#moon boys system

[360iris]

Currently feeling very soft over how after Marc and Steven accepted each other and recognized they actually didn’t want to be without the other— Steven starts being the one to handle speaking to Khonshu—

Who had, up until the events in the show, grown accustomed to barking out orders and threatening Marc into blatant, powerless obedience with zero room to ever comfortably question the deity’s choices or motives.

But then Steven comes in, with an almost absolute comprehension of Khonshu that Marc had never had, and proceeds to advocate not only for himself but Marc as well.

Steven opens the door for negotiation and makes room for questioning Khonshu in a way he hadn’t ever really been before. Not with Harrow, Marc or Jake.

And if we look at the situation closer, we see that Marc went from fleeing his mother’s hatred and smothering abuse to being smack dab into another situation that stifled him.

Marc is good at fighting, at implementing violence because it’s what he’s used to having to resort to— but he doesn’t find any joy in explicitly harming or k!lling others.

This is a man who remembers exactly when and where he had to take yet another life.

And here he is, being made to murder night after night because Khonshu not only threatens to let his body return to lifelessness but also alludes to seemingly “enslaving” the only woman he loves in the world.

Anyway, I find so much joy and love in the scene where Steven begins fronting, Khonshu tells him to go away and is met with a “Bitch please, he and I are a package deal now. Get used to hearing from me!”

The days of Marc having to grit his teeth and force himself to commit acts he doesn’t want to are over, and now he really isn’t alone.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

*ok, but what is Jake's stragle?*

[moonyflesh]

a collection of my favorite Steven Grant moments because i related to him more than i think is deemed healthy.

[jamjjamm]

Marc Spector

[hellsenthero]

Kinktober Day 5: Overstimulation

Moon Knight System X Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

---

You smile up at your sweet, sweet boyfriend. His brown eyes wide with adoration. Just looking up at his little dopey smile, you know that it's Steven that's fronting.

"Enjoy your nap, love?"

"Yeah," you answer as you nuzzle your face into his palm. He's leaning over you, one hand propping himself up while the other gently cups your face.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up for a while now." Steven admits.

"Oh?" Steven nods, his dark hair falling in front of his face. "You have something planned?" You ask.

Steven shrugs a shoulder before leaning down and kissing you softly. "Not really, just miss your company."

"You were napping with me, Steven." You laugh out.

"Yeah, but I want more." You don't need to ask what more means. You can tell by the way Steven trails his lips down your neck, mouthing at your pulse point.

"Is someone feeling a little needy?" You tease.

"No." Steven says.

"Oh, so I guess I can get on with my day then?" You ask as you push Steven away from your neck. You nearly coo at the little whine he let's out.

"Yes," Steven admits quickly. He's always quick to fold. "I'm needy. Been missing you."

"Baby," you coo. "That's all you had to say."

No more words are spoken for a while as Steven trails his hands up your shirt. Skimming his fingers up your naked torso. He nips and sucks at your neck like a child with their pacifier. Your own hands run up his naked back, trailing through the ends of his hair and lightly pulling. You're quick to capture the moan Steven let's out with your mouth.

"Bloody hell," Steven breathes out as he pulls away from the kiss. His hands make their way to your underwear, having taken your pants off before getting into bed earlier for your nap."I need you, darling."

"You got me, baby." You tell him as you shimmy out of your underwear. They're damp with your arousal and Steven is quick to toss them off the bed along with his own.

"Just wanna be in you, love." Steven admits.

"Go for it." You tell him, but he's quick to shake his head.

"No, love. Gotta prep you, yeah."

"Steven," you whine as he slips a finger inside of you.

"Been waiting for this for a while." Steven tells you as he thrusts his finger inside of you. He adds a second finger when you start to tilt your hips down towards his hand. "Now you gotta wait just a bit, love."

"Steven," you warn. Wanting nothing more than his cock in you right now.

"Almost there, love."

After adding a third finger and thoroughly teasing you, Steven slips his fingers out of you and lines his cock up at your entrance. He's slow to push in, much unlike his alters, Steven likes to take his time entering you.

"Oh God," You moan.

"Not God, love, just me." Steven says rather cheekily.

You laugh as you move to meet his thrust. "I need you to pick up the pace."

"You got it love." Steve says and true to his word, his next thrust comes faster and harder than the last. "Like that?"

"Yes," You hiss in pleasure as Steven continues to fuck you. When it comes to sex, hard and fast isn't typically Steven's style. But he likes anything that brings you pleasure and today that's this. "So good, Stevie."

"Oh love," Steven coos. "Feel so good wrapped around me. Gonna make me come."

"Do it." You order.

"Not without you. Gotta make you come."

"I'm close," you whine. "So close." Your hands grab onto Steven's ass, pulling him in closer. "Gonna come, Stevie."

"Oh love, come for me." Steven begs. You moan and cry out as you reach your climax, crying Steven's name just as you feel him reach his own end, filling you up with his spend.

You expect Steven to pull out next. To get started on cleaning the two of you up and laying down for cuddles. But instead he's lifting your legs over his shoulders, his cock still hard inside of you.

"Steven!" You shout as his cock hits even deeper into you.

"Try again." A deep voice orders. You look up to meet your boyfriend's gaze and you can tell that Steven is no longer the one looking back at you. Marc is fronting now and he doesn't seem to be satisfied the way Steven was.

"Marc," you lament.

"There we go." Marc chuckles. "Thought you were done?" He asks.

"Wasn't expecting you." You tell him truthfully.

"Oh, would you rather Steven come back?" He asks. Despite his hard cock inside of you, you know that if you said yes that Marc would get Steven back in the body instantly.

"No, aa long as he's not upset. I know he likes our down time after sex."

"He does," Marc says as he slowly thrusts his cock in and out of you. "But he's happy to watch, too." Marc leans down and kisses you. It's different from Steven, harder, but still tender. "Let's give him a show."

You can't help but cry out in shoke and pleasure as Marc gives a hard thrust into your channel. Your hand comes down to grab the meat of his thigh and your sure that the both of you are going to have bruises from each other once this is done. "You know," Marc grunts as he fucks you. His hair falls into his eyes but he doesn't move it, his hands stay wrapped tightly around your ankles, holding them over his shoulders. "I've been watching for a while now. Watching you moan and cry for Steven."

"Oh fuck," you babble. Your eyes close in pleasure for a moment before opening back up and meeting Marc's dark gaze.

"All I could think while I watched you get split a part on his cock was that I could do a better job."

"Marc!" You cry as you quickly reach your second orgasm. Still sensitive from Steven, you're quick to climax a second time.

"Now I gotta show him how a real man does it." Marc says before crashing his mouth onto yours. Your kiss is dirty, a mess of teeth and tongues. Your hands reach up for his dark strands of hair, pulling and grabbing.

"So good, Marc. So good." Your words are slurred with pleasure, more babbling than anything. But Marc answers you still.

"Gonna come inside of you, baby. Gonna pump you full. You'll be leaking with me."

"Fuck Marc please!" You beg.

"Fuck baby, take it!" Marc orders. His grip on you tightens as he reaches his end. "Fucking take my cock, take my come!" Marc groans as he comes inside of you. Leaning down his his face buried in your neck. Marc pulls his cock free of you and you whine at the emptiness despite feeling the beginnings of being overstimulated. You don't register that he's moved again until you feel a mouth at your entrance, a tongue licking up the come that leaks out of you.

"Fuck!" You cry as you jolt back, further into the pillows. "Too much!"

The licking stops for a moment before you hear your boyfriend speak. But it's not Marc that speaks this time, but Jake. "Common princess, you can handle it. Just tryna clean you up a bit." You don't get a chance to answer before you feel Jake's mouth back at you entrance, lucking and sucking you clean. You squirm away, for back into the headboard, but Jake is quick to grab onto your legs and pull you back to were he kneels between your open legs. He doesn't appreciate you trying to take away his little treat and pinches your thigh in warning. "Stop moving." He orders before he continues to suck your fucking soul out of your body.

"Jake!" You yell. You yell loud enough for the neighbour's to hear, no doubt giving them the idea you're having one hell of a foursome. Your next release comes so fast it's nearly painful. There's no more of the slow, teasing buildup. "Too much," you sob just as Jake pulls away from between your legs. His right hand rubs you leg gently, a stark contrast to his attitude earlier.

"Too much?" He asks with a faux pout.

"Too much, Jake."

"Okay, " Jake says softly. "In that case just one more then." You don't get a chance to answer before his mouth is back on you. Licking and sucking and devouring. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know that your boyfriend is full of his when he says just one more, but you can't complain. Not too much, at least. Not when he's making you feel so good. Your body is limp and your half conscious by the time your faith, six? Climax comes barrling through you. Jake's mouth must be sore, he's been at it for a long time, but he doesn't say so.

"Too much." You whimper. Your limp hand gives a weak attempt at pushing Jake's head away, but it quickly falls flat on the bedsheets.

"I know, princess. All done." You breath out at the promise of an end. You're more than ready to take another nap now, to go back to sleep and not wake up for hours. You're just about to do so when your boyfriend's voice has you peaking your eyes open at him. "We're all done." He promises again. "Just as soon as I get one more from you." He says with a smirk before diving back into your center.

[jayke0]

Just The Tip

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: Marc admits his love for you, and you both end up a little more desperate for each other than expected, so much so that he can't even get inside you properly.

Rating: 18+, smut

Warnings/Content: a bit of angst at the start, fluff, romantic, desperate Marc, just the tip, oral (f receiving), male masturbation, unprotected sex, totally unrealistic and self-indulgent, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,605

Credit: @automnepoet (who also requested this btw) for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"Marc…" is what you can barely mutter as your boyfriend slides his tongue over yours and licks into the heat of your mouth ferociously.

"Marc–"

Your second attempt at getting his attention is futile.

"Marc!"

Finally, he releases the suction he has on your lips, looking at you with wide blown out pupils that make you think Steven might've fronted in the short time he's been sucking your face off.

"What's gotten into you, sweetheart?" Your tone is soft as you run your hands through his curls and you feel him press into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut briefly to calm himself.

They had been away for a few days on a mission, nothing too big, which is why you're so confused now. They've been on much longer trips away, much more dangerous trips, but they'd never come home like this. Maybe he hadn't been totally honest with you, maybe something bad had truly happened and now he's trying to make out with you like it's his final chance… the thought makes your stomach coil with anxiety.

A sharp inhale brings you back into the room, and you notice he's staring at you again, though his gaze is more lidded; more "Marc" like.

"Nothing, I just…"

The anxiety builds stronger in your gut, stretching up to your throat to clench it in a vice grip.

"I don't want you to freak out, but-"

Uh oh.

"I almost got killed," he brings a finger up to stop you from interrupting him. "and it really put everything into perspective for me… I realised how much I love you, and how fucking much I'd miss you, even in death."

A cocktail of relief, sadness and anxiety all bubble inside you, making your ears hot and your expression evident on your face.

"Baby…" You can't help it, but tears start forming in the corners of your eyes despite the attempts to blink them away. "I love you too, so much–" You're leaping forward before he can even get another word out, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as if he might melt away from right underneath you. "Please be more careful… I need you, all of you." The mumbles are quiet in his ear, and you're both left with just your slow breathing for a few moments, Marc's hands rubbing your back comfortingly.

You pull back and admire his big, soft eyes, ones that you could even say you enjoy a bit more than Steven's, purely because it's a rare occurrence. Raking your fingers through his curls, you lean forward into his lips again and give him an affectionate peck, one that soon turns into you both panting against each other's mouths once more.

"Mmm, missed you so fucking much, baby." Marc whines, like actually whines, and it's a noise that has arousal spreading in your tummy and between your legs.

"Show me how much. Please, darling."

The man is jumping on you before you can go back to your heated kiss, his necklace dangling above you as he situates between your legs and grinds himself against your core.

"Lemme taste that cunt, sweetheart, please?" Your boyfriend asks as he's already kissing down your body until his lips reach your lower tummy. You nod, eager to feel his tongue again, and lift your hips so he can pull your pyjamas off. "Want you on your front though, can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Marc, whatever you want. Just want you inside me."

A growl fills your ears and spreads to your wet cunt as he grabs your hips and flips you onto your front, the gesture making you grab the cushions for a second to steady yourself. Looking over your shoulder, you can just about see Marc leaning down to lick a long strip up your lips, making you instead rest your head on the armrest with a soft sigh.

His tongue is delving between your folds in seconds and tasting your arousal, lapping up every inch of that sweet stickiness he'd missed so damn much. A pleased hum makes your desperate cunt throb before his nose bumps your lips and his tongue slides over your clit perfectly. The action makes you jolt and whimper, which only makes him do it again, purposefully teasing your poor clit till you're writhing on the couch and begging for a release while his nose teases your aching hole. You're clenching around nothing in minutes, pressing back on his tongue and nose as white hot pleasure surges through your body and makes your muscles tense and relax all in one go.

You whimper softly and look back at him again. "Please baby, let me feel your cock." You give your best pout, craving that initial stretch and feeling of being filled that only he can satisfy.

When Marc pulls away, the shininess of his chin makes you blush; were you really that wet? Or was it his saliva? you don't have time to ponder as you feel your boyfriend leaning over you, peppering kissing over your neck and whatever parts of your back he can get too.

"Such a pretty girl, my pretty baby. Been waiting to feel your cunt again, it's made me fucking crazy."

Maybe being away had made him a poet too.

You feel his tip suddenly pressing against your hole and you brace yourself for the delicious stretch… but it never comes, instead you just feel the blunt tip rutting against your walls. For a moment you think your boyfriend has malfunctioned somehow, but when you look back at him you see his head tilted back in pleasure, brows knitted together tightly while his jaw hangs slack.

"Marc? Are you o—"

"Just stay still baby, stay just like that babygirl." His words are breathless.

One hand rests on your ass, while the other wraps around your thigh and pulls you back on him just barely.

"Feels good like this." Your hole feels like a massage for his swollen tip, and he finds himself getting swept up in the feeling of it, the tightness of just the entrance and the lewd 'pop' sound it makes when he pulls out.

You expect this from Steven, maybe even Jake on a submissive day, but never Marc. He's always so good at holding himself together and fucking you for your pleasure, but he almost seems feral right now, just fucking what he can.

"Missed you so much baby." He repeats with a mumble and moan.

As he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, you realize he must be close, so you start clenching around him, making soft noises for him. "Fill me up Marc, wanna feel you cum in me again baby."

A low groan rumbles in his chest as you barely feel hot ropes painting your walls before he's pulling out and painting your hole instead, coming onto it and your thighs rather than inside. You kinda wish he'd filmed it or something, because ultimately the idea of him jacking off on your hole had made you much more excited than you'd thought, finding yourself pushing back on him and his softening cock.

He pants softly and rubs your ass, giving it a soft pinch and slap that makes you giggle.

"What was that all about then, hmm?" You tease with a grin.

"Don't you dare tell the other two."

"Oh, I'm going to."

His fingers splitting you open makes you gasp and grit your teeth, rolling your hips back on them.

"We'll see about that, baby."

You feel his free arm snake around your body and pull you up flush against his chest, your own chest resting neatly on top of his thick arm as he holds you close to him and draws shivers over your body with his breath.

"Y–you really don't have to do this Marc—" You stammer, but your body disobeys your words and continues to grind on his thick digits, showing him all he needs to continue pleasuring you.

"It's ok, baby. You know I love doing this, love pleasing you, alright?" His breath ghosts your ear and his tongue pokes out to lick the shell, teeth nipping it softly. "Just lemme pleasure this cunt, my cunt."

Oh lord, you haven't heard him say that in a while, but it makes you moan mortifyingly loud, your voice cracking a little as your breath is shortened by the firm grasp he has on you. Zealously, your hands struggle to grapple his arms when his fingers work faster inside you, dragging over the spot that has your orgasm rushing towards you all too fast, building from your toes all the way up to your flushed ears.

"You love my fingers, tell me you love them, babygirl."

"I do! I l–ove them baby-." Is all you can stammer.

Instinctively, your head tilts to the side to allow Marc access to your neck, and he does just that. He marks you like he hasn't seen you in months, drawing gasps and soft sobs from your chest as he breaks the soft skin and heat blossoms underneath, all rushing too your cunt until finally—

"Fuuuuckk!"

Your body rolls against his while you ride out your second orgasm, your thighs shaking and struggling to keep you up as your whole body shudders, whimpers and whines being all that's left of the intense pleasure.

You come down slowly, leaning back against Marc with all your weight so he can hold you close and pepper your neck with kisses.

"Good girl. I love you sweetheart."

"Mmmm…" You simply mumble at first, brain still foggy. "I love you too."

...........................................................................

Tagging people 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose

[pimosworld]

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”

Jake -he has a name

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better

[evilbubu]

Marc in that one CCTV footage:

[pygmi-cygni]

envy - jake lockley

envy - jealousy of somebody's success and a desire to have it for yourself.

cw: smut, feelings, body worship, jake is a little emotionally stunted, he learns to chillout a bit, nothing really kinky.

a/n: I know you guys were expecting some dom angry jake or something but i just want to kiss him tbh.

It had been a blissful few weeks. Khonshu had gone under for a while, meaning the boys had a long stretch of rest and relaxation. Marc had taken full advantage; slept almost every hour he fronted, honestly. You had some good snuggles on the couch together before bed. Steven was picking up a hobby of painting, and you loved to sit with him at the kitchen table and watch his creations.

Your relationship was glowing. There hadn't ever been such a long time that you could just be together, without worrying about Khonshu or anybody else.

Although, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. Jake had always been the quietest alter, but he made sure to pop in at least once and say hello or dive for a kiss. He'd leave notes on the fridge or send flowers to your work.

Recently he'd been nearly silent. You could hear him in the morning; his footsteps were by far the heaviest, and he always hummed Sinatra while he brewed the coffee. But as soon as you'd go over to say good morning, Marc would blink back at you.

You hadn't said anything the first few days. Maybe he's catching up on sleep. But after a week, you'd started to feel hurt. it wasn't just his absence.

He looked at you differently. His eyes were cloudy and he didn't make eye contact. His jaw was clenched tightly. He looked...mad?

Jake hardly ever ignored you when he was upset. He was a little conflicted but he'd always apologize, showering you with affection.

The thought somersaulted in your head while you stood by the sink. Your cup of coffee had gone cold as you thought. Had you said something? Did you forget an important day? None of the valid reasons you could think of applied.

"You alright, dear?"

Steven's gentle question broke your reverie. A wistful smile flitted across your face.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks, Steven," you nodded, kissing him on the cheek. "Just thinking."

He rubbed your shoulder and nodded towards the television. "Marc's been wanting to watch a new show, you wanna join?"

"Is that even a question?"

Laughing, you both curled up on the sofa, an old quilt tucked under your feet. It was a crime show, of course, but even with the gruesome details you found yourself drifting off, wrapped in warmth in Steven's lap.

Some time later, you woke to a jostling. Rubbing crust from your eyes, you pulled the blanket tighter and tried to find Steven. He was halfway off the couch, one leg still trapped under you.

"Why you leaving?" You mumbled pitifully, reaching out. He paused, before lifting his leg and stepping away.

"'M not Steven."

"Jake!" you sat up, suddenly awake. "Baby, where've you-"

"I'm gonna go to bed. He'll be back in the morning." He leaned forward and brushed the barest kiss to your hair, before stalking off.

You felt like you'd just been slapped. In your eight months with the boys, Jake was by far the most intimate, craving touch whenever possible. He'd cry if you didn't kiss him before work. And all of a sudden, he balked at a couch snuggle?

What?

The blanket trailed behind you, slithering over the cold floorboards as you padded after him.

He'd already shucked Steven's jeans and pulled the covers up to his chin, facing the wall.

You knew better than that. Jake's shoulders tensed when the mattress dipped. Shifting close, you tucked your hands around his waist and locked your legs around his hips.

He was stiff as a board, hands firmly under his pillow. You huffed, nudging your nose into his neck. He twitched at the ticklish feeling and you tried again, flicking your tongue out. Jake grunted and turned over, nose-to-nose with you.

"Hey," you whispered. His eyes glittered dark in the low light. You so badly wanted him to lean forward and brush your lips with his, but he stayed a few inches away.

"Steven and Marc are asleep," he whispered back. "You can see them later."

"I don't want them."

Something about your tone, soft and clingy, made his brow furrow. There was that look again; frustrated and cold. You leaned in to hide the cracking of your hurt.

He pulled away. You whined quietly, eyes welling. Jake's chest burned when he saw your tears, but he kept silent.

"Are...are you mad at me?"

He'd never heard your voice so shattered. It cleaved a hole right through his heart. Words got stuck in his throat. No, he wasn't mad. How could he be mad? You did so much for them, all of them. Maybe more for Marc and Steven, but...

"Mariposa..." he lifted a hand to your cheek. You leaned in, fisting your hands at his chest. Jake reluctantly held you back, tucking his chin over your head. You burrowed as tight as possible, squeezing against him in a way that made his heart hurt.

"Why did you leave?"

The question met his ears and he sighed. The complicated slurry of emotions hung heavy in his chest. Taking a laborious breath, he shrugged.

"Didn't want to interrupt the show."

"No. Why did you leave?" You pulled away, brow set. He looked away, exposed. That raw nerve that entangled his heart was throbbing with alarm. He was too open, too vulnerable. Both of his headmates were out, cutting off the exits.

A soft rub to his chest. He'd been hyperventilating. Your eyes were wide and worried.

"Jake?"

It was too much. He wanted to get away. This was too hard to explain. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult, why did you have to ask? Your curiosity was adorable but it disrupted his brooding intentions.

The bedroom began to fall away as the tight thrumming of his anxiety took over.

He shuddered in a breath, raking a hand over his face.

"I..." The rest of the sentence was gluey on this throat. He coughed and tried again. "I didn't want to interrupt...you."

"Interrupt? What do you mean?" You were still stroking his shoulder gently. Tears threatened to fall. this was going so badly.

"You. And...them."

Another slap to the face. You gaped at him, more in hurt than in shock. "Us? You mean - Jake, what the hell are you talking about? You're not interrupting anything-"

"Leave it, amor, forget I said anything," he muttered, cowering behind his walls again. You wrenched his head to yours in frustration.

"No, Jake Lockley, I will not forget it." Your eyes softened. "Why do you feel like that?"

"It's not-"

"It is important, mister."

Feeling like a child, Jake shuffled to face you and harrumphed.

"It...it seemed like you were in the middle of something," he mumbled, neck heating. Frowning, you shook your head.

"So? You're not banned from participating. I'd love to watch something with you."

You weren't getting it. This was why Steven did all the talking. Frustration churned in his chest. He just wanted to sleep and shoulder this off to Marc. You liked him better anyway.

"Just stop," he hissed, backing away, "you have your things with them, go enjoy that. You don't need me."

You were dumbfounded. What?

"Don't need y- Jake, what the hell?"

His claws were out, shielding the raw emotion pulsing in his heart. Just stop.

"You like them better, si? I know you want Marc, just let me sleep and he'll be-"

You yanked his head to yours, scowling at his bitter tone. A mix of torrential sorrow and dumbfounded irritation tore at your ribs.

"Jake Lockley," you seethed, "you've said that once and I won't settle for a second time. You are not nothing."

He met your anger with his, but a shining film of tears diluted the rage. "No," he whispered.

"I love you too, idiot," you said indignantly, tugging his hair. he bashfully ducked his head, wanting to hide the watery tears bubbling up.

"You know that, right?"

He didn't move.

"Jake."

You carefully lifted his chin, peering into his glistening eyes. A tiny, imperceptible whimper.

"Oh, honey."

He collapsed into your hug as you stroked his back, murmuring soothing reassurances as he choked back a sob. He'd never felt so exposed. The delicate flesh of his chest was flayed open, revealing the timidly thumping cavern of his heart. Red and tender, too soft to cope with the dangers of out there. it felt like you'd reached in and grabbed it, cradling it like the sun. Jake curled into himself, head dropping onto your chest.

"You- you just seem so right with them an' I didn't know if you actually needed me or if I was just there an', an-"

You pulled him to your chest, shushing the sobs that wracked his frame. Internally, you were a mess. He'd never shown this much of himself. How long had he been thinking this way? Thinking you didn't love him as much?

"Of course I want you," you said, shocked. "Of course, love, you're all important to me. Equally," you said firmly. Jake choked into your shirt and you rocked, side to side.

"Why would you think that?" you asked gently when he'd gotten his breathing back to normal.

He avoided your gaze, hot shame curdling his stomach. This wasn't how he expected this to go. He wanted you to brush him off, give him the predictable air of nothing. Clean apathy was easier to live in.

Jake felt like a baby deer, stumbling around in the throes of love, trying to get his feet back under him. This was new. this was different, he wasn't used to being so unsteady. He was the strong one, the big bad Jake that had everything under control-

"It's okay," you whispered, kissing his cheek, "I understand. Just let it out for a bit."

His hands curled at your hips, pulling you tighter as he hid in your neck.

Your shirt was soaked when you pulled away. He still wouldn't look at you, but you could feel his grip tighten on your wrists. Don't go.

Still kissing his face, you gently rucked up his shirt and stroked his chest. Jake sniffled and held you tighter, mouth connecting messily with your neck. The wet warmth of his tears mixed tenderly with his soft lips.

Carefully, like calming a spooked animal, you kissed down his jaw, laving your tongue on his neck and shoulders. Jake stuttered, unsure of how to handle the raw emotion. This was his thing. He did that, not the other way round. You kissed down his sternum, cradling his hands in yours.

"Pretty," you whispered into his warm skin. "have I told you how pretty you are?"

His chest was seized with emotion so thick he could barely breathe. 'I-I look the same as the others," he gritted out, trying to salvage his exterior. A petulant mewl when you sucked a bruise above his heart.

"I know, but you're lovely in your own way." You hovered over the mark, blowing gently and smiling at the prickling goosebumps. Jake didn't know up from down as you continued your slow descent. The heady mix of lust and adoration was making his head fuzzy.

The apartment fell away while you held him. He had started crying again; a silent barrage of warm tears trickling down his cheeks. You licked up the salt, pressing the taste of his yearning onto his tongue. Jake moaned weakly into your mouth, pawing at your shirt.

"Patient," you whispered, returning to your task.

He hiccupped and raked a hand through your hair. The thumping of his heart in your hands was harder now, glistening with newfound love. You continued to wrap him in a protective cape of encouragement, coaxing his shoulders to relax.

You stopped above his waistband, moving to straddle his lap. "Follow my lead," you instructed gently, looking into the dark well of his gaze. Jake Lockley was at a loss for words as you rocked against him, tucking is head in your neck.

The pure intimacy was stifling. He couldn't breathe around the weight of the affection you carried for him. Something had burrowed into the pores of his skin, tearing down the stone barricades around his mind.

The exposure didn't feel so bad. You were right there next to him, keeping his soft frailty from crumbling.

"You've got such nice eyes," you murmured, your own sweet gaze shining with kindness. Sniffling another wave of tears as you kissed his eyelids, Jake felt another wave of emotion.

The comments continued, praising his hair, his mouth, his skin, his strength. Each word rebuilt a piece of his armor.

Softer, better. Like flexible cotton rather than strangling iron. Somehow it felt stronger. Like he was soaring above the Earth, unstoppable.

"you're strong, Jake," you licked into his mouth, "you do such a good job with Steven, keeping him safe."

Alto. no, no, no he couldn't no this. too close to his sensitive middle. caught off guard, he reflexively pulled away, hackles raised. You crept higher on his lap, refusing to let him hide.

"marc knows too, sees how patient you are when he's mad." Another warm kiss and Jake was a mess.

His heart had been pounded to a bloody pulp with every praise, shuddering and pulsing weakly on the floor. your hands were stained, but you still held him lovingly. How did- how did you-

Another shuddering breath, and you blessed him with a reprieve from the attention. Your coaxing, tender touches never stopped, still petting the tension from his bones.

Jake was at the top of the tower, staring down into the abyss of this. This new thing; the drowning mass of you.

jump.

jump, he could do it. just dive in.

Your eyes met his again. "te amo."

the wind whistled by his ears. it's okay, it's okay, he'd-

he landed safely in your embrace, diving forwards to devour your mouth with his. This time you didn't push him away, but pulled him on top of you, running your hands over his sides. He desperately grabbed at your hips, wanting to mold into you. to grow into one body, every cell touching and twining until nothing could pull you apart.

"It's okay, hey," you cooed, helping him burrow into your chest. The warmth of your breasts surrounded his face. This was familiar, he could do this.

A shuddering sigh drifted musically through the room as he kissed and sucked, hoping to drive you even close to the pleasure you'd brought him.

His kisses were needy, harsh and desperate. thank you, they said. thank you thank you thank you.

Gently, softly, he licked down into your folds, pulling aside your panties. The soft tang of your sex made his heart flutter. Your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging and raking delicious rows of arousal into his core. Rivers of lust poured from every inch of him, fueled by the intensity of your affection.

"Good," he moaned into your folds, licking up your slick, "g-good God please-"

You trilled a pleased sigh, thighs tightening around his ears. Jake was engulfed in you; your sent, your softness, your everything. He didn't want to leave. How could he? The syrupy trap of your honeyed attraction had ensnared his heart and wasn't letting go.

"I love you," you panted at your climax, "Iloveyousomuch oh-"

Jake groaned when your wetness met his tongue again, drinking from your well like a parched soldier.

He climbed up your body, diving back into your mouth. You shuddered and wrapped around him, hand traveling to stroke slowly at his hardness. Whining softly, he positioned you to sit on top.

Another powerful punch of lust knocked the air from his lungs as you slipped him inside, face contorting with pleasure. Pride swelled, knowing he could do that to you. Him, not Marc or Steven or anybody else. You moaned and writhed for him.

Your kiss-swolled lips were slack as you rolled your hips, hands planted firmly on his chest. Jake brushed the hair from your face, gazing darkly into your hazy eyes.

"Mariposa," he breathed, capturing your lips in his. The shift made him slide deeper, stroking a heavenly spot deep inside. You cried out against his mouth and he swallowed the sound greedily, rocking harder and harder.

"Need," he moaned, "need you to f-feel good, baby, need ah-"

You clenched around him, hands digging into his back. The fluttering, trembling warmth that surrounded him was intoxicating. Jake slumped against the headboard, bucking his hips as you draped over him. Your warm, slick bodies rolled together, riding waves and waves of pleasure.

Not an inch between you wasn't completely smothered by the other. Jake felt hot arousal peaking in his core, sending a rush of adrenaline through his shaking muscles.

"Amor," he heaved, "amor, oh, please cum, please please I need you to cum," his voice pitched higher. You whimpered, shuddering as his thick girth stroked your walls perfectly, caressing every spot inside. He pulled you tighter, clutching you to his chest.

The sheets were twisted tight around your limbs, rucking and rutting harder and faster into each other. A sinful moan ripped your throat as you bounced on him, soft flesh glowing with the orgasmic halo. A final mewl and you were finished, pulsing hot and tight around him.

Jake bucked once more and thrust hard, shooting his climax as deep as possible. Your velvety folds greedily flared around him, drinking in his spend as you shuddered and keened. Before he'd even finished, he'd tucked you under him, greedily pressing his mouth against your sweaty neck.

I love you, he slurred, I love you so much, baby.

Your fingers limply entertwined with his, finally at peace.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine taglist, comment to join!

[starsarekind]

Slowly and steadily learning how to draw the boys (feat Layla)!

[360iris]

make it awkward | moon knight system x camgirl!reader

3,491 words, mature (more than a lil bit of a crack fic?), Steven x reader + Jake x reader focused, no use of Y/n, all Spanish sentences are translated at the very end (I grew up around Spanish speakers from ages 6 to 16 but I never became fluent— forgive me for any grammatical errors, I don’t think I did too badly though.)

Steven has a guilty pleasure that only he knows about and it comes in the form of a woman. Or the livestreams she has every Tuesday, of every week, to be more precise.

He wishes he could say he were a casual viewer, watching the VODs that get posted to your channel after each stream has been completed whenever he has the necessary urge.

But that wouldn’t be the truth, it was the furthest from it actually.

His real secret is that Steven tunes in every Tuesday for your morning, evening and midnight streams if he can– if his body doesn’t decide it would rather go on autopilot and venture off who-knows-where, when it feels so inclined.

He’d like to say that he was only the tiniest bit of an admirer of yours, but even that wasn’t remotely close to the truth either. The truth was that he was mere inches, feeble and miniscule centimeters, away from being flat out obsessed with even the idea of you.

From an outsider’s perspective, you were an absolute catch. Cute with beautiful hair and skin that looked so soft he couldn’t guess how it’d feel to catch the smallest of caresses of your arms or legs.

But what really reeled him in was your voice.

He liked how personable, wholesome and excitable you were while expertly starting and maintaining conversation with the chat– even when you were particularly preoccupied with the combination of the separate vibrator and dildo focused at your core; your words turning airy and distracted as you answered questions about your day.

Always generous with the small details you offered, making sure to mention the guy on the train that swooped in to steal your seat when you got up in hopes of offering it to an old woman— or how a sweet girl around your age complimented your outfit on one of the rare occasions you went out to treat yourself.

Another quirk he liked about you was how much of a home-dwelling being you seemed to be. He knew posts on your private accounts weren’t much to go off of to paint a realistic illustration of your life but from the little he could glean, you didn’t go out much if you could help it.

Preferring the relaxing amenities within the confines of your home to other people and ordering modest but nice additions to your space when you could, like furniture and functional decor. Unmistakably proving to be an unusual but interesting woman.

Pulled from the mindless scrolling on his phone, he registers the knock that sounds at the door to his flat. A phenomena that sets him on immediate guard due to how rarely it occurs that he has visitors. Never has he had anyone over.

The initial spectacle dying down when he opens the door only to find it’s just a lone mail carrier, a large cardboard box held up in his arms.

“What’s this? A package?” Steven asks curiously, not fully registering how the man’s face pales considerably as he meets his gaze, thrusting the box forward into his arms.

“Wha– Hang on a sec.” But the carrier is already departing without so much as a passing word, darting towards the stairwell as though he were running from a bully. “But I didn’t order anything. Did I?”

Brewing on the thought for a moment longer, he pulls the door closed behind himself, haphazardly locking it.

His only current priority being to open this box which could finally clue him in on what on earth his body got up to when he wasn’t in control of it. Because this could be it, maybe it was clothes? Equipment, or books? He could find out a lot depending on the kind of books that were tucked away inside this cardboard prison.

Except as he tears the tape back, whipping the purple packaging tissue from out of the way, he’s met with the visage of seven custom made dildos. Literal silicone molded dildos, not unlike the small business you promoted on your platforms.

They came in a wide array of vivid color combinations, girths and sizes– the most alarming being the sixteen inch otherworldly dong that he could just barely wrap his hand around.

This was what he got up to? He was fairly certain no one on the planet, no matter how professional or adept they proved to be, could fit such a horrifying monstrosity inside any orifice on their person, when yet another knock resounds from the door and he practically jumps out of his skin.

Throwing the object back into the box and covering it with the decorative paper before moving to answer the door yet again.

Prepared to scream at the next carrier rather frightfully until they got the message that he would not be accepting any more packages for the foreseeable future.

“No packages.” He whisper-shouts to himself as he approaches the door. “No more bloody packages!”

Only, the last person he expects to find standing at the foot of his doorstep, looking off in the direction of the stairway with arms folded as a meager attempt to generate warmth in the chilly hallway, was you.

He freezes instantly, eyes bucking as his mouth hangs ajar, not far, but just enough to make him look like a dork if you were paying any attention in that moment.

Recognizing his presence, you look up, your countenance livening considerably, in a way he’s never been able to see before when the both of you were separated by a screen on either side.

“Hey! I just heard the mail guy leave. He dropped off my recent order, yeah?” You ask, eyes sparkling with poorly concealed affection for… him?

He can’t help but stand there dumbly in your presence, his brain still lagging lightyears behind the developments of this interaction.

“Y- Yeah.” He manages after a pause too long.

“And he didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” You continue to question, slinking past him and into his flat like you’re familiar with the layout. Deftly maneuvering past all the chaotic mess as though you’d been here before.

“Uh, he didn’t give me any problems. But now that I think about it, the look of pure terror he had when he saw me was odd.” Steven muses, recalling the way the man flashed white as a sheet before tearing tail.

“Not that I thought he would after the first time, remember? You had him running down the hall with his tail between his legs with just a look.” You laugh melodically and he swears he swoons at the sound as he finally closes the door.

“You opened it?” He suddenly hears you pipe up from further inside which causes him to startle. You’re standing in front of the dark wooden table where he’d left the box open and flimsily covered with the tissue paper.

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, daring to walk closer. “I didn’t know what was in it. Thought maybe I’d ordered it while I was um… asleep. Or something like that.”

When you turn to face him, you have the largest of the fantastical appendages in a vice grip which in any other circumstance he’d find rather comical. The angry tip dipping and bobbing over your closed hand, the golden yellow glitter weaves up from the base in objectively pretty swirls and loops.

“Uh-huh.” You answer with a conspiratory smirk, your expression reading in an amused kind of way as you set the toy back down. “Didn’t get enough of a look with the first box you saw, huh?”

Steven gawks in disbelief, “H- Hang on, the first box? You mean to say that I’ve accepted your packages before? As in plural? This isn’t the first one?”

This course of questioning causes you to survey him for the first time since you’d entered. Gaze drifting from his hair to his hands purposefully, before settling back on his eyes. His feet shuffling in place awkwardly when you don’t answer, instead your brows raised as you scrutinize him.

“Today was a bit of a long day so I didn’t realize it earlier, but what’s with the accent? Taking the piss, are we?” You questioned, walking up to him with playfully narrowed eyes and a finger pointed at his chest, poking at him repeatedly. “Think you’re funny mocking the way Brits talk?”

“I’m,” He gently grasps your hand to move it away so he could rub at the offended area. “I’m not taking the piss. This is how I talk.”

“No, it’s not.” You state resolutely, as though you were waiting for him to finally concede but when it becomes clear he won’t, you look at him strangely.

“It’s not?” He asks, expression reading pure confusion.

“No. You’ve always spoken in an American sort of way, like they do in the movies? What was it again? Boston? Something with a ‘B’.”

“Brooklyn?” He adds quietly, just a guess but suddenly he’s feeling wary. And you nod eagerly, clapping your hands and snapping at him when he gets the word you’d been searching your recollection for.

“Yeah! It was a Brooklyn accent, I think!” –but when he yet again doesn’t share in your revelry, your demeanor simpers, giving him yet another once-over like something would click and you’d finally figure out what was off.

“You don’t remember. Do you?”

“I… I wish that I could. I really do, but my name is Steven. Steven Grant. I’m pretty sure I’m not who you’ve been interacting with. Like my body is the same, but I’m not.” –you slump into the wooden chair at your side, quiet and introspective.

“You know? If I were literally anyone else, I’d have half the mind to come to the conclusion that you’re doing all this as some fucked up scheme to get me to leave you alone. I mean my friends would call me naive for even attempting to believe any of,” and you gestures at his person vaguely with outstretched hands. “---this!”

“I’m not faking.” He insists, forgetting his previous shyness and moving to kneel in front of you to look into your eyes. “I wouldn’t, I would never play some cruel game to get you to leave me alone. I mean it.”

And as your hands move to seek out his own, smaller and softer than he could have ever imagined, he inwardly notes that you truly are as beautiful as he’d believed you to be in person. Even now with the pouted lips and the furrowed tilt in your brows that seems to say that you’d want nothing more than to ignore your better judgment and indulge him.

“Okay. I’ll believe you for now, Steven Grant.”

Glancing down at your intertwined hands, he asks what he’s been the most curious to know the answer to. “I’m not missing any context to something important that happened between us though, am I?”

He finds that your eyes are darkened and deep, unshakenly holding his gaze in the silence and there's a brief moment where he thinks maybe, maybe there’s more to this. To his connection to you, but then you’re shaking your head negatively and the words, “No. There isn’t.” –fall from your lips and he accepts it with a nod.

ii. Before.

Today has been a long day spent fronting. Long enough that uncharacteristically, all Jake wants to do is collapse into bed and sleep the remainder of the daylight hours away.

His body sags against the dark wall of the lift, his breathing even as he pushes himself up just as the bell chimes to indicate he’s reached the fifth floor.

The metal door slides open to reveal the familiar cool dark tones of the unnecessarily cold hallway, his feet meeting the floor in long strides but three steps in, his ears are met with a shrill squeal as one of the doors pushes open from the inside and a woman darts out into the hall from her flat.

Panting heavily, you pace in a circle attempting to regain your composure.

Fluffy, white ankle length socks with pastel pink horizontal stripes adorn your feet. His eyes settle on the matching oversized hooded sweater dress you’re wearing, the bear ears on the hood and puffball tail placed at your bottom catching most of his attention.

Your eyes dart over to him in alarm before sharply turning away when you realize he’s already looking at you as he makes his way to Steven’s door, the silver key glinting in his gloved hand as he nods at you in acknowledgement.

Momentarily he wonders when such a unique person became their neighbor directly across the hall from them, but just as he begins pushing into his own dwelling, you speak up promptly; voice nervous and unsure.

“Um! Excuse me?” You call out suddenly, causing him to turn around slowly. His brows raised in question.

“Que es, bella?” His voice is gruffer than you’d expected, having a particularly deep, husky aspect that makes you want to take a moment to marvel at it, if you'd had the time.

“I know this is an extraordinarily strange ask, but the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my entire life has crawled itself out of hell and into my flat?”

“You want me to kill it?”

“You don’t have to if you’re like.. uncomfortable with that sort of thing? I could give you something to trap it inside of. I honestly don’t care how you do it, just as long as it’s out, I’d really appreciate it.”

He peered at you for a moment, his eyes sliding off of you and focusing elsewhere before offering a singular nod of his head. Closing Steven’s door with a firm click. “I can do that.”

His hand reached for your doorknob, halting in his motion to open it as you grab one of his shoulders, quickly retracting it when he paused in his steps, slowly turning his head to look at it before his eyes slice up to your face.

“I’m sorry! I just, I just feel like I have to warn you that I didn’t… clean up before I ran out.”

“That’s fine.” He replies in a murmur, narrowing his eyes at the way you bring a hand to your face anxiously, waiting for your consent to proceed. “I’m not squeamish.”

“Okay.” You whisper, dropping your hands to your sides. Your head bobbing repeatedly as you nod, as though you were trying to convince yourself more than anything else.

“Okay.” He parrots, looking at you cautiously.

“Okay.” You agree, waving him off and finally he pushes inside.

Jake will be honest with himself and admit that the last sight he was expecting to be met with was a video streaming setup.

Tripod and camera, laptop open with a small arsenal of dildos, vibrators and a singular bottle of lube lined neatly along the end table.

He slowly turns his head to look over his left shoulder, only to find you standing in the threshold of your flat with your hands shielding your face.

Your fingers cracking small slivers for you to peek back at him nervously, the digits widening as you attempt to defend what was left of your dignity in this situation. “Normally, I’d be mortified but you can’t say I didn’t try to warn you!”

“Not well enough.” He remarks with raised brows and lips pressed into a line.

“You said you weren’t squeamish!” You rebuttal, voice raised high and cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “Look, it's over there alright? Can you get it, please?”

“No te pongas histérica, chula. I told you I would, even if it looks like you raided a sex shop in here.” He jokes dryly, causing a loud groan to bubble up from your throat.

He locates the intruding arachnid with ease, all six inches of absolute spindly terror, as it tries to hide in an open corner.

What shocks you, and hell’s latest escaped convict, is how he extends one of his leather gloved hands and simply scoops it up.

The man promptly proceeding to walk over to the closest window, open it and toss the hairy lump into the street to be someone else’s problem at a later hour.

“You should keep these locked by the way.” He calmly advises, closing the window and flipping the latch with ease before he turns. Offering a final lax wink your way before exiting without another word.

iii.

The website had advertised ‘sleek and discrete packaging’, so why did you open your door to find the mail carrier holding a relatively large box with the image of an oversized, pulsating vibrator brandished front and center on the front.

The words ‘Ultimate Thrusting Clit Stimulate–Her’ are clear and easy to read in the bottom right corner.

The warm wash of embarrassment sets in from head to toe as you realize your predicament. The debacle seeming to worsen as the man takes this as the perfect opportunity not only to flirt, but flat out proposition you.

“I’m not a call-girl.” You say lowly, eyes burning with hatred as he took every indicator to leave you alone as ammunition to persist.

“I’m not saying you are, lovely. Just figured you’d want a change of equipment is all. The real thing has got to be better than the artificial.” He states smugly, his face lined with a crooked toothed grin, everything about him coming off as slimy and gross.

“Eres tan feo que haces llorar a las cebollas.” Sounds in a familiar tenor and then suddenly, there stands your neighbor from across the hall. His capped head hung tilted towards the man as he pinned him with an icy glare so sharp that even you’re put on edge.

If looks had the power to kill, this guy would have already been speaking to his maker.

“Uh. She with you, man?”

“You could say that.” Your two time savior slips the box from the carrier’s hands, looking over the garish photo of the toy with an bemused expression.

His dark brows shooting upwards and coming back to rest as his eyes glide over to you, trying and failing not to grimace at him.

His calm look wordlessly communicated the thought both of you seemed to be simultaneously contemplating. ‘Why is it always you that I find with sex toys?’ —which causes you to grumble irritably just as his attention turns back towards the carrier.

“What are you still here for?” He asks the guy, eyes darkening purposefully.

“Right!” Remembering his ability to walk, he vacates the area with a certain swiftness. Both of you watching in disdainful silence as he beelines for the stairs instead of the lift, disappearing behind the heavy door that slams shut noisily behind him.

“No le hagas caso. Es un idiota.” He finally says softly, handing the box over to you.

“Thanks.” You reply back rather meekly, fiddling with the folded corners of the cardboard as he offers a curt nod before pointing to it.

“I’m genuinely curious, are you building a collection? Like a toy collector, or something?”

“No!” You quickly defend, causing his brows to rise. “They’re for my job, if you must know.”

“Sounds like a fun gig.” He remarks breezily, his lips pursed to the side appreciatively. It wasn’t judgmental or condescending in any sort of way, just honest, and you’re taken aback at his lackadaisical sort of reaction.

Here was the first person you ever confessed to about what field you made a living in, and he was reacting as if you’d said you made money from selling custom jewelry or taught the elderly how to paint.

“I’m a cam girl.” You clarify unnecessarily, feeling the need to test him further.

“Why tell me?” He asks with a nonchalant jerk of his chin, receiving a weak shrug in return.

“I don’t know. I mean you helped me out twice now, and both times you’ve come face to face with my... work equipment. I thought you at least deserved some context so you wouldn’t just assume your neighbor is some sex-crazed freak with an obsession.”

“You can be interested in whatever you want. What I, or any other fucker thinks shouldn’t amount to jack shit in comparison.”

You nod mutely, “Right. You’re right.” But when he turns to leave, you speak up again. “Uh! Would you— Would you like to come in? I’ve got all kinds of drinks and snacks... and stuff. Y’know as a way to repay you? For helping me out.”

“Is this some code way to trick me into having a tea party with you and your toys?” He asks in a blank, suspicious tone that causes you to laugh even though anyone else most likely would’ve been offended.

“No! It’s just a normal invitation to have a normal drink!”

“Shame.” He says with a shrug of his shoulders, walking into your apartment. “Would’ve been one for the books.”

Que es, bella? — What is it, beautiful?

No te pongas histérica, chula. - Don’t get hysterical, pretty. (‘chula’ is the word you’d use if you find someone cute/adorable/pretty in a non-romantic or sexual context.)

Eres tan feo que haces llorar a las cebollas. — You’re so ugly you make onions cry.

No le hagas caso. Es un idiota. — Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

I think I'll start posting these in groups from now on :)

[moonyflesh]

mood.

[spicyllewyn]

Helping you with homework. (NSFW)

Moon system x reader. (+18) Headcanons.

SFW version here!

Steven.

God bless Steven Grant's heart.

Although you didn't enjoy asking for help with things like this, you knew your boyfriend was the right person for your history assignment.

Unfortunately, remembering dates was your kryptonite.

"I'll explain it to you, okay?" He put on his glasses, and you sighed.

How were you supposed to concentrate when he looked like that?

You watched him go to his room and return with at least six different books in his arms.

And you pushed your chair so close that your shoulders touched.

It started well; you were understanding the timeline from prehistory to the Middle Ages.

However, you didn't take into account that once Steven started talking about his hyperfixations, he didn't stop.

By the second hour, you weren't sure if you were still retaining anything, so you did what your instinct dictated.

You slid down your chair and Steven didn't even notice.

Until after a few seconds when the words caught in his throat when he felt your hand on his baggy jeans.

"Love?" It came out strangled almost.

You were on your knees on the floor in front of him.

"Keep reading."

He obediently lifted his hips to let you lower his pants.

You collected a glob of saliva in your mouth before licking along his erection, he still had his underwear on.

The sudden chill from the damp cloth made him shiver.

"Th-Then, let's get into the topic of feudalism."

By the time you pulled his boxers down, Steven was so hard his cock snapped against his abdomen.

Poor baby Steven, he was so sensitive that the brush of the fabric of his sweater made him moan.

It gave him some relief.

“It was a set of…” a sigh. “Legal and military costumes in mediev-ah, fuck.”

You liked when he cursed.

Your tongue licked the length of him again, and Steven gave you more room by spreading his legs a little more.

“Medieval Europe.” He managed to say. “You remember we talked about i-it, huh, love? The beginning of…”

His head was already inside your mouth and Steven swore he could hear the force with which you were sucking.

“Of the medieval era.” You said after you pulled him out with a little 'pop' from your lips.

His fingers wrapped around yours, forcing you to hold him more firmly.

Steven almost sobbed when without warning you leaned forward.

You could feel it in your throat, but you didn't give him a break, instead you tapped his thigh twice inviting him to continue.

"Yes! Y-Yeah, yes, ahh-. T-The medieval era.” You couldn't see him but he already had his eyes closed. “It was between… Mhmm.”

Who was he trying to fool? He couldn't resist you.

And when he gave up, you made your move.

Bobbing your head up and down for him.

Slow, until his hand was placed on your head, pulling you down hard.

Your nose was brushing against his lower tummy.

And the gagging caused the muscles of your throat to squeeze harder for periods of seconds.

He didn't give you rest even when he came.

“J-Just like that, love.” His voice broke as his whole body shivered. “Swallow it. A-Ah-t-take it, it's all for you."

Steven wasn't that talkative in sex but… He always lost control when it came to you sucking him off.

And you obeyed, swallowing every last drop of his warm, delicious cum.

He remained with his back against the back of the chair with his eyes closed, his hand still in your hair.

She was breathing hard, her curls falling over her forehead.

And his cock was still twitching slightly.

The mere image was obscene.

"Love?" It cost him more than he would like to recover.

"Yes, Steven?"

"Why don't you take a nap while I finish this?"

Marc.

"I beg you." "No."

"Marc?" "No."

"Please?" "I said no."

You had been following him around the house for about 5 hours. Usually, you had no trouble completing your responsibilities from start to finish, but on days like today, you didn't even have the energy to turn on your laptop.

And Marc, of course, had already decided that there was no way he would help you with something like this.

In his school days, he didn't even do his own homework.

"Please, please, please." "I said no."

After begging for the 46th time, you finally gave up. The rest of the day passed just as boringly until dinner when you took the last sip of coffee from your cup.

"I'm not going to do it." After a week of constant sleep deprivation, you decided that you could afford to sleep for 8 hours just this once.

Marc looked at you in silence for a few seconds before nodding his head.

"Let's go to sleep then."

You obeyed, and you both went hand in hand to bed. Like every night, you felt him press you against his body with both arms.

The exhaustion in your body made you give in in less than 10 minutes.

But Marc couldn't sleep.

At 12:27 in the morning, he quietly got out of bed.

And at 01:53, you woke up. The fear of not feeling your daily companion almost made you cry like a little kid.

You got up to look for him, and it wasn't difficult at all. The light from your laptop illuminated the entire dining room.

And the sound of the keys echoed through the house.

"Marc?" "No," he replied again. Admitting such gestures was not his strong suit.

Still, he pushed the chair back to give you space, and you dragged your feet to sit on his lap.

You sat in front of the laptop and he continued typing with his arms at the sides of your body.

The least you could do was accompany him while he worked for you.

That and make sure he didn't make any mistakes.

You settled in a little jump on his lap.

And he had to take a breath.

Foolish of him not to assume you had noticed.

Another movement of your hips.

"Why don't you go sleep while I finish this?" His hoarse voice gave you a chill.

"I do not want to be alone." And it was not a lie.

With the tips of your feet you used the ground to have more control and you slowly moved again on top of him.

He growled, though you didn't know if it annoyed him to be distracted or because he liked it.

maybe both.

One hand gripped your hip, his fingers making sure you weren't able to move.

Sometimes you forgot the strength your boyfriend possessed.

"Stay." He ordered, his chin resting on your shoulder so he could see the screen.

And you, of course, with a PhD in testing Marc Spector's patience, did not comply.

You pushed yourself down, your ass pressing against his half-hardened cock.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He breathed heavily in your ear and you leaned your back against his chest.

Before you could know it, you were at his mercy.

He left the keyboard of the laptop and his two hands were placed on your hips. You knew his fingers would leave a mark, they always did.

But you didn't stop him when he began to guide your movements on top of his still clothed cock.

"You can't wait a few minutes, huh?" When your legs were on top of his, he separated them without having to use his hands.

His free hand positioned between your legs.

Every move you made on him resulted in more friction for you.

“Marc, Marc, Marc.” Your breathy voice filled the room.

He was pushing up like he was thrusting into you.

The rubbing of your clothes together began to emit heat because of the speed with which you pretended to ride him.

You both looked like teenagers with little time.

“You are going to make me cum on my fucking pants.” He growled against your neck as he nibbled at it to his liking.

Was he complaining or was it a compliment to you?

Anyway, you knew it was over when both of his hands forced you down as he emptied every last drop onto his clothes.

Your breaths echoed, unrhythmic and agitated.

"Go to sleep." He forced you to stand up. And you turned to enjoy the view. Post-orgasm Marc was always something worth admiring.

His glossy lips and red cheeks made you smile. And without meaning to, he smiled back, running a hand through his hair to push the curls away from his face.

"I'll go to bed when this is over."

Jake.

Spanish was never your strong suit.

And you knew very well that Jake was the one who could help you, but once you asked him, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you.

He, on the other hand, was an expert in both things: speaking fluent Spanish and teasing you.

"Jake?" "Yes, honey?" "Can I ask you something?"

And as you suspected, he didn't leave you alone all day.

He started with innocent things, pointing to his fork and asking you. "What's this called, love?"

He even sounded like the host of a kid's show at some moments.

But when you lost your temper, Jake did too.

You stopped responding to him and playing along.

Bad idea. If your boyfriend was sure of one thing, it's that a day later you'd be crying in his arms for failing the exam, so he did what any responsible boyfriend would do.

"M-More." You said with a broken voice.

His cock was thrusting deeply into you.

His right hand smacked against your cheek.

It burned deliciously. And it was probably the fifth you received.

"¡Más!" You complained as you corrected yourself while your fingers clung to the bed.

You would have time later to scold him because the mattress was creaking as if he wanted to give up.

"Buena chica." (Good girl.) You wanted to beat the mocking smile out of him.

Even more so when he went back to the slow pace after a few seconds.

Turns out Jake had been in this game for about 40 minutes where he was fucking you to the limit and then suddenly stopping.

You wanted to burst into tears of frustration, but were you going to lie and say you weren't enjoying it?

"Más duro." (Harder.)

His own game played against him when you whispered between moans with your eyes locked on his.

For a moment you thought you had earned another slap, but instead, his hand went around your neck. You knew when he moved faster than you too you were pushing him to the limit.

Even under his body, with his hand forcing you to stay against the mattress, you managed to take control of things away from Jake just by batting your eyelashes for him.

"Más d-duro." You repeated with a broken voice.

And he obeyed.

You were so close

So close.

"Jake, please." Another slap. "¡Por favor! ¡Por favor!"

Your pleas were the straw that broke the camel's back.

"¿D-Dónde lo quieres, huh, a-ah, mierda-, princesa?" (Where do you want it, huh, princesa?) "M-mhm, dentro." (Inside.) And he was so lost in your body expressing the pleasure you felt in so many different ways that he didn't even notice the mistake in your response.

He filled you up.

And then pushed his spend deeper with some more thrusts.

You expected him to come out right away, you both deserved a break.

Instead, he slowly moved his hip again, making you whimper.

“We still have a lot to practice.” It didn't take long for your breathing to change, you weren't even sure you could walk to school tomorrow.

Needless to say, you received an amazing grade for the cheap price of spending those two hours with your cheeks flushing red every time you read certain words.

[chaos-and-ink]

damn marc spector, his traumatized baby doe eyes and pathetic blood stained curly hair has captivated me.

[ivystoryweaver]

I love them so much 🥹