#THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK JAK

[targentis]

my good friend tief what authors do you recommend :3c

OHOOOO OHOHOHO I AM GLAD YOU ASKED!!

here are some of my absolute all time favorite authors for your reading pleasure:

V.E. Schwab - absolutely adore her unique and lyrical prose and richly developed characters. i also love that she writes a Lot of different types of stories and never really sticks to just one expectation of her “brand”. for you i recommend Vicious and its sequel, Vengeful (superhero duology from the perspective of the “villain”; protag is canonically aspec with the most wonderful found family of misfits)

Caitlin Starling - she writes mostly historical fantasy/horror and she Also creates some of the most captivating characters and plots i’ve ever read. of course i recommend The Death of Jane Lawrence (autistic protag marries a surgeon for Practical Reasons and finds out his spooky mansion outside of town may be haunted. it’s one of my favorite books Ever. but it is in fact pretty heavy on the horror elements esp wrt body horror if im remembering right so Beware)

Gillian McAllister - to me, she is the master of pacing. she writes books that are the epitome of “unputdownable” because every sentence—especially the final sentence of each chapter—is another hook. it’s awe-inspiring to witness. she mostly writes pretty standard thrillers but i recommend Wrong Place Wrong Time (high concept thriller where a woman witnesses her son commit a murder and the next day she starts waking up in the past)

Samantha Downing - oh boy! she is the queen of “unlikable” protagonists. i absolutely ADORE her, because she writes these bad people doing bad things for fun and revenge with such depth and delight and i wish more authors would do this. also, her plots are twisty and fun. i recommend For Your Own Good (grumpy teacher at a snooty private school poisons people and it all gets So out of hand. i read this in one sitting. it was that good.)

some honorable mentions are Chuck Wendig (horror writer and author of Damn Fine Story; if you want to read a book on writing craft that is both full of incredible advice and is really fun to read, read that book first. then read his other work to see him put it into practice. it’s awesome), Lisa Jewell (prolific thriller writer; her work isn’t really anything special, but she’s reliable in that every single book she makes is about the same quality so i use her as palate cleansers in between books sometimes AHFJSJ), and Kristen Lepionka (she made the private investigator genre fun again)

[boba-beom]

I CAN'T -

I CACKLED WHY IS THIS SO BEOMGYU CODED 😭😭😭 thing is though he knows you’d damn well buy him those legos and in between he’d kiss you with said kissable lips, and just before he takes the makeout up a notch he’d remember the lego and go back to building like LMFAOOO

[aces-to-apples]

No bells just whistles with 1

For this ask meme

"no bells, just whistles" (huh, not the fic i expected to get any asks about lol)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Ahhhhhh, this fic. I had a lot of fun with this fic, trying to find a serviceable Jak voice when we don't exactly get him doing a lot of expository dialogue, and also I had a lot of feelings that led to it. I love Jak and Daxter so much, the games and also the guys, and their relationship and all its little layers is so fascinating to me. Some Doylist (and meta) descriptions of them and also Jak in general kind of drive me up the wall because it seems like the writers/developers wanted Jak to be this hardened, badass, grimdark jerk who's constantly on the edge of flying off the handle, including at Daxter, and I legit just don't get that from the actual games. I get a lot of warmth and heart between Jak and Dax, and again Jak in general, and so when I mindlessly replay the games I tend to do a lot of musing about relationship stuff we don't see in the game because of time constraints but also sorta get implied through character development (and also cut content). And I've just always really enjoyed Jinx and found it funny how similar he and Daxter are—despite the travesty of having neither Jak nor Daxter actually interact with him (and Grim and Mog) in the sewers—to the point where I genuinely decided that I think Jak would feel a certain level of comfort with Jinx's nonsense purely because he's so used to Daxter's nonsense.

Which of course leads to a bit of introspection in the ficlet itself about how basically nobody besides Daxter treats Jak like just a normal dude, and Keira and Samos are outright disturbed by the changes he's undergone, so it must be a breath of fresh air to meet a dude compulsively incapable of being normal to Jak but in just an annoying Daxter-ish way. And of course I love a dumb ship and it drives me absolutely crazy just how incredibly gay Jinx's little nicknames for Jak were. Like I get that this was like 2002 and the culture was different and all but come on.

In a 15-minute mission Jinx derisively calls him "pretty boy", sassily calls him "sugar" (pronounced suga'), randomly brings up his hair, calls him "blue boy" because he apparently didn't want to say pretty twice in a row, says the words "You're pretty handy with that iron, blondie" in cold blood completely unprompted, says he's "got the magic, man" after Jak saves his life for the dozenth time, admiringly says "nice moves", again completely unprompted snickers "sweet as a ballerina" while Jak is jumping because he is abnormal and unwell, tries to encourage Jak by yelling "knock 'em silly, Jak", yet again calls him Pretty Boy and then also "tough guy" if Jak wonders away from the group, commits a third Pretty Boy Crime™ if you smack into him a couple times, and caps it all off with a smarmy little "buddy" at the end of the mission. He drives me insane. I'm sure the reason for all of *gestures* that is because they just let Cutter Garcia let loose and have fun in the booth but what they ended up with is a 30something-year-old man who is down horrendously for an obnoxious, over-powered teenager and simply unable to be normal about it. I love it, 10/10, no notes.

ANYWAY, I wrote it like that because I'm obsessed with Jak and Daxter (and also Jinx) in a way that is mildly concerning to feminism, thank you for asking.

[exile-on-uwustreet]

(this is one-trash-alek i just can't switch from my main blog 😞)

How was YOUR weekend and also if you don't like things that are too sweet what are your favourite sweets? 🤔

Hi!!

My weekend is great! I cleaned my whole flat and have been writing a lot and watching anime. What else do you need

Honestly my favourite sweet thing is liquorice... But I love sweet things in general, I could eat sweets all day, just not too sweet.

[miqojak]

🎵 for jak then, and one for jak now!

Jak then:

Part of coping with her trauma was just... shutting everything off. Going numb - and the sick irony of it is that she tried to OD on somnus out in the Thanalan desert one night, after her twin brother abandoned her to go chase boys, and all she had left was the trauma, indentured servitude to a gang, and the constant numbness. She made this offhanded comment about how she wished she could just feel again.

And then a weird one-eyed child showed up at Little Ala Mhigo the next day, near a now-convalescing-Jak, and when Jak couldn't help but offer up her own water she desperately needed to a child in need... she got her flask back with a Dark Knight soul crystal tucked inside it, and the child was gone! No one knew who she was, or had ever seen her before - and boy, did Jak ever start to feel things again. And most anything that's not anger... was/is confusing, and just got translated to anger; to outrage at an unjust world. She had a hard time keeping things in check with that soul crystal, at first - the part of her this animates has a lot of grudges against a world that turned against a child soldier who was made a prisoner of war - and she still has a bone to pick with Ul'dahns about how they treated her, and her people when they needed help the most.

Jak Now:

You'll find more than one song on her playlist about being a god - for all her self-loathing, she has a bit of a god complex. She trusts herself the most, and no one else will put you first and foremost like you can, so why shouldn't she elevate herself? She sees most people around her as 'sheep', anyways - simpletons who are beneath her, and incapable of even beginning to understand her mindset, or the bigger picture(s) in life; distracted by the simple, the mundane, the ignorant bullshit of life. She's got a lot of skeletons in her closet, though, and old problems don't go away when you wear the mask - or the crown - but the more you distance yourself, the more power you have; the safer you are. And she isn't a woman - she's a force of nature, if you ask her.

But being a god is both boon and bane - you're set apart, you're incomprehensible, you're too much for average people. And while these are, ostensibly, the very thing she wants... it's lonely, being misunderstood, and misunderstanding the world around you because of who you are, and how you see things. (And is it any wonder that a song NIN worked on is yet another in my roster?) So many lines in this are evocative for Jak though: "Maybe I could be a better human with a new name"/"Maybe I could be a different human in a new place" - her name isn't even Jak, at the end of the day. Jak is a creation, a new skin entirely.

[detragallery]

1) how would you describe your style

2) what's your favorite thing about your style

22) what inspires you

ERM............ that's a good quastion...... probably like...uh... lively and expressive???? i feel like my art just suits me as a person, which is what i'm going for <3

i LOOOOVE how i do lineart. like. i started doing "sketchy" lineart after watching one of my favorite artists draw and something CLICKED in me. it's so easy and painless for me, and i can adapt it whenever i need to, and it looks so fucking good.

i just answered 22, but shoutout to the Art Nouveau movement for being so epic <3

[detrasystem]

The Ring and the Ribbon

ahhhhh The Ring and the Ribbon is very special to us because it is one of our oldest stories, the first First Draft to ever be “finished”/make it to 50k words, and it’s kind of become the primordial soup for all of our other stories since.

it’s a new adult fantasy about an imperial family that must confront the dichotomy of magic as they know it when a group of mages begins attacking their safest harbors. it’s the first book in a pretty ambitious trilogy. but really it’s about old gay men and mental illness. <3

[ramenwithbroccoli]

Mam nadzieję, że rozumiesz, jak bardzo się cieszę, gdy pojawiasz się na moim telefonie. Nie mówię tego w dziwny sposób, to jak pies widzący swoją ulubioną zabawkę. To właśnie czuję, będąc twoją wzajemnością.

damn naprawdę miło to słyszeć. cieszę się że moja obecność tutaj jest trochę pożyteczna, skoro sprawia ci radość :] to jak minięcie się ze starym przyjacielem podczas przechodzenia przez ulicę <3

[clownleys]

Cowboy!!!! 🤠

date idea: we drive through the desert together pointing at cows and listening to my mix tape (and we're both tumbleweeds) 🤠

COLOUR MY LIFE INBOX

[theladymuses]

@jaksrpbox asked:

Does the mun read fanfictions and if yes, what is you opinion on them?

Esmé: ❝ She does, a lot. I dare say she reads more fanfictions than she talks! The kind of things she reads do say a lot about her, but I also think it's helped her develop her writing. Perhaps she uses them as characterization practice because she most certainly does not shut up when a character is...out of character, or when she thinks she can do better. She does criticize shows and things a lot, too. Maybe she should publish that thing she spends all day writing before she opens her mouth about others' work. ❞

Bianca: ❝ Oh, yes... Is that bad? I think her reading list is concentrated on characters she heavily relates to, but she is too selective. I thought these kinds of things are read for fun; she seems to read them for a different purpose. Oh, but she probably looks at them like a writer, maybe. Odd way to practice, but, I'm not an author so I don't think I can judge her methods! ❞

Miharu: ❝ 'Course, she does! The girl's lonely as all hell and craves attention so I think she reads those little things to make her self feel better. Pathetically obsessed with those fictional guys, if you ask me. ❞

Does the mun stay up long or goes to bed early?

A collective answer: ❝ It depends. Variable. Her sleep has no schedule whatsoever! ❞

How often do you annoy the mun? And with what?

Esmé: ❝ I drive her insane when she's trying to put me in the romance genre. It's a little amusing, but I have better things to do than fawn over a man. ❞

Bianca: ❝ I...I'm not annoying! ...Am I? Wayna? ❞

Miharu: ❝ It's not annoying, but she's a weakling! I won't be owned by a woman like that; she'd better step up her damn game or I will. ❞

[targentis]

❌What WIP do you find the most challenging? Why?

👻Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

❌: it’s Falcon. lmao. EUFKEJFKDJ

it’s a combination of a lot of things, to be honest. Falcon was written at a time when we were just learning how our writing process works, and how plots work. it started out with a really solid structure, but thinking that rewriting from scratch was Required, we rewrote the whole thing and it was���not as focused as the first draft. too much restructuring, too much overthinking, and it sort of lost its spark for us.

also, it’s a fanfic, so that means that our loss of interest in professor layton has sort of made us lose interest in this project, too. plus, our whole reason for writing it was out of spite for the way people used to talk about Bronev, but these days people are pretty chill about his character so it’s no longer so much of a pressing issue to write it. i’m pretty sure we’ll come back to it, but we’re REALLY burned out from it at this point.

👻: at the moment, EVERY scene that hasn’t been written feels intimidating. it shouldn’t be! but Editing Brain hasn’t quite turned off yet.

i’m mostly intimidated by all the scenes we wrote and NAILED in the first draft but need major reworking so we can’t keep those words. now that’s our nemesis.

[stellarresults]

[ 🤪 ] what is your muse’s sense of humour like? are they known for being joking, or serious?

[ 🩰 ] is there a type of fashion your muse prefers, or do they not pay attention to their appearance at all?

[ ⚽️ ] is your muse athletic? are there any sports they like playing?

headcanon meme

[ 🤪 ] what is your muse’s sense of humour like? are they known for being joking, or serious?

Not to repeat lines but it really depends on the person, I will say Kade is a lot less of a joker with people he doesn't know all that well. He might be occasionally snarky if he thinks he can get away with it with whatever type of personality he's trying to portray, but really his humor is mostly reserved for people he cares a lot about. Partially due to his own choice, and partially because at times... humor just goes over his head.

With people he doesn't know he'd almost rather appear to be dense over a joke, than possibly laugh at something not intended as a joke. But other times he really just is that dense and doesn't completely recognize the tone of the humor. This doesn't happen all the time but it does occur sometimes.

His sort of humor appears to be very blunt however, mostly to the point statements thrown out at specific moments to get reactions.

[ 🩰 ] is there a type of fashion your muse prefers, or do they not pay attention to their appearance at all?

Well when you're raised in the life of luxury, you might as well take advantage of it while you can; even to the point of spite. Kade very much pays attention to his appearance, he's not exactly what I would call vain but he knows how much a first impression can matter to people, so he tries to appear as well put together on sight as possible. Plus it just does a nice number on his confidence to actually feel like he does look nice.

He tends to not give a fuck about gender norms however and when fancy events come up he might take advantage of a prompt to wear an expensive dress. He'd never be able to afford it outside of his family and he knows they'll be mumbling complaints, and he doesn't care. He prefers it to a tux or a suit by a long shot, though he doesn't tend to take advantage of this in normal wear that often. But maybe once in awhile, as a treat.

[ ⚽️ ] is your muse athletic? are there any sports they like playing?

He does exercise regularly by walking around the city he lives in for awhile, if not using equipment to do so at a gym. But he's not absurdly athletic by a long shot, and he's never been particularly fond of sports.

[ffishstickks]

Hello！I am Chinese, so these words are all translated by translators.I beg your pardon.TUT .I'd like to ask, will Jak be interested in some niche culture lovers?Like Gothic, Dark punk...I'd like to know what Jak thinks of such people.It's important to me.(♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )Thank you for creating such a charming character.I like Jak too much！Thank you！！！

Dress him up people!!! Jak's whole thing is loving the main character.

He chooses you in LT because the niche sub-cultures you follow, how you dress, act, who you are. It's what he enjoys about you. If someone dressed goth, or even preppy and wanted to see him follow suit- he would.

Jak dresses plainly for efficiency over style. If mc actively offered him fashion advice or suggested clothing that they'd prefer, jak would jump on that with vigor. He wants to make mc happy.

[miqojak]

⭐ XVII - The Star : Inspiration, generosity, serenity, regaining hope, looking forward to the future.

(( So I think a few of these asks came in shortly before I went on a hiatus, and I kinda forgot about them - so have a thing that I wrote and re-wrote a lot, and I actually started writing in like, January of last year while on a train ride, then started again in the fall, and... kinda polished off today. I still don't feel fully satisfied with it, but probably because it's right after This Post - and is supposed to lead into talking about how meaningful this next tattoo is/was (especially in the face of all that she's lost), since it's related to Ketsuchi/his nickname for her, but I never finished this piece, and never got further than this! Maybe one day I'll write a more in-depth thing about the Robin tattoo and all the layers of meaning that has for her (every tattoo has special meaning for her - and tell you exactly who she is!). For now, it's a look at a more mature Jak - one who has grown as a person and is... indeed displaying some of that generosity and altruism that she always says isn't real - even if she's framing it as 'repaying' someone. Too bad no one ever catches her in the act to prove her wrong...))

Her feet still knew the way – after all, it was only a little more than two years - maybe two and a half? Since she'd run these streets – hungry, dirty, in debt… a street rat if ever there had been one. Just another forgotten refugee haunting the streets of Ul'dah – but now, now the word was that the Sultana had an initiative to employ refugees...to help them learn a trade, to get them home. Fewer, the Mhigan faces haunting the filthy back alleys... and part of her relished that, even if no such help had been handed down to her.

It never had been.

Who would she be, if it had been?

Would I be the one haunting shells of old hovels, lamenting the loss of those who've abandoned me?

It didn't matter, the 'what if' – the past was written, and she was the product of her past as much as anyone else was.

Tonight, her feet led her to Crying Dove's establishment – hood pulled up, tail tucked low beneath her cloak...better not to be recognized; best not to be seen either for who she was (who knew if she had wronged one of the faceless wretches that passed her now and again in the alley), nor for what she was: a small, attractive, and seemingly weak woman. Around here, that wasn't wise.

And yet, she couldn't help but wonder if her Wolf's eyes followed her, even here. Did he know? Did her attempts to go incognito, and slip past all others still manage to catch his ever-watching eyes? Funny, that there was comfort in it anymore, as opposed to the oppressive paranoia such thoughts had brought her, once. He'd promised, even - at her behest - to keep his eyes on her, and relief had flooded her. She could protect herself, but… he could, too. If something happened, he'd know. The irony, oh, the irony of it all – that she'd once choked on anxiety at the thought that his people would see her when that unknown 'something' happened. That she'd fuck up, and he'd know.

But now, oh...now… given what she was on her way to do, it made it all the more hilarious, really, how things had been turned on their heads.

She was at Dove's door before she knew it – watchful and wary as she was, it was almost a surprise how quickly she found herself at the threshold, letting herself in... letting herself briefly drink in 'old', but familiar sights and smells. Heady incense, and draped silks - only the finest, for Dove's little birds, after all. This could have been her fate, in truth, if she hadn't crossed the wrong man… or the right one, in truth, and ended up working for the Yakuza in the East.

Before she even had her hood fully lowered, the buxom Roe who ran the brothel was crossing the lobby in lengthy strides, arms open, “All little birds come home to roost, in time!” The far smaller Miqo'te rolled mismatched eyes - but couldn't help the ghost of a grin that hovered at the corner of her lips – Dove had been the only person who'd ever tried to help her when she'd been a hungry stray. Dove's Nest was a safe haven, and Jak had ducked into the establishment more than once when on the run from the Blades, and Dove would take the opportunity to cajole her and try to convince her to become one of her little birds – it was safe, it paid decent, and she'd have a roof over her head, and three square meals a day.

She'd had her twin to think of – though Dove would likely have gladly hired him, as well – but back then, sex had still seemed… grotesque. Frightening. Painful. You don't survive what she had and retain a sense of desire for physical intimacy of any kind - anyone's hands on her was still deeply disturbing.

All save for one.

But here, now, she couldn't be happier to see the gentle giantess...and allow her the hug she wanted. A rare occasion, hugs – any touch was unsettling, and intimate ones more so, but hugs? Hugs felt like traps. Exposing your belly to strangers, pressing your most vulnerable places to them... and most of the world was larger, and stronger than her. A hug could very well be a trap, in her mind - and not one easily fought out of, with your arms pinned.

Here, and now, she just let it be a warm, safe reminder that every now and then... she found someone worthwhile.

Paranoia be damned.

“I was never one of your little birds, Dove.”

“Oh weren't you, though? You don't have to rest your head in my roost, to be under my wing, Jackal.”

“Just... Jak, now. Finally picked a name, and stuck with it. I... ah,” she managed from the chokehold of a hug before, finally, the larger woman loosed her crushing hold, and the little Calico could breathe again, “I brought you something, for once, instead of just... showing up to ask for something.”

The woman settled her massive hands on the smaller's shoulders, and put a little space between them, to eye her better, “You look well. Healthy. In one piece. Not even out of breath from running from the law. And I can see that you've got some damn fine garb under those nasty robes, little bird. Tell me your tale... and do tell ol’ Dove what you've brought her, hm?”

Crying Dove loosed her hold, and led them back to her office, shouting for one of the girls to come and watch the lobby, the better to let Jak take as much time as she needed to...' tell her tale' – from when she went missing from the streets, up to this very moment. It took the little woman time, and alcohol, and plenty of blushing and swearing – both on her part, and the Roegadyn's, at points, but it was...nice.

Only when she was done with the tale, did she procure the gift – sliding a promissory note across the desk between them, next to the now-emptied bottle of top-shelf liquor Dove had produced from practically nowhere almost the instant the door had shut behind them – this woman had taste, no matter what anyone said.

“Well, ‘thank you’ might be in my vocabulary now, if… sparingly used,” here, the feline woman perks a thin brow upwards, as if to drive home the fact that it does mean something that she came to thank this woman, “But the importance of ‘please’ was impressed upon me, as well.” Wry, the faint curl of lips that follows… and precedes the following words, “So… while I did want to finally re-pay you for all you did for me,” - here, the giantess waves a dismissive hand the size of the smaller’s skull, though it does descend to pluck up that note, as the more feline of the two speaks, “I did want to ask if you’d lend me your tattoo artist again - I find that I’d like to return to hands I know, for my next piece.”

[romanarose]

Misunderstanding

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Join my taglist! Masterlist Read on ao3

Summary: When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.

Warnings: PIV sex, wall sex, oral f!recieving, manhandling, rough needy smut but loving and passionate, anxiety attack, Marc's self loathing but reader adores him. Calling Marc all kinda of cute nick names.

Immersability: Reader is fem, afab. Reader can be largly supported against the wall by Marc's strong arms <3

A/N: Commission done for @minigirl87 thank you SOOOOOOO much for your patience!!! Next time I do commissions i need to not do them right before moving. Left me quite behind. Anyway appreciate you so much!

Support creators! Reblog!

2.2k words

********************

Chaos made Marc anxious.

So, that’s why you decided to do spring cleaning while he and the boys were at work, hoping to get most of it done before the boys returned from work. What threw all your plans out of whack was a chance spotting on facebook marketplace. The prettiest furniture you’ve ever seen in your life was for fucking free. The owners were cleaning out the house from their mom who just passed, and just wanted the furniture to go to someone who’d love it like their mom did. And boy did you love it. The style was French Louis XVI. Fucking beautiful. So, you were making room. 

A lot was going to be given away with permission from your boys, and you’d be doing a lot of reorganizing of Steven’s books. A lot of trash, oh my god so much trash. Marc sure did love take out, even if it drove Jakey crazy. Then your old furniture was hauled out into the street for the garbage on tuesday, or some desperate soul. You hadn’t quite gotten to organizing Steven’s books and papers, but the trash was picked up, floors swept and mopped, and the old furniture was out. You needed to pick up your dream furniture, so you hopped into your car.

Steven was elated he got to go home early. It was only an hour, but that’s an hour more with you!!! You loved extra time with you!! There was a spring in his step, happily humming along to some song on Jake’s playlist on their phone. 

Until he saw it.

‘Aye, ¿que es?’ Jak asked, interrupting Steven’s happy thoughts.

Marc. ‘Is that… our furniture?’ 

“Oh my god…” Steven murmurs, slowing his steps. All their things were on the street.

‘She’s leaving us.’

“Oh, will you calm the hell down.” But Steven was a little nervous. He walks up the apartment stairs, ready to find you and get it all sorted out but… you weren’t there. The place looked so bare, so empty… The pictures on the walls were taken down, all the memories together, clothes were half-sorted in the bedroom and sheets off the bed…

You were gone. You didn’t want them anymore.

Marc took the body, pulling out his phone and calling you multiple times, but you went straight to voicemail.

“She’s done with us” Marc groans, backing against the wall. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

‘Mate, you need to calm down’ Steven tried to assure Marc, but he was nervous too.

Marc slid down the wall, beginning to panic. “Not this again…”

Jake and Steven attempted to tell him there’s another reason, logically.

‘She wouldn't just us… leave us’ Jake insisted. ‘She’s not like that. She’d tell us if there was an issue.’

None of this helped calm Marc, and he mentally checked out, sitting against the wall on the floor staring out the window.

That’s how you found Marc, dissociating and mentally checked out when you got home.

“Marcy Marc? Baby? Are you okay?” You toss your keys onto the counter and approach him, but stop when he suddenly jerks towards you like a scared animal.

Marc looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he scrambles to stand up. “Holy shit, you’re here…” He mutters, dashing over to you. “Baby, whatever it is, I swear to god I’ll fix it-” Marc hugs you so tightly it knocks the breath out of you with the force of him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Normally, you loved his bear hugs, they made you feel safe and oh-so loved, but right now his actions warned you he was upset. You always knew when your man was in distress, even when he tried to hide it. He wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-”

You hug him right back. “Marc, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t do anything wrong.” That you know of, but honestly you couldn’t foresee Marc, Jake or Steven doing anything bad enough for you to be upset about. Only thing would be… Gently, so he knows you aren’t rejecting his affection, you nudge him away so you can look in his eyes. However, you keep hold on his arms. Marc’s love language was physical touch, so you always showed your love to him this way.

“Baby…” You look into his eyes, keeping your tone and facial expressions soft. “Have you heard from Khonshu lately?”

Confusion spreads on Marc’s face, his already large eyes widening. “No! Nonononono is that what this is about? You thought I was with Khonshu again?”

You were confused too. “I didn’t think anything was happening until I came home and you were against the wall. Marc, sweetheart.” You search his face for answers. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m confused.”

He sputters a bit, trying to find the words. “Y-you’re leaving! You’re leaving us…”

You blink at him. “Huh? I’m not leaving you, god Marc, whatever got you this worked up? Sweetie, I’ve never been happier than with you three…”

“The furniture is on the street… Things are packed up… And, and and- the pictures! The pictures, they’re are taken down, our whole life together is off the walls-”

Ah. “Marc…” You realize what happened now. “Oh sweetheart, sweetie pie… I’m not leaving you. I’m doing spring cleaning. Remember, last week we went over what I could give away?”

The recognition slowly starts to spread across his face. “But… the pictures…”

“I took them down to wash the walls.”

“Oh… and the furniture?” It was beginning to click for him. This was all a misunderstanding.

You smile softly. “I found the coolest furniture. Steven will love it.”

He blinked. And again. “So… you don’t hate me?”

Your heart nearly broke at his words. “Oh Marc, no!” You gather him up in your arms again. “My sweet, sweet man I could never!”

You see his lip quiver a bit, but instead of crying Marc crashes his mouth into yours, large hands groping at your body with a fevur, like he couldn't believe you were real, that you were still here, still wanted him.

And he needed you.

“C’mere-” He grunted, gripping your asscheeks and pulling you towards him as he kisses you, mouth claiming yours in desperation.

Instantly you were filled with desire; Marc tended to do that to you. He was so handsome, so kind, so gentle you couldn’t help giving your all to him right away. Marc backed you up against the wall, the hand behind your head preventing you from smacking it against the plaster. He always looked out for you like that. You could feel his hardness as his wide hips ground into you, his plump pressed stomach against yours. You love how he’s softened, still so strong, but the safety of your home and the very idea that he wasn’t on the run and living in storage units… His body felt as safe as his mind did.

Marc’s mouth consumed you, licking into your mouth as his knee rid up between your legs. In loose, thin basketball shorts you felt his thick, manly thighs and sigh and pleasure.

“Marc…” You moan for him, unable to control the sounds of pleasure from escaping your mouth as you work yourself on his body. Hitching a leg up against his side, you cling to Marc for stability as he uses his grip on your ass for leverage, dragging you up and down on him. Marc’s kisses are insatiable, you feel as if he is attempting to breathe you in with heavy pants, kissing your lips and neck. Your face is wet from the open-mouth kisses.

Suddenly, and without warning, just as you are approaching the precipice humping his thigh, Marc pulls away and for a moment you think he got in his own head again, but then you are turned, face pressed against the wall but not painfully. Marc pulls your hips out, bends down to pull down your shorts and fucking picks you up by your pressed together legs to pull the shorts away. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he then kicks apart your ankles forcing your legs open. You aren’t even sure when Marc undid his pants, but before you know it, he is thrusting into your pliant and waiting body.

“M-Marc…” You repeat, his name the only thing on your mind is his name and his cock. Okay and maybe his hand wrapping around your front and snaking up your body. He plays with your grunts, grunting with his breaths hot against your ear and in time to the slamming thrusts of his hips. You brace against the wall, pushing your ass out more to take more of his length inside you.

“Thought I lost you…” He mutters, face tucked into your neck. 

“Never, never Ma- AH!” You cry out when he  squeezes a tit hard, pressing bruises through your shirt. “You-mmmph-you’re stuck with me.”

He pounds your core, rough thrusts mixed with soft kisses. You tilt your head back, desperate for his mouth, his love, his affection yours. He obliges, always knowing what you need and meeting your mouth to sloppily make out with you like horny teenagers. It was needy, it was desperate, it was Marc’s complete and utter relief that he was not going to be left shattered. He filled you over and over and again, the fat tip of his cock pressing up against that beautiful spot inside you. When you came, it was hard, pulsing on his cock again and again and again. Marc wrapped his arm under your middle as your legs began to feel like jell-o. 

“Mine.” He growls, spilling his cum inside you. “Fucking mine. Don’t every fucking scare me like that again.”

You want to tell him you didn’t that he jumped to his own conclusions but you were barely standing when he twirled you around again. Dropping to his knees, Marc looked up at you, large and wet brown eyes gazing at you in adoration. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful…

“I won’t…” You whisper down to his hopeful face. “I promise. I love you so much.”

With a relieved look on his face, Marc smiles at you and god is it nice to see him smile. “I love you too, baby.” With that, he hitches a leg over his shoulder and dives into your pussy. Between his cum and yours, it’s a mess down there and that’s further evidenced by the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his mouth as he sluuuurped up the evidence of your time together. Marc was eager, eating his own cum out of you while keeping your supported against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t let you fall. His tongue swirled against your clit, making you buck against him so one hand pinned your hips to the wall. He ate like this was his last meal, like his salvation came from your pleasure.

When he sucked on the sensitive nub, you cry out his name and dig your fingers into Marc’s dark curls, keeping him close to you. As if he’d ever leave. You were close again, the whirling swirling feeling deep inside you continuing to build like a twister into a tornado as you chant Marc, Marc, Marc like the repetition of a Rosary. His tongue flicked inside you, one hand keeping you upright against the wall and the other playing with your clit, making you come apart directly into his mouth.

You pull on his hair so hard you worry you’re hurting him but the way Marc shoves his face into you even harder spurs you on. You can hear and feel him moaning into you as he laps up your release, a soft mmmmmm reverbating against your pussy and prolonging it as you ride his face. Your left leg is so tired, so sore, starting to wobble and Marc notices as he finally pulls away. Marc helps you slide down the wall, landing you safely on your bottom.

On his hands and knees, Marc Spector crawls to you, kissing your lips tenderly but you can see his own exhaustion too. Cupping his face in both your hands, you kiss Marc as you lay him down on your naked lap. You’re surprised with how quickly Marc’s full lashes flutter closed, his head resting between the crux of your thigh and stomach.

You play with his hair. He seems so tired, today must’ve taken it out of him. After a whole day of work, coming home to thinking you were gone. You know how anxiety can physically drain you.

“That really scared you, huh?” You say, petting him like a cat. You swear you can hear him pur.

Marc talks soft, sleepy, eyes never opening. “Yeah. Thought I lost you… I can’t do that.”

“I’ll never leave you, sweetie. And I’d certainly never leave like that… But I know how anxiety can be.”

His voice was groggy with sleep, quiet and muttered. “Yeah, it fuck’n sucks.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. “It does, baby, it does. But I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. Can’t get rid of me if you tried, Spector.”

He hums constantly, and in another moment, Marc is snoring softly. He’s so cute.

Then, he’s snoring loudly.

Why didn’t Steven and Jake snore? Made no fucking sense.

Sighing, you settle back against the wall and maneuver enough to grab your shorts without waking your sleeping, tuckered out little boyfriend. You pull out your phone, take a few cute pictures (some with flowery or silly snapchat filters) then go play Candy Crush. He needed to rest.

Mostly, because he had a long day and was so so adorable when he was sleeping even if he was loud as all goddamn hell.

But also, you still had several pieces of furniture sitting in your car and there was no way you were going to move all of them yourself.

*************

We love a reader who can take care of an anxious baby <3

Thank you so much for reading!!!! This is my first marc, or any moon knight in a few months. I MISSED HIIIIIIMMMMMMMM

My beloved one <3

MY MOON KNIGHT RETURN IS HERE!!!!!!

I got a dark reader x marc coming up IF I OULD EVER GET A GOOD KNIGHTS SLEEP follow @romana-after-dark for that

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Summer School: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kiwiwatermelonsuger @sadgenderfluidmaniac @junghwansy2k 

Daniel meets you because of a summer arts program. Him and Amanda have been divorced over a year and they’ve been trying to figure out a way to prise Anthony away from his screen. It’s gotten worse since the split, his son has retreated entirely into the world of video games.  

Daniel can’t help but feel responsible for that. He was the one that told Amanda he was unhappy, the one that made her realise that she was unhappy too. In the beginning he thought maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut they could have persevered but time has given him clarity, they were friends more than lovers and Daniel, he wants passion, he wants romance. He deserves that and so does Amanda.

It's Amanda that finds the program, it allows students to try out different art forms over a six week period. Painting, pottery, metal work. Anthony protests at first but they present a united front, if he doesn’t attend he spends the entire summer without any screen time at all.

The first week Anthony complains relentlessly. Painting is very much not his thing and Daniel happens to agree, he’s all for self-expression but Anthony’s work, it’s beyond terrible.

The same goes for pottery, he comes home with a bowl that’s slanted to one side with weird, wonky edges. Daniel takes it into work and uses it to hold his paperclips.

By the time week three rolls around Daniel expects more of the same, he’s used to Anthony’s sullen moods, he’s been sulking ever since summer school started. Today however when he gets into Daniel’s car, it’s the most animated he’s seen him in years. His eyes are bright, he’s excited. He shows Daniel the motorcycle he’s made out of nuts bolts and wrenches and he’s completely blown away.

“Jak’s been giving me tips on making my own designs.” He tells his father proudly. “We need to hit the art supply store so I can get a sketch book and some pencils.”

That night Daniel calls Amanda after dinner.

“It’s like he’s a completely different kid. I don’t know who this Jak guy is but he’s worked wonders on him. He hasn’t looked at a screen all night.” He tells her as he watches Anthony sketching out design ideas on the kitchen table. “I feel like we should be gifting him a car.”

“Maybe we go smaller.” She says thoughtfully. “Start with some beers from that microbrewery you like. We don’t wanna scare him off by coming on a little too strong.”

“Yea I think I have a six pack somewhere, I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning.” Daniel murmurs, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “I’ll ask if he does classes outside of the summer school. I’d like to keep the momentum going.”

He drops Anthony off a little early the next morning so he can pop in and meet the man who has managed to engage his son. He has the six pack of mixed microbrews tucked under his arm when he raps his knuckles on the door and pokes his head inside.

“Hey, I’m looking for Jak.” He says to the woman sorting through the cardboard box of random metal bits and pieces.

“You’ve found her.” You say looking up from your task.

“You’re Jak?” He asks, his dark eyebrows raising as he drinks you in.

You are the furthest thing from metalwork artist that he ever expected. You’re breathtaking for starters, he means that literally, the oxygen catches in his throat when he looks at you.

“You were expecting a man.” You say in an amused tone before gesturing towards the box of beers. “Starting a little early.”

“Ah no.” Daniel says his cheeks colouring just a little as he sets them on the desk beside him. “They’re for you, a thank you for the work you’re doing with Anthony. It’s the first time I’ve seen him engaged with anything other than a video game since the divorce.”

He watches as you approach, his mouth going dry. There’s a sensuality to your movements, a gracefulness and it sends heat flushing through Daniel as he watches your fingertips caress the glass of each of the bottles as you study the flavours.

“A nice variation.” You say before slotting them back in the cardboard. “You’ve picked some of my favourites Mr LaRusso.”

“Danny.” He asserts and the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile.

Something blossoms in his chest and it feels like he’s seeing the sun rise for the very first time. This is what he was missing with Amanda, this passion, this fire.

“Ok Danny.” You say and he loves the way his name rolls off his lips. “What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to know if you do sessions like this after the summer? Anthony, he’s really excited about working with you. My ex-wife and I would really like to keep the momentum going if we can, make sure he has a creative outlet.” Danny tells you as you lean back against the desk.

“I run sessions out of my studio in Santa Monica. Each student works on their own project, they start with their own concept and then develop it, I’m there to show them the techniques, help them make it a reality and they take those skills into the next project.” You inform Danny as he settles beside you. Your perfume floods his senses, something floral with citrus notes, it reminds him of the first days of spring. “The stuff we’re learning in class this week is very basic and Anthony has taken to it really well. I think his interest in mechanics and the way things work definitely helps.”

“Mechanics?” Daniel repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. This is the first time he’s hearing anything about Anthony taking after him in that respect.

“Not the traditional concept like cars and engines, I mean more like cause and effect." You explain as you tuck your hands into the pockets of the cobalt blue blazer you’re wearing. “It’s why he’s so interested in games like Minecraft, he likes to see the effect that one thing has on another, kinda like Mousetrap. He’s trying to figure out how to make things move in his sculpture work.”

“I honestly had no idea he was into any of this stuff.” Daniel says rubbing his palm over the back of his neck.

“Kids don’t really share a lot with their parents at this age.” You reassure him before picking up a post it note and scribbling on it. “Why don’t you come by my studio, get a feel for what I do?”

You hand him the post it note and he studies the address, this thumb tracing lightly over the writing.

“I’ll do that.” He tells you as the bell rings, signalling the start of class. "I’ll try to stop by tonight.”

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