lonelyisamyw-0love

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

This....is SO fucking good.

I am eating this shit up

Daily Bite, Part 2: By Daylight

Part One

Summary: Part 2 of my vampire!Moon Boys au. In which you learn the basic rules of the house and get a tour. Though you notice a few weird things in an already weird mansion.

Warnings: Not much other than the implication of someone dying and leaving a mess, but no blood or death is actually seen or mentioned in the story. Gender-neutral reader. There is mention of gendered clothing but the scene is left open so that you can choose if you want fem of masc/neutral clothing.  

Author’s Snip: I LIVE!!! Sorry for not actually posting any big posts in forever, ran out of juice and needed to just relax and let it come back to me. Not sure if I'm BACK quite yet but maybe it will. So I hope you guys enjoy this as my comeback and finally feed you all after going into hibernation.

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

Word Count: 2k~

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sergeant102105

If you would like to join the tag list for this series or for Moon Knight content in general please let me know through my inbox.

The next day, the head maid was waiting for you to finish breakfast to give you the mansion tour. She formally introduced herself now, though she was still very uptight with you. My name is Calpurnia, "But I will be Ms. Henderson to you—and Ms. Henderson only," she told you. You just nodded and she goes off with the tour, leaving it up to you to keep up with her, both in walking and knowledge.

It was all rapid-fire, but you managed to get the gist.

All the windows are to remain with their curtains shut during the day because the wallpaper is allegedly authentic and the same that the mansion was originally built with, and the sun will bleach them of their color. The only exception is during overcast and rainy days if they have to be drawn for whatever reason.

Not many rooms are in use, like the grand dining hall, social room, guest rooms, and other such rooms. But they still have to be maintained and cleaned to avoid the chance of mold or major dust build-up.

The main kitchen, the one designated to the owners and residents, is, however, in operation, but housekeeping staff is not allowed in there.

"The staff in charge of there can clean up for themselves, but they might ask for your supplies if they're short on their own." Ms. Henderson explains.

You are allowed to clean and tend rooms with the owners in them, but you can't bother them. They do occasionally have conversations and socialize with the staff, but it's best to let them approach you first rather than approaching them.

Ms. Henderson was kind enough to give you a brief summary of who was likely to socialize, saying, "Mr. Lockley likes having company and socializes with staff the most if you're set to take care of the den room for one of your tasks. Mr. Grant's a bit of an awkward and timid man when you first meet him, but he gets chatty once he's familiar with you. Both he and Mr. Lockley like to walk about the mansion, but he's mostly holed up in the library. And then there's Mr. Spector, who sticks to his office most of the time, and he's not one for talking.". It seemed a bit more like an info dump than a 'brief summary' like she framed it to be, but with what you're here to do, it was vital.

After that, it was more rules and touring around.

The housekeeping staff works in assigned tasks around a general area, i.e., when there are tasks to be done in a certain location of the mansion, members of the staff are randomly assigned to that area, and those tasks. Depending on how big that task is, you might be put into a little group who were also assigned to the same task, and you all work together. But more commonly, you'd work a task along with others nearby in case you need anything. You can also trade tasks with other people designated to that area if you wish, but you have to run it by her first.

No going into the attic without permission. If you need something from the attic, then you ask for the key, get whatever it is that's needed, leave, and re-lock the attic door.

You asked why the attic was so off-limits, and all Ms. Henderson said was, "Too many snoopers and slack-offs going up there." and carried on.

There were a lot of other rules, but those were the main ones, it seemed. The only minor rule that you remembered was when you stumbled upon a cat walking around the halls at some point during the tour. It was a pretty-looking black cat that stopped as it trotted past the two of you to give you a sniff.

"There's a cat here?" you ask as you extend your hand to give them more to check out. Ms. Henderson sighed, "We've always kept a cat here." she explained. "They're meant to be mousers, but we hardly get any, so all they do is sit around, get their fur everywhere, and scratch up the carpet and sofa legs." Ms. Henderson sneers slightly before shrugging, claiming, "But Mr. Lockley and Mr. Grant are fond of them. So she's here.".

"This one's name is Lucy," she says. "You can pet her if you like but she's on a strict feeding schedule. 'To save room for mice'." Henderson informs before moving along. You manage to give Lucy a few pets before she also carries on down the hall.

After a bit more walking, your tour was interrupted by a young woman dressed in a similar uniform to Ms. Henderson, finding you two and calling out to her.

"Jules, what are you doing running around for me? You're assigned to the laundry room." Ms. Henderson scolds her in a firm tone.

"We're out of bleach." the girl, now known as Jules, informs her.

"Then go get a bottle from the utility closet-" Ms. Henderson orders her before Jules cuts her off by saying, "We've used all of it. There is no more bleach in the utility closet." before apologizing for her rudeness. Ms. Henderson looks puzzled and shocked at the information. "Used it all? My god, it couldn't have been that bad to use it all up," she responds.

"You didn't see it, Ms. Henderson. We've been at it for days with the stains! They left so much b-!" Jules exclaims before stopping herself mid-sentence and redirecting into a new one, "I wanted to ask if there might be any more somewhere else?" she asked.

Ms. Henderson took a moment to think before looking at you briefly and then turning back to Jules. "I believe there might be some with the kitchen staff. I'll get it and see if I can get the stains out. You can call the supplier for more." she instructs her before adding, "But catch go outside and catch your breath first. If you had to use that much bleach then you should get some fresh air before you pass out.".

As Jules nods and walks away with a "Yes, ma'am.", she turns to you, "I'm sure you can figure out the rest of the mansion. You can go back to your room and find something to do while you wait for us to get your uniform ready." she says.

You nod but ask, "Shouldn't I be fitted?".

Ms. Henderson looks back at you, confused like she was with Jules. "I don't know if you can tell, but we aren't in the old fashion black dresses with white aprons and suits here. We have general sizes. You find what fits right enough, and you keep it." she remarks.

"Then shouldn't I just be given the array and choose?" you question.

She rolls her eyes and says, "You just got the tour, we're a bit short in your size range, and we're still waiting on the other new arrival. Don't be so eager to dust and vacuum." before walking off.

You stand there for a moment, watching her walk off, before muttering to yourself "It was just a question." and walking back to the house staff hall.

Even though you can sense that your cover is going to be a pain in the ass with how snarky your technical boss is, you just remind yourself of the cash out you're going to get once you're out of here. Speaking of sensing things, even though it's clear daylight out, and some of the light just manages to get through the curtains, this place is still just as spooky looking as when you got here. It's still dead quiet and holds an eerie atmosphere, making you feel unsettled.

You do your best to shrug it off as you walk, looking around the place more closely now that you don't need to focus on listening to rules and whatnot. This place isn't as empty as you thought it would be. There's the occasional piece of furniture along the halls, like tables and decor, along with the occasional frame on the wall of either a painting or photo.

However, as you look along the wall, you find that they are a bit scattered, not really following any type of spacing pattern. You'd find that one photo on the wall was farther from the one before it and the picture before that. Almost like there's supposed to be another between them that just isn't there anymore. Even finding the occasional little hole in the wall where a nail might have once belonged and hadn't been covered yet. The photos are also all the same.

At first, you thought that they were all the same man, but as you looked more closely, you found little metal plaques on the frames saying different names. Well, it's more like different generations.

"Steven Grant Spector III"

"Jake Lockley Spector II"

"Marc Spector IV"

"Steven Grant Spector V"

"Marc Spector II"

"Jake Lockley Spector IV"

These were apparently all the past Spectors over the years. But it was impossible to believe that these were all different people with how much they looked alike despite the clear advances in the photos, like clearer images, changes in fashion, and the turn to color. You knew that Marc, Steven, and Jake Sr. were identical triplets, but for their genes to be so strong that all of their future sons looked exactly like them and thus each other? Impossible. And why is it only pictures of them as adults? What about their younger photos or pictures of their wives and other children?

You must have been staring at and thinking about these photos for a long time because the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you nearly scared the color out of you.

When you turn around, you find the exact same face that you've been looking at in the photos staring back at you. Except this time, it's got a mustache and a flat cap accessorizing it.

"Sorry," he says, laughing at your spooked reaction, "I didn't mean to sneak up and startle you like that," he says before extending his hand for a handshake.

"I assume you're the new hire for housekeeping since I've never seen you before," he comments.

"Yes," you answer as you take the hand shake and tell him your name.

"Jake Lockley," he introduces himself. "Nice to finally meet one of the owners, Mr. Lockley," you reply.

Jake cringes a bit at the title, "Only Señorita Henderson calls me that. You and the rest can just call me Jake." he explains.

"Speaking of her," Jake says, "Where is she? 'She leave you all by yourself?" he questions. You shake your head.

"She gave me a tour already, but she had to attend to something last minute. Something about stains and running low on bleach. She figured that I could find my way back to my room." you explain. "I was just taking everything in again so that I could learn the layout better. I hope that's okay," you tell him. "That's perfectly fine by me," Jake responds. "I was just worried that you got yourself lost in this big old place." he smiles, like he's trying to joke with you.

You smile back and assure him that you're not.

"Good, because if you started calling for help, it would take a while for someone to come find you." Jake joked again. You take a second to understand that he's joking again, which he seems to pick up instantly. "I'm joking again. Someone will definitely hear you. This place has a natural echo most of the time." he assures you, patting your hand just before walking away.

"See you around." he waves goodbye, leaving you alone again.

You move on and actually get back to your room. Leaving the rest of your looking for the next day when you actually start working.

Later on in the day, someone comes by and drops off a range of different styles of the housekeeping uniform. There's not much to pick from. They're all the same color, black, and there were only two style options. A plain below-the-knee-length dress with short sleeves that was a bit boxy on its own if you didn't use the optional belt loops that were around the waist, and the other was a similarly styled collared button-up with matching plain pants. You picked one and gave the rest back to your future co-worker, who informed you that you're free to add more, like an under-shirt or thermal and other such things, as long as you don't alter the uniform itself.

You then take out your journal and write down what you've observed.

"Got a tour of the place and learned some base rules. The weirdest ones were about the curtains staying closed during the day and staying out of the main kitchen. Unsure what that's about. I'll have to ask around once I meet other employees. Also, do they use a lot of bleach? I heard mention of a 'supplier' for the bleach? Unsure what that's about.

The pictures are weird here. They're all the Jr.s of the senior triplets, and no pictures of them when they're older or their partners or children. Didn't really get to ask about it, but I did meet Jake Lockley. Seems friendly and has good humor, but it's a little weird. I also couldn't help but feel like I've heard his voice somewhere, though. Like I've met him before? I don't know. Maybe he just has a generic voice? I'm sure it's nothing.

I got my uniform now, and we're just waiting on the other new person before I'm set to start learning the ropes and working. One of my uniforms smells weird, though. Like bleach and dye? Maybe they recycle uniforms, and they just cleaned it and had to retouch it before they gave it to me. They were talking about bleach earlier, so maybe that's it.

That's all I have for now. I guess I'll just wait."

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

I ALMOST FUCKING COLLAPSED IN MY KITCHEN!!!

Holy shit!?!? Holy fuck!?!?

The way you wrote needy men has my on my fucking KNEES!

HOW DO YOU WRITE A PENIS SO POETICALLY!?!

Why is this the most beautiful description of a penis ever!?!?

Also i cant help it, whenever I read this series the devil in my brain wakes up and says "its like a swamp bush down there. Aint got no razors" and I die a little inside 🤣

Blue Blood and Rain [4]

King John X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You're the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court with her son.

The King invites you on another ride, this one is much more private.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm trying to get my butt in gear and actually finish up some series.

Warnings: Kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), hand job, public sex (they're outside but not observed), reader is a virgin, overuse of italics, power dynamics because he's the king, pet names, I have totally made up servant/noble dynamics because I wanted to, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1617

Stefan whinnies softly as you move about the stable, despite being freshly brushed and being just served clean water and hay he still wasn’t satisfied until he had your undying attention. 

You tut playfully at him, stopping in your work to pat his side. “What is wrong, hmm? I thought you’d like a break away from Hugo’s less than perfect riding.” You smile and lean closer to the horse, a little conspiratory. “But don’t tell him I said that.” 

He whinnies again, almost sounding like a laugh. 

You stroke his neck absentmindedly. “You get to have nice food, in this nice stable and then go outside and pester all the other horses in the fields all day. Sounds perfect.” 

“Does it?” The King’s voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. He grins, pretending to look ashamed for a moment, his hands open. “I’m sorry to startle you.”

“No, you’re not.” You give him a playful look.

“You’re right,” he steps closer to you, lightly touching your arm. “I’m not.” 

You shake your head, pretending to be insulted. “I am outraged.”

“Outraged by the actions of your King?” He grins. 

“Of course.” 

His beam widens and he kisses your cheek quickly before ensnaring your lips with his and stealing your breath. 

He pulls back the smallest fraction, lightly nuzzling his nose against yours, “What about now?” His voice is soft and barely above a whisper. 

“Slightly less outraged.” You managed to say.

“Ah, I’m going in the right direction then.” He kisses you again, snaking his hand up to stroke your cheek. 

Stefan nudges King John’s shoulder gently and he turns to smile at the horse. “Someone seems to be warming to my presence.” He pats Stefan, much to his delight. 

You smile at Stefan, “He’s a good judge of character.” 

The King uses your brief distraction to kiss your cheek again. “I see that the Earl and the Countess are busy this afternoon.” 

You turn to look at him, amused at his choice of using their formal titles. “They are.” 

“So, you are free?” 

You shake your head, “I have many duties to attend to that-”

“Duties that can be taken care of, come,” he takes your hand in his. “Are you really going to disobey a request from your king?” His expression makes you giggle. “I will take that as a yes.” He lightly kisses the back of your hand as he leads you out. 

.

The King rode Guinevere, while you rode Alaric again. The ride was peaceful, just the two of you taking your time. John rode at your side, happily talking with you and it’s not long until you arrive back at the meadow he had shown you before. 

He stops and dismounts before holding out his hand to help you, happiness radiates out from his chest when you take his hand without pause. 

“The tree you used to read under as a child,” you smile and motion towards it as you admire its thick heavy bark and a wide canopy. 

The King preens, puffing out his chest a little, touched that you remembered. A small dusting of pink highlights his cheeks and he pauses, biting his lip as he has a small inward argument with himself. “I used to do other things under that tree.” 

You pause, giving him a sideways glance and chuckling at the blush on his skin. “Other things?” You tease. 

“Other things.” He lightly puts his hands on your waist and guides you under the leaves, walking you backwards until your shoulders hit the trunk. 

“I simply demand to know these other things.” You bite your lip and he groans. 

“Stop, you can’t be giving me such looks and expect me to behave.” 

“A King would behave.” You put your hand to your forehead dramatically, “Me, here, alone without a chaperone.” 

He chuckles and kisses you softly, pressing his chest up against yours. “I used to…” he pauses, kissing you again quickly. “Pleasure myself here, when I was older than a boy. I liked the quiet better.” He sucks lightly at your neck, smiling as your breath hitches. 

Heat floods your veins, the image of him bringing himself to his peak dancing in your mind and making you dizzy.

“I would read sinful stories,” he kisses along your jaw, biting softly between words, “and then, when I was overcome with thoughts and urges, I couldn’t resist.” 

He groans lightly as you tug on his shoulders, urging him closer. “I would spill myself all over my hand, imagining such debauched things.” He breathes heavily, pushing his thigh between your legs. 

“What debauched things?” You whisper, not trusting your own voice and his fingers flex against your waist. 

“I could,” he swallows, his cock hard and heavy between his legs, pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. “Show you… if you wish?” 

You hardly finish your first nod before he’s throwing himself to his knees and pulling up your skirts. He bunches them around your hips with a desperate, crazed further. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he looks up at you, his skin flushed and eyes dark, “if you are uncomfortable or want me to stop for any reason. Promise me.” 

You nod, once. “I promise, your Highness.” 

He groans lightly as you speak his title, his eyes glazed. Then, lightning fast, he dives forward and tugs your undergarments down your legs. 

You gasp in surprise, the sound quickly becoming a needy moan when his warm tongue licks through your folds. 

He moans low in his throat as he laps and swirls around your clit, salvia and slick coating his chin as he feasts. 

“You taste divine,” he growls, licking his lips as he manages to pull himself away from you for the briefest moment, just enough time to pull your undergarments down and off your legs completely.

He hoists your left thigh onto his shoulder as he continues, eagerly sucking your clit into his mouth and snaking his hands up to hold and squeeze your ass.

Your back arches, tree bark digging in between your shoulder blades as pleasure tightens and pulses dizzyingly quickly. Your body moves of its own volition, your mind completely lost to the soft warmth of his mouth. 

“I…” You moan, your legs shaking from the onslaught. You try to grab onto the trunk for stability, but you can’t get a solid hold. Without thinking you sink your hand into his thick curls, but before you can pull back he whines desperately. He presses his left hand over yours and squeezes, urging you to hold him tighter, firmer as you writhe on his tongue. 

He sucks rhythmically, your cries spurring on every action. The idea of you coming undone and tasting your release makes his eyes roll back. The drawstring fastening on his trousers rubs against his cock, and he can’t help but buck, thrusting into the barely there pressure. 

“Your…” You bite your lip, breathing hard, trying to get some semblance of control over your voice. “Your Highness, I’m… please.” 

He groans loudly when you use his title again, his eyelids fluttering as he pushes his face closer, practically trying to suffocate himself. 

The feeling twists and curls, your muscles tense and shake. You’re sure you can’t get any higher, can’t feel any more pleasure. But each second he proves you more and more a liar. 

Your orgasm crests and blooms along your nerves, tensing your muscles and robbing you of all thought as you are consumed body and soul. 

He groans, watching you intently and eagerly drinking down your release. You writhe under him as he prolongs your bliss, pulling you apart expertly piece by piece. 

As your limbs slack he moves back a fraction, placing your leg back to the floor and taking hold of your arms to guide you down onto the grass. 

You breathe hard, resting against the tree as he kisses your temple. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I need to,” he swallows, his hands quickly undoing his trouser fastenings and pulling his aching cock free. It’s leaking and ruddy red, looking painful and desperate as he wraps his right hand around its thick length. 

He fists himself rapidly, angling his body away from you to give you time to recover. 

You swallow, moving closer to him, pressing your chest to his back as the sweat cools on your skin. “Let me help you, your Highness.” 

He groans, nearly coming on the spot. “Here,” his voice is strained and weak as he guides your hand to his cock, wrapping his fingers over yours and showing you how to move in the way he needs. 

You're shocked by how warm he is, how soft, like velvet on a chair by the fire; and how hard, like iron under your palm. 

You barely get to stroke him four times before he’s crying out your name and tensing. His cock pulses, his hips bucking as he comes robe after robe of silky white onto the grass and tree roots. 

It’s mesmerising, how his mouth opens and body shakes, and you can’t help but stare transfixed as he falls apart for you.

When his hand relaxes around yours you let go, smiling as he leans back onto you and grabs your wrists so that he can litter your fingers with kisses. 

“You are addictive,” he murmurs, twisting his body so that he can kiss up your arm. “I nearly came without touching myself with my mouth on you,” he gazes up at you with love sick eyes, his skin flushed. “Better than any saucy book.” 

You giggle and he grins, sliding his hand around your neck and kissing you deeply. 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine

 @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin

@reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr 

@spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 

@sub-aro @killerdollz @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist 

@dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious @homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop 

@oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 

@pigeonmama @marcsb1tch @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan 

@faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love  @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Marc Spector // Steven Grant // Jake Lockley

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Moon Knight, s1e2

My GIF masterlist

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Hugging him would solve all my problems

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

I'm shaking

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP!!!

MY LOVE HAS RETURNED FROM WAR!

The fucking feels are killing meeee!

And this smarmy confident Jake all "thats my second favorite noise, this is the first" and then proceeds to do this

Fuck you Jake (but also fuck you)

Cariño [Part 7]

Jake Lockley x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Series Masterlist

Summary: The story comes to an end.

A/N: I know, it's been centuries, chapter 6 was posted in June 2023 (the shame), but here is the ending. Finally. Honestly, I'm not very happy with this story as a whole, but now it's done.

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (both receiving), reader can't speak Spanish, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3239

You had gone to Jake’s room early the next morning and knocked. No answer. 

You’d tried calling his phone, the one that worked yesterday. His number was out of service.

After speaking to the front desk, you found out he had checked out the night before, barely two hours after you had last seen him. 

A little after 8am you received the rest of the money into your bank account, payment for the job. 

It was fine. Really. 

He is an adult. He could do what he wanted. He didn’t owe you anything. 

But it hurt. A lot. 

You pushed the feelings down deep until you could almost walk on them. There was no need to dwell on this, dwell on him. But your thoughts kept migrating back, like a compass needle swinging north no matter how hard you shook it. 

You got ready and boarded your flight, not home, but to another job. Procuring and authenticating a Ruben, the honest, legal work you had pushed back a little so that you could get Jake his ankh. 

It was simple enough, practically a done deal and you were home and paid within two days. 

You heard through one of your contacts that the day after his party Edward Malay’s mansion had caught fire. He had seemingly died in the blaze. 

All you could think of was the look he had given you when Jack’s hand was on your waist. 

You let the rest of the following week slide by without any work, your heart just wasn’t in it. But by the Wednesday Detective Eric Peterson, the officer who worked for the police art and antiques unit, had called you asking for your help and promising you weren’t going to get hit in the face again this time. 

You took the job and got on with your life. There wasn’t much else to do. 

.

It was evening on a Friday night, and after trying to stop yourself from nodding off in front of the television you finally admitted defeat. Switched it off and got up to go to bed. 

There was a knock at the door. Ordinary and repetitive. 

You frowned. Waited a moment before moving closer to the door, keeping your footsteps light. 

Ever so carefully you checked the peephole and saw…

Jake. 

It was like a pin had been pushed through your chest, a sharp and small and perfect pain. 

Jake.

He hadn’t knocked like he usually did, forgone that familiar, distinctive sound.

You swallowed and opened the door. There was a split second when his gaze fell on you, the tiniest moment where he seemed to disappear and be replaced by someone else.

“Jak-”

 He surged forward before you had even fully opened the door, his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips meeting yours. 

The force of his actions made you step back as he stepped forward, moving with you so that the kiss remained unbroken. 

You froze, surprised and questioning whether you had actually fallen asleep on the settee and this was all about to become some half remembered dream. 

He pulled back, crestfallen, mistaking your shock for rejection. 

“I’m-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence. 

You moved forward, grabbing hold of his jacket and pulling his mouth back to yours.

He let out the sweetest little moan as he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He nudged the front door shut with his foot before he walked you backwards and further into the room. 

For a moment he pulled back, breathing hard, his hands still on your face. “Cariño,” he stroked his thumbs over your cheeks, seemingly searching your eyes for something and kissing you again deeply when he found it. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair that wasn’t covered by his cap at the nape. 

Slowly he continued to urge you back until your legs nudged against the armrest of the settee. You let out a small moan as his tongue danced over yours and pushed you back into the sofa, his right hand coming around to press flat on your back and keep your descent slow and controlled. 

You pulled off his hat and pushed his coat from his shoulders, urging it down his arms as he shimmied it the rest of the way down and climbed on top of you. 

He slid his right hand down your side, your outer thigh, before hooking his fingers under the back of your knee and pulling your leg over his hip. He pressed in close, lightly grinding against you for a second until you pressed at his lower back with your calf and pushed him fully down. 

The fiction sparked pleasure along your veins, burning into your skin as you clawed at his shirt trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mutter between kisses. “I shouldn’t have just taken off.”

You kiss him back fiercely, “You don’t owe me anything-”

“I do cariño, I do.” He kisses down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin until you yelp. You can feel his smile as he presses his lips to your skin to ease the burn. 

“Jake,” You pull him back slightly, tugging lightly at his hair so that you can see his face. You’re not sure why you’re doing this, why you need to have this conversation now of all times. But emotion twists in your gut and won’t let you let this slide. 

His eyebrows pinch together slightly as he moves back, his eyes soft and hesitant. Expecting more rejection. 

You can’t help but stroke his cheek, the beginnings of stubble brush along your fingertips. “Jake,” you repeat and he closes his eyes briefly at the softness in your voice. “You don’t owe me anything, you can do-”

“I owe you an explanation.” He stares at you so sincerely it’s like his gaze is piercing into your soul. “I owe you-”

“Ja-”

“I wanted to kiss you again… back at the hotel. I wanted to…” He moves a fraction closer, his right hand sliding down to your waist as he presses his hips more fully against yours and rocking ever so slightly. 

You bite back the little gasp that wants to escape your lips. 

“I wanted to…” he swallows, his line of sight fixated on your lips as his tongue runs along his own, “make love to you.”

Your heart beats so rapidly that it echoes in your neck. 

“But instead I,” he shakes his head, crunching up his face as he internally chastises himself. “I fucked up, I-”

You silence him with your mouth on his, unable to hold yourself back any longer. 

He moans wantonly against your lips, eagerly accepting your tongue when you lick into his mouth. His hands are cool from the outside air, but it’s a balm to your feverish skin as he slides the tip of his fingers under your top and skims along your hips. 

Jake rocks against you feverishly, groaning happily when you wrap your legs around his waist fully. His erection pressed against you, the zipper of his jeans brushing perfectly along your core. The sensation spikes along your nerves and makes you squeeze his arms in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. 

He mouths at your neck, sucking and licking, paying particular attention to every sigh and hitch of your breath. 

“I have… so much,” he swallows, his voice muffled by your skin. Not able to pull himself away for even a second to speak clearly. “I need to tell you,” he pauses, biting his lip. “There are things that you should kno-”

You take his face in your hands and kiss him again, soft and sweet even though his lips are hot and wet. “Later.”

“Cari-”

“I mean this in the nicest way Lockley, but if you don’t sit back,” you move as you speak, unhooking your legs from his waist and urging him into a sitting position on the sofa, “and let me do what I want, then I’m never going to forgive you.” 

He keeps his hands on you as you gently manhandle him. A soft expression all over his face, as if his heart had cracked under the strain of carrying his emotions for far too long. And now the joy in his chest had no choice but to seep into his skin. 

“What do you want to do?” His voice is quiet, reverent almost. And, in that moment you’re sure he would fall on a sword if you uttered the words. 

You shift back, off the sofa and onto your knees between his legs, your hands on either side of his thighs to push them a little wider. 

The heavy bulge of his erection strains against the denim, practically seconds away from popping the neatly stitched seams. His cock twitches under your gaze and Jake lets out a soft groan as you squeeze his thighs, scrapping your nails along his inseam. 

“I want you to…” You slide your palms higher until your eager fingers can reach his belt. You flick open the buckle, pulling the leather free before you undo his trouser button and start to pull down his fly.

“You don't have to.” He whispers. His eyes glued to your face, his hands balled up by his sides and pressing into the sofa, barely resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and pull you close so he could rut against the heat of your mouth.

“I want to.” You hold his gaze, slowly tugging the zipper down. 

Jake breathes hard, the air catching in his throat as his cock throbs. It's painful how much he aches, straining against the tough, unyielding fabric. 

He gasps when your fingers touch the skin just about his waistband and eagerly raises his hips to help you pull his clothing down to his ankles. His cock bobs free with a dull slap against his stomach and when you finally take him gently in your hand and kiss the very tip, he nearly comes on the spot. 

You press the palm of your free hand firmly against his inner thigh, a gentle reminder to keep him vaguely still and his legs parted. His muscles tense and twitch, flexing under your fingers.

His voice is weak when he mutters your name, soft and strained. You flick your tongue over his head, swirling twice before pulling back a fraction and look up at him. 

The warm artificial light makes his skin glow, the shadows on the sofa perfectly outlining his form, like a work of art you’d been tasked to assess. 

“Please,” his breathing is controlled even as his chest rises and falls. 

You wait until he starts to continue, to finish his thought, it’s only fair really due to the amount of times he’s teased you in the past with trivial things, before you take the tip into your mouth. 

Jake swears under his breath, his eyes screwing up as he fights the urge to buck and you bob your head slowly before you sink deeper. 

“Fuck,” He hisses, his eyes glazed. 

You hum softly as you suck and lick, relaxing your jaw as best you can to take as much of him as possible. His little pants and gasps for air make you lightheaded, your blood singing as he twitches on your tongue. 

You slide your hand from his thigh, up his leg to lightly roll his heavy balls in your palm. 

“Shit, cariño, I…” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching as he flinches forward. Pleasure sparking up his spine and twisting along his nerves. His orgasm so close it’s almost blinding. 

He wants to press close, to let you play him to your own heart's desire and come down your pretty throat with a scream. 

But he won’t. Yet. 

Jake finds the strength to take hold of your shoulders, “Stop, please.”

You do instantly and he sighs, eagerly leaning forward and kissing you fiercely. Licking into your mouth and groaning when you sink your fingers into his hair. 

He gently guides you into his lap as he hurriedly helps you pull off your clothes and the rest of his. 

“So pretty,” he groans as he mouths at your breasts, suckling lightly as he slides his left hand down your side and presses at your core. 

You shiver involuntarily under his touch, swallowing down a moan as he softly circles your clit with his calloused fingers. You squeeze his shoulders, your hips bucking automatically at the slow drag. 

He hums low in his throat, watching you with dark eyes. Languidly he runs his middle and forefinger over your folds, barely there pressure. “Can I?” He mutters as he rubs at your clit again, hardly even taking the edge of the ache. 

You nod rapidly, “Jake, please, I want you to-” You moan loudly as he presses inside. 

He swears at the wetness that greets him, quickly curling his fingers and stroking as he presses against your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves, keeping time with the rocking of your hips. 

“That’s in cariño,” he whispers, his voice thick, “take everything you want.” 

You almost don’t recognise the whine that leaves your lips as your own. Pleasure twists and pulses in your stomach, claws at your skin as your thighs burn and shake. 

He litters your chest with wet, desperate kisses, his stubble scraping deliciously over your skin. Somehow he manages to swallow a groan as you tense, his cock twitches, smearing salvia and precome against his stomach. 

“Jake,” you gasp, the weight in your stomach dropping as he strokes and pulls the pleasure from your bones. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whines, his voice nearly as desperate as your own. “Please, please,” his throat is dry as he mindlessly begs, transfixed on the look and feel of you. 

You come all at once, your orgasm piercing through your muscles and running like a current through your nerves. Jake guides you through it, holding you close and muttering sweet words and you shake and shatter in his arms. 

He slowly pulls out of you as you weaken, kissing your temple and stroking your back. You press your face into his neck, breathing hard. Your skin is hot but his touch is soothing. 

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t tell you what cariño means,” he whispers, there’s a weight in his chest, a tightness he needs to shift that’s fracturing. “It-”

“I know what it means,” you smile and pull back so that you can look at his face. “I just kept asking to see when you would tell me.” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re cruel to me cariño.” He teases, his eyes bright. “Too cruel.” 

You grin before you kiss him deeply, wet and warm as your tongue slides over his. He shivers delightfully as you just scrape your nails over his scalp, lost in your touch. 

His cock presses hot and heavy between your bodies, desperate for any kind of friction and when you angle your hips away from his slightly Jake just thinks you mean to tease him all the more. 

He certainly doesn’t expect you to raise up on your knees while you kiss him feverishly, nor did he predict how you guide him to your centre and just sink down. 

He moans, his forehead pinched together in ecstasy as you envelop him, so soft and warm and he nearly chokes, stammering out swears and please as you squeeze.

“Cariño,” his hands fly to your hips, tensing and desperate as you finally take all of him. 

You rock slowly, moving in a long figure of eight as your body adjusts to his size. The thickness stretching you wonderfully. 

Jake gasps, his fingers digging in as he holds on for dear life. Bliss buzzes along his skin, settles at the base of his spine with a dizzying speed. “I’m,” he swallows, his breath hitches as you move a fraction faster. His cock pulses as it rubs within you, pleasure building and building and building. “I’m so sorry, I can’t, I’m gonna…”

You don’t let up your movements as you lean forward, ghosting your lips over his. “Please,” you dart out your tongue, running lightly over his bottom lip. “I want you to.”  

Jake groans loudly, gasping for air as he pulls you as close as physically possible. His hips thrust up as he comes hard, the sensation whiting out his vision as he calls out your name in prayer. 

‘Thank yous’ fall his hushed whispers from his mouth as he shakes and recovers, his heart racing in his chest. You can’t help but watch him, transfixed in how his face pinches and glows in pleasure.

You’re smiling at him when he opens his eyes, and you brush some of his loose curls from in front of his face as he gazes at you. 

“You okay?” You giggle, joy rising up in your chest at the love sick look he gives you. 

“More than,” he kisses you softly, his strong arms hugging you close. “More than more than.” 

Without warning he twists, moving you onto your back flat against the sofa while staying deep inside of you. You let out a little yelp of surprise that turns into more laughter. 

“I love that sound,” Jake kisses your nose, grinning. “I think it is my second favourite.”

“Second favourite?” 

He nods, “This is the first.” He moves quickly, pulling his softening cock from your pussy only to quickly dip down, kissing your stomach once before he presses the flat of his tongue in one long, slow lick through your folds. He groans as your combined fluids fill his mouth, and your cry of pleasure sounds in his ears. 

He swirls his tongue over your click one way and then the other before he gently presses two fingers on either side of your entrance and stretches slightly, opening you wider. “Fuck, such a mess here.” He groans, biting his lip at how your muscles flutter under his hold before he gets back to the task at hand. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his warm tongue runs over you again, the tip just dipping inside as he flicks up, trying to gather as much of your combined release as possible before he swallows. 

You wriggle under the onslaught, your back arching off the cushions as he works on you, quickly hurtling you towards another orgasm. 

He groans as you writhe, using his hands to pull your legs over his shoulders without breaking his rhythm. He flicks his tongue, alternating between sucking and licking until you’re sobbing and soaking a wet patch into the sofa. 

His fingers knead your thighs and ass cheeks, coaxing you to buck and grind exactly how your desperate body is begging you to. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. One second you’re moaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of his mouth, the next you're practically paralysed as pleasure washes over your mind, body and soul. 

Jake groans as you come, not letting up on his onslaught until you're panting heavily and limp. As he sits up you can feel his cock against the back of your thigh, hard and ready once more. 

He grins devilishly, “Can I fuck you again cariño?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Awwww not the pout

Oh honey! Mig!

So sweet of him to put an AC in so everyone is happy!!

He is too hot

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

No warnings

You didn’t expect it. You didn’t expect Miguel to always seek your touch. Always holding your hand or resting his hand gently on the small of your back or sitting so close that his leg is pressed against yours. You didn’t expect it but you loved it.

Especially since he was trying so hard to not make it to obvious since funnily enough, he hated PDA. So he always did it in a not too in other people’s faces way and almost in a shy manner. You could feel how his pulse would be crazy fast the first second he takes your hand until he slowly relaxes and gets all relieved and happy. It was so adorable. You loved it. You really did.

That’s what you keep telling yourself now. With his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in the nook of your neck as he sleeps. He looks so so soft and peaceful and normally you would take him in and admire his soft breathing and how his lashes rest delicately on the tops of his cheeks. But you feel like you’re going to burst into flames with his body-heat wrapped all around you in the middle of the hottest night in this god forsaken heatwave.

You can feel sweat trickling down your back and down your forehead and truly how does he not feel this unbearable, disgusting heat when he himself is like a weighted heat blanket.

Slowly you move your head and wiggle out of his grasp. Before you can enjoy the soft breeze on your arms, he pulls you closer and mumbles softly against your neck. Holding onto you like a child would hold onto their teddy bear. And actually, that’s exactly how it is. He told you multiple times that he can only sleep if he has got you in his embrace. And you know how little and badly he used to sleep before you appeared in his life. You want him to sleep and rest but you also feel like you’re going to die of the heat.

So you try again. Slowly and carefully you roll a bit on your side and wiggle out and then finally you’re on your side of the bed. It’s cold and you immediately feel like your skin can breathe. You feel your eyes get heavier and about to close, about to fall asleep, now that you aren’t wrapped up in pure fire when you feel his arms wrap around you again. A soft grumble against your shoulder.

“What’re you doin?”

“Migs I’m going to burst into flames.” You sigh softly as you wriggle out again. This time he slowly blinks open his eyes.

“But…I can’t sleep without you..” He actually pouts. Full on disbelief written all over his face that you would do such an unbelievable cruel thing.

You sigh again. A bit dramatic for effect and then scoot closer again.

But he doesn’t wrap his arms around you. He is thinking. A slight frown in between his eyebrows.

“You won’t be able to sleep the whole night..” He says more to himself than you before he sighs softly. Now more awake.

“I’m sorry cariño. I didn’t realize how warm I am.” He sounds so apologetic like he did something horrendous. His worried expression makes your heart melt but that frown gets more pronounced and it feels like something is crumbling your heart. He’s only been awake for a few seconds and already he worries about the grave mistake of robbing you of your sleep.

You scoot closer and wrap your arms around him. He is about to protest and tell you that you need your sleep and that that won’t he possible with him wrapped around you but you stop him. Gently shaking your head. “We only have four more hours for sleep.” You mumble and he knows what you’re doing. He knows that you’d rather be burning up than have him not sleep. He wants to protest. Everything in him is telling him that you’re more important and you should sleep but you’re breathing softly and pulling his arms around you and before he can overthink he’s falling asleep.

The next day you hear clanking and rumpling as Miguel installs an AC in the bedroom. You can’t help but grin when he blasts it right before he lays down later that night and wraps his arms around you tightly. Sighing in relief against your neck.

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

STOP! Stop this is too cute and I am crying!!!

Saturn!!! Oh my heart can't do this!!!

Haya ks so fucking precious and i love this interaction between marc and her

Always For You

Pairing: Marc Spector x Haya Spector (OC)

Summary: Of course the moon will always be there, how could you not know? Warning Tags: Fluff, sweet fluff. Dear god FLUFF.

Author’s note: I missed Haya Spector

The evening was calm, the quiet of the house settling around them like a soft blanket. Haya,, lay tucked in her bed with her favorite stuffed bunny nestled close to her chest. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight casting gentle shadows across the walls. The soothing hum of the night was barely audible, and Marc stood by her bedside, brushing a lock of curly hair from her face.

"Papa?" Haya's voice, small and sleepy, floated through the air, tugging at his heart.

Haya’s voice was quiet but filled with that soft excitement only a child could muster. “Can you tell me the Moon story again?”

Marc chuckled, settling down on the edge of her bed. “The Moon story, huh?” He paused for a moment, thinking back to the days when she was smaller, when she asked for this every night, her little eyes so full of wonder. “I guess you never get tired of that one.”

Haya smiled sleepily, her eyes starting to drift closed but still holding on to the story she loved.

Marc’s heart warmed. This story had become a little ritual, something that always calmed her down after a long day. Something she could rely on. He nodded, adjusting her blanket to make sure she was snug.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Marc began, his voice soft and steady. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, glowing Moon. And this Moon wasn’t just any Moon—it was special. It wasn’t just up there to look pretty. No, it had a job.”

Haya, still holding onto her bunny, shifted slightly, her big brown eyes focusing on Marc’s face, eager to hear more.

“This Moon, see,” Marc continued, “was a protector. Every night, while all the children were asleep, the Moon would shine down on them, keeping them safe from the shadows and bad dreams. It made sure nothing could hurt them. The Moon didn’t just shine for everyone—it shone brightest for the children who were loved the most.”

Haya’s eyes were wide with wonder, her little hands clutching the bunny tighter, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like me?”

Marc smiled softly, reaching out to brush a curl from her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart. Just like you. The Moon watches over you every night to make sure you’re safe while you sleep.”

She beamed up at him, her small fingers curling around his hand. “The Moon loves me?”

Marc nodded, his smile full of affection. “The Moon loves you. And so do I.”

Haya’s eyes softened, her small face lighting up with a sleepy, contented smile. “And the Moon keeps me safe?”

“Always,” Marc said, his voice low and tender. “The Moon wraps you in its light to chase away the dark, so you don’t have to be scared. You’re never alone, little one.”

Haya smiles as she slowly blinks, the warmth of her father’s words draws her near to sleep. 

But, for a moment she had energy. 

Her tiny hand reached out, finding his sleeve. “Papa?” Her voice was soft, almost a question. “Will you always protect me? Even when I grow up?”

Marc’s chest tightened at the question. He bent down, kissed her forehead again, and whispered in that calm, steady voice he always used when he wanted her to know he meant every word. “Always. No matter how big you get, I’ll always be here to protect you.”

Haya smiled sleepily, her eyes half-lidded as she drifted closer to sleep. “I love you, Papa.”

Marc felt a lump in his throat, but he smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to her temple. 

“I love you too, my little moonbeam.”

He stood up slowly, watching as her small form relaxed into the comfort of her bed. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sound in the room now, steady and peaceful. 

Marc lingered for a moment longer, taking in the sight of his daughter, her face soft with sleep, her little hands tucked beneath the blanket.

He stood there, his eyes tracing every small detail, from the way her curls framed her face to the way she cuddled closer into the blanket like it was a hug.

Marc lingered by the frame of the door, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. Haya Rose Spector was growing up, and even if time as not slipping through his fingers, he didn’t want this moment to pass him by. This singular moment, was a reminder of what he fought so hard for. 

Meanwhile he stood by, he whispered, hoping that Haya’s dreams could send his words to her 

“I’m knighted to protect you, my little moonbeam,” he whispered softly, the words a quiet vow, a promise he would carry forever.

The room was still, the only sounds the soft rustling of the wind outside, whispering through the trees. With a final glance at Haya, he quietly clicked the door shut, his heart swelling with love and pride. 

As he flicked the light off, leaving the room bathed in moonlight, Marc felt a deep, quiet certainty: The Moon might watch over her, but he would always be right here, protecting her—now, and forever.

————-

tagged:

@nerdieforpedro @lonelyisamyw-0love @megamindsecretlair @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @thepowerthismanhasoverme @ivystoryweaver @soft-persephone

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Im going to die. Im ACTUALLY going to fucking die are you kidding me!?!

This was SUCH a fun read and from a uniqur perspdctove and the way you can shift between tones is fucking flawless (between reader's thoughts, Jake speaking, the fics reader is writing AND them chatting?!?!?!)

It all feels so authentic and natural

Oh!!! And Jake asking for comfort fic!?!? GENIUS!! My heart!!!

Also this fucking SENT me

Not Jake hitting us with the "ahdhskalajk" 🤣🤣🤣

This is going in my imaginary tome of favorites that has gilded edges

Getting to Know Jake Lockley's Massive Cock

Jake Lockley x f!Reader | Explicit 18+ | 5.5K

Summary: You are a fic writer in the marvel universe living in New York where Moon Knight, and of course, Jake Lockley are real. His identity, as well as Marc's and Steven's are public. You write for the fandom, primarily for Jake. He joins tumblr...and reads your fics.

Warnings: smut, oral, p in v, unprotected, cream pie, breeding

A/N: I had so much fun writing this one. If I had more time I would have created fun edits for the parts where there are tumblr posts and messages and such, but I really wanted to post this already. Also, sorry about the Spanish, I don't speak it. If it bothers you too much, give me a shout, and let me know what I should change it to and I'll fix it!

~~~

It was always the same. When you finish a story and are about to post it the nerves kick in and you hesitate to hit the button. You shake yourself, literally, and post it before you could talk yourself out of it.

You refresh the page and there it is, first post on your dash under your url: jake-lockley-is-my-husband. You know if you don’t distract yourself, you’ll obsessively check for any interactions with it. So you close out and find something else to do.

You manage to occupy yourself until it’s time for bed, and you just can’t resist checking. You have dozens of likes, a few reblogs, and two lovely comments that you reply to before going to bed. All-in-all not too bad.

When you wake up the next morning you can’t wait to check again and when you open tumblr your first thought is that there must be a glitch. You have thousands of notifications. You try to sort through your activity but it’s a complete mess. Fics you posted months ago are suddenly getting interacted with, and random other posts too. But your top post is the fic you posted yesterday. You scroll through the comments:

No way it’s really him.

New celebrity tumblr just dropped.

Man of the people!

You go to the reblogs to figure out just what the fuck these people are talking about and click view post on the most recent. You scroll through a chain of reblogs until you get to the first one.

It’s from a blog called jake-lockleys-massive-cock. It says:

dios mio that was hot! i love the way you write me. it’s kinda eerie how spot on you are. #my wife knows me so well #fic rec

Your brain practically malfunctions. Was-was-was that, was that, was that…?????

You go to his bio. His pfp is a picture of Jake Lockley and he’s written:

hola, me llamo jake lockley the handsome third of the superhero known as moon knight. he/him. some say man of the people. according to fics written about me: lover extraordinaire. here to read said fics. if you write for me, tag me 😉

It was some kind of joke, right? It had to be. You scroll through his blog. He’d been busy in the last five hours, replying to asks about his identity to which he provided pictures of himself. Pictures that people were quick to point out weren’t anywhere else on the internet. Others of course still doubted it, but you were starting to be convinced. Or maybe you just wanted to be convinced. But that would mean that Jake Lockley had read your smut about himself.

You don’t know how to respond directly to him so instead you make a new post:

Oh my god you can’t do this to me when I’m asleep. Did jake lockley just comment on my fic? No right? Am I still dreaming? #freaking the fuck out

You step away because it’s just too much. Notifications are still coming in and you don’t know how to reply to any of them. Later, at work, at random moments you’ll think about it and it’ll shock you all over again. This potent mix of excitement and fear courses through you. Fear because all of the attention is damn scary. You scroll through your asks on your break and there is some hate in there. Some of it just random hate that seems to come with getting attention. But some of it clearly borne of jealousy that Jake had singled out your fic.

You consider turning off anon, but some of your best requests had come from people on anon. And you don’t want to end that. You think about replying to the hate but you barely have time to reply to all the nice comments. Instead you block the bad and focus on the good. You can’t get to it all, but you’ll try.

You still can’t work up the nerve to reply to him directly - if it really is him anyway.

-

You’re still trying to manage your inbox days later when you see a request come through. You were planning on closing them since you’d gotten so many new ones and needed time to get to them all. This new request is from jake-lockleys-massive-cock. Your heart is practically beating in your throat as you read it.

are you avoiding me? seems like you answer all your requests so here’s one: jake (that’s me) gives you a cream pie and fingers it back into you with my gloves on.

You realize just how much you believe it’s the real him by how wet you get from this request. You try and try and try to temper yourself, but your imagination gets the best of you and for a few hours as you fulfill this ask you live in a world where not only is Jake Lockley requesting smut about himself from you, but he’s actually giving you a cream pie and fingering it back into you with his gloves on.

-

I would never avoid my husband. That’s preposterous. Go Time Summary: Trying for a baby, your ovulation window comes up and Jake’s busy driving around. You go meet him and fuck right there in his cab. A/N: not the way ovulation tests work but idc You’d gotten the smiley face. It was on a stick you’d just dipped into your pee, but still it made you incredibly fucking happy. You immediately reached for your phone and called up your husband. It went straight to voicemail, but that was common when he was working. You left him a brief message: “It’s go time.” You don’t have to wait long for a response. He’s good about checking his messages in between fares. You pick up. “Jake Lockley, are you ready to put a baby in me?” “Mi vida, no puedo esperar a esta noche.” [Can't wait for tonight] “No, not tonight. Now. We’ve missed the window the past three months because something always comes up. I want to do this now.” “It would take me hours to get home with the way traffic is right now.” “So…let me come to you.” You take the subway and meet him in one of the sub-levels of a parking garage. It’s full but he doesn’t need a space and everyone is already in their offices so no one is around. Jake’s double parked in one of the darker corners, leaning against his yellow cab. You thread your arms around him in a hug and he pulls you closer burying his face in your neck. Being close to your husband like this still never fails to turn you on. And knowing that you’re about to try for a baby with him just takes it through the roof. He slides his hands into the back pocket of your jeans, giving your ass a little squeeze. Your lips meet his and it’s all a rush from there. He opens the door to the backseat, ushering you in, trying not to break the kiss. On your back he pulls off your jeans, muttering, “...should’ve worn a fucking skirt.” He gets in and pulls his pants down his thighs freeing his cock, already leaking precum. You can’t help but lick it off. “No, no, baby. This load’s going between your legs.” He pulls you into a straddle on his lap and drags the head of his cock through your folds. “Already so wet for me.” You’d taken him so many times before but it still took you a minute to get used to his size. You sank slowly down over him letting the thickness of his cock give you that delicious stretch. Soon though you’re bouncing on him like a pro and he’s pulling your shirt down to free your tits and mouthing at them while your cunt soaks his lap. He knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself. No matter how much you rock and shimmy your hips, somehow you just can’t hit that spot like he can. He knows this, of course, so he takes your hips and angles you and pulls you down onto him. It doesn’t take long after that. Those pretty sounds and the way your cunt squeezes his cock so good have him right there with you. You cum together, his seed coating your walls so thoroughly, there’s no way you won’t get pregnant from this. Unless you let it all leak out. He at least as the presence of mind to get you on your back to help keep it in. He watches as some of his cum drips out of your spent hole and without a thought, he gathers it on his gloved fingertip - in his haste he hadn’t taken off his driving gloves - and pushes it back inside you - deep inside you. He does this over and over again, making sure his cum stays in, ushering it back with his thick fingers, up to your cervix. His thumb slides over your clit and the tips of his fingers inside you are coaxing you toward your next release. You want him to fuck you again. To make the most of your ovulation window. “Do you think we could go again?” He slips his fingers out, only leaving you empty for a mere moment before he fills you up with his cock. “Mi vida, I’m not stopping until you can’t hold one more drop.”

The words pour out of you. Never before have you had such inspiration to write a story. You’re awash in the glow of post-writing when you realize that now you have to post it. For Jake (if it’s really him) to see. You just wrote filthy smut for your celebrity crush. By his request, but still.

Normally you look over it for a quick proofread/revision before putting it out there for the world to see. But you’re pretty sure you’ll change your mind if you don’t just post it as is. So you add a note to the A/N section and send it off into the abyss of the internet.

You want to log off. Go do something, anything else. But the thought of someone else seeing his reply before you do makes you seethe with jealousy. So you stay connected and obsessed and watch for replies.

You’re still getting a stream of notifications so you ignore those and refresh the page with your post every few seconds to start, and then only every 30 seconds. You get some likes, then some comments and reblogs. You don’t even read them when you see they’re not from him.

Finally after what seems like forever, but is really about ten minutes judging by the timestamps, he replies.

i didn’t know i had a breeding kink until just now. you’re a goddamn genius. also my cock is way bigger than you described.

While you’re still recovering from this praise, you get a dm from him. You have to take some deep breaths before you open it.

Jake: do you know you’re my favorite writer? would you like to see a pic of my cock, you know, for inspiration?

You: Wait. Are you serious?

Jake: yeah, i love all your work.

You: NO, about the other thing.

Jake: only if you promise not to share it. it’s only for you.

You: I promise. If you’re not comfortable though, it’s all good.

Jake: ok, here it is.

The pic comes through and it is indeed a massive cock. Just not the kind you were hoping for. It’s a very large rooster. Like a rooster photoshopped to be huge.

You: 🙄🙄🙄

You: You know if I had really expected you to send one I’d be disappointed right now.

Jake: sorry, cariño. i’m looking at the dick pic i took and now i'm thinking i’ve over-promised what i have. 😰

You: I can promise you that I will like it, but there’s no pressure to send anything.

The dots appear and disappear a few times as you await his response. You’re about to change the subject, when his reply pops up.

Jake: está bien, look what your fic did to me.

And a second later a picture of the finest cock you’d ever seen. You waste no time replying, wanting to reassure him that you indeed love it.

You: oh fuuuuuuuck 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

You: Is this really yours?

Jake: you’ll just have to trust me 😈

It does its job and inspires you. You feel inspired all night long. But you don’t write one word.

-

You’ve never spent so much time on tumblr as you do for the next few days. You dm with Jake a little bit, but he’s a busy man and you only get to talk for a few minutes here and there. You’re addicted to his blog though. He’s reblogging so many fics and answering asks. You’re pretty sure he has his queue set up and he just blasts these things in the few minutes he probably gets to spend on here.

On a tender Marc x Reader fic where Marc opens up about his past and then has emotional sex with the reader, he’s commented:

that’s pretty good, but marc cries more during sex.

And on a Steven x Reader fic where the reader is dominant, taking what she wants from Steven and pegs him:

this was fucking hot, but steven would be hard from the moment you looked at him. if your hand is down his pants, he’s already at full attention. #why is it always steven who gets pegged? #i feel left out

Someone asks him if Steven and Marc are also on tumblr and he replies that they don’t even know that he’s on here.

It’s shameful how often you look at his dick pic. He hasn’t asked you to, but you want to return the favor. You spend some time taking a good pic of your tits and you want to send it to him, but you have to figure out how to broach the subject with him.

He’s just caused a stir by posting:

thinking about getting a cat now.

And after lots of comments with suggestions on what to name the cat, he creates a poll.

He dm’s you with the question:

Jake: can you explain to me why everyone wants me to have a cat?

You: We can just tell you’re good with pussy 😏

Jake: jajaja, so you don’t know either

You: Forget it, Jake. It’s Fandomtown.

Jake: !!!!

Jake: one of my fav movies

Since you’re the queen of non-sequiturs, you write

You: Hey, could I send you something?

Jake: like…in the mail? 🤔

You: Uh, no. Like a picture? Of me?

Jake: absolutely! i’d love to see your face.

You: Welllll it’s not of my face

Jake: you have my attention

You: It’s a tit pic. Is that ok?

Jake:

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that he’s a guy and guys like tits. You send it to him and the one second that ticks by before he’s typing makes your heart skip a beat.

Jake: 🍆💦💦💦

Jake: tan hermosa. quiero tocar y besar y lamer y chupar y poner mi cara en ellas [So beautiful. I want to touch and kiss and lick and suck and put my face in them]

Jake: if i stop responding i want you to know it’s because i'm stroking my cock while drooling over your tits.

You: That’s perfect. It’ll give me some time alone with your dick pic.

Jake: dffdsdsadsajkl you’re trying to kill me woman

-

It’s strange how something so incredible can become so normal in the span of days, but it’s hard to remember what it was like before Jake was being a menace in the fandom. Not that it wasn’t still exciting, every post, every comment, every ask. But you no longer had to pinch yourself to prove it was real.

In fact it was so usual, it felt strange when he seemed to disappear for a few days. You missed him, but you didn’t wonder about it too much. He was a busy man, a superhero, a cabbie and shared a body with two other whole people.

His absence gave you some time to catch up on your tbr list, reply to comments and get to requests. You’re in the middle of an engaging back and forth on a thread when you get a request on anon.

can i request a fic of reader holding jake (preferably against your perfect tits) as he cries?

It’s him. You know it’s him. Was he even trying to disguise himself? You sprint to your dms.

You: Everything ok, buddy?

Jake: whatever do you mean? 😇

You: 🤨 Ok, ok, brb.

You get to work right away.

Get Closer to Me It’s later than the usual time that your husband, Jake, comes home. He always tells you not to wait up for him, but you struggle to fall asleep without him so you might as well stay up watching TV. You’re in one of his T-shirts. It smells like him and the soft cotton caresses your bare skin underneath. Finally you hear the click of his key opening the lock. He steps over the threshold, tired from his night of protecting the city. Something’s wrong. You can tell by the way he doesn’t meet your eyes. If not for the protection of his suit, you’d fear he’d been hurt. He lets you lead him over to the couch where you sit him down. You take off his shoes for him and then sit back. As soon as your ass touches the cushion, he throws his arms around your middle and buries his face in your chest. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when you feel his body shuddering with sobs. As much as you rely on his strength, it’s times like this when he trusts you with his vulnerability that makes you feel closest to him. You cherish the moments you get to be his rock. A wet spot blooms between your breasts, soaking in his tears. You run your hands through his hair, using your other hand to graze your nails on his back. You lay together in the stillness and silence of the night until his breath calms and his grip on you eases. You kiss the top of his head and he shifts, nosing the space between your breasts and placing a hand beneath your shirt, traveling over your ribs to squeeze at your flesh. “Jaaake?” you ask lightly, drawing out his name. “Hmmm?” he replies. “What are you doing?” From where his face is firmly planted in your chest, comes his muffled answer, “It’s soothing.” Your body shakes with laughter and relief. If he’s fondling your tit, he’s back to his usual self. There’ll be time tomorrow for talking about what was bothering him. But for now, it was time to take your husband to bed.

You’ve never written or posted something so fast. Before you can even tag him by adding your tag list in a reblog, he’s reblogged it with the comment:

THAT’S WHERE YOU CUT IT OFF?! #why are my eyes suddenly wet #boobies make everything better #currently accepting hugs

Then you get a dm:

Jake: gracias, cariño. i’m feeling much better. 🥹

You: Glad I could help! ❤️

-

One thing that you and Jake had bonded over was being New Yorkers. Despite not having it in your bio, Jake could tell you were one based on your posts. He messages you that he’ll be in town in just a few days.

You: Are you excited to be coming home?

Jake: i’m more excited to be closer to you.

Wait. Was Jake actually flirting with you?

Jake: do you think i could meet you while i’m there?

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. For the first time in a while you worry that maybe this guy isn’t really Jake. Because it’s not possible that Jake Lockley wants to meet you, right?

When you don’t respond, he messages:

Jake: no pressure if you’re not comfortable.

You: No, I’d love to meet you. It’s just… you could be anyone on the other side of this screen.

Jake: ah. would you like to chat on video?

He gives you his number and you take a few short minutes to freshen up and find a spot with good lighting before you video call him. He picks up right away, his smile lighting up the screen.

“Cariño, eres muy bonita,” he croons. [You are so pretty]

You put a hand over your face in embarrassment.

“No, no, no, don’t cover that pretty face!”

He’s walking around his place, the background shifting behind him as he moves around.

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

“Packing.” He sets up his phone and holds up two pairs of pants. “What do you think? Tight jeans or grey sweats?”

He’s rendered you completely speechless, your mouth is hanging open but no sounds come out.

“¿Por qué no los dos?” He shoves both in his suitcase and picks up his phone, but before he can continue his conversation with you, his attention is drawn to something or someone off camera. You don’t hear anyone but Jake listens with a stony face, then rolls his eyes.

“Lo siento, cariño. I have to go.”

“Was that Khonshu?” you ask, all amazement.

“Unfortunately. See you in a few days?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

You hear him start to yell, presumably at Khonshu, as he hangs up the call.

-

Jake: no don’t send me your address.

Jake: if i find out you give random people online your address i’m going to be mad. you should care more about your safety.

You were texting with Jake, trying to make plans to meet up and though it would be convenient to have him at your place, he doesn’t want to put you at risk. If an enemy of his sees him there, your place would be compromised.

You: Oh, but it’s ok if I send a random person on the internet a picture of my tits?

Jake: uh, yeah, your tits are beautiful, you should share them with the world.

You’d managed to fend off the nerves until the day of. Now as you make your way to the intersection you’d agreed to meet at, your heart feels like one of those huge timpani drums and like a gorilla is erratically banging on it.

There’s a crush of people and tourists on the sidewalks and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to find him. Though you are like extra super early, so perhaps he’s just not here yet.

As you scan across the street, you walk by a line of yellow cabs - and nearly walk right past him. He’s leaning against his car, flat cap pulled down covering his face, and gloved hands holding a newspaper. He’s reading a newspaper. An actual goddamn newspaper of all things.

He lowers it when you stop in front of him. His eyes scan you and a smile spreads on his lips. “Would you like a ride, señorita?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

He folds up his paper and tosses it into the passenger seat through the open window, then opens the back door for you. For a moment you’re worried he doesn’t recognize you, but then you step toward the door and his hand is on your lower back guiding you into his car. He leans down to your ear to tell you it’s nice to meet you and that you look beautiful today.

You’re too caught up to reply. Up close his brown eyes are even deeper and richer than you could have imagined. His touch is gentle and comforting but the strength in him is unmistakable. And best of all his scent, sharp and heady, his cologne a perfect complement.

Your body still tingles from his touch as he circles around from the back and slides into the driver’s seat. As soon as he shuts his door, it feels like the two of you are in a little bubble. He meets your eyes in the rearview mirror. “Sorry about the pretense. Can’t be too careful these days. Never quite know who’s watching.”

“That’s okay,” you try to say, but it comes out in a croak. You clear your throat, embarrassment racing up your neck. “So, um, where are we headed? Your place?”

He pulls out into the flow of traffic, and glances in the mirror at you. “We don’t keep a place here. When we visit we usually stay with a friend.”

You wonder if you should be jealous of this friend until you realize he probably means…”Frenchie?”

Jake barks out a laugh. “I’m so glad you all use your powers for smut. If any one of you became a villain we’d be so fucked.”

“‘So fucked’ is kind of what I’m going for.” You can’t believe you said that out loud. Apparently you have no control over your mouth when your panties are soaked.

Jake doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, though you are busy admonishing yourself in the backseat, it doesn’t stop you from catching the way he bites his lip and tightens his grip on the wheel.

Before you can restart the conversation, Jake pulls into a parking deck underneath a hotel and slips into a spot. Was-was he recreating your fic?

You stay in the back as he gets out. He comes around to your door and you expect him to climb in but instead he offers you his hand.

“We’re not staying in the car?” you ask him as you take his hand and he pulls you out.

Amusement flickers in his eyes. “No, cariño. Cab sex is hot in theory but there’s not nearly enough room for what I have planned.”

You’re thankful to still be holding onto him because your knees go weak at that.

As you wait for the elevator, it occurs to you that you don’t know for sure that this is Jake Lockley. Like the real Jake Lockley. There were known to be lookalikes that posed as various superheroes. What if you’d been duped by one?

You’re quiet in the elevator. And through the grand lobby of the hotel complete with a fountain. And when Jake nods to the man dressed very nicely at the reception desk and says, “Buenas tardes, Eduardo.” And when the man returns the nod and says, “Señor Lockley.” And when Eduardo looks right at you and Jake says, “This is [your name].”

You don’t speak until Jake has opened the door to his hotel room and you hesitate before crossing the threshold and you blurt out, “How do I know you’re you?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “How do any of us know who we are?”

God, he’s funny and charming. Even if this turns out not to be the real Jake Lockley, you might fuck him anyway.

“No, I mean how do I know you’re actually you. You look like Jake, but you could be some impersonator, right?”

“Oh, I see.” He ponders for a moment. “If you’re comfortable coming into the room, perhaps I could show you something.”

You still hesitate.

“Okay. No. Good,” he says. “You have a survival instinct after all. Here, I’m going to go in. You watch from the door, but only open it enough for you to see in, okay?”

You nod and Jake goes in and you hold the door open just enough like he said. He turns around and while turning, his clothing appears to morph into a black and white suit, complete with a cape that you know only too well. Your jaw drops open because it’s one thing to see it from a recording where your brain is used to seeing all manner of crazy CGI. But it’s another to witness it right in front of your own two eyes.

You rush in, letting the door close behind you. “Oh my god,” you gush. “Can you keep it on?”

He embraces you and delivers a kiss that feels completely natural like the two of you have done this hundreds of times before, but also nothing like you’ve ever experienced. And maybe that’s one and the same. His breath is minty, and you swear he’s wearing cherry chapstick.

“That will defeat the point, won’t it?,” he says. “This thing doesn’t have a zipper. Besides, it’s really itchy.”

He transforms back while you’re still in his arms, and you have to admit you like him better this way anyway.

It’s not anything like your fics and that makes it magical. There’s more fumbling and laughter and friction. He’s not some love god and you’re not a siren. But there is desire, and it is real.

-

That One Night Summary: When your date stands you up, but you’re lucky that it happens in the same bar that Jake Lockley frequents. A/N: Special shoutout for the inspiration, you know who you are You’re in Jake Lockley’s hotel room. In the bed. And you’ve just laid eyes on the swollen spear he calls a penis. Your gulp is cartoonishly loud, and your legs press together like they’re Shaggy and Scooby in a haunted mansion. “Don’t worry, cariño. I’m going to get you really wet,” Jake says, crawling on the bed toward you and gently prying your legs open. He settles his face between them and when his tongue touches your clit, your legs fall all the way open and you sink into the bed. You marvel at the way your night has gone. From getting stood up, to trading looks with the hot stranger across the bar, to now being in said stranger’s - no he told you his name, so technically he’s not a stranger anymore - bed. He lifts his mouth off of you and you whine in protest, but he shushes you and a fingertip circles your entrance before dipping gently in. He goes slow, tantalizingly, excruciatingly slow. He works you until you can take two of his thick fingers, then his lips return to suck gently on your swollen nub. He didn’t lie. You are soaking wet, the puddle beneath you more like a lake. You’re at the edge when he asks, “Do you want your first orgasm on my fingers or my dick?” Your body doesn’t give you a choice, the image of either sending you over, and you clench down so hard on his fingers, he mutters, “Fuck.” He sweetly kisses his way up your body as you come down. Planting them on the soft skin of your belly and spending his time covering every inch of your breasts. He ignores your pleas to be fucked, waiting instead until your breathing slows and the coil inside you relaxes. You look up into his deep brown eyes and caress his face, wanting to know this man, his story, his life, what brought him to you tonight. “Ready?” he asks, and you nod. Despite how slippery you are, he’s still big enough for you to feel the stretch. He eases himself into you, breathless praises falling from his mouth. “Doing so good for me.” “You’re taking me so well.” “Tu cuerpo me maneja tan bien.” [Your body handles me so well] When he’s reached your depths, he stays there, letting you get adjusted around him. “Why don’t you show me how you like to play with your tits?” he suggests. You’re self-conscious at first but he watches you, hypnotized, while you tug at your nipples and knead your flesh. It relaxes your pelvic floor enough that Jake can fuck into you. Gently, until he learns how far into you he can go. He’s like a fucking paperweight inside you and you tell him so. “It feels even better from behind,” he informs you. And that’s how you find yourself on your knees, Jake behind you, his heavy cock dragging across your G-spot back and forth with every thrust, the pressure building up until it’s nearly blinding, your legs shaking so bad that he has to hold you up, which is a good thing because your body goes limp when your release comes, and then his cock is jumping inside you (‘twitching’ is too tame for what this monster can do), his spend replacing the weight of him. The bed is soaked, your legs are a sticky mess, and the night is just beginning.

The writing came easy but you debate posting, wavering between wanting to keep your experience to yourself and knowing that no one but you and Jake would know the truth. Ultimately, since you had kept the most personal parts out of the fic and it felt somewhat removed from the real thing, gussied up as it was to be smut-worthy, you decide that you want to share it, and as usual, you click the damn button before you could change your mind.

You wait a while before checking the interactions. This time not caring as much what other people would say, or whether anyone would read it at all. There is only one person’s feedback you’re interested in. And it’s there the next time you open tumblr:

sounds like a really good time. like something i’d like to do again.

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Oh....OOOOHHH my fucking heart!!!!

I love this slow gentle intimacy

Day 7: of @flightlessangelwings fawktober!

Marc had a rough night, you find him in the morning and give him what he needs.

Themes: Slow and Soft, angsty!Marc, f!reader, established relationship, pinv, on the kitchen counter, creampie

“Hey, what happened I didn’t hear you come in last night.” You say groggily as you rub the sleep from your eyes, your oversized t-shirt barely concealing your lack of bottoms. You usually woke up whenever one of them would slip into bed with you but last night they never came home. Walking out into the morning light streaming into your flat you caught the trademark tension on that beautiful face that told you Marc was in control.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.” He say gruffly as he continued to quietly put away dishes. You came up behind him, slipping your arms around his chest and squeezing lightly.

“But I missed you.” You pouted and placed soft kisses across his tanned skin. His muscles tensed under your lips as he let out a sigh. “Hey, look at me.” He tried to shrug off your affection and continue with his task but you took him by the edge of his boxers and turned him around. “Baby please.” You said softly as you caressed his cheek. His eyes looked down at your chest, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m fine, really.” He said through his teeth. You felt his jaw clench beneath your touch as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. But when his gaze met yours there were tears at the edges and he bit his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. His mahogany eyes flickered away again and for a moment you thought he was about to take a backseat and force Steven out.

“Marc stay, I want to spend time with you.” You pleaded. His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why, but your tender kiss helped anchor him to the moment. Soft at first your lips pressed against his. The warmth juxtaposed the tension you still felt in his jaw as you worked to melt it. “Please.” You whispered against his lips. His tongue dragged along the seam of your lips and you happily obliged opening up for him.

He groaned as he deepened the kiss further. Entwining his fingers in your hair he moved until your rear was pressed against the island countertop. In an instant his hands left your hair and lifted you onto it, the cool stone set your skin to goose flesh as it pressed against your damp core.

Marc slotted himself between your legs and began rutting against you, a damp spot forming on the front of his boxers with your wetness. You smiled a bit as you moved the thin bit of fabric separating you and your moans met his as his length slid against your folds. He churned his hips slowly, savoring the sensation of your slickness against him. The heat and pressure of his fat tip rubbing against your clit quickly sent your breathing into a ragged pace.

You managed to snake your hand between you and slotted his tip against your entrance. In short strokes he began to work his way into you, stretching you slowly and swallowing your whimpers and groans as your kisses deepened. He continued his languid pace, both his tongue and cock taking their time to explore your body they were already deeply familiar with.

For the next hour he continued that pace, holding you flush against him and taking you tenderly. In his own way it was his apology for not joining you the night before. In your own way enjoying that pace and not begging for something rougher was showing him you loved every facet of him. Especially this tender side he so rarely showed.

The climaxes you both reached weren’t as spirited or fast as the many you’ve had in your relationship with them. Like a slow roll of thunder your orgasm rumbled through your nerves as he finally seated himself as deep as he could and filled you. You both remained entwined in the kitchen, holding one another as your breathing steadied and any outside worries remained at bay.

—————

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @lunar-ghoulie @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

THERES MY BRATTY BABY!!!!!

Damn I adore this series so so much!!

And don't worry hunny, punishment may be coming but he won't be

Trine [13]

Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Trine Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Blue doesn't approve of Anselm's choice of pet names.

A/N: Special shout out to the lovely @midgardian-witch 💚🫂 who encouraged me to post this (it has taken 100 years).

Warnings: sexy times mentions, Blue being a brat, german (Blue doesn't speak it), typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 914

“Well, I hate it.” Blue says, a little too dramatically as he puts the chocolate covered pistachio in his mouth and chews. “It’s awful.” 

Anselm can’t help but smile, however he does manage to suppress his chuckle. “And why is that, mein lieber?” He squeezes Blue’s thigh a little as he talks, making him squirm. 

Blue is sat on Anselm’s lap, in Anselm’s private office. 

He had forgone getting fully dressed today, swanning around in his baby pink silk, short, dressing gown and slippers. Grumpy and inconsolable. 

You were busy today, an important meeting followed by seeing some old friends. (The phrase 'old friends’ had been enough to get Blue scowling.) And you wouldn’t be back until late. 

Even Anselm’s best tricks weren’t breaking his foul mood, and even though he did love Blue’s petulant little pout, he was very aware that he had not smiled once since you’d kissed them just before you left this morning. 

“It just is.” Blue huffs, leaning back a little against Anselm’s chest and staring daggers at the laptop screen.

Anselm presses a light kiss to Blue’s shoulder blade, “What about the cut of this one?” He moves the mouse and clicks on a different suit. Usually shopping cheered Blue up no end, whether it was in person or online. (Anselm had opted for the latter today, as Blue did not want to leave the house.)

“Ugly.” 

Anselm laughs this time and he can feel Blue preen a little, pleased that he has amused him. 

“The colour is disgusting as well.” 

“I like it, mein lieber.” 

“Well, you have no taste.” Blue folds his arms. 

“Is that true?” Anselm lightly kisses his neck and Blue nods.

“Absolutely.” He juts his chin towards the screen, “And neither does this designer. I know you’d get it handmade but this prototype is just ghastly.” 

“Just ghastly?” He repeats with glee, thoroughly enjoying how worked up Blue was becoming. Anselm takes a pistachio from the bowl on his desk and presses it lightly to Blue’s lips. 

“There’s no sense of style.” He huffs before he opens his mouth and licks the minuscule amount of melted chocolate from Anselm’s fingers liberally. “I would dress you better than this hack, or yourself.” 

Anselm can see the little frown deepening on Blue’s face, “I thought you liked them, mein lieber? You have three suits from them, and two-”

“Why are you calling me that?” Blue snaps. Despite the bluntness of his words his tone, surprisingly, doesn’t come across as rude. More… distressed and trying to cover it. 

“Mein lieber?” 

“Hmm.” Blue purposely stares at the computer.

Anselm slowly drags his left hand up to Blue’s face, lightly stroking his jaw and gently coaxing him to turn. Blue huffs again, rolling his eyes, but turns his head. 

“Are you not my dear? My love? My spoilt little brat?” Anselm squeezes Blue’s waist a little, making him yelp and Blue scowls harder. 

“Meine liebe,” Blue says disgruntledly. “You’re saying mein lieber.” 

Anselm chuckles again, understanding. He called you ‘meine liebe’. “My sweet, you will have to forgive german and its old fashioned formalities. Meine liebe is the feminine, mein lieber is masculine.” 

“Oh,” Blue paused, the thoughts turning in his mind for a moment. “Well, I don’t like that either.” 

“Do you not, my love?” 

“No, I don’t want ‘mein’ that just sounds… wrong, horrible. Meine is sweet and nice and,” reminded him of you. He wanted to be called the same sweet words, held in the same regard. 

Anselm smiles, nuzzling his beard into Blue’s cheek for a second. “Meine liebe it is.” He mutters in Blue’s ear, making him shudder and press closer. 

Blue swallows, wrapping his arms around Anselm’s neck. “I like that.” He whispers. 

“Well, thank the old gods, because at last, it seems like my beloved is satisfied with something.” Anselm pinches Blue’s thigh lightly, making him yelp and squirm, Anselm’s tight grip on his waist stopping him from completely escaping. 

“I was satisfied with the chocolates.” Blue mutters but Anselm ignores him.

“All day I’ve been more than accommodating with your bratty behaviour, and after I promised our wife I would cut you some slack and not be too harsh on you.” 

Blue leans back, pouting a little but it’s not enough to cover his smile. “She asked you to be kind to me?” He teases lightly, obviously thrilled that you and Anselm had had a conversation about him. 

“She demanded it.” Anselm strokes Blue’s cheek softly, before sliding his fingers around to the back of his neck and squeezing firmly. “And, I will be. For the whole of today.”

Blue grins wickedly.

“But don’t think you’re going to get away with this behaviour, oh no.” He tuts.

“Oh no? Are you going to wait until later to punish me? I better make the most of it then.” He grins, showing off his canines. Thoroughly looking forward to the idea of riling up Anselm even more and facing his delicious wrath later on. 

But instead of a stern word, Anselm gives him an equally dangerous smile. “Quite the contrary. Our liebe told me before she left, that she will be punishing you for any and all your transgressions today.” 

Blue pauses for a moment, his eyes wide and then swallows audibly, a shiver of delight running through him. 

“Ah, much better,” Anselm kisses his cheek and rubs his nose against his. “I much prefer seeing joy in your eyes over sorrow.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[lonelyisamyw-0love]

Okay but the bounce in the 3rd gif tho

OSCAR ISAAC as Marc Spector Moon Knight (2022) Episode 3: The Friendly Type

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

"I shouldn't have brought him to that cave."

"Marc…"

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

WHY IS THIS ME!!!!

^me running

Lemme fuck you behind this bush?

Lets go rescue a cat from a tree?

Let me show you how piss poor I am at breakdancing!

Literally ANYTHING but running

Fuckin hate running but I know i would be down ATROCIOUS for this guy!! Fucks sake

And we ALL know his shorts aren't family friendly

Jog

Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •  Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You go jogging with Marc.

A/N: Oh, more self-indulgence from meeee.

Warnings: Sweating, reader not being such a fan of jogging, Marc is upsettingly good at it, kisses, teasing, pet names, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 446

“This is inhumane.” You pant, your hands on your thighs as you lean down. The pavement fills your vision, and you can hear Marc jogging on the spot a few feet away. 

“You’re doing really well, just a little more.” He doesn’t even sound out of breath.

“No, no more.” You stand up fully, sweat shining on your face. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” You add the last part on for dramatic effect. 

Marc gives you a sweet smile, his head cocked to the side as keeps moving. “No you’re not.” 

“I am.” 

“Just once more around, then we can go back.” He’s still smiling, giving you that classic customer service expression that he can do so perfectly. You’re going to do exactly what I want, you know you are. 

“Marc, please-”

He shakes his head, starting to move a little faster, really going for those high knees. “You can do it.” 

“Your shorts are not family friendly.” You pull a dramatic shocked face, trying to distract him. 

“Nah, they’re fine, you’re not going to get out of this that easily.” He chuckles, moving behind you to lightly push on your shoulders. You start to jog. Slowly. 

“I hate this.” You mutter. 

“You said you wanted to get into-”

“I know what I said.” You grumble and give him the kicked puppy look. 

He just laughs, “Aww, baby.” and leans to the side, his hands holding your cheek briefly, so he can give your sweaty temple a kiss. “Hmm,” he smacks his lips together, teasingly. “Salty.” 

“Don’t.” You give him a glare, but you’re laughing. You nod towards the park entrance you’re coming up to, with the thick outcrop of bushes. “How about we just give this up and I’ll make it worth your while over there?” 

He laughs, “You’re really not feeling this are you?” 

You jog a little longer in silence - on your part, besides your heavy breathing. Marc kindly mentions your form ever so often, helping to correct you and reminding you to breathe. 

“You don’t even look warm.” You sigh.

“Practice.” He grins. 

You roll your eyes, “Egyptian god interference more like.” 

“What was that?” He raises his eyebrows at you, but you know it’s playful.

“Egyptian gods!” You say a little louder, making your voice as cheery as possible. 

He snorts. “If that helps you sleep at night.” 

“No,” you pout, being silly on purpose. “You’re meant to argue with me.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” He pretends to think, “Gotta catch me then.” and breaks into a sprint. 

You swear loudly and race after him. “I’m gonna rub my sweaty face all over you!”

He giggles, “I’m counting on it!”

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

I AM UNWELL

OSCAR ISAAC "Frankenstein" | 2025, dir. Guillermo del Toro

[lonelyisamyw-0love]

OH MY GODDDDD LAWWWDDDD

ml is FINALLY COMING HOME