapping on your newest selfie, he loudly groans, feeling his dick becoming even harder. It didn’t take long for white ropes to spew out all over his pants and bedsheets, he pants out your name over and over again. Togame bites down on his lip as he bucks his hips, milking all his cum out of his spent dick. Immediately, he relaxes into the mattress when he sees a notification on his phone.

You[8:40] Hi Togame! It’s me ◻. Are you free… (Open to view)

Clarity comes back to him and he starts feeling guilty. You were clueless, kind as you always were, and so naive it almost made him laugh. The way your eyes sparkled up at him made him imagine how they’d look rolling back into your skull. He curses, throws his legs off the bed, and walks into his bathroom to clean up the filthy mess he made. After his shower and changing his sheets, he picks up his phone and responds to your message.

It was Friday and you planned to see Togame tomorrow, but your quiz was on Monday. Walking through the town’s library, you spot Umemiya focusing on a textbook open on the table in front of him. You didn’t want to bother him, so you turned to find a seat further away, but you stubbed your toe into a bookshelf. The sound alerts him and he lifts his head, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose as he looks at you. You groan internally at the dumb mistake.

“Sorry…I didn’t want to disturb your studying…” You let out a small whine at the embarrassment. Umemiya pushes your chair in for you, “It’s alright, I don’t mind at all.” He quietly giggles and slides into his seat next to yours. “Why don’t we study together?” You nod at his suggestion. Hours go by as you read through the websites your teacher posted, leaning your chin on your palm, you scroll down on the thumbpad of your laptop. Umemiya was going over his own teacher’s lessons, sometimes asking you for your opinion on the questions. It was mostly a silent library study otherwise. You yawn and stretch your arms over your head. “Tired?” Umemiya glances over at you with a grin. “Yeah– but I don’t want a bad grade this early in the semester…” You jut out your lips, you start to read the paragraph again.

“How’d you get to know Togame?”

“What?”

“Togame Jo.” Umemiya clarifies. Hiragi learned from one of his old fellas that you were hanging out around him and told Umemiya while having lunch.

“Remember that kid I threw a rock at back then? Yeah– that’s him.”

“Really? Pfft. That’s– I remember– you got into so much trouble at home–” He stifles his laughter with a hand. Wiping his tears out his eyes, “Wait– don’t move.”

“Hmm?” You question.

“There’s an eyelash…” You watch Umemiya’s fingers touch your face and pick the fallen lash off your cheek. He holds it out on the tip of his index finger. “Hurry and make a wish.”

A giggle is caught in your throat at how childish he was being. You’re too focused on the lash to be aware of the look in his eyes. After deciding on a wish, you lean in and blow the eyelash off his finger and away. “Didn’t think you still believed in that.” You smile. “What did you wish for?” He inquires, shifting his upper body to face you. “It won’t come true if I tell you.”

Standing outside the restaurant, you read through the menu posted on the window. A selection of ramens, house special, curry, miso, and a bunch of ways to specialize it. You wait for Togame, skimming through the add-on toppings section until a tap on your right shoulder. You turn your head right, expecting Togame, but nothing. “You’re so easy to fool.” A voice comes in through your left ear. You shriek, “Togame! Don’t scare me like that!” He lets out a hearty laugh at your reaction. “Did I keep you waiting? Let’s go in now.” He places his hand on your lower back and guides you inside.

“Table for two please.” The waitress nods and picks up two menus and guides you to a booth. You slide in and Togame does the same, situating himself directly across from you. The restaurant was bustling, families and couples lined the seats. Bold and eccentric decorations draw your attention, plants are stacked on the wooden shelves installed into the walls. The interior design is harsh, but still somehow easy on the eyes. Fliers and banners are displaying what specials are offered at the moment. A rich odor of oil wafts through the space, the type that sticks and lingers on your clothing until it's washed. The cotton cushion underneath you makes it more comfortable. “You were looking at the menu outside. Did you decide what to get already?” Togame flips the paper back and forth. “I’m going to get the miso ramen and water.”

“That one sounds good, hmm, the gyoza and pork buns also sound good. I think I’ll get those and the house special.”

The waitress shortly comes back, “Are you ready to order?” Togame orders for you, “Alright, so the gyoza, pork buns, and house special... Those are good choices!” She glances at you for a split second, “Oh, also a miso ramen and a glass of water. Coming right up!” With that, she finally skitters off. You stretch your legs out under the table and feel that you hit something hard.

“Ouch, do you kick all the people you treat to meals?” Togame fakes a painful expression.

“You’d be the first.” You giggle at the face he is making.

It doesn’t take long for the food to come out, piping hot and candy to the eyes. You and Togame dig in. True to your word, you foot the bill, “You can treat me next time.” Next time. He felt his insides tingle at the promise of another little date with you. He walks you home again and you let it slip out that you were struggling to build the dresser you recently got. Taking that as an opportunity, Togame offers his help. “Sorry, it’s messy…I still need to get rid of those boxes.” You take your shoes off and Togame does the same. He looks around the apartment– your apartment. “It’s a nice place.”

The pieces of the dresser was all laid out on your bedroom floor, boards, knobs, screws, and the sort were out on display. “You’re so nice…always helping me.” You smile at him as he uses a drill to secure the boards together. “I feel like I owe you so much…” Muttering as you hand him a screw. “What makes you think that?” Togame tilts his head, causing his bangs to cover his emerald eyes. “Well, you’re here, building my dresser for me.” You point at the wooden board in his hands. “I guess so, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.” The corner of his lip tugs into a smirk. Togame was extremely attractive, even the girl at that restaurant thought so as well. You caught onto the way she was ogling him. His biceps flex as he stands the dresser up, you help hold the knobs in place as he screws them in. You lost count of the amount of time your body brushed against his.

Togame sits, legs out on the floor, the finished dresser laid against the wall. “Here.” You hand him a bottle of water. He thanks you and drinks it. Capping it and placing it next to him. You slide down, sitting next to him, “Um…Togame…?”

“Yeah?” He turns his head.

“Why are you so kind to me…?” You ask in a curious tone, glancing at him through the corner of your eyes.

“Take a guess.” He said with a fond look. That look made your insides fizzy, butterflies dancing around in your stomach.

Swallowing down your nerves. “Can I thank you then?”

Togame fists at your sheets till his knuckles turn white, he swears he’s about to cum only by seeing you nestled between his thighs. “You don’t have to force yourself.” A lie. He spent nights fucking himself dry imaging your hand around his cock instead. You shake your head, “No! I want to.” Your fingers unzip his pants and pull out his throbbing cock. It was large, girthy, with veins decorating it. Your nerves kick up again. Are you going to be able to take it all? Testing the waters, you lap up the precum that’s leaking out. Togame gurgles back a groan, forcing himself to not lift his hips and fuck himself in your hand. “Easy…shit–darlin’...” he hisses when you spit on his length, taking the tip into your mouth and wrapping your hand near his base.

A shaky sigh escapes him as you bob your head, “Fuck– doin’ s’well– ain’t you somethin’…” You moan around him at the praise, the vibrations made him more sensitive. “Ah– ffff– I’m gonna–” You quicken your pace, wanting him to spill himself into your mouth, you need it. Togame is so close to cumming when you look up into his eyes as you suck him off. He grabs your head and fucks himself into your throat making you gag. He curses as he bucks his hips, spilling himself in you. He’s slouched over, trying to catch his breath as you pop his cock out of your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him the mess he made before swallowing it all down. “Damn–that’s…” He leans down and kisses you, swiping his tongue on the corner of your mouth, licking up what you forgot.

You kick your legs on your bed, all flustered from what happened. The apartment is empty aside from you, Togame has work early the next morning, so he leaves after bidding you goodnight and giving you another kiss.

Mind too preoccupied with your scandalous activity with Togame, you completely forgot about the heavy rain forecasted. Finishing your test, you now stood at the front door of the campus building. Rain hails down, but with no umbrella, your only option is to make a run for it and get soaked. You groan and rub your temple, going to open the door when a familiar voice cuts in.

“Did you forget your umbrellas?” Turning right, Umemiya stood there, about to prop open his umbrella. “Let’s share one!” He smiles at you. “You’re going to get wet if you don’t scooch further in…” Umemiya pulls you closer to him by the waist. “Oh–sorry. Thank you…” You are fully aware that you’re squished up against him. The white-haired man still has his hand on you. Your place was closer, so you guys decided to head there first, seeking refuge. Finally, out of the horrid weather, you let out a sigh of relief. “The rain will let up in a few hours, would you mind if I stayed?” He asks while resting the dripping umbrella against the wall outside. “Sure! If it wasn’t for you I’d be a drenched rat by now.” You hang your coat up.

“Do you want some tea?”

“Oh, sure.” He watches you rip open the teabag packs and fill up the kettle. Situating himself on your couch he changes through the channels, stopping on a weather on. “Heavy rainfall is seen as of now and should lessen to light rain in a few hours.” The weatherwoman announces. “We’ll be seeing a lot of rain this week, so please dress appropriately. Temperatures will be in the low…” Umemiya looks back at you, taking in your form preparing him tea. He licks his lips. You set the mugs on the coffee table.

“Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.”

Picking up the cup, he smells it. A strong minty scent is emitting from the steam. He blows and sips it. The peppermint tea warms him up. Placing the mug down he sees you texting on your phone. Slyly, he sneaks a peak.

Togame[5:32] It’s raining pretty hard, can we call?

You[5:33] I’m with someone right now :(

Togame(Typing…)

Umemiya feels his chest squeeze when he reads Togame at the top. They used to be against each other in different gangs, but became friends or somewhat after reconciling. The small smile on your lips makes him furrow his brows. The thought of losing you to another guy made the tea taste bitter. He wanted you to settle in and have your mind at peace before trying to go after you, but to think someone else was already doing that— he tells himself to calm down. When he heard Hiragi tell him that you were seen with Togame he almost lost his mind. He didn’t sleep that night. But it wasn’t too late, if you were dating Togame, he would’ve found out by now.

“◻?” He gets your attention, you lower your phone. “Yeah? Do you need something, Ume? Tilting your head to the side at him. “Is there something on your mind?” He says in a soft voice. “On my mind…?” You trail off confused as to what he meant. “Yeah…” He leans in, so close that his hair is pressing against your forehead. “U-Ume…?” You gulp, “You’re really– really close.” Stammering out, looking down to avoid his piercing blue eyes. It was wrong, you shouldn’t feel so heated from your childhood friend being close to you. “Do–Do I have– a lash on me again…?” You raise your eyes to meet his, nibbling on your bottom lip. He doesn’t say anything, only bringing his thumbs up. Umemiya presses the pad of it into your bottom lip, pulling it out of your teeth. His gaze was setting you on fire, you squeezed your thighs together at the intensity.

“Give in to me.” A borderline demand and it had you obliging.

He kisses you with hunger, a hand on the back of your head to deepen it. Swiping his tongue over your lips, signaling you to let him in. You do, prying your mouth open for him. His tongue runs along yours, making you whimper. Clutching onto the fabric of his shirt, he places his hands under your shoulders to lift you onto his lap. Straddling him, you continue to kiss him. The feeling made your brain all blank, you couldn’t think of anything else, but him. It didn��t take long for it to escalate. Umemiya had you halfway off the couch as he was on his knees running his mouth all over your cunt. He’s going to devour you. “U-Ume! Hah–” You twitch when he sucks at your clit. Arching further off the couch, you cry out. “W-Wait–” Cut off when he plunges a finger into you, curling it right into your g-spot. Mouth wide open in a breathless gasp.

“You’re so impatient…you just can’t wait to get what you want, huh?” He darkly chuckles as you grind against his finger.

“Ume– more— mmm, please. More–” You can’t stand it.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He inserts another digit, pumping them in and out your sloppy walls, making you push your head back into the cushion of the couch. Umemiya returns his mouth to your clit, flicking at it. You kick your legs, mind completely numb at the pleasure he is giving you. A string of pleases fly out of you. You’ve touched yourself before and slept with a few guys, but the pressure in your lower stomach was nothing you ever felt before. “W-Wa– Wait! Ume! I’m– I’m gon–gonna pee!” You try to warn him, but he doesn’t plan on stopping, rather it spurs him on even more. He pins your hips down when you try to move away from it– from him. He peers up at you, it was too much– so much– you were going to explode. With a silent scream, the pressure snaps. You tremble and convulse as clear liquid streams out of you. Curling your toes and clawing at the couch, you sob and whimper. Umemiya rubs circles on your hips to help ease you down. “Shhh…it’s okay…You did so well for me baby.” He lifts himself up, you can see his chin glistening from your blurry eyes. Bending down, he kisses you, the taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan into him.

He cleans you up and tucks you into bed. Pressing a kiss on your forehead, “Sweet dreams.”

A week has passed, you’ve done everything in your power to avoid both men. The cost of giving into your desires. “Isn’t that just college fun?” Your friend giggles at you after hearing your story. But you don’t know what to do when Togame and Umemiya are people you care about. Clicking your pen, you tune out the lecture, all you can think about is those boys. You know they both like you, but neither of them had proposed the idea to you to be their girlfriend. Wait– even if they did, who would you choose? Togame or Umemiya? The lecture ends, you didn’t listen to anything, pulling your bag over your shoulder, you decide head home to clear your thoughts. “I was waiting for you.” Umemiya walks up to you in the hall, his face more serious than his usual demeanor. “Oh…really…?” You sheepishly smile. “I wanted to talk to you.” You freeze when you see Togame standing beyond the entrance doors, waving at you with a grin. “I– I think— I forgot something in the lecture hall!” You excuse yourself and run back the way you came from. Leaving Umemiya and Togame standing there.

“Do you love her?”

“Hmm? Furin’s old boss is talking about love? Aren’t you stealing what belongs to another man?”

“She’s not yours to talk about like that. I don’t intend on losing her…especially not to you.”

#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker smut #togame smut #jo togame x reader #umemiya smut #umemiya x reader #mino.writes

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recuira · 1 year

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after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

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chapter one | caution. chaos. coconut. his pov;

I didn't like to put a label on things; doing so made things too specific, too real. And for me, I preferred for things to seem as unspecific and false as possible.

I preferred for things to be simple. There is beauty in simplicity.

Maybe that's why I found her to be so gorgeous.

She was simple.

There was not a single thing I didn't know about her. I didn't need to go out of my own way to find out her favorite color or food - she told me (though not directly). She told them. She told everyone. She was rather open about herself while I kept everything private. I had my reasons to remain rather anonymous and to stay out of the spotlight and thrive in the shadows while she glistened in the spotlight. She was an open book.

But I still wanted to read her.

I wanted to study her.

And maybe that's why I traveled to the North Blue - to be closer to her. But I wouldn't admit that aloud. I would seem rather insane if she knew, and I wasn't insane. My mind operated differently to others. I was often classified as different and odd, especially by my peers when I was still in school. I was teased to be the quiet kid, picked on because of my nose. I was deemed to be the one most likely to commit some type of horrid act. They weren't wrong, but no one likes to be judged for how they truly are.

She didn't judge me.

Well, of course, she didn't even know me.

But she wasn't the type to judge. Which made my appeal to her even more strong and wild. I was finally able to watch her up close, months after first discovering a rare form of art like her.

The bar was packed, much to my dismay. I liked things to remain quiet despite my love for disarray. I was able to think when it was quiet. I’ve always had thousands of thoughts racing through my mind, so much so that it was difficult to pick a single train and hop on board. But when my eyes landed on her, my mind settled.

She was sitting alone in the corner of the bar, a large round booth all to herself. She had a small yet cute smile on her round face as she sipped on a beverage. Not alcohol- no, she hated alcohol, which is why I cut back on it. I wanted to be the best version of myself for her. Well, whenever I got the courage to talk to her, that is. She made me cower in fear, in anxiety. Someone so timid and fragile as her made someone like me- a pirate, a killer, a clown fall to his knees. I was a fool for her.

Lifting up my drink, I took a sip of the carbonated juice, grimacing as the alcoholic tang was nonexistent. I scoured and gave in, waving down one of the waitresses to add something to my drink. Maybe then I would be able to think straight and finally be able to talk to her. I needed something to fog my judgement and give me the balls to go talk to her- although my dick was confidence enough. God, the way she made me feel was impeccable. She made my pants tighten when she took a sip of her drink. I watched her pink lips suck on the straw as she kicked her feet and examined a newspaper on the wooden table. I squirmed in my seat and leaned back, a deep sigh leaving my lips.

Once the waitress topped off my drink, I waved her off and continued to sit by myself, admiring the maiden who sat by herself. By herself? God, I still didn’t get that. How was she alone? How was she sitting by herself in a bar as crowded as this one? She had friends, many of them. She had family, too. But why must she sit in silence and all by her lonesome?

I huffed and itched at the back of my neck, my hand dragging down to grab my chin and cover my nose. I clenched my jaw and pondered the possibility that my ego would actually allow me to stand up, walk over to her, and sit across from her. Maybe I could buy her a drink? But nevertheless, I remained glued to my seat, downing at least three glasses of whiskey. I lost track.

I lost complete track of time that whenever I finally came back to, she was standing tall, slinging her coat back over her shoulders, and starting for the door. I gulped and turned, my eyes following her. But before she could leave the bar and disappear for the night, a tall, stout man blocked her exit. I squinted my eyes.

“And where do you think ‘yer going?” The pirate smirked, his arms folding over his chest. His belly bounced as he laughed. “Going so soon?”

“Please let me by,” She instructed, trying to budge past the weighted man but to no avail, he stood still. “What is it you want?”

“To see you undressed.”

I grabbed the edge of the table, feeling my body grow hot. It wasn’t because of her, though it mostly always was. She had an effect on me. But this man, he angered me, fucking enraged me. I could feel my blood beginning to boil as he continued to harass both her and me.

“Oh, come on, what’s a sexy little lady like you got going on tonight?” The fat man hummed, reaching forward to grab hold of the leather backpack that hung over her shoulder’s. She shoved him away and backed up.

“I’ll find another exit,” She announced and turned on her heel, starting to head to the back of the bar where other patrons parted through.

“Come on!”

She walked right past me, speeding down the aisle. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet, delicate scent of her perfume and shampoo. Vanilla and coconut. Fuck me.

“I can walk you home!”

She stopped in her steps and faced the obese pirate, her arms folding over her chest. “Fuck off, you pig!” She spat, eyes rolling as she started to turn around once again but she stopped, and looked at me.

Oh my god, she looked at me.

At me.

“Baby, can we go?”

I blinked. What?

“Please?” She asked, looking at me with such desperation in her eyes that a tent started to form in my pants.

What? What was she doing? I didn’t know whether to accept or deny. Why was she doing this? Was she delusional? Stupid? Hallucinogenic?

“I know you wanted to have a bit more to drink but I feel much safer walking back with you. You can come back after,” She smiled softly and stepped toward me, her soft hand resting on my shoulder. She then leaned down, inching closer to me. Her lips grazed my ear, hot breath making my skin redden. “Please go along with it,” She pleaded.

“Ah, so you have a mate, huh?” The stout pirate laughed, taking a few hard steps towards the two of us. “That’s okay with me.”

Her soft eyes darted from me to the pirate and then back to me. She looked so enchanting when in distress.

“Hey.” I grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. “Yes, of course, darlin’. Come on.” I moved her arm and she backed up, standing straight. I dug through my pocket and tossed as much spare change I had onto the table then scooted up. My hand grabbed hers tightly, not wanting to let go. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with confusion but I just led her down the aisle, my free hand wrapping around her shoulder. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. It slipped my mind whether I told you or not.”

“Oh, uh…” She looked down, her face growing as red as the nose on my face. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” I whispered and as we approached the door, the pirate seemed to be cowering in fear as he finally recognized who had the honor of taking this lovely maiden home. And it was me.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I—“

“Step aside,” I growled.

“Yes, s-sir, I’m sorry. Of course!” He was about to piss himself.

I faked a smile and as soon as he moved, I pushed the door open and allowed her and I to walk down the narrow wooden staircase and back onto the dock. To my disappointment, she pulled from my grip and grabbed the straps of her backpack, letting out a deep sigh as she folded over. “Jesus,” She whispered.

“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step to approach her.

My hand rested on the small of her back and I smiled softly though the red paint extended it from cheek to cheek.

“Thank you for doing that.”

“Oh, uh?” My eyes furrowed. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re not gonna try to get in my pants, right?”

“N-No! No, no. No.” I lied with a reassuring smile.

“Okay, good,” She grinned. “Guys are so weird. I swear the ugly ones are the ones that are most obsessed with me. I attract the weird ones.”

I clenched my jaw. Ouch.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. You—“

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coats and I dragged my foot. “Are you gonna be okay?” I tried my best to act uninterested in her but my body was bouncing and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself onto her. She was divine when she was distressed.

“What’s your name?”

“Uhm,” I swallowed. “Buggy.”

“Oh, that’s new. I’ve never heard of that name before. Is it a stage name? To match your makeup?”

“Makeup?”

“You look like a clown. Is that your real nose?”

“Nose?” I grimaced and nodded my head. “Yes. Yes, it is real. Any other questions?”

“No, I’m sorry,” She smiled and let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you again, honestly.”

“You need to start watching out for yourself. If I wasn’t there, you’d have been his next plaything,” I gagged at the thought.

“Why were you there?”

“Huh?”

“You look like a pirate. So what made you sit by yourself in a bar? Where’s your crew?”

All these questions. I smiled. I loved her curiosity.

“I was a pirate. Uh, taking a bit of a break.”

“What for?”

So I can follow you around and learn every single little thing there is to know about a beautiful goddess such as yourself. “Personal reasons,” I lied. I dipped my head down and traced my foot along the wooden planks, chewing on my inner cheek. “What’s your name?”

I knew it, I just wanted to hear her say it.

“It’s Y/N. I know, it’s not nearly as cool as yours.”

I laughed aloud, bursting into a fit of cackles and giggles. “What? You’re insane. Thanks for the flattery but try to find a souvenir keychain with a name like mine.” I wiped a fake tear.

The dimming sun finally disappeared past the ocean’s horizon, leaving Y/N and I surrounded by dimly lit lanterns and the settling sea crashing waves against the old dock. I stood still while she seemed to be trembling. It was rather cold. “Uh,” I started to slip my jacket off. “Do you need it?”

“No, no, I’m good. Thank you, though. I’m gonna start heading back now,” She announced as she looked over her shoulder, squinting. “It’s getting really late.”

“Yeah, uh, it is.”

“Well, Buggy, it was nice meeting you. I’d give you a hug but no offense, you reek of beer,” Y/N smiled.

“It’s whiskey,” I remarked.

“It’s all the same to me.” I know it is.

“Do you need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’m good. We’re still strangers and I don’t feel safe with someone I’m unfamiliar with knowing my address. No offense, though.” She said ‘no offense’ a lot. And I already knew her address. I even had access to the spare key she often left underneath a clothed doormat. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She nodded and smiled, showing her gorgeous teeth. Her cheeks were pink, dusted by the cool air. Her hair wafted off her shoulders as the breeze picked up. Her aroma caught my attention once again.

“Can you turn around? I don’t want you seeing where I’m going.”

She’s adorable.

“Yeah, alright.”

And so I did. I turned around, making her feel a bit more at ease. I swallowed, staring straight into the endless ocean ahead of me, listening to the sounds of her soft footsteps slowly disappear.

When I turned around, she was gone.

And so was the sweet smell of vanilla and coconut.

#buggy x reader #buggy smut #op buggy #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #one piece #one piece live action #x reader #captain buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy the flashy fool #buggy

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testrella · 3 months

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CRAZY RICH ASIANS..! G. SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER FOUR : tutoring.

NEXT… CHAPTER FIVE : accidental kiss.

you sat at the grand dining table, chandelier dimming the area hanged above you and textbooks of different curriculum surrounded you. you were diligently working through difficult math questions with megumi, breaking down each problem step by step. the room filled with flashy decor and high ceilings only further echoed your explanations.

“alright megumi, for this one i want you to do it on your own. if you get stuck, look back at the previous problems we worked on.” you said in a patient and encouraging voice.

just as megumi was about to start to solve the problem before him, the one and only satoru burst through the custom wooden doors with a mischievous grin on his face. “good evening miss.l/n, megumi. how’s the tutoring session going?”

megumi sighed, clearly in annoyance and frustration. “it was going well until now.”

you warmly smiled at satoru. “it’s going well mr.gojo. megumi doesn’t seem to be having any trouble with his studies at all.”

satoru leaned casually on the back of a dinning chair, his eyes twinkling in excitement. “please, call me satoru. there’s no need for you to be so formal.” he then glances at the textbooks, “math, huh? i always found it interesting how numbers can just..add up. almost like how we keep running into each other.”

you chuckled at his light joke, “it’s quite the coincidence, isn’t it?” you asked while turning to megumi, giving him your full attention.

megumi could only roll his eyes and mutter, “more like the world’s way of conspiring against me..”

satoru quickly ignored megumi’s comment and continued, “so, miss.l/n, do you enjoy teaching? you must be very passionate about it if you’re able to put up with this brat.” satoru playfully ruffles megumi’s hair but his hand was quickly slapped away.

“teaching definitely wasn’t my first nor second choice but i’ve grown to love it.” you replied, “seeing bright students like megumi and being able to push them to be the greatest is rewarding.”

satoru’s goofy grin only widen. “you know, you have a way of talking that’s just so captivating. your students are lucky to hear you speak everyday.”

a light blush spreads across your face, from your ears to the tip of your nose. “thank you satoru, that’s very kind of you to say.” som would find it odd calling him by his first name but it came out so casually it made his heart flutter.

megumi groaned in annoyance, loud enough to snap the eye contact between you and his guardian. “can we please get back to the math problem?” he clearly has grown uncomfortable with the tension in the room.

but satoru couldn’t let some lousy kid ruin his shot, he was just on a roll! “of course, of course i’ll let you go after one more question.” he said while glancing back at megumi and then setting his eyes on you once again. “what do you do in your free time when you’re not inspiring the kids of our future? maybe we could find some common interest.”

before you could answer, the heavy double doors of the dinning room swing open once again. it was satoru’s mother, an intimidating figure with a very stern expression. her eyes quickly examined the scene before her, narrowing her eyes on you.

“satoru, what is this?” she demanded. “who and why is this woman tutoring megumi?”

satoru quickly shifted his demeanor. going from a playful, flirtatious puppy to a presentable young man. “mother, this is miss.y/n l/n. she’s megumi’s teacher and tutor. an excellent tutor i should add.”

his mother’s lips thinned as she continued to examine what seemed to be every feature of yours. her lips soon turned into a disapprovement line. “i was not aware we were seeking…employment from the outside world. especially from someone who looks..well inexperience.”

your face flushed in embarrassment, feeling like you entered uncharted territory. but you stood up and bowed out of respect, maintaining your composure. “mrs.gojo, i can assure you that i am very much qualified to tutor megumi. i’ve studied in-“

“qualifications on paper mean little. experience and dynasty is what matters when it comes to our family. megumi is like a grandson to me, and he deserves only the best our family can provide. surely my son didn’t cheap out on you, did he megumi?” her icy gaze turned into a warming, innocent expression as she turned to megumi.

“mother, that’s enough. miss.l/n is more than qualified to tutor megumi. after all, she’s the reason he hasn’t been expelled from his academy.” satoru said as he stepped forward in your defense.

but being the stubborn woman she was, she wasn’t going to let it down without a fight. “satoru, i will not let our family’s name be tarnished from subpar tutoring. you could’ve asked me to arrange a private tutor for him. this is unacceptable.” she whispered to him, quiet enough to keep megumi out of it but loud enough to bring you down.

being clearly hurt, you began to gather all your things. “i completely understand, mrs.gojo. i apologize for the inconvenience and if i caused any offense.”

satoru’s eyes flashed with saddens as he turned around to see you leave. “miss.l/n, please, you don’t need to leave. you’re more than capable of educating megumi. please, have a seat.” he said while pulling your chair out.

his mother’s gazed shifted to satoru, her expression hardening. “satoru, you may be the head of this family but i still have a say in what’s best for this family.”

tears began to form in your eyes, was your presence truly a burden to the family?

satoru took a deep breathe, desperately trying to remain calm in front of you. had it been any other person, he would’ve listened to his mother in a heartbeat. “miss.l/n, i’m very sorry for my mothers behavior. your help is appreciated, and i know how much your deeply care for megumi. please, continuing tutoring him if you’re willing to.”

you hesitated to answer, your eyes flickering between satoru and his mother. “i appreciate your efforts but i don’t want to cause any more trouble.” you whispered.

“you’re not causing any trouble,” satoru said while gently grabbing your items and placing them down on the table. “my mother is. this is my home and you’re more than welcomed to stay.”

with his persistence, you felt comfortable to sit back down in your seat. you nodded in agreement to stay, avoiding his mother’s sharpening glare.

he turns to his mother, “we can continue this conversation in my office, away from megumi and my guest.” he spat out.

his mother eyes only blazed with anger as she stomped out the room. as her heels clacking slowly faded away you let go a breath you were unaware you were holding in.

“i’m really sorry about that. she’s..a difficult person, to say the least. it’s her away or the highway type of person.” he smiled apologetically.

you attempted to reciprocate the same smile but you were still a bit shaken up by the interaction. “it’s okay satoru, i’m glad you stuck up for me.”

megumi let out a sigh of relief, “so, does that mean you’ll continue to be my teacher and my tutor?”

you could only chuckle as his concern comment unintentionally lightened the mood. “of course i will, megumi! now let’s get back to that math problem.”

satoru took a deep breath as he approached his home office. he knew what- or who awaited him before the wooden doors. he braced himself for the confrontation. the heavy doors creaked, revealing his mother sitting in his high black leather chair, her posture being straighter than paper.

“mother,” satoru greeted but not in his chirpy tone like he would use with you or megumi. it was natural with not emotion behind it.

“satoru,” she replied, it was more viscous and icy. “we need to talk.”

he closed the doors behind him and walked over to his desk, leaning against it while placing both hands on it. his demeanor is in all seriousness, a rare sight to see. “i already know what you’re going to say, and i’m telling you right now- miss.l/n stays.”

her eyes narrowed, “is her qualifications that impressive, or is there something more to your interest in her?”

satoru immediately backs off the desk and avoids her gaze. “miss.l/n is an excellent teacher. like i said before, she vouched for megumi when he was near expulsion. she cares for his education and future, there’s nothing more to it,” he expressed.

his mother stood up from his chair and clasped her hands. “very well, i’ll drop the matter for now. but there’s another issue we must discuss- your status as a single man.”

satoru’s brows furrowed in confusion. “what about it?”

“you are the head of the gojo family,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “it’s time you start fulfilling your responsibilities as the leader. you need to find a suitable spouse and provide a worthy successor.”

he sighed, running his hands through his white hair. “well i’m aware of my responsibilities, mother. but i don’t see why we need to rush any of this.”

“because you’re nearing thirty, and it’s past time you start settling down. if you don’t find a worthy partner before your cousin’s wedding, i’ll take matters into my own hands and find one for you.”

satoru’s stomach turned into knots knowing his cousin’s wedding was less than a year away. his jaw clenched before he spoke up, “by a ‘worthy partner’ you mean somebody who fits your exact standards?”

“precisely!” she said while giving him a small peck on his cheek. “someone who comes from a prestigious and noble background, with proper upbringing and connections that could further benefit our clan.”

satoru exhaled sharply before speaking his mind. “and what if i want to marry somebody who doesn’t fit the standard? what if i want to chose for myself?”

his mother laughs. she laughs in front of his face for asking such a silly question. it takes her a good minute before she calms herself down. “your personal desires are to be put aside. you will do what’s best for the family.”

he could only stare at his mother. “and what if what’s best for the family doesn’t come from a prestigious background? what if it’s someone genuine and cares about me?”

her voice was steely. “then she’ll spend everyday to make herself into something she’s not. go ahead and bring some commoner into this family.”

the tension was thick. satoru felt his mother’s words pierced through his chest and mentally suffocated. it hurt because she was right, she was always right.

“you may think you have a choice,” she whispered, “but remember your decisions affect more than yourself.��

she quietly excuses herself out the office, leaving him in a mental battle of doubt. the weight of his family’s expectations were catching up to him and started to drag him down to the depths of hell. he sat down as he ran his hands through his hair. it would mean nothing to bring a regular girl into his clan other than to prove his point. but he couldn’t help to think about you and the rare moments of genuine connection he felt around you. his breathing slowed down and his nervous fidgeting stopped. maybe, just maybe, there was a way he could follow a path that’ll satisfy both him and his clan.

series masterlist | my masterlist

tag list is open. please inbox me your username. also, i’d like to apologize for such a late and short chapter. testifying in court takes longer than you think ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭

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captainuranium543 · 4 days

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Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #mirajane strauss #laxus dreyar #jellal fernandes #levy mcgarden #gajeel redfox #erza scarlet #wendy marvell #freed justine #erik/cobra #laki olietta

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reedifymodular · 1 year

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Wooden Study Table manufacturer for kids in Dadri | Reedify

#study table manufacturer in Dadri #study table for kids in Dadri #study table for students in Dadri #foldable study table in Dadri #wooden study table in Dadri

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lovebugism · 11 months

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shy reader you say???

i’m obsessed with eddie and shy reader 🥹🥹maybe like her being afraid to present during class and him pumping her up and mouthing words of encouragement during a presentation at school😭😭sounds stupid but i’d love this

this is a wee bit different but i hope you like it anon :D — eddie helps calm your nerves before a presentation (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, tw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Study hall turns into an impromptu panicking session.

You break down on the rotted park bench outside the football field, surrounded by textbooks and falling leaves. The only thing keeping you halfway tethered to reality is the crisp autumn air filling your burning lungs. Everything smells like rain and very distinctly of Eddie.

He’d been a good enough sport to help you prepare for your history presentation, but he certainly hadn’t signed up to coax you through a nervous breakdown because of it.

Your boy’s a good enough sport even now, though, sitting beside you at the creaking wooden table — chin on the crown of your head, ringed hand over your heart.

You tend to dig at your chest whenever your anxiety attacks get real bad. You’re not sure why. Maybe to soothe your palpitating heart or to pull it out entirely.

“What were you trying to do, babe?” Eddie laughed into your hair as you came down from your panic, lightening the grey mood and smoothing a warm palm over your tight chest. “Pull your damn heart out?”

You can breathe halfway normally now. The hurt in your chest has lessened to a very distant one. Now you’re just left with the post-panic shame. You feel like a little kid again, making monsters out of the clothes on your desk chair.

“I don’t know why I got so scared,” you confess, as quiet as the autumn breeze, rubbing your cheek against the soft lapel of Eddie’s leather jacket. “It’s not even that big a deal.”

The boy shrugs, jostling you accidentally. “Well, your brain thinks it’s a big deal. And your brain’s just telling your body that it needs to protect you.”

You don’t know much about your own anxiety and maybe that’s a fault in itself. It’s not the sort of thing you wanna poke with a stick, lest you wake something up that should’ve stayed sleeping. You just ignore it as best you can — let it fester until it explodes into moments like these.

Normally, Eddie isn’t around for them but you’re grateful he is now. ‘Cause he loves you and because he cares enough to learn all the things about you that you don’t even want to know about yourself.

He didn’t know much about anxiety before you. He just knew that his mom had it when he was real little, and that social anxiety is scared of him and not the other way around. But then he fell in love with you and learned everything he could if it meant he could treat you better.

Now, it’s practically in his nature to be as gentle with the rest of the world as he is with you — which is totally not one brand for him.

“But you don’t need protecting, right? ‘Cause you’re safe.”

You nod wordlessly.

Your throat tightens again like you might cry, but it’s not because you’re scared. It’s because you love him so damn much you think you could explode. He fills your chest with sunshine, banishing the swirling shadows completely.

You could probably light up a whole galaxy with how happy he makes you feel.

How adored.

How safe.

“And it’s okay to be scared about this stuff, you know?” Eddie continues when you stay silent. His chin grazes your hair when he pulls back to look at you. “Everyone’s scared of something. Like Steve— I’m pretty sure he’s, like, deathly afraid of quicksand.”

He keeps his arm around your back when you lean away from him, keeping you warm when the crisp breeze brushes between you. You sniffle and blink at him with wide, wet eyes. A hint of a smile quirks the edge of your bitten mouth.

“Quicksand?” you repeat incredulously.

Eddie grins back at you, happy to see you smiling again. It’s pink and lopsided and terribly unkissed. “Yeah,” he affirms through a sputtered laugh. “And I’m pretty sure quicksand isn’t even real, so— at least you’re afraid of something that actually exists.”

Your own giggle tumbles suddenly from your mouth. Both because quicksand is obviously real and because Steve is one of the bravest guys you know.

As usual, Eddie’s totally oblivious to how much of a dumbass he is, but he beams anyway. He’s just happy to be a distraction for you when the rest of the world gets too much — a life vest when you’re drowning.

Your smile ebbs into a quieter one. Your glassy gaze flits to the clammy hands you wring feverishly in your lap. “I just… I know it’s dumb and everything, but— speaking in front of everyone like that— it makes me feel… I don’t know. It makes me feel way more scared than a person should ever be, like… ever.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s scary. But you can handle it,” Eddie shrugs with all his practiced nonchalance. The absentminded confidence he has — that he has in you — makes you feel all warm. “You’re the smartest person I know, and you know this shit like the back of your hand.”

He waves a pale hand to the cluttered picnic table you sit in front of. Flashcards, clumsily written notes, and open textbooks scatter the top of it.

You know all of it forwards and backwards now — so well you could probably do the presentation in your sleep. If only you weren’t so dreadfully frightened of opening your mouth in front of people you don’t know.

Eddie gives you a warm, reassuring squeeze on your arm with one hand. He smoothes a rouge wisp of hair from your forehead with the other. He could see you getting distant again. It’s important to keep you grounded when you get like that — he read that in a magazine once.

“And by the end of the day, it’ll just be you and me and an empty trailer, and you will have much better things to worry about than this,” he continues. A mischievous smirk blossoms on his rosy lips. His chocolate eyes sparkle with it, too. “I’ll have you so damn distracted, you won’t even think about this stupid presentation again.”

You meet his boyish grin with a challenging squint. Smiling despite yourself, you knock your shoulder into his side at his teasing.

The sentiment is still there, though. Presentations are stupid and fleeting. Eddie’s here and forever.

“Yeah,” you murmur under your breath. “I guess you’re right.”

He scoffs. “Of course I am.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare that he meets with a more sincere beam.

“You’re gonna be the bravest scared person the world’s ever seen,” Eddie tells you, more serious now.

He isn’t telling you not to be scared or distracting you from the fact that you are. He’s affirming your fear, reminding you that you can be brave in the face of it.

“And you’re gonna show every single one of those losers what a super genius looks like.”

You roll your eyes at that last bit, pretending you’re not as comforted by his presence or the words he says partly in jest as you really are.

Because he’s right. It’s not about forcing yourself not to be scared. It’s about being scared and doing the shit anyway — being brave and giving a stupid presentation even if your voice trembles and your hands shake.

And god, nothing makes you feel braver than Eddie.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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rinrinx2 · 7 months

Text

My Brothers Wife

Sewe

Ran x (Y/N) x Rindou

Summary: A change of tides is on its way

Warnings: Mentions of S@, mentions of @bortion, language, mature content, kinda smut, angsty.

My brothers wife Masterlist

You looked the young lady up and down, her skin pale, her eye bags dark as if she hadn’t slept in months. And worst of all was the physique as you caught small glimpses of it as her heavy brown coat would move around making it able for you to see the bloating of her abdomen and the swelling of her ankles.

“So, you’re the woman my husbands been fucking?” You asked rhetorically, without much care to how you spoke to her.

“Yes” she said with her head hung low.

“And why are you by my house door, begging to see me?” You questioned on.

“Well, this isn’t your house door this is Haitani Ran’s”

“Congratulation detective you’ve cracked the case. But I’m sure you know exactly how my house looks by now. Tell me how many times has Rindou brought you over there”

You watched as her faced turned in distaste as you spoke, you didn’t care if your words held venom to them.

You felt hurt and betrayed and when things finally started to feel hopefully you see the brunt of your husbands actions standing at your door step.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you” she spoke on looking you in the eyes.

“Then why are you here?”

The brunette took a deep breath, as if calming herself before she spoke on.

“I came here to ask for help” she said as she let go of all the oxygen in her lungs.

“Help with what?” You said now with a raised eyebrow.

“Help with the baby. This is Rindou’s” she said as she moved her coat open to display a semi round belly as a smile began crept onto her face.

The little restraint your held had snapped and Ran could sense it to all the way from his study, as he heard your chair scrape against the wooden floors.

“You asking me to help with your baby?!” You said now standing to your full height, as she remained seated at the opposite end of the table.

“Yes, you know we could work out something. Like help pay for medical bills and you know baby supplies. This whole secretary gig doesn’t pay the best”

“I mean that makes sense” you said with that fake laugh that lulled others into a false sense of security.

The young lady began to laugh with actually believing that you agreed with her.

“You’ve got some fucken nerve. You seek me out to ask for help because you got knocked up by my husband, so instead of trying to muster up an apology you go ahead and have the audacity to ask me to pay the bills of your kid”

You looked at the brunette starring daggers into her just as she did the same to you, now having a starring contest as anger shoot from each of your gazes.

“Get the fuck out of my house” you commanded.

“Like I said earlier this isn’t your house” she said now standing up herself, as she kept eye contact with you.

“Get the fuck out” you heard Ran say from behind you causing you to let go of your eyes on her.

“Make me. I’m not leaving here till use tell me where Rindou is” she said now changing the reason as to why she was invading your comfort of your home.

Without another breath wasted on her, you heard the clicking of Ran’s gun as he unholstered it from its casing. The loaded barrel pointing straight in her direction.

“You’d shoot a pregnant woman” she said in disbelief.

“I’ve done worst” Ran replied nonchalantly as he played with the trigger.

“Tell me where Rindou is” she continued on as she stamped her feet into the wooden floor, the wood letting out an aching noise.

“It’s not my fault my brother fucked you and discarded you. You should’ve taken his advice when it came to you getting pregnant.”

“Oh, and also scuff my floor again and you’ll end up laying dead on it” Ran added.

You watched as she turned around in defeat as she stormed to the door, her hand at the door knob as she turned it. So close to leaving until she tried to twist it and was unable to, and then suddenly the door flung open showing none other than Rindou.

“(Y/N) please talk to me about this” he said as he looked only at you not even noting the woman he’d been fucking or his brother aiming a gun at him.

“Perfect timing Rin, you can take your woman and both fuck off out of my house” Ran said with a smile as he moved to stand beside you.

You don’t remember how long Rindou stood in the door way begging to get a word out of you or how long that young lady nagged on Rindou’s arm for him to spare her a glance, you could only recall Ran letting a bullet whizz pass the two of them missing them by a millimetre. A good enough warning to get the two of them to finally leave.

“You think you’re going to have a peaceful day then that shit happens” Ran said as he laid draped over your lower half just below your bump as you played with the tuffles of his hair.

You remained silent not commenting on Ran remark, rather keeping attention on anything other than the situation you were in.

And you let that silent build up until finally it snapped within and all your worries frame bubbling out like ocean foam on the shore.

“Ran, I feel like this is all my fault” you said as you stop playing with his hair.

Ran lifted his head from your lap as you tried to look you in your eyes as your head hung low.

“It’s not (Y/N)” he said softly as he tried to reach out for you, but you pulled away from his touch.

“I just feel like none of this would’ve happened if i just didn’t start sleeping with you, I’m like a slut I just can’t help myself when it comes to you” you said holding back tears.

“It’s just the effect I have on women” Ran said with a snicker trying to lighten the mood but it was when he heard your sniffles and saw the reflection of your tears in the light did he realise the severity of the situation.

“Come in don’t cry, it’s not your fault really. I played a part in this two and when we started seeing each other Rindou was already 3 months in deep with that secretary”

Ran said trying to comfort you but did little of the way of helping as you continued to sulk, now with your hands covering your eyes as you sobbed harder.

Your cries echoed throughout the room for what felt like forever and your mind plagued you with thoughts of guilt.

“You know I started seeing because I always loved you” Ran said quietly, more to himself than anyone as he now kept his gaze lowered.

“And I know you might think that I’m just saying that because of what’s happening but I mean it. I remember when Rindou and I went to that club and we saw you. I was going to go up to you but I saw the excitement in Rindou’s eyes and let him go after you. I thought nothing much would come of it and then I’d get to speak to you afterwards but I was wrong. You looked at him the way I wished someone would look at me and you laughed at all his horrible jokes and when things got serious between the two of you I would hope something horrible would happen so you’d call the wedding off, but nothing ever did. And on your wedding day when I saw you I nearly cried tears of joy because for a minute it almost felt like you were walking down the aisle to spend the rest of your life with me. So, when I heard about how Rindou was having an affair and how it was affecting your marriage and he was neglecting you it was like my luck had finally changed and I did my best to show that I cared even if I did it the wrong way….

…and I’m sorry it ended up like this, I should’ve just told you what he was doing instead of getting tangled up in this. So, if you’re going to blame someone blame me. I love you to much to have you feel the guilt of this all”

You eyes still wet from your freshly fallen tears as you heard Ran quietly speak as he remained unaware that you listened so attentively.

Ran finally looked up, seeing you sit puffy lips and red rimmed eyes that held so much admiration and love towards him.

For a moment neither of you said a word just the two of you slowly approaching each other until you felt your lips softly collide.

Taking in each other’s breath, feeling as his tongue swirled around yours.

His hands travelling along your sides, gently squeezing them as they moved venturing across your body.

His hands dipping in between your thighs as two fingers pressed against your clothed cunt as his other hand played with your ever hardening nipples.

His fingers finally moving your panties to the side as he began to play at the outside of your pussy, teasing your clit but never fully sinking in until you began to whine out in need.

“Ran please” you begged out.

But all Ran did was let out a chuckle as he bit you lip playfully as he pulled his fingers away.

“You’re gonna have to wait if you want more”

You looked over at Ran as you gave him a stare that could kill, while he licked at his fingers shooting you a smirk.

“You know we can just elope” Ran said licking the last of your remnants off of his fingers.

“Real funny Ran” you commented back at what you presumed was a snarky remark.

“I’m being serious. Rindou is on your case and I doubt that but job of a secretary is going to be any better. So, why not, just you, me and Ran junior over there”

“How about Hong Kong.Mikey has a sister headquarters up there, I could ask to supervise there I mean I heard they kinda doing shit so instead of Mikey being situated there for awhile I can” Ran said with all his attention on you now.

“What ya say, gorgeous?”

“If you make me cum then it’s a yes” you said teasingly.

“So, then it’s a yes” Ran said as he now moved back onto your body.

Rindou walked into headquarters with full skin and new worry lines that a man of his age should not have dawned. He knew what he did was reckless and careless but he was trying his best to make amends.

And his thoughts of trying to fix things felt like porcelain falling onto the floor when he heard the voice of the woman who he dreaded.

“Rindou” she called out from the front desk trying to get his attention before he could make it to the elevator.

“Rin!” She called out louder this time.

“Rinnie!”

The name calling finally irritating Rindou enough to get his attention, as he now stormed towards her.

“I told you not to call me that” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry it’s just I haven’t seen you since that day at your brothers house”

“And you weren’t suppose to see me since 5 months ago when I paid you off enough for you to live a new life” Rindou said in an irritated tone.

“I’m pregnant Rindou, you can’t just neglect that fact” she said with the same venom back towards him.

“Well Suki, you weren’t suppose to be now because we had an agreement”

“Oh that would make your life so much easier just to get rid of that wouldn’t it” Suki said with a scowl.

“Yes it would. God, you fuck me when I’m shit blown out of my mind which sounds like a fucking criminal offence because it is and now you knocked up and won’t stop harassing me”

“Well would you look at that, the gangster caring about the law how ironic” Suki said with a grin

“And let’s not forget to mention the fact that you are the one who neglected your wife enough for her to go find comfort by your brother, so you really are the one at fault.”

“Fuck you” Rindou said as he turned on his heels.

“You wish you could” Suki said with a laugh.

She watched as Rindou walked towards the elevator not even sparring her a departing glance. She hated how he hated her, she hated the fact that she was regret and mistake in his eyes.

When Suki got this job as a secretary a year ago she didn’t know that’s when she would see the man of her dreams, with his lilac mullet and charming gaze.

And when the time came when he was tripping his was over to her desk, barely able to hold himself up she knew that she had to take the opportunity. She had to somehow get into his pants, and when she did she took full advantage of it never once letting up from his dick as she let him cum in her over and over.

She loved Rindou and when she found out he had a wife she knew she’d love him more than you ever could. She knew everything about him, how he liked his coffee to how he liked to get his dick wet. And when she heard from a passing by Ran who was talking to Kakucho how he’d been neglecting you for his duties at Bonten she knew it be a waiting game till she was the new Mrs. Haitani.

Rindou let out a sigh as he sat at his desk. His hands combing through his hair as he thought of the mess he was in. He couldn’t stand the time he was away from you, the house felt so soulless without you in it, no warmth from your love to keep it vibrant and he knew the way the situation looked just made you hate him more.

He couldn’t change the way you saw the situation with him being the villain because you saw him as some guy who was fucking the secretary and that’s why you neglected him, he wish he could show you that it wasn’t like that. All Rindou wished was that he’d be able to tell you was that he didn’t fuck his secretary on purpose she would come onto him when he was high off of whatever drug in some stupor unable to comprehend anything when she’d come after him. He would never fuck another woman, but how could he tell you that because you’d be upset at the fact that he was doing activities you told him to stop as well as still telling him that it takes two to tango.

Every way he looked at the situation he always came out with him being the villain and he hated himself for it.

Rindou let out a sigh as he threw his head on the desk. So distraught he hadn’t heard Kakucho enter his office.

“What’s gotten you like that” the younger male asked.

“My life is in the shit” Rindou replied not even lifting his head up.

“Yeah guess that’s been the buzz of the office, but don’t let it defeat you. Takeomi was in a similar predicament but him and his wife are stronger than ever now”

“Takeomi got taken advantage of by one of our secretaries, who got herself knocked up on your semen. While simultaneously neglecting his wife because he was so stressed with work that his own brother noticed and started giving his wife attention that cause the two to fall in love and have an affair that now had his wife pregnant” Rindou said as he had raised his head from the desk.

“I mean something along those lines but probably not the same details” Kakucho said with a nervous smile as he scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks for the support Kakucho” Rindou said as he dropped his head back onto his desk.

“Don’t mention it” Kakucho replied with a gleeful smile unable to read the severity of Rindou’s situation.

“Well anyway, Mikey called you into his office”

Rindou heard as Kakucho left his office as he began to pick himself up from his desk.

Rindou walked through the corridors till he reached Mikey’s office with its large glass windows that allowed you to look into his office.

Large enough to give him the full sight of his brother talking to Mikey.

Rindou walked into his office not caring that Mikey and Ran were still talking.

“You called” Rindou said sluggishly, as he looked at him and Ran who were still talking.

“So it’s settled you’ll be going to Hong Kong then” Mikey said finishing up talking to Ran.

Rindou sat down in a chair watching Ran left without sparing his older brother a glance.

“So Ran’s finally leaving” Rindou said with a snicker.

“Matter of fact he is” Mikey replied which caused Rindou’s attention to be fully on Mikey now.

Rindou’s heart began to beat faster at the idea of his brother finally leaving Tokyo, it was as if his prays were being answered and he’d finally be able to get you back with his brother’s absence.

“That’s why I called you in here today. I need you to take over Ran’s responsibilities in Roppongi as well as few other areas since he’ll be moving to Hong Kong”

A smile began to spread on Rindou’s face at the news of his brother leaving. For the first time in a long time things were finally looking up for him.

“Will do” Rindou said trying to hold his composure.

“Yeah and please don’t fuck the areas in giving you any further than they are, ever since Ran’s been busy with (Y/N) his been disregarding some of his work”

“Don’t worry I won’t” Rindou said with a smirk full of hope.

“Yeah let’s hope Ran doesn’t do the same with since she’s going with to Hong Kong”

And the minute Rindou heard Mikeys words his smile fell.

“What do you mean she’s going with” Rindou questioned, already knowing the answer.

“(Y/N) is going with Ran to Hong Kong”

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