#jake lockley x you

[fettuccin-e]

It's Never Easy

Kinktober Day 24: Edging

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley, yeah that's right they're all here baby, afab!fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), unprotected piv (wrap it irl I am begging you), edging, crying during sex, orgasm denial (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: Yeah that's right the boys are back in town, and by that I mean all three moonboys. They're all little shits and I adore them (For Kinktober, I've been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

You think that you’re finally wearing Steven down.

He’s been at this for hours now, you think, burying himself between your thighs and losing himself like he never wants to leave. He’s fucking incessant when he gets you like this, licking at your cunt until his eyes have glazed over and he’s grinding slowly into the bedsheets. He moans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations from it going up your spine.

“Fuck, Steven, I need-” you moan, your chest heaving with the way Steven sucks your clit into his mouth, licking at you in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your hips hump into his face, chasing the sensation. “I can’t, fuck, I’m gonna- think I’m gonna-”

He pulls his face away just like that, watching as you shout, your hips grinding into nothing but air as your pleasure and your orgasm dissipate. He holds your thighs apart and just looks at the way you tremble, his eyes wide and a blush high on his face.

“That’s it, darling, so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, and you grind your teeth together. This is the third time, the third fucking time, he’s done that. Gotten you so close, your body locking up and threatening to fall off that precipice, before he pulls himself away, leaving you with nothing.

It’s fucking maddening, and Steven just watches, squeezing at his thick cock as it aches between his legs.

“Please, Steven,” you whine, high pitched and needy. “Need you to let me cum, fuck, please let me cum.” You sound so pitiful, so desperate, that Steven’s eyes soften at your begging.

“Oh, I know, love,” he murmurs, sliding a thick finger up the seam of your cunt. “Need it so bad, yeah? It’s okay, darling, I’ll let you cum,”

You nearly sob with relief when he leans back down and sucks your clit into his mouth, sinking two fingers into your entrance. He’s relentless, playing with your clit with his tongue, nudging the tips of his fingers into a little spot inside of you that makes you want to cry. Your orgasm surges back up inside you without warning, and you can’t fucking breathe.

You brace yourself for him to do it again, to pull away when you start babbling, “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum,” between heaving moans. But Steven doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow down, and you start to smile with the fact that he’s actually going to let you have it this time without pulling away.

Except, he does pull away.

You cry out as Steven’s head shoots up from between your legs again, but you can only watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head, his jaw clenched.

Marc looks up at you from his place between your thighs, a cocky little smirk playing at his lips. 

“Oh baby,” he says, and his voice is gruff, dark, so unlike Steven’s. “You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” You gasp for air as Marc sinks a third finger into you, and he grins. 

“So pretty when you’re almost fucking there, sweetheart,” Marc murmurs, and he leans close to brush his lips against yours in a whisper of a kiss. “Whining, pleading for us to just let you cum. Steven was going to let it happen, put an end to your misery, but me?” He fucks his hand into you so hard that you choke on a moan. “I like seeing you squirm.”

And the process starts over again.

Marc fucks you on his fingers without a hint of remorse, driving into your g-spot in violent, debilitating thrusts that have you reeling.

You get so close so many fucking times, over and over and over again, your body drawn tight with the overwhelming need to cum. You beg, plead, gripping the bedsheets so hard that you fear you might tear them. But Marc. Doesn’t. Stop.

Every time he feels it, that tell-tale tightening of your body, hears the way you start to go quiet as you focus on finally falling over that precipice, he pulls his hand out of you without any finesse, any mercy.

Around the third time he does it, you really do start to cry, sobbing for Marc to finally let you cum, that you need it so bad it hurts.

“Can’t- it’s too much, Marc, please, please let me, need it so ba-ad,” you hiccup through your moans, tears bubbling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

Marc leans down and kisses them away, cooing at you as he grinds the calloused tips of his fingers into the most sensitive parts of your cunt.

“Okay, sweet girl, I’ve got you, come on,” he murmurs, his thumb coming up to press against your clit, grinding little circles into it and sending you fucking flying. “Don’t cry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank-” you’re in the middle of thanking him, practically tasting your orgasm on your desperate tongue, when Marc’s eyes roll back, and his hand rips away from your cunt.

“No,” you whine, choking on your tears as your body quakes beneath his, “no, no, please.” You’re practically hysterical, desperate for it after so fucking long, after Steven and Marc have shredded you apart.

“Princesa,” Jake grins down above you, unmistakable with his dark gaze and a smile that is purely fucking primal, feral. “If you think you’re going to cum on anything but my cock, you’re wrong.”

And you can only gasp at Jake notches the thick, leaking head of his cock against your gaping entrance, and shoves himself in to the hilt.

You scream, your back bending into an obscene arch as he fills you up so perfectly. 

“Jake, Jake,” you sob through labored breaths, “I can’t, it’s been, I don’t know how long it’s been, please, please. I need to cum, fuck, ‘m begging.”

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” Jake croons, “Of course you can.”

Of course you can. Like you’ve had permission all along, like it was that easy. Like you haven’t been broken apart by each of them, over and over again, reduced to a sobbing, shaking mess beneath their body.

He’s only one, two thrusts in, but you’re coming anyway, screaming with it as tears flow down your cheeks. Your entire body locks up with it, your cunt squeezing tight around Jake’s cock in rhythmic pulses that have him clutching painfully at your hips. Sweet, sweet relief fills your body, like water in a desert, the sun after a hurricane. It’s fucking bliss, incomparable, absolutely debilitating.

“Mierda, that’s fucking beautiful, fuck,” Jake growls, and he presses into your body so deep you think you can feel it in your stomach, and pumps you full of his cum. “Good girl,” you hear him mutter, “Good fucking girl,” before darkness grows into the edges of your vision and quickly swallowing it whole, leaving you to fall into pitch black oblivion.

When you finally come back to yourself, you feel warm, safe. It’s no surprise to you, since you usually feel that way in this flat, in this bed.

“I didn’t fucking kill her, Steven,” you hear Jake growl. “She’s breathing just fine. And don’t act innocent, you and I both know that you worked her just as hard as Marc and I did.”

“And you all better pamper me,” you croak, still refusing to open your eyes, “As soon as I take a nap.”

“Hermosa,” you hear Jake breathe, and you feel his lips press to your forehead. You crack open your eyes to meet Jake’s gaze, his eyes wide and more worried than he usually lets on. “Are you alright? You- you passed out.” he asks, and you giggle.

“Never been better,” you murmur. “But any of you try that shit again, it’s no sex for a fucking year.”

Jake grins in that roguish way that makes your heart flutter. "As if you could resist any of us for that long, mi vida."

[fitzarts]

Jake Lockley's suit

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ALR!!!!!! SO, jealous/mad sex w the moonboys?

- 🦅🇺🇸

at your service🫡 thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

JEALOUS/ MAD SEX WITH THE MOONBOYS

moonboys x female reader (not as the moon system)

warnings. 18+ only!! rough pinv mdni

with marc, I feel like it would after a bad day, and he is in need of a stress reliever. he'd be kinda forceful (ALL CONSENUAL!!) and rough with you, manhandling you a bit. he'd fuck you in doggy, just ploughing and slamming into you from behind - ignoring your muffled cries into the mattress. he'd bruise your ass with slaps and squeezes, marking your waist as he tugs you to meet his ruthless thrusts. butt cheeks slamming against his thighs, balls hitting your clit from behind - all that good shit. he'd also grab onto your hair or behind your neck, using you as leverage as he fucks into you - holding you still to take his fucking. he'd cum first, all over your lower back, completely unaware that you haven't cum. he'd apologise profusely for getting so carried away and would roll you over to kiss you - comforting you. then he would eat you out til you cum on his tongue. he'd chub up again right after, so you'd go again. but more lovingly this time, and you'd talk and kiss as he winds into you. asking him what's on his mind/ bothering him

with steven, im thinking he gets jealous when he sees you talking with a guy in the queue. he'd sit on it all day and would be mopey about it. he wouldn't tell you why he's mad or jealous - he'd wait until the night when you'd have sex. usually, he's not one for games/ messing about, but it made him feel insecure bc the guy was 'better looking' than him (untrue) and he felt inadequate, and that you could do better. you'd be in missionary and he would be really sneaky and mean with it - only giving you the head of his cock, letting you satiate your need on just his tip. he'd edge you for so long, thumbing over your clit with his cock inside, waiting just until you were about to cum then he'd snatch his dick and thumb away - leaving you desperate and frustrated. it would be a much different steven !! he'd realise how much he loves to edge you - how much he enjoys the power of controlling your climax. it would take some good restraint to control his own orgasm but the thought of you with another man would give him that little push to hold off. after he'd talk about what bothered him and you'd reassure him, telling him how you'd never leave him for another man

with jake, im feeling that he gets jealous (?) or mad seeing you getting hit on at the bar. he'd keep it all hidden with his composure, never once exposing how territorial it made him feel. if you were getting hit on and he was beside you ???? he wouldn't get angry at all !! (I feel like he's confident with your relationship so to him it's amusing) he'd join in when the guy is chatting you up, "she is beautiful, isn't she?" he knows you're his, so to him it's like a fun game - kinda pimping you out (bc he knows he can protect you) he'd whisper something in spanish in your ear and he'd walk you away, a hand on the small of your back as you'd giggle. in the car, he'd be all over you and you wouldn't even make it home. he'd fuck you in the car park, in the backseat, you riding him. he'd have his grip around your throat, fucking you down onto him - you'd have your hands around his forearms, using him as stability as he claims you, pounding up into you. he'd mutter how he doesn't share and that you're his, telling you how pretty you are as he just slams his cock up into you. when you'd get home, you'd have another few rounds, nothing able to satiate the carnal feeling

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Moon Boys Sleeping Headcanons

Rating: PG •  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged? • ko-fi •

Warnings: some fluffy fluff, mentions of reader, not beta read

Word count: 861

Steven:

I firmly believe that this man constantly moves in his sleep.

He’s rolling around all over the place.

One of those people that hold their arms/legs up in their sleep in the most uncomfortably looking positions. 

There has been more than one occasion where you wake up and see Steven sitting up in bed, fully asleep, and you have to coax him back into lying down.

He is taking up all of the space, then hardly any. 

He’s got all the covers and then none. 

Side and back sleeper, for sure. Loves to be the big or little spoon when going to bed and will twist himself into the most uncomfortable positions for himself if it means you're comfy. 

There is normally at least some part of him touching you, even if he is out of it. 

You have woken up to him holding your hand or your arm in his sleep. Or curled up into a ball and snuggled into your side. 

His feet are always warm, no matter how cold it is.

Delights in eating in bed, watching TV cuddling with you. (Will tell Marc he never eats in bed with a completely straight face.) 

Once he knows about Marc and doesn’t worry so much about sleepwalking he has the ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. Literally his eyes are closed and a second later it’s lights out. 

Mumbles in his sleep. It’s never actual words, just little sounds. You video him sometimes to show him in the morning. 

He laughs about it for ages. 

Remembers his dreams in vivid detail. 

Always wakes up with messy hair, no matter how hard he tries or what material his pillow is. 

Prefers to sleep in pyjamas even when it’s burning hot, because it doesn’t feel right otherwise.

Marc:

Back sleeper. Literally lays down like he’s going into his coffin, so stiff it should be uncomfortable. 

However if you’re in bed with him he will snuggle up and lay all over your chest and tummy, and please play with his hair while he goes to sleep. He needs it. 

Doesn’t talk in his sleep, but flinches and twitches. The movements are usually small, like a mini electric current runs through his nerves. 

Pulls a face at eating in bed, will get the handheld vacuum cleaner out and hoover the sheets. “Steven, why are there crumbs here?” 

“I don’t know mate, don’t ask me.” 

“They're those stupid seaweed chip things you eat, you’re the only one of us that eats them.”

“First, they're crisps Marc, say it with me crisps.”

“Steven-”

“Secondly, Jake eats them too.” 

“I know it was you Steven, you always eat in the bed-”

“I’m the only one who changes the bloody covers, aren’t I? I think I’ve earned it.”

“That’s not-”

“I changed the covers last week.” Jake chimes in. 

“You’re right, you did mate, sorry about that.” 

“No problem.” Jake gives him a mental thumbs up.

Marc is just like !!! Where is my apology for eating in the bed? !!!

However, if Marc wakes up before you he will bring you breakfast in bed and purposefully ignore Steven when he playfully calls him a hypocrite.

Sleeps in pyjamas if it’s cooler, but will also sleep naked if it’s hot. 

Falls asleep quickly and doesn’t remember his dreams at all. (He prefers it that way.)

Deep, but light sleeper. Goes into a deep sleep very quickly, but is awake and alert if something sounds ‘wrong’. You once stubbed your toe on the bathroom door and let out a little yelp and he was up and by your side before you’d even realised.

Likes to put lavender and eucalyptus sprays and oils on his pillow. 

Jake: 

Very good at sleeping sitting up and power naps, but prefers you to be laying on top of him if you're in bed. 

It makes him feel grounded to have your weight on him. If you’re happy to lay completely on him he is so content, it doesn’t matter what weight you are, he just loves wrapping his arms around you like you’re his own weighted blanket. 

You buy him a weighted blanket for a gift and he wraps himself up in it constantly. 

Often complains about the cold when sleeping, even when it’s hot his feet are still freezing. He has taken to always wearing socks in bed.

Which leads to a rather amusing sight in August when it is boiling hot, so he’s sleeping naked, but his feet are still covered in fluffy socks. 

He calls them his ‘sexy socks’, and has pairs in a variety of colours. He prefers ones that have loud patterns and colours. 

(I headcanon Jake as a kniter, so I think he would definitely make some for himself as well.) 

Doesn’t usually eat in bed, but does on occasion to affectionately annoy Marc. 

Remembers his dreams, and remembers Steven’s and Marc’s as well. 

Likes to dramatically push you into bed, and throw himself in after. 

Doesn’t move around a lot in the night, but occasionally talks. 

Never wakes up first if he can help it, usually stays asleep while Marc and Steven are up. 

Thank you for reading!

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[ivystoryweaver]

Swimsuit Shopping

Summary: You're absolutely dreading swimsuit shopping for your upcoming trip. The Moon boys bravely weigh in.

Pairing: Steven, Jake, Marc x reader with boobs

Word count: 1k

Content: fluff, romance, body insecurities, slightly suggestive, sweet & adoring moon boys

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven notices you casually shopping on your phone. He keeps peeking over your shoulder, humming nonchalantly at each and every suit that looks like a low plunging bra.

“See something you like, babe?” You nudge him playfully before handing him the phone. “Should I just let you go crazy?”

Bright eyes go wide, hair flopping as he shakes his head rapidly. “No. No, you should get something that makes you feel confident and comfortable.”

“A diplomatic response, Mr. Grant,” you tease. “I’m not sure how comfortable this…push-up bra would be.”

“Em, well…which ones do you like?”

Your shoulders sag as you shake your head in defeat. “I don’t know, I hate shopping for swim suits. But our big trip is coming up and…” Your eyes dip in shame.

Steven lifts your chin with a soft caress. “What is it, love?”

Fidgeting uncomfortably, you slowly admit, “My old one is too small.”

Smiling sympathetically, Steven uses his hold on your chin to guide your mouth to his for a tender kiss. “We’ve been together a long time, darling,” he lovingly whispers, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately. “Surely you’ve noticed I’ve gone a bit soft around the middle?”

“What?” You giggle, poking his soft but not-at-all-big tummy. “You’re crazy. You’re…so perfect, Steven. I just want a swim suit that doesn’t make me feel awful when I put it on.”

Kissing you again, he holds up your phone. “Well, let’s find one.”

Laying your head on his shoulder, the two of you select several possibilities and every single one Steven likes is extremely revealing in the bust area.

“Steven, you just want to see my boobs - like as much as possible. I might as well be naked,” You laugh out.

“Well…if it’s comfortable…” his dark eyebrows shoot up suggestively. “Could be a win-win.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The next day, Jake finds you leaning over the kitchen counter, still scrolling endlessly through swimsuit possibilities. Steven helped you find some cute suits, but you want to make sure you have enough coverage while not boring Marc, Steven and Jake to tears.

Easing up behind you in his typical panther prowling way, Jake breathes against your ear, making you shiver. “Whatcha doing, hermosa?” Gripping your hips, he presses his body into yours at every possible point of contact.

“Swimsuit shopping,” you languidly sigh, scrolling through the twelve suits you and Steven added to your shopping cart before starting your search all over again.

“Mmm, you should get one of those thong bottoms,” Jake casually opines, running his palm over the swell of your ass before giving you a squeeze.

“You’re hilarious,” you deadpan. “I can just see Jake Lockley on the beach - hat, jacket, gloves and boots, kicking the ass of anyone who stares at mine.”

A low chuckle rumbles against your neck. “Fair point, mi amor. Maybe like…” he scrolls down a couple of suits to a cheeky bottom - revealing but not scandalous, “Like that one. You know, enough for me to see all this - “ he swats your ass playfully, “But not enough for an ass-kicking.”

“Nice,” you chortle, shrugging him off, but only so you can whirl around and see his face. “I thought the idea was for me to feel confident and comfortable. Steven’s words.”

“Boringggg,” Jake mocks, even while chasing after your lips with his own. Kissing you temptingly, he pulls you close. “I thought swimsuits were for swimming…and letting me stare at your ass all day.” He cocks his head playfully. “Is that not right?”

“For sure, yeah,” you giggle as he nibbles at your lips, his naughty hands winding their way around to your backside once more. “I just want it to cover a little bit more of my middle than a total string bikini, you know?”

Realizing you’re serious, Jake nods, reaching to grab your phone from the counter. “Show me what you like, hermosa. My treat.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc has expressed absolutely zero interest in peeking at your phone, even when you tried temping him by asking questions about your boobs or your ass.

Between Steven and Jake, you’ve narrowed it down to about five suits, but you would like Marc’s opinion. The trip was actually his idea. He is rather well traveled, after all.

“Babe, you’ll look amazing in whatever you pick - it’s for you,” he shrugs, realizing, as the words come out of his mouth that he should probably show a bit of interest. Glancing at your phone, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. They all look good. I can’t tell on a phone screen.”

Which is how you end up in the fitting room with a rack full of bathing suit pieces and Marc licking his lips as you try them on. Normally clothes shopping would be a form of torture, but damn…

“Let me feel, baby,” he murmurs, as you slip into a mid-rise, flattering bottom that shows just enough cheek to hopefully please both you and Jake, with a coordinating top that definitely shows your cleavage.

And this is what Marc keeps doing. As soon as you get dressed, he wants to touch. Locking eyes with you, he traces the shape of you - the body he knows so well and has adored so ardently, for year after year.

“This one feels good.” His eyes darken and his voice sounds a little choked. He clears his throat. “You feel comfortable in it?”

You pause, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Because you know that’s all that really matters. The rest is bullshit. You know that, right?”

You know. But you love him for saying it.

“Yeah. I know.” Turning this way and that, you eye yourself in the mirror, pleased with the cut. The top extends down a little and the bottom is just high rise enough to give you that bam of confidence about the figure you criticize far too often.

Hand on your hip, you strike a pose, smiling at yourself in the mirror -and Marc thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 6. - Mirror sex.

Moon system x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Mirror sex + hair pulling. (+18)

Word count. 2.8k

Summary. Marc got tired of Steven and Jake breaking his rules.

Kinktober masterlist.

So far, the agreement had been going relatively well. You were in a serious relationship with Marc at first, you met in a café like those silly romantic movies, with the small difference that you almost killed him by spilling your cold drink on him and tripping over him.

Neither of you could deny that things were moving very fast, but everything with him was so ridiculously easy that you weren't afraid to give him your all. You told him about the pet you lost when you were young, about the disagreements with your parents, and the occasional traumatic event in your life. He did the same.

When he told you about Steven and Jake, you joked that he was winning the trauma competition, and he could breathe easy knowing that this was not even close to being an obstacle to your relationship. He could trust you.

Things began to get a bit out of control when everything also became easy with Jake and Steven, each with their own personal charm. You never imagined being with three very different guys, but starting to experience it was a real adventure. The problem was that while you were having fun, they had endless discussions about you and the boundaries they set for each other.

Well, the boundaries that Marc set.

The main and biggest one was that marks on your body were prohibited. He understood that all four were part of the relationship equally, but he also used something he liked to call "privileges of having met you first and being the main reason why everyone is together." Or something like that, he always changed the name for it, the thing is he couldn't help but be a jealous man, he hated that Jake and Steven would forget who you belonged to first.

The first one to break the rule was Steven, unconsciously. You didn't know anyone who was a bigger fan of make-out sessions than him, and when his kisses got deeper, more desperate, he had the habit of holding onto your hips as if you were about to run away at any moment, or as if he wanted to verify that you were real and that you were in his arms, devouring his mouth as if you depended on it to live.

That, combined with the fact that he had a terrible habit of forgetting that his muscles were stronger than he thought. You tried to be as discreet as possible when his fingers left marks on your skin, but with someone as touchy as Jake, it was impossible to keep secrets about your body.

He took it as a challenge, of course. If Steven could break the rules, why couldn't he?

The next day, you could be sure that he saw you as a blank canvas because your neck, your shoulders, and even your breasts were covered in bites and hickeys. You didn't remember him being so aggressive, but maybe pleasure had blinded you.

"What is this?" Marc held your chin, turning your face slightly, just enough to get a better view of your neck.

"It was Jake." You chuckled, still distracted by your phone as you let him guide you, without noticing how his jaw clenched, but feeling his fingers tighten on your jaw.

"Darling?"

Your eyes traveled to him.

"Mhm?"

"Will you come with me to the bedroom? We need to talk."

With a furrowed brow, you obeyed because the hand that held your chin ended up in one of your hands, pulling you as if he were a child wanting to show you something very important.

"Am I in trouble?" You joked as you watched him close the door behind you.

"Sit on the bed."

"Am I...?"

His brown eyes on you were enough for you to obey once again.

"Could you explain to me what the hell is this?" His hand in your hair made you turn your gaze away from the mirror you had in front, leaving the marks in plain sight.

You immediately understood who he was talking to.

Or whom.

"Oh, come on, hermano." Jake rolled his eyes in the mirror's reflection, his arms crossed over his chest. "Steven broke it first."

"False!" The mentioned objected after. It seemed like a competition of who could make Marc lose his patience first. "I would never do something like that."

"Check her hips if you don't believe me."

Raising an eyebrow, Marc released your hair.

"Stand up, sweetheart."

If there's one thing you've learned over time in this relationship, it's that it's not worth objecting when one or all three of them are arguing, especially when you don't even know what the problem is. You stood up slowly, wearing Steven's blue sweater that you slept in, which only covered half of your thighs.

He slowly lifted the edge of the fabric, his fingers brushing your thighs and causing a slight shiver. You could swear you heard him growl when he found the damn marks that fit perfectly with the size of his hands. Some of them were covered by your panties but they were pretty visible, already turning to a purple color.

“I-I didn't even notice those were there!”

“Why can Steven do it and I can't? That’s a damn injustice if you ask me.”

“Fortunately, Jake, I'm not asking you.” He rolled his eyes while you tried to imagine what the other two boys responded to him from the headspace. "On your knees."

The cold of the floor on your skin felt good and you had to look up to meet your boyfriend's chocolate gaze. You never had a problem following his orders.

“The problem here…” His fingers ran through your hair slowly, making you close your eyes for a few seconds. “They are forgetting who you belong to. Who do they think they are to mark my girl like this, huh?” He cooed, the gaze of the other two fixed on him.

Your hands went to the hem of his pants, and when he didn't object, you understood well what he wanted. A small smile spread across your lips as you freed him from his tight black jeans, as well as his underwear.

He wasn't completely hard yet until your tongue ran along his entire length from base to tip.

“I want you to show them who was your first, my love.” Your fingers, as if you were an expert, wrapped around his cock, giving it a squeeze before beginning a slow, up-and-down pace. “Who you think about every fucking time you cum.”

You couldn't see it, but in detail you imagined the way Jake was rolling his eyes.

“It's a punishment for all 3 of you, you understand, don't you, honey?” His eyes boring into you as you kissed all around his cock wetly. “What makes you believe you should allow yourself to be treated that way?”

You parted your lips, taking the head inside before starting to suck. That always gave him chills, the way you didn't rush.

“No-oh.” His fingers tangled in your hair, those soft caresses had stopped. One push of his hand and you had half of his erection inside your mouth. He groaned.

Although you enjoyed taking your time and savoring every inch of Marc, he seemed to be in a hurry, you thought that perhaps the clumsy and aggressive way in which he was directing your head movements was part of the supposed punishment.

Were you supposed to not enjoy that?

“Push deeper.” Jake's voice caught Marc's attention, who a few seconds ago had been distracted by the messy and sloppy way you were sucking him off. He could have sworn there was a point where the only sound in the room was your saliva every time he slid over your tongue.

Marc looked at the mirror with a frown.

“Push harder.” He repeated, looking up. “Steven always fucks her mouth until she cries, if you want to prove your point push harder. Right, Steven?"

The other boy received an elbow against his ribs that forced him to look up. It seems he was enchanted by watching the way your left cheek bulged against the pressure of the head of Marc's lenght against it.

Still distracted, he nodded quickly.

It was that what resulted in you suddenly feeling him push your head harder. The brush against your throat brought tears to your eyes and you heard your boyfriend grunt. He was never so rude.

You didn't complain, though.

You tried your best to relax the muscles in your throat around him, but you were so caught off guard that a couple of gags only did the opposite, feeling you squeeze him every few seconds until he guided your head back.

Saliva ran from your lips to your chin, some drops ending up on your neck. You broke the string of saliva that joined his cock to your mouth by licking your lips.

You sniffed, looking up before giving Marc a smile.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” His fingers wrapped around himself so he could hit your tongue with his heavy member. You kept your tongue out, happy to receive it and hear the wet slapping. “Or does Steven do it better?”

Another movement of his hips was so abrupt that you felt your nose eventually collide with his lower abdomen, having to close your eyes as your tears ran down them. Still, you didn't give up, you didn't use your well-known "signal" to ask for some mercy.

Instead you moved your tongue slowly underneath, you only managed to graze his balls with the tip of it but it was enough to get a gasp from his throat. You held on for more seconds than you thought you were capable of before it was Marc himself who pushed you away.

It took you several seconds to even out your desperate breathing, you wiped your lips on the sleeve of Steven's sweater.

"Stand up." He ordered. His chest rising and falling rapidly. Jake's smirk on the other side of the mirror screamed at him that he knew. He knew Marc would finish stupidly quickly if he kept fucking your throat like that.

You swallowed hard before standing on shaky legs, the intense heat between your legs beginning to burn through your entire body, without receiving any kind of attention the only thing you could feel was the way your insides clenched around nothing.

"Turn around." Your cheeks took on a reddish color as you remembered the two pairs of eyes that were on you on the other side of the reflection. You slowly turned your back on him, your fingers gripping the wooden cabinet that held the huge mirror. “You better not close your eyes, I want you to look at them.”

Marc's hands took care of the job, pulling the hem of the sweater up to your waist and pulling your panties down to your ankles. You didn't need instructions to spread your legs and raise your ass for him.

He positioned himself behind your body, holding his cock for help. The tip separated your lips and you flinched when it brushed your swollen clit, it was just a couple of brushes as if he wanted to collect your juices on it in order to make penetration easier.

Although with you dripping and him full of your saliva, at this point it was just his pettiness and his desire to make you beg. You lifted your hips higher.

Marc looked down, his hand positioning itself exactly over Steven's finger marks and with a single movement you felt him slide inside you. Your legs trembled as you received him this deep and rough way, an action that you recognized as more typical of Jake.

“M-Marc, fuck, Marc.” You stammered as your body tried to get used to his size. No matter how many times you had done this, it was like your body insisted on giving him that death grip that drove him crazy.

"That's it." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth in a lousy attempt to silence her gasps. “Louder, baby, remind them who's fucking you.”

Somehow you felt like Jake and Steven's eyes burned into your skin. You couldn't look in the mirror, not while you were babbling Marc's name between moans, with that look that made it obvious how cockdrunk you were with just a couple of thrusts.

When Marc hit that sweet spot that made you vibrate from head to toe, your eyes closed automatically, your head falling downward.

"No." He growled, his hand rising to place it in your hair where he tangled his fingers. The sudden tug he gave to your locks made you snap your head up and let out a loud gasp, your eyes snapping open. "Look at them."

On the other side Jake was leaning slightly so he could be at your face level, analyzing every small expression of pleasure he saw in you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are dilated, and your lips are red from biting them so much.

Steven was too lost in his own thoughts to object anything, the truth is that he was enjoying this new angle he had to see his cock splitting you and making you whimper more than he would like.

“Tell them how good I'm making you feel, honey.” He cooed, his fingers giving your hair a harder tug to force you to keep your head up. “Remind them who was the first to break that tight little pussy.”

You stifled a moan, making your bottom lip bleed with a bite.

“Tell them.” He growled, his fingers squeezing your hips so hard you feared your body was going to give up at any moment.

“I-It was you, Marc.” You whimpered in pleasure as his thrusts pushed your body forward, you were already on your tiptoes so as not to end up with your entire body against the furniture.

“Repeat it, I want them to listen to you.” His entire length remained still inside you, brushing against that spot that made you lose your mind. "Louder."

Your parted lips took in deep gasps of air and you had to swallow hard to recover your voice by moistening your throat a little.

“It’s you M-Marc.” He didn't give your hair a break, he was pulling with his fingers so hard that it was starting to hurt. “Fuck, Marc! A-Ah, fuck. It’s you, it’s you, only you.”

Bold of you to assume that Jake wouldn't have that in mind the next time he had his turn with you.

“Fuck her harder.” Marc looked at the mirror when the opposing voice caught his attention. “Come on, she can take it.” A mocking smile appeared on his lips, only irritating Marc even more.

Still, he obeyed.

You could hear the slapping between your bodies every time he thrusted into you. Your legs were threatening to stop supporting your body weight as they began to shake, your entire body feeling small spasms as you got closer and closer to the end.

“Marc?” Steven's soft voice caught the attention of the other two. His pupils were dilated and there was an adorable blush on hid cheeks. "Touch her."

Marc grunted when he realized that this wasn't the punishment he'd originally thought, but who was he to say no to Steven? The hand that was holding your hip slowly slid between your legs, separating your pussy lips with his fingers and then pressing his thumb against your sensitive clit.

He immediately felt your little hole tighten around him.

“Circles.”

“I know how to touch her, Steven.” He growled in your ear, only reminding you of the pair who were probably enjoying the show. The pleasure you were experiencing was too much to rescue the few grams of shame you might have somewhere on your body.

Your nails scratched the wood of the furniture in front of you.

“Cum all over me, honey.” He managed to whisper between moans. Two more thrusts of his body snatching the air from your lungs. “I bet they’ll like it.”

And that was enough for the wave of pleasure to make your body tingle from head to toe, your walls milking Marc until he followed you immediately after, filling you with his warm, thick liquid, which he pushed deeper inside you with a couple more strokes.

For a few seconds the only thing you heard along with the ringing in your ears was Marc's heavy breathing. After a moment his fingers gripped your hips, drawing your attention.

He gave you one more thrust and you squealed, sensitive, overstimulated.

“Marc.” You complained, looking up at the mirror in front of you once more as you tried to catch your breath.

On the other side, Jake's smile greeted you, almost playful.

“Let's see which name you can shout the loudest, princesa.”

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk @chinglewingledingledong @queerponcho @faretheeoscar @spideyman-peter

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[bamboobooshark]

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. SHARING FOOD : 1.1K WRDS

A/N : Here’s something to hold you guys over for the week! School has been a pain in the ass, so it’s been kind of hard to keep up with classes, homework, social, etc. Hope you guys enjoy these little scenarios where you ask the boys for a bite of their food, even though you told them you weren’t hungry! ALSO SORRY TO THE MARC FANS MY MIND WAS BLANK ON THINKING OF SOMETHING FOR HIM 💔💔💔

STEVEN GRANT .

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, love? Anything at all?” Steven asks you while preparing to order something in the drive-through for the two of you. “Mhm! I’m sure,” you reassure him with a nod for what feels like the millionth time in a row. He exhales deeply and nods in acceptance. He hates it when you insist on not ordering something for yourself. It’s not because he hates sharing his food, but because he wants you to treat yourself. You deserve it!

Your footsteps pad against the hardwood floor of you and Steven’s flat. You rub your eyes from the exhaustion of today. Your senses heighten a bit as you spot Steven on the couch. He’s watching a new documentary. You smile when you realize it’s the one you won’t stop telling him about. Your heart practically melts at the fact that he remembered.

“Steven,” you say in a sing-song voice as you walk up behind the couch. “Mm,” he hums as an absent-minded reply. You lean forward and slip an arm on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. “I’m hungry,” you complain. Your eyes drift to the screen, and for only a moment, you and Steven are indulged heavily in the documentary. Your boyfriend let out a breath and winced softly. “Sorry, hun. Did you say something? I was a little focused on my documentary,” he told you with a nervous chuckle. His words pull you out of your own trance, and you nod your head. “Yeah! I said I’m hungry,” you exclaimed.

Steven chuckles softly and releases a hum of acknowledgment. "Well, how about we solve that problem?” he asks with a soft smile. “But I’d really like it if you sat with me first,” he requested as a form of compromise. You smile and roll your eyes at him. He’s always known exactly how to make you agree to do something with him or for him. You walk around the back of the couch and flop down right next to him. Without asking, you reach over to the side table and grab a bite of his food. He swats at your hand with a stupid pout on his face before the two of you exchange snickers and laughs.

MARC SPECTOR .

“Whatever you say, baby,” Marc says in a tone that asks if you’re really sure. You laugh at the way he dramatically raises his eyebrows, throws up his hands, and widens his eyes. “Whatever I say,” you repeat while giving him a playful look. On the way home, though, you keep eyeing his bag of food as stubtly as your attempts can.

Marc sighs when he hears you approach the dinner table. “Marc! Hey,” you drag out awkwardly. He looks up at you from his phone and gives you the same look he always does—the one that tells you he’s always right. “Hungry?” he asks before you get the chance to spit it out. You drop your head in defeat and nod. “Yep,” you agree sheepishly while glancing at his food.

He nods while taking another bite. He reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out food for you. You get butterflies in your stomach as he hands you the packaged meal. “Your usual. With everything you always ask for and nothing of what you don’t ask for,” he says with a knowing smirk. You stand there silently, embarrassed that he knew you’d ask for his food but blushing at how he knew your exact order.

“My kiss?” he asks while giving you a side eye. You put your hands up in defense before leaning forward and kissing his cheek gently. “Thank you, Marc,” you chirp sweetly. “Thank you for the kiss, baby,” he says in a similar tone.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

“Dios mío,” Jake groans over the phone. “I know you’re going to beg me for a little bite of my food later, cariño. Tell me what you want me to get you,” the man urges, like his life depends on it. “Jake, I told you I’m not hungry! If I do get hungry later, I’ll heat up some leftovers or something,” you insist while laying sprawled out on your shared bed. Another noise of annoyance comes from your phone before your boyfriend speaks again. “Okay, mi sol. Whatever you say, don’t come begging for food later. You know I’ll make you do something for it,” he says with a soft chuckle. The two of you say your goodbyes before he hangs up.

“I’m home, chiquito,” he calls to you as he enters the flat, holding his bag of food in one hand while the other holds a flower. He struggles to shut the door with his hands full, but manages to get it done. “Jake! I missed you,” you exclaimed with excitement from the couch. “I know you did. You always do,” he says cheekily. You give him a look that says, ‘Really?’ “Okay, sorry! I missed you too,” he says in a dramatically sweet voice. You both share a laugh. He comes and sits down by you, the couch squeaking a bit once he does. “I got you a flower. Es muy bonito. Just like you,” he says before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He gently gets a hold of your jaw, then tucks the flower behind your ear. He smiles wider because, damn, you are just too much for him to handle. He loves how you look adorning his little gifts.

Jake lets out a grunt as he gets comfortable on the couch. He snatches the remote from your hand with a smirk. He begins to browse through the channels and starts to eat. As your boyfriend is focused on finding something interesting to watch, you carefully reach your hand into the bag of food. “Aye. Don’t,” he tells you with a stern tone. He’s always so good at noticing little details and catching things; likely from being a cabby for a living. You groan as your hand retreats. “Please? Pretty please? I just want a bite,” you ask with a slightly annoyed tone. “I told you earlier that you’d have to do something for me if you wanted some, cariño,” he reminds you. You huff softly and give him a look that prompts him to tell you what he wants you to do. He hums in thought, then makes eye contact with you once he thinks of something. He leans close to you and takes your jaw in his hand once more. “Say please again,” he purrs while looking at you. “Please,” you hesitantly beg. He smiles and pulls back, causing you to yearn for a kiss. He laughs and gives you a bite of his food before you steal the kiss you rightfully deserve.

[little-worm-grant]

How They Loved You

Moonboys x You (Reader)

730 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Who fell in love with you first? How do they behave around you? Some ramblings of how each of the alters likes to love you.

Warnings: No smut but suggestive.

Dedicated to @lunaselena - ♥

Steven thought it the moment he met you. The way you talked. The way you smiled at him. How kind you were. Didn’t show him any sign of being sick of his rambling. He was smitten. Didn’t take him long to blurt it out. He wanted to please you in every way he could think of. He learned fast. Intuitive towards you. Empathetic to your needs. He listened. Searched for ways to gently push buttons he never knew existed before you.

Simply having you existing gave him all the motivation he needed to try and make you happy. You let him explore and find his confidence. In turn, he’d find ways to surprise you. Always with that dopey grin on his face and that eagerness like you wouldn’t believe.

He’d be the one that’d spend a whole movie massaging your back. Cuddling or staring at you that little bit longer or until he couldn’t any more. He’s easily flustered and still bashful at times. Eyes quickly cast away as you strip the last of your clothing. His gaze would always return.

Once he was comfortable in your space? He’d be sneaking up to try and surprise you. Playful in his kisses and bites against you. Knowing exactly what he was doing but feigning innocence. More giggly in his flirting and teasing. Checking in when he can to make sure everything he’s doing and you’re doing is okay. He’d worship the ground you stood on if he could.

Sure, he liked you for a while, but it took Marc getting to know you before it came down hot and heavy. Suddenly there was no air to breathe unless it was yours. You were his thoughts day and night. He needed all his time with you. Felt he was missing out anytime the others were with you instead of him.

Years would pass and he’d still be the same way. Utterly devoted. Not loud in his affection or words like the others sometimes were, but he made sure you knew he loved you. Gentle in all the right ways. Rough in the ways you both needed. He’d be the one doing the most to make sure you were cared for. Feed you. Drag you into baths and showers with him. Pull you into his arms to nap with him.

Marc loves you and only you. You’re more important to him than himself. He’d be the kind to burn the world down just to keep you safe. He’d kill for you. He’d be the most unstable if you left. A kind of obsessiveness he knows can’t be healthy but can’t help himself.

Took the longest time for him to express his feelings. Even if he felt it, he never expected it to be reciprocated. Marc’s good at putting on a show of being stoic and decisive. Deep down he still felt undesirable, like he wasn’t worth you. How lucky he was to have such a person to orbit around. You were his sun. His planet. And all the stars around him.

Took him the longest to come around to the idea of loving you. Told yourself it was because he wasn’t out much and when he was he’d tried to avoid you and the others. Too used to his own bubble. Worried you’d hurt him if you got the chance. By being in constant proximity to the others, you caught glimpses of him. And in those glimpses, you seemed to like what you saw.

Jake’s moment of falling in love wasn’t hard and fast like Steven’s, or hot and heavy like Marc’s. It was an “awww fuck. Shit.” Kind of moment. Him standing there rubbing his gloved hand over his face because he realizes he really does care about this spicy little dumbass. You drive him crazy and he couldn’t understand until now why he wants you to keep doing that.

He wants to excite you. Take you out to see and do things you’ve probably never seen or done before. Enjoys the company in those long drives he loves to take. You catch him off guard with being okay he’s more his own person. He likes to be around and indispensable to others. Likes that you like seeing him like that. Marc’s bold, but Jake can be bolder. He’s possibly a little more on the competitive side. Isn’t one to back down.

[m00nsbaby]

Falling asleep on their shoulders.

A bunch of headcanons about how would they feel. :) (Moon system x reader.) Steven.

In a million years, he would never have accepted a work outing when he could be in his comfortable apartment with Gus, reading a new book.

Until he found out that you would be going.

He never imagined that an amusement park could be so much fun. He had never been to one before.

Or maybe he had, but he doesn't remember.

You separated from the group as soon as you arrived. Steven thought he would like to be as carefree as you when you took his hand and walked without a trace of nervousness or fear.

You talked all day, about anything and everything.

"You're very interesting, Steven." It was probably the sweetest thing he had ever heard. His blush made you feel satisfied.

For the rest of the day, you made sure he knew you were interested in him.

You also mentally noted how his lips brushed against your fingers when you offered him some of your cotton candy.

You held hands again when you rode the tallest roller coaster in the park.

Oh, and you kept the photograph.

"Shall we go see the Aqualoop?" "See it or...?" "Get splashed, I mean." He couldn't say no. Both of you were like a pair of children enjoying the day.

Adult life hadn't given you the chance to enjoy yourselves like this in a long time.

Both of you closed your eyes tightly as the water splashed over you, drenching you from head to toe. You both laughed until your stomach hurt, and Steven brushed a wet strand of hair from your face.

Having him so close made your heart skip a beat.

You spent the rest of the day dripping wet, enjoying the sun on your skin and the warm air drying your hair.

You shared food as the evening approached, and you discovered that vegan food was much better than you had imagined, while Steven ate half of your french fries.

As the park was about to close, you met up with the others at the exit.

Both of you insisted on declining the ride J.B. offered, as your clothes were still wet.

After 20 long minutes of arguing, you accepted on behalf of yourself and Steven.

Or Scotty, as J.B. had called him, making you struggle to hold back your laughter.

The space in the back seat was limited, and your body was squeezed between Steven and the car door, but you couldn't say you were uncomfortable.

His body emitted a delightful warmth.

A yawn escaped you.

"Are you tired?" Steven's whisper near you broke the complete silence in the car.

You silently nodded, rubbing one of your eyes with your hand.

If only he had the courage to tell you how adorable he thought you were.

Minutes of silence passed, your breathing became slower and heavier, and your head gradually leaned to the side as you began to fall asleep.

And it happened. Your cheek ended up against Steven's shoulder.

He almost vomited from excitement, not exaggerating. Needless to say, he was the type of person who simply assumed he would die of natural causes before moving or telling you that his shoulder had become tired.

After a few minutes, you shifted, slipping an arm underneath his and intertwining your fingers together, returning to your place on his shoulder after.

He allowed himself to finally smile.

And the hours it took him to gather the courage finally culminated in the best part of the night. He leaned in enough to kiss your forehead.

You smiled too, without opening your eyes.

Marc.

One day, you had to explode, and he knew it.

His plans were always thwarted because Khonshu interfered with his sudden missions that not only meant pausing whatever you were doing, but also meant that Marc would disappear completely from the radar for God knows how many days.

It was strange when he returned, too. It took him days to return to normal, if you were lucky enough he would tell you what had happened, only partially.

"It's always the same!" You finally screamed at your breaking point. Tears overflowed from your eyes as you quickly packed your clothes into your suitcase. You didn't care if the clothes became even more wrinkled.

"You knew it would be like this, I told you." Marc had the migraine of the century.

You shouted at each other for a while, and the maid looked at you as if you were crazy.

To be fair, you sounded like it.

The argument came to a close when Marc went too far with his words. You didn't argue often, but when you did, it always ended like this.

You cried the whole way to the bus station. And you almost started another argument when you pushed your boyfriend's hand away to prevent him from grabbing your suitcase.

If only he had the strength to set aside his pride for once, he would have apologized the moment the tip of your nose turned red.

You wished you could switch places with a stranger to avoid hours of travel with him.

But it didn't happen.

You felt like the thousand times you cried yourself to exhaustion as a child. You even let out a yawn within the first 15 minutes of the trip.

It didn't take long for you to succumb to physical and emotional exhaustion, thinking that sleeping would make time pass faster and you would be away from him sooner.

He was so focused on avoiding your gaze by looking out the window that he didn't even notice when you fell asleep.

Until your head landed on his shoulder with a sudden turn in the road.

Marc's body tensed. He was too stubborn to give in instantly, but at the same time, he was too in love to push you away.

He looked at you, and his chest tightened.

You looked so vulnerable. So tender and small. How could he hurt you if he loved you so much?

Unbeknownst to him, a barely noticeable pout formed on his lower lip.

"I love you," he whispered, more to himself than to you. He was almost consoling himself in the pain of having to carry the regret of his words.

"I love you with all my heart," he repeated.

It was futile, you were deeply asleep.

He made his decision and closed his eyes, leaning his head against yours to find comfort.

He would sleep by your side, feeling the warmth of your body, and when you woke up, he would apologize to you as many times as necessary.

Even if it meant having to make it up to you with other vacations.

Jake.

You never exchanged words unless it was necessary.

You knew his name, he knew yours, and that you were good at fighting together. Unfortunately, you didn't have a "magical" suit to help with that.

You stared out the window, suppressing the urge to moan in pain every time the taxi jolted on the road. You had survived worse things than a twisted ankle and a possible broken rib.

Jake didn't look at you, only when he heard you hiss or take a deep breath because of the discomfort you were in.

"We're close to the hotel," he reassured you, even though it was a lie. You were in the middle of nowhere, trusting that the driver had the correct directions.

You nodded silently, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against the cold window.

Five more minutes passed, and there were no signs of life on the road, but the pain became more bearable as exhaustion started clouding your perception.

Every time you were about to fall asleep, a tap of your forehead against the window would wake you up.

And you didn't even notice his gaze on you.

After the seventh hit, Jake lost his patience.

"Eso no va a funcionar, cariño." You didn't understand, and you couldn't be bothered to understand as you kept your eyes closed.

The last thing you felt was his body moving closer to yours.

You yielded, your body finally relaxing as you managed to fall asleep. It was easier for Jake to wrap his arm around your shoulders and gently push you against his, allowing you to rest.

Almost immediately, he regretted it.

Jake didn't have this kind of closeness with anyone. His interactions with other people always involved punches, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but pain was always present.

Was it normal for his heart to race like this? He would investigate later.

You moved your head slightly to snuggle better against his shoulder as he held his breath, trying not to make the slightest movement that could wake you.

"¿Cuánto va a ser?" he asked in a low tone so that the driver would understand his concern about not disturbing you.

The driver pointed to the meter in silence. Well, he encountered someone even quieter than himself.

Jake lost count of how many times he whispered in your ear, "Shh, cariño." (although sometimes he changed the endearment to "cielo" or "corazón") as a way to lull you in his arms whenever you shifted in your seat.

When you arrived, he paid in silence, as usual.

He didn't wake you up, in fact, he did his best to be as stealthy as possible.

He slid one of his arms under your legs, wrapped the other around you, and lifted you up like a bride.

Jake was careful, but not so much that your reflexes didn't catch the movement.

You woke up, but never opened your eyes; you simply nestled closer to his chest and enjoyed his care.

Tomorrow you would both face whatever you had to face.

[gooddaysmeanwritingdays]

Hopelessly in Love with You

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!Reader, Marc Spector x gn!Reader, Jake Lockley x gn!Reader Summary: Even after all these decades you’re still head over heels in love with your husbands. And sometimes you can’t help but say it out loud. Warnings: Absolutely none. Just fluff—so much fluff! Word Count: 2805 word count A/N: I saw a facebook post about a woman saying that even after like a decade, she still got butterflies and stuff when she was around her husband, and so that’s what prompted this. 

This is technically in my Falling For Them series, but can be read separately. This was just something I wrote at 4 in the morning because I could. It was originally just Steven, but then I found it again 18 months later and decided to add more. So here it is

“I am in love with you.” 

Your husband looked up, his beautiful brown eyes blinking owlishly behind his glasses. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but when you’d looked up at him across the room, it was like all the air had rushed from your lungs.

Steven blinked again, his smile a little bewildered and soft as he said, “Well, that’s good, love. What with us being married and all.” 

It was a Wednesday afternoon and you were both doing your own thing. It wasn’t a particularly spectacular Wednesday afternoon—it wasn’t your anniversary or anyone’s birthday. You were spread out across the floor working on your novel and Steven was at his desk going over his notes for the new museum exhibit. 

But when you’d looked up to ask him about—hell, you couldn’t even remember what—you were hit with such a powerful wave of ‘Oh gods I am so in love with you’ that you could barely breathe. 

It had been thirty-two years since you’d said “I do” and you were still so much in love with him. And some days it would just hit you like that. Like a cannonball to the face that you were in love with these men, and they loved you back. It was the giddiest feeling in the world. 

You stood up, stepping over the papers that had seemingly exploded around you, and headed to Steven. His arms were already open to you as you scrambled awkwardly into his lap. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it had been in your twenties, but it made him chuckle slightly and you got there eventually. 

“No. You don’t understand,” you whispered solemnly, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “I am madly in love with you.” 

His face burst into a beautiful smile as his arms came around your waist. “I am madly in love with you too,” he whispered, leaning up to kiss you. 

Kissing Steven was like fireworks and slow dancing. The decades since you’d met hadn’t diminished the fire his touch sent racing through you. Every brush of his lips against yours had your heart racing and your soul singing. You tipped his head back to deepen the kiss, suddenly desperate for more, and his moan sent shivers through you. Your hands slipped into his hair and his slipped under your shirt. 

Gods, I could do this all day. 

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to rest your forehead on his as you both caught your breath. 

“If that was your proof, love, I may need some more evidence,” he teased. His thumbs drew circles on the skin under your shirt. 

You grinned, closing your eyes at his touch and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. He lit a fire along your skin as he grazed his lips along your jaw to your pulse point. 

“Thirty-two years and you still make me feel like every kiss is our first kiss,” you whispered as he traced circles into your skin with reverential tenderness. You pulled one of his hands from your waist to over your heart where you could both feel it pounding away. “You make my heart race every time you look at me.” You brought his hand up to cup your cheek. “I feel like my face is going to break with how much I smile just thinking about you.” You move his hand to our stomach. “And I still get butterflies every time I wake up next to you in the morning.” 

Steven looked up at you like you were his reason for living. He looked at you like you’d taken all the air from his lungs and were filling them with pure oxygen. 

You leaned forward to trace his lips with yours. “Kissing you is like I’m learning to breathe all over again.” You couldn’t help your smile as you pulled back slightly. “It’s like I’m back at the start, falling for you all over again. And it is as easy as it was back then.” 

There was a shine to his eyes and he held you close as you placed soft kisses along the backs of his eyelids. 

“Except it’s better,” he said when he could finally speak. “It’s so much better than the beginning.” He cupped your cheek with a holy reverence like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “I don’t have to pretend like I don’t want to spend every second of my life kissing you. I don’t have to live with my imagination of what a future with you would be like.” His kiss was so unbearably soft you wanted to stay there forever. “I get to wake up every morning knowing you’re beside me. I get to tell you every day how much I love you. I get to be your husband.” 

Even after all these years the word still made butterflies erupt in your soul, and you could tell in the way his heart fluttered underneath your hand that it was the same for him. 

“Falling in love with you for the first time was breathtaking, but being married to you—it’s a dream come true.” 

You just had to kiss him again for that. 

You pulled back and settled into his arms, content to never move again. Steven shifted you slightly so he was comfortable and returned to his work on the exhibit. 

But eventually, your body made its complaints known and you had to move. You weren’t a spring chicken anymore and as delightful as it was to sit on your husband’s lap all day, you needed to move to a comfier spot for that to work. You tugged him after you, determined not to do anymore work, and headed to the couch. Today was officially now a cuddle day.

“Also, it’s been thirty-two years, four months and seventeen days.” He shrugged when your eyebrows shot up. “Jake’s been counting.” 

“Well,” you leaned in for another kiss. “Here’s to another twenty-two years, four months, seventeen days. And forever.” 

“Forever,” Steven breathed, wrapping you in his arms.

~~~

He looked so soft in the mornings. Like he’d never worried about anything in his life. 

You’d both been awake for a few hours now, but it was Saturday and you didn’t need to get out of bed at all if you didn’t want to. And lying next to your husband, you never wanted to move again. 

“You’re staring,” Marc murmured, eyes still closed.  

You reached out to trace his nose, softly following the path to his cheeks, his jaw, his eyelids. He kissed the tip of your finger when it passed his lips, and you died at the cuteness. 

“I can’t help it,” you said, biting your lip at how damn cute he was. “I am so in love with you.”

Under your finger his lips curled into that gorgeous smile you adored so dearly. “I love you too, baby.” 

You huffed out an exasperated sigh and shuffled closer. “No,” you said like he was being deliberately obtuse. You rolled both of you so you were on top of him, straddling him. Marc snorted, still grinning as his hands came up to hold you in place. He didn’t open his eyes. “I am in love with you.” 

“Ah.” He nodded like he finally understood. You poked him in the chest and he pressed his lips together to keep back a laugh. “Of course. My mistake.” 

He still hadn’t opened his eyes and you knew he was doing it just to be stubborn, so you leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. When that didn’t work, you pressed a line of soft kisses down his nose, mouth, chin, along his jaw and to his ear—right where you knew he was ticklish. 

He huffed a laugh and finally opened his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. 

Your heart fluttered. Gods, you loved those eye crinkles. Your boys hadn’t had them when you’d met them. They hadn’t had much to laugh about back then, but over the years their laugh lines had deepened. And boy did you adore them. They were a sign of your darlings growing as people, and letting themselves be comfortable again. 

They were no longer ‘Moon Knight’ anymore, and it was mornings like these that were a reminder of that. They were all yours. You didn’t have to worry about losing them, nor did they ever have to worry about you getting hurt because of them. 

You were safe. All of you. 

And it was because of that safety your darlings could have laugh lines and lazy Saturday mornings with you. 

It was like Steven had said. Falling in love with them had been amazing, but being married was a million times better. You wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world. 

You shrugged helplessly, almost too overcome for words. “I really am just so in love with you.” 

Marc melted at that. His grin softened into an adoring smile, and his hands came up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your cheek and you melted into his touch. The look in his eyes reminded you of the day he said “I do”, and of that night, and every day since. 

“I am absolutely in love with you too.” He pulled you closer to brush his lips against yours. “Every day I think I can’t possibly be more in love with you. But then the sun rises and I can’t breathe with how much more I love you.” 

You started at the unexpected poetry from your normally close-lipped husband. It wasn’t the first time he’d blown you away with his words, but just like always, you never expected it. You buried your face in his neck, cheeks aflame and heart racing. “You are impossible!” 

His laugh rumbled through his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter against him. “I learnt from the best,” he agreed, planting an adoring kiss on the side of your head. 

~~~

Jake was pouting. Every time you’d look over at him, he’d poke his bottom lip out and turn away, arms crossed. And every time you asked him what was wrong he’d just pout harder. He’d been like this all day and you were starting to wonder if this was a prank. Or if maybe you really had upset him. 

So finally you cornered him in the bathroom when he was hunched over cleaning out the cupboards. You stood in front of the door and raised an eyebrow at his back. He couldn’t escape now. 

He stood slowly, eyeing you and his blocked escape before he eyed the window too. But when he looked back at your narrowed eyes he knew he was pushing his luck so he just pouted. Again. With those damn puppy dog eyes. 

Gods, he’s killing me. And he knew it too. He knew what that look did to you. He’d seen you cave to Steven with it enough that he knew it was your weakness. All your darlings knew how to use it on you, but Jake wasn’t getting away with it today. 

“I don’t think so.” You took a step closer. “You’ve been pouting at me all day.” You closed the door. “And every time I ask you what’s wrong, you pout even more.” You stalked towards him until his back was against the wall and you were toe-to-toe. “So tell me. What. Is. Wrong?” 

Jake looked away, his chin tipped up so he was staring at the ceiling and resolutely avoiding your eyes. 

“Jake Lockley,” you warned. 

Your patience was wearing thin. You’d already ruled out this being a joke or a prank, and now you were left with him being upset over something you’d done. And it was exactly like Jake to avoid an issue upsetting him until it went away. If Marc or Steven were upset, all hell broke loose, but Jake? No, he’d let that simmer until he had an ulcer. 

And even after all these years, that was something you hadn’t helped him work through entirely. Hence today’s issue. 

You raised an eyebrow when he still hadn’t said anything. 

“You haven’t said it to me,” he finally muttered, pouting harder. 

You reached out to put your fingers to his chin, tilting his face back down to yours. “Haven’t said what, baby?” 

He avoided your eyes so you stepped even closer so you were all he could see, and finally he blurted, “You haven’t said you’re in love with me.” 

You frowned a little. “What do you mean? I say it all the time.” 

And you did. Every chance you could you’d tell your boys how much you loved them. You’d both gone through points in your lives where you thought no one loved you, so all four of you had made it a point to say it every chance you could. 

Hell, you had even instituted a system where three taps meant ‘I love you’ so you could all say it whenever you felt it, all without saying it. 

But Jake was shaking his head, pouting even harder as he forced himself to look away. “No, not like that. Not like you said to Steven and Marc. Not like that.” 

Oh. He was talking about yesterday with Marc and last week with Steven, where you’d been so in love with your husbands you couldn’t help but tell them. 

Oh, baby. Your other hand came up to cup his face, ducking your head so he could look at you and your heart skipped at the emotion in his eyes. 

He was jealous. 

You bit your lip to keep from grinning at how cute he looked. You hadn’t seen it before because you’d been focused on other things, but when Jake pouted…

Gods, you loved that look. You wanted to make him pout like that all the time. Maybe you could get him to look like that next time you were in bed. Make him beg a little…

You shivered at the delight that brought, and his eyes lit up a little at the movement. 

Stop it. Now’s not the time. 

You reached up to cup his cheeks and you knew there would never be a moment in your life where you weren’t in love with this gorgeous man. “Falling in love with you was inevitable,” you whispered, echoing the words of your vow all those years ago. “There has never been a moment where I haven’t been absolutely head over heels in love with you, Jake Lockley.” 

“Yeah?” He gave you a small smile, and you knew he was lapping up your words, just like he did every time. 

It had broken your heart when you’d learned that of all of them, Jake had been loved the least. That not once in his life had anyone told him that they loved him. From then on you’d made it your mission to tell him so often that he would never doubt his worth ever again. 

“Yeah, baby.” A smile escaped your lips and your eyes creased with how much you adored him. “Sometimes it just hits me how much I love you. Before I met you I didn’t realise I could love someone this much, and then I fell in love with you and—” you shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.” 

Jake’s smile bloomed into a grin that had his eyes crinkling and his cheeks blushing. “Good.” 

Before you could react, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted up into the air. You shrieked, laughing, and clutched his shoulders to keep from falling. Even as old age crept into the bones of your darlings, they still surprised you with how much they could still do. 

He spun you around before setting you back on your feet, your back against the wall. He leaned in, trapping you against him as he curled a hand against your cheek. His nose brushed against yours and he was grinning so hard you knew his cheeks were aching. Just like yours. 

You arched into him, biting your lip as his thumb traced your cheekbone. 

“Tell me again,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours in just the way he knew drove you crazy. 

Your heart pounded, and you wanted to bury your face into his chest to hide the blush burning across your cheeks, but you knew nothing but the truth would save you. So, you took a handful of his shirt and pulled him even closer. Then, with a brush of your lips against his, you said, “I am madly, deeply, inevitably and hopelessly in love with you, Jake Lockley.” 

He snickered. “Gross,” like he wasn’t entirely head over heels for you too, and pulled you in for a searing kiss. “But me too.”  

A/N: Reblogs, comments and likes give me the dopamine to keep writing, so if you liked this oneshot,

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[heartthrobin]

press your tulips to mine

steven grant x female!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n

an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers

summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.

Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.

Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.

He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?

In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.

Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.

Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.

Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.

Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.

He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.

Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.

Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.

The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"

Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.

By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.

There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.

Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.

Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.

It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.

"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"

Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.

The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.

Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.

"That was mortifying." He muttered back.

The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.

"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.

He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."

"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.

"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."

Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."

Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.

He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.

It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--

"Steven don't even think about it--"

Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.

As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."

Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."

Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"

Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."

"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.

"Jesus, Steven."

Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.

"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"

An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."

"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.

"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Who's birthday is it?"

Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"

"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"

"My girlfriend's."

"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"

"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.

"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.

Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"

Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"

You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"

Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.

You blushed a velvety red.

"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"

"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."

Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."

He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.

"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."

Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?

"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.

"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.

"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."

Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.

"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"

"Let her respond, Steven."

But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.

"So, uh, yeah."

"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"

Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."

You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"

"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."

You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."

"Thanks."

"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.

"Uh-- and you are?"

"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.

Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.

"It's ... it's a beautiful name."

You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."

His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."

Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.

"Good job, Stevie."

-

Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.

Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”

His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”

-

In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.

Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.

Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”

But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.

Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.

He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.

Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The nickname made him shiver every time.

“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.

When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.

“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.

You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”

It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.

Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.

“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”

Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.

He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.

“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.

Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”

It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.

He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.

The day passed like most of them do.

The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.

Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.

Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.

He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.

A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--

"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."

The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.

Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."

Your eyes found him, waving a hand.

Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.

"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"

"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."

He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”

Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.

“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”

Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.

“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”

“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.

The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.

“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”

With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."

"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"

"Of course."

Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.

When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.

"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.

The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.

Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.

With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.

"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"

The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.

Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.

“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”

He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.

The silence was beginning to turn stale.

“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.

“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”

“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”

Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”

An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”

“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“

A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.

The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.

Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.

He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.

“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.

He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.

In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.

Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.

“Steven?”

The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.

He didn’t.

Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.

Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”

If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.

“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“

He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.

“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blinked up at him. Once, twice.

The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.

“When?”

Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?

“Now. Right now, tonight.”

The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.

“Don’t you have work?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”

Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“

He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.

“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.

He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.

They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.

With his experience being limited to the pool of:

A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.

B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,

C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,

It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.

“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.

You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.

“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”

-

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[little-miss-dilf-lover]

OMG PLS DO COCKWARMING W THE MOOMBOYS AAAAA. and why didnt u tell me that before 👿👿👿

- 🦅🇺🇸

NOW YOU’RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE🫡 baby I got a whole ass catalog (not really, it’s mainly steven lmao) thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

COCKWARMING WITH THE MOONBOYS

moonboys x female reader (not as the moon system)

warnings. 18+ only!! cockwarming, writers brainrot, mdni

cockwarming with marc:

im thinking it will all be very intense and passionate - his gaze would never leave yours, watching you with lidded and focused eyes. you'd be below him, back on the mattress with him above, his cock tucked nicely inside you. he'd have his hands cupped around your face, holding you close as you kiss - it would be slow and sloppy, kinda messy and deep, like a real nasty, carnal snog. he'd cage you to the bed, and you'd wrap yourself around him - hugging him like a bear on a tree. he'd swallow your moans and his own would vibrate your tongue. he wouldn't move - just holding you like that, his dick snug inside you. towards the end (before he starts to move) he'd perch between your thighs, keeping his cock glued inside, and would play with your clit - thumbing over it, using himself as a plug for you. he'd make you cum on his cock using just his thumb, and only then would he fuck you -neigh, make love to you- making you cum all over again

cockwarming with steven:

you'd be straddling him, his cock stuffed inside as you both come down. the side of your face would be nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he strokes over your back - soft, small, gentle circles on your heated skin. he'd be catching his breath, chest rising and falling as he evens out, muttering sweet praises beside your ear about how you're his sweet girl. he strokes over the back of your head too, palm gliding over your hair - holding you almost protectively. super comforting and sweet - lots of reassurance afterwards. maybe you both fall asleep, keeping his dick tucked inside as you drift into a light slumber

cockwarming with jake:

you'd both be on the sofa, you perched upon his thighs/ crotch, your back against his chest. he'd be mean with it, not moving - leaving you completely desperate for any kind of movement. he'd grip your waist/ wrap his arms around your middle - stilling you. he loves the way you twitch and tighten around him, like you're begging for more. he'd rest his chin on your shoulder, looking down at your pussy with him wedged so perfectly inside. (not sure the proportions would be correct, but oh well, just pretend) you'd be a leaking mess, all of your wet dripping down his cock, pooling around his balls, making a mess on the couch. he'd play with your tits from behind, groping and squeezing them, muttering in spanish about you being needy. he wouldn't fuck you until you reach your absolute wits ends - a crying, desperate, frustrated mess - quivering and whimpering, begging for him to move

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

im gonna, uhm, yeah.. what? okay bye

steven taglist: @thewinterv @bubblezuku @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @queerponcho @kinglokisqueen4ever

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Free Ride [2]

Jake Lockley x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Part 1 Here • Free Ride Masterlist •

Summary: You recognised Steven and Jake had no choice but to play along, and give in to some impulses of his own.

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

A/N: I have not checked this over very well at all, I am so sorry.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, dubious consent because reader thinks he's Steven, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, dirty talk, lube, mentions of a vibrator, Jake has a big dick, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2841

Jake pushes you back into your flat, his lips on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. 

You stumble a little, but his strong hands keep you stable, pull you closer against him. He trails down to your jaw, your neck, nipping lightly at your skin before sucking hard on your pulse point. 

A shiver runs up your spine, crawls at your throat. You gasp and clutch into him. “Steven, I-”

Jake growls softly, moving quickly and kissing you mercilessly. He nips lightly at your lip, not enough to cause damage but the sudden sensation makes you jump slightly and he smiles. 

You pull back, just enough to see the expression. In that moment it’s so unlike Steven, not his usual beaming grin. His eyes don’t crinkle the same way, his-

Before another thought can form his lips are on yours again as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom, tugging your pyjama top over your head. He pauses once, barely moving his mouth from yours to sweetly ask your permission before continuing. Waiting with soft eyes for your clear confirmation and then kissing you breathless once more. 

His fingers dig into your skin, squeezing every part he can reach. 

As the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed he dips his head down, rolling the flat of his tongue against your left nipple. You bite your lip, trying to keep some semblance of control over yourself but can’t stop the small moan that escapes and fills the air.

Jake groans, latching onto your breast and sucking. Your fingers tangle in his hair, breathing rapidly as he flicks his tongue over the quickly hardening nub. 

You arch into him, your hips bucking of their own accord as he pushes his knee between your legs as he moves to your other breast. 

You whine, letting his warm hands roam your body and press firmly into your back, keeping you balanced as you lean into him. 

He slides his left hand up, cradling the back of your head and then carefully urges you onto your back onto the mattress. 

Should you stop him? You bite your lip. This was going head spinnngly fast. Sure you’d had a not so secret crush on him for ages, but-

He leans over you, pressing his body flush to yours and kisses you senseless, his tongue slipping into your mouth and drinking down every sound that slips past your lips. 

The hard outline of his cock presses into your core through the stiff material of his jeans and any doubt just blinks out of your mind as the spark of pleasure runs up your spine. 

He growls, low and soft in his throat as you move against him, pressing yourself more fully against the bulge in his trousers. 

“Steven,” you moan.

He pulls back instantly, his lips pink and kiss swollen. For a second you think you’ve done something wrong, made the wrong move, but he stands back up quickly. Hooks his fingers under your waist band and drags it down, leaving you completely bare.  You yelp a little at the speed of his movements, the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach drop and fill with anticipation. 

Jake grabs your hips, his warm fingers digging in, just boarding on the possibility of being too hard, and flips you over with a surprising sudden show of strength. 

You let out a small cry of surprise, barely having a moment to react as Jake raises you up by your hips so that you’re on your knees, face down, ass up. 

Heat burns into your skin as he pushes your thighs apart, his thumbs on either side of your entrance and spreading your lips wide. 

The sound of his groan of appreciation alleviates any self consciousness you could feel. Jake palms his cock roughly, squeezing the thick outline with one hand to get a hold of himself before he dives in. 

He swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning again in appreciation as he laps at you. 

The moan that leaves you is sinful. It would make another wave of embarrassment roll through your stomach if you weren’t already too far gone to care. You press your face into the covers, screwing them up in your fists as Jake licks annoyingly slowly, flicking his tongue against your clit before pulling up and just dipping into your entrance. Teasing with the very tip before starting the whole process all over again.

You squirm under his actions, simultaneously trying to escape and push closer to the pleasure of his mouth. He grabs hold of your hip with one firm hand, pulling you firmly against him. 

“Hush bebé,” he mutters against you, barely moving far enough for his words to be heard. “Let me take care of you.” 

You moan again and bury your head into your mattress, drooling on the duvet. 

Pleasure boils along your skin, spiking down from your lower stomach with every warm swipe of his tongue. He groans at the taste of you, the small buzz of sound reverberating through you and vibrating against your already swollen clit. 

A choked, “please,” escapes your lips and Jake chuckles. 

“Begging already?” 

You moan and nod. Your eyes screwed up tight, your hips rocking back and forth in time with him. 

It had been a while since you’d been with anyone, and even longer since that you’d been with someone who seemed so eager to devour every part of you. 

Jake pulls back for a second, biting lightly at the back of your upper thigh, before he sinks two thick fingers into your heat. 

You gasp, whining at the sudden but welcome intrusion. Your legs shake at the stretch, your mind going blank for a second. 

“Fuuuccck.” Jake hisses under his breath, mesmerised as he presses in to the second knuckle before pulling back again, marvelling at your slick in the light. “So tight bebé, hmm?” He groans as he pushes back in, revelling in how your walls clench around him, seem to suck him deeper despite the stretch. “Don’t think I’ll fit in here…” he gasps as he slowly eases out and back in, the ache in his cock maddening. “So tight… When’s the last time you got fucked by anything other than your fingers?” 

A choked sob leaves your lips, your orgasm burning along every nerve ready to explode at any second. “Please,” you moan, “I’m, you’re gonna make me…”

Jake hisses in another breath, unable to resist the urge to push his fingers as deep as they can go and stroke your walls languidly, searching for the spot to make you see stars. His thumb presses against your clit, barely moving except for a steady alternating of pressure. 

You cry out, your back arching, the pleasure so close you can taste it. 

“That’s it,” Jake mutters, “oh, there?” He presses deeply, his strokes sure and firm and oh so slow. “That’s where it’s good?” He whispers, his breath skittering across your skin.

“Please!”

He bites back a groan, his eyebrows pinched together as you squeeze his fingers. “Gonna come? Gonna come just from me tasting you and touching you? And-”

You cry out as your orgasm crests and pulls you down under the wave, washing over every nerve, curling your toes and leaving you boneless. 

Jake moans with you, leaning closer as he continues the torturous pace of his fingers and squeezes his cock through his jeans with his other hand, just about managing not to cum in his boxers. 

You shudder, shiver as you come down and back to yourself. Jake slowly eases his fingers out of you, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth now that it’s over, not that-

Suddenly you turn, smiling at him and raising up onto your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss him softly, sweetly, pressing your chest up against him. 

He stiffens for a moment, the action unexpected before he returns the kiss. 

He swallows as you pull back for a second, “we don’t have to d-” tumbles out of his mouth at the exact same moment as you say, “do you want to…?” You pause, giving him a slightly bashful smile. For some reason the fact that you’re naked while he’s fully clothed makes a little thread of anxiety tighten in your chest. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say in a bit of a rush, “if you want, I could just-”

He silences you with an urgent kiss, already, tugging at the helm of his shirt. “Please, let me fuck you.” 

You shiver at his desperate growl, nodding rapidly as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. 

Jake pulls his shirt over his head as you push his trousers down his thighs. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. 

“What?” 

You bite your lip and shake your head as you laugh. “You weren’t joking.”

He raises an eyebrow in question. 

“I don’t know if you’ll fit.” 

Jake laughs and presses his lips to yours, “only one way to find out.”

You giggle as he litters your neck and chest with kisses, slowly easing you back down onto the bed before he stands again. 

You lean up on your elbows and he tuts, swatting playfully at your arms as he kicks off his jeans and boxers completely. He grabs two pillows, tucking one carefully under your head and the other under your hips. You raise up as best you can to help. 

As he bends down to grab his jeans from the floor you can’t help but admire how he moves, the soft skin of his back and the ripple of muscle underneath. 

He pulls his wallet from his jeans.

“You got lube?” The offhandedness of the question catches you off guard for a second and you flounder before you can answer.

“Erm, yeah, in the drawer.” 

He nods, taking something from his wallet before tossing it back to the floor. He puts the edge of the wrapper between his teeth and pulls with his right hand as he walks around and opens your bedside drawer. 

Which is the exact second your brain decides to remind you what else is in the drawer along with the lube. 

“Wait-”

Too late. He’s already opened it and obviously seen it. 

Jake smiles as he looks up at you, practically a smirk and takes the wrapper out of his mouth. He holds up your vibrator. “Worried about me seeing this?” 

You cover your face with your hands and laugh as you nod. 

He grins. “Don’t worry, it’s size isn’t intimidating.” He looks it over for a second, “no wonder.” 

“No wonder?” 

“It’s barely thicker than one of my fingers, let alone two.” 

You grab the pillow from under your head and pretend to throw it at him. 

He laughs loudly, beaming at you as he places it back in your drawer. “Besides, I knew you had one anyway.”

You frown.

“The sound.”

“Huh?”

He points upwards. “Walls are pretty thin. Or ceilings, I guess.”

Embarrassment rushes along your bones, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he takes out the half full bottle of lube. For a second he scans the label before he walks back in front of you and kneels between your legs, hooking the back of your left knee over his shoulder. 

“What are you-”

“Getting you ready.” He mutters as he gazes at your pussy. There’s a crinkle of foil as he puts the wrapper next to him and then a pop as he opens the lube bottle. 

Jake warms the lube on his fingers for a second before he pushes three inside and flicks his tongue over your clit. 

You suck in a breath, arching up towards him and screwing up your eyes as he continues his tortuous pace from before. 

It’s a maddening tease. Slow and steady as he works you open and presses against your sweet spot before backing off again. Hitching you higher and higher.

He hums as you shake and buck against his touch, groans as you run your fingers through his hair. 

“Please,” you moan. 

“Hmm?” Jake barely moves away from you, too preoccupied in the feel of your skin against his. 

“Please,” you swallow, your words spilling out in a lust filled haze, “please fuck me, please, Steven, I-”

He moves away from you quickly, and you whine, already lamenting the loss and trying to chase his fingers. 

Jake grabs the condom wrapper and tears it open as he stands, hisses as he rolls it over his aching cock. A dark twist of emotion knots itself in his stomach, twists around his intestines and lungs, but he forces it down, down as he pushes your right thigh wide, the action boarding on painful, before quickly lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in. 

You almost don’t recognise the sound that leaves your lips as your own, the gasp from deep in your chest as his hips snap against yours filling you completely. You can’t remember a time when you’ve felt so full before, when you’ve been so stretched and spread. 

The sensation almost borders on pain, the thick weight of his cock straining you to your limit. But the thick tip of him brushes so wonderfully inside, his pubic bone rubs against your clit and all you can do is drown in the pleasure as he eases his hip back and forth a few times in long, languid strokes before he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

He pounds into you, rocking you back onto the bed with every thrust and banging your headboard against the wall with enough force to chip the paint. 

You whine low in your throat, barely able to get enough oxygen into your lungs as he pushes you higher and higher, forcing pleasure into your veins as though he was made to please you. 

You grab hold of his arms, his neck, anything you can get a hold of and pull his mouth to yours, sliding your tongue past his lips and moaning as he rolls his hips, forcing all his energy on hitting that perfect spot just right.

Your high pitched gasps leave you with every thrust, your thighs tense and shake as you strive to meet him. That deep ball of pleasure tightening and tightening. 

He groans low, kissing you for all his worth to stop the words that want to spill out from his tongue. 

Jake knows he’s not going to last, not with the way you’re whining and begging and kissing him so desperately. Not with the way you squeeze him and urge him deeper, practically beseeching him to take and take and take and-

You pull your mouth back from his, your hands on his shoulder and in his hair. “S-” you stop yourself from saying his name, from causing that little flutter of a frown to cross his face, “sweetheart, please,” the moan that leaves you is practically pornagraphic as Jake’s hips stunner, his mouth opening in a little blushed gasp as you call him ‘sweetheart’. 

“Fuck,” he groans low unable to stop the pleasure from barreling through his every cell, from lighting up every nerve. He fucks you through it, trying and failing to keep his eyes open to watch you. But he feels you tense, hears you moan as you come undone beneath him. 

You come harder than you can ever remember, stars exploding behind your eyes as pleasure erases every thought for a blissfully moment. 

He leans against you, burying his face into your neck and holding some of his weight off you with his arm. 

You breathe heavily for a moment, both of your chests rising and falling in time with each other as you stroke his damp hair. Sweat cooling on both of your skin. 

For a moment, you think he might have nodded off. His muscles go slack for a second, but he shudders and tenses again.

You smile and kiss his temple. 

“Wait… what?” His voice is barely a whisper and… now that you hear it… very… Steven like. Which made no sense at all, because, well, it was always Steven, wasn’t it? Maybe you’d been too caught up and misheard, maybe when he was horny he put on a bit of a voice. You’d heard about that, when-

Steven tenses as sensations flow back into his body.

He sits up, or at least tries to, panic gripping his heart. What the fucking fuck fuck fuck has he slept walked into now?

Your arms around him stop him from bolting upright, but he still moves his head a handwidth away. 

“Hey, you alright?” You say soothingly, his actions reminding you of someone jumping awake, “did you fall asleep for a second?” 

Steven looks down at you, eyes wide. You, lovely, lovely you. Who he’d been trying to not so subtly flirt with for the past months. And now he was… oh… his softening cock twitches in your heat… very much closer than he’d realised.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[sinsofsummers]

insatiable

1.3k | marc spector x f!reader

summary: you can never get enough of marc. and marc? he's not complaining. warnings: literally nothing but smut (duh), oral (m receiving), fingering, marc being a little shit, whimpering, begging, masturbation (f), throat-fucking, etc.

Giving Marc head during the worst possible times of his day is your version of fun.

There's nothing quite like the look of unbridled desire that blooms in his eyes every time he sees you sink to your knees in front of him, a pleading smile on your lips..

"Please, baby, I'm busy," he'll always say, as if to protest. But you know he just says it for show; he'll never stop thanking his lucky stars for how desperately insatiable you can be.

Because when your throat feels empty, it feels hollow, and the only thing that can make you return to yourself is his thick, veiny cock stuffed down your throat until your nose brushes the coarse patch of hair at the base.

If he's about to fall asleep? No better bedtime story than the sound of you gagging on the swollen head of his cock touching the back of your throat, your hands splayed on his thighs for balance.

He's on the phone? You'll kneel before him like a zealot bends to pray, and you'll take him into your mouth without a word, hardly even a look into his eyes, while he stifles his moans.

He comes home from another hard day as Moon Knight? You're there for him, ready to pull him down to the bed and let him lose his worries with your mouth around him.

And now? He's just gotten out of the shower, towel draped sinfully low on his hips, his chest a canvas of scars and muscles and droplets of water that still run down the rivets of his stomach.

You've been trying to distract yourself with...well, anything, but that's been awfully hard considering your favorite man is in much need of a relaxing shower. You'd almost gone in with him, but had refrained when you saw the hard look in his eye.

You could be his treat after the shower. Besides, you'd convinced yourself, he needed those quiet moments to come back to himself from a long day.

Of course, the temptation had been so strong that you'd had to resort to sinking your hand into your shorts to keep yourself from interrupting his alone time.

"Look at you," he muses when he steps out of the bathroom, leaning down to drop a kiss on your head. "Keeping yourself busy, I see?"

Your eyes open at the sound of his voice, and you can feel the droplets of water from his hair land on your arm. It cools your hot skin, and your fingers stop circling your clit. "Couldn't help myself," you shrug with a smirk, "what else am I s'posed to do when I know you're just a few feet away, looking as good as you do?"

His smirk remains on his face, but you swear you can see it grow wider when he flits his eyes down to where your hand has disappeared under the soft material of your lounge shorts. "You want something, sweetheart?" he teases, and your face burns.

"Only you," you reply, your voice thick. Pulling your hand from your shorts, you hold out your shining fingers to his mouth, tapping them against his bottom lip before placing them over your tongue, gently sucking your sweet juices from your own fingertips.

"C'mere," you coo. "Wanna taste you, Marc."

It doesn't take much more than that to get him to drop his towel, laying back on the bed with his feet dangling off the edge, just enough to reach the floor. His cock is already half-mast, a delicious challenge for you to conquer. Before you put your mouth over his tip, he reaches out to tug at your waistband. "Lemme see that pretty pussy, baby," he says, his voice always a quiet command. "I wanna hear you play with yourself while you suck my cock."

You bite your lip with a grin and obey. You usually allow him these little requests; it makes him feel like he's in control for the few minutes before you've got him writhing and whimpering beneath you.

With one hand on your clit, rubbing rhythmic circles on your bundle of nerves, breathy moans dropping from your lips, you lift your eyes to his and open your mouth, taking him softly.

At first. You like to watch his lips quiver as he tries to hold in the desperate moans. No matter how many times you find yourself in this position, Marc's moans remain loud and plentiful, turning into an unforgettable chorus of whines when you inevitably take him down to the base of his cock.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, throwing his arm over his face. "You know just how to make me feel better, honey. That's it, fuck—"

His voice catches when you moan around him, the vibrations stiffening his cock in an instant. Your throat is deliciously full, and you hollow your cheeks for a moment, sucking hard and fast to watch him crumble to pieces.

Now you've got him where you want him.

"Do I make you feel good, Marc?" you ask sweetly when you lift your mouth from him for a moment's reprieve.

It's all he can do to nod, a whine squeezing its way from his throat. "Always so good, doll," he heaves, his hips straining up from the bed. "I wanna—please—"

You dip your tongue down and swirl it gently around his tip, lapping up the precum with an appreciative moan. "Ask nicely, baby," you tease him, your hand curling around his length and delivering a courteous, languid stroke.

His hips stutter. "More, please," he breathes. "Wanna fuck your throat. Please."

For a moment, you pause to look at him. He looks absolutely wrecked. You've never gotten him this desperate so quickly. "And you say I'm insatiable," you murmur. "Come on, Marc. Fuck my throat. Play with me how you want."

His hands come down to the back of your head with almost no warning but a, "thank fuck," and then your eyes are squeezing shut as he plants his feet to the ground, bucking his hips faster and harder into your mouth, watching your hair fall into your eyes.

"That's it, baby," he mutters, and you relish in the deep gravelly tone that his voice takes. "Want me to come down this pretty throat?"

You can't even reply; his hips don't stop until his groans grow louder, and longer, and his hands grip your hair in tight fists, nearly pulling it out from the roots. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well," he hums. "Gonna come, baby, gonna—"

He loses all coherence when he comes, and it's music to your ears as his hips stutter once more before falling back to the bed, his hands still pulling you to the base of his cock as he pulses, painting the walls of your throat with his release.

When he loosens his grip, you lift your head and swallow, swiping a finger under your lip to catch any drops that might have fallen. Nothing but a smug chuckle passes your lips.

"What?" he asks, his chest heaving and lined in a sheen of sweat.

Your hand returns to your core, having removed it when he was fucking your throat. "Nothing," you say, feigning innocence. "It's just..."

His lips curl up. "Lemme take care of you, baby," he says with a hand reaching for you. Despite his fatigue, his arms are strong as he pulls you up on the bed. "Wanna return the favor," he murmurs, and his hands find your hips, pulling you to straddle his chest.

"Yeah?" you tease, and you can't help but wonder how fucked out the both of you look. No doubt your hair is knotted beyond belief, and with the way he's tugging you closer to his face, making your sopping core hover over his mouth, you're sure it'll be quite a bit longer before the two of you can clean up.

He nods feverishly with a devil's smirk and looks down at your clit, just inches from his nose. "How else would I say thank you?"

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 2. - Thigh riding / teasing.

bbf! Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Thigh riding + teasing + age gap. (+18)

Word count. 2k

Summary. You hate your brother's best friend. Yeah, the one you are hooking up with.

Kinktober masterlist.

Jake Lockley was an idiot.

The biggest idiot you'd ever met.

He was an idiot when he yelled and clapped in your house as if it were his own because his favorite soccer team had scored a goal, he was an idiot when he put his foot in front of you as you walked pass by him as if he were going to make you trip, and he was idiot when he opened your fridge like he was part of the family.

He was an idiot when he slipped out of your brother's sight to bury his stupid fingers inside of you until you trembled, he was an idiot when he walked behind you groping against your ass on purpose, he was an idiot when he pushed you against the wall to devour your lips like a hungry man and he was definitely an idiot when he wished you goodnight with his beautiful smile before leaving.

But he was a bigger and dumber idiot when he pretended that all of this wasn't happening, and that for him, you were just his best friend's silly little sister.

You had heard him the night before, claiming that he had a date with someone 'hot' (his own words), one of those stunning blondes you see on TV according to your brother, so after understanding the message clearly, you decided that you wanted nothing to do with Jake Lockley anymore.

Although you had said that the last four times.

You were all furrowed brows and pouts without even realizing it. The third time he smiled at you, and all you could muster was a roll of your eyes, he started to worry.

He never liked making you mad. Or at least, not this seriously, because he definitely enjoyed pushing your buttons until you pushed him and your voice got all squeaky when you said, 'Enough, Jake!'

But ignoring him? That was a level he never wanted to reach.

When your brother left the apartment with the excuse of getting pizza for the three of you, he knew it was time to try.

He was sitting on the couch, his legs slightly apart, his back against the backrest, with one of his arms raised over it. It was a good view, but you were stronger than this. You glanced at him for about three seconds as you walked to the kitchen, in a way that seemed so quick that it almost appeared accidental.

"¿Princesa?" He questioned out loud, and you nearly dropped your glass.

Stupid, stupid Jake Lockley.

You didn't respond.

"Hermosa." he cooed again. The only response he got was the sound of ice clinking against the glass.

You took a sip, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

"You know if you don't come, I'm going to come get you, right?" Oh yes, you forgot how irritating he could be when he set his mind to it.

You planted your feet in place.

"I'm going to count to three." Oh no. "Uno."

You looked towards the door. You weren't a little kid; these things didn't work on you.

"Dos."

Besides, Jake wasn't your boss to order you around like this.

"Uno y medio."

You set your glass down and, as if your legs were on autopilot, you spun on your heel and walked out of the kitchen, earning an immediate smile from him.

Not a mocking one, not an annoying one, he actually seemed relieved to have a bit of your attention.

"Ah, there you are."

You stood still without saying anything, unsure of what to do.

"Come here." He patted his lap as an invitation.

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering for a few seconds if it was worth it to lose your dignity like this. You also glanced towards the door, trying to calculate how much time you had before your brother arrived.

In the end, as always, you obeyed. You went over to him and sat sideways on one of his legs.

"No-oh," he shook his head, looking at you from his position, not touching you yet. "Face me." You had to get up again to turn around, his leg nestled between yours as you took your seat again, facing him.

Even if you didn't want to notice it, it was impossible not to feel that delicious pressure against your cunt. And as if by magic Jake brought both hands to your hips, pressing them with his fingers as if you were going to escape his grip.

"What's wrong, huh?" He leaned in just a little to meet your gaze. You hated that there wasn't a hint of teasing in his expression; he genuinely seemed concerned as you crossed your arms and furrowed your brow.

Why were guys so dense? And stupid.

When you didn't respond, a small smile crept onto his face. He made you jump slightly on his thigh as he moved his leg, and a little gasp escaped you. His hands slowly traveled from your hips to your waist.

"You’ve been all grumpy and stuff since I got here, what’s wrong?"

"You should ask your supermodel date."

Ah, bingo. His smile widened.

"She's not a model."

"I don't care what she is."

"Actually, she is..." "I don't want to talk about her." "She's imaginary."

You looked back at him with a furrowed brow after a few seconds. Did he expect you to believe that?

"Ah?"

"She doesn't exist."

"I know what imaginary means."

"Are you sure? I can spell it out for you if you want."

"You're an idiot."

"And you're jealous." His fingers resumed tracing your sides, deciding that your hips would indeed be their resting place. "And you're acting like a brat."

Your expression softened just a bit, but you still wouldn't look at him.

"Look at me while I'm talking to you." His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in just slightly to seek your gaze.

Nothing made you want to scream until you collapsed a lung more than how stupidly handsome Jake Lockley was. His lips seemed like an eternal invitation to kiss him until you got tired, his chocolate eyes that seemed to dilate when they settled on you, and that one stubborn curl he always fought with, the one that fell onto his forehead for you to move out of the way.

You had joked before, asking him if he wasn't secretly Clark Kent.

Your body responded automatically, leaning in to seek his lips, but he pulled back with a smile.

"Do you think you deserve it after the way you treated me?" His voice was sultry, smooth.

"You're the one talking about other girls." You whispered back with a cute pout on your lips. "Please."

"Please that?"

“Please let me kiss you.”

“Nope.”

Your pout grew bigger as his fingers gave you a squeeze. You didn't understand where he was going until he started guiding your movements, a slow back-and-forth sway that brought a gasp from your throat.

He wasn't going to tell you out loud that he wasn't going to agree to a make out session that threatened to leave him with a boner when your brother arrived.

“I don't like it when you ignore me, princesa.” This time it was him who granted you a pout, his leg lifting a little higher as if he wanted to bury it between yours.

The pressure was stronger and you felt how your juices were beginning to moisten the fabric of his jeans. Your hands were placed over his on your hips and you rested your feet on the floor to have better control over your movements.

Back and forth, slowly.

"Sorry." You whispered breathlessly, your eyes boring into his as he enjoyed the blush on your cheeks.

Jake knew how to play, but you were always a good opponent.

You closed your eyes while biting your bottom lip as you pretended to ride his leg. He could only imagine how delicious it would be to just take you there on the couch.

With your hands on his, you slowly guided them up your body, rising them to your breasts.

You made him squeeze your tits and a louder moan came out of your throat.

“Fuck.” You whispered as the pace of your hips increased. The friction of the fabric of your panties against Jake's pants created a delicious heat in your already sensitive little pussy.

You knew without looking that your skin would already be red.

“That's how you like it, princesa?” He whispered, his gaze fixed on you as if you were a work of art.

Your lips were parted for mostly, except for when you bit the bottom one from time to time to allow yourself to hiss, your cheeks flushed and your eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed now for a completely different reason than a few minutes ago.

“Look at you, so wet and desperate for me.” His thumbs delicately traced your nipples over the fabric of your dress, they were now noticeable because of how hard he had made them. “You miss me fucking you with my fingers, don't you, mi amor? That’s why you’ve been acting like such a bitch to me.”

Stupid Jake Lockley with his stupid voice with his stupid accent and his stupid way of making you go crazy.

You nodded submissively, your body leaning forward until you could rest your forehead against his. Being able to look at your begging eyes closer was something he would thank you for later.

“W-Why…” You stammered, taking a deep breath. “Did you invent a girlfriend?”

He chuckled. You couldn't leave the subject alone, could you?

“Because everyone is asking questions about it.” He kissed your lips briefly, almost making you beg for more. “For my parents, I am now single forever.”

This time you laughed. The rhythm of your pace didn't stop and you were both so close to one another that Jake felt the touch of your tongue when you licked your lips.

“That can be solv… A-Ah, Jake. Mhm, s-shit.”

Your little hole started to clench around nothing, you were so close you could feel your entire body tense, Jake's hands working on your boobs in the way he knew you liked.

He was so obsessed with pleasing you that you hadn't even gone to the next level, he had promised himself to do it until he perfectly memorized the things that drove your body crazy.

“Are you close, princesa?” He was staring at you, he was craving watching you cum. “Are you going to give it to me?”

You nodded awkwardly, the couch squeaking with the clumsy and desperate way you moved. Your skin was beginning to tingle, a growing heat pooling on the bottom of your abdomen, you were about to make a mess on Jake's leg.

Until of course, a pair of keys clanged against the door.

He pushed you, you stood up as quickly as you could, pulling the hem of your dress to accommodate it, still dizzy from the pleasure and how abruptly it stopped. Your vision was blurry and your chest rose and fell rapidly trying to stabilize your breathing.

"Pizza." Was the only thing your brother said as he dropped his keys to the side, lifting the two boxes in his hand.

Jake covered the wet spot on his pants by placing a pillow on his lap.

“Is she bothering you, Lockley?” He joked, giving you a push that almost sent you to the ground. Not exactly because of the force, but because you were still with your legs nailed to the ground, pressing your thighs together to seek some relief.

“Not at all, she's the one who has to deal with me.” He muttered with that same darn smile on his face.

When your brother walked into the kitchen and the two of you were alone, even if it was just for a few seconds, he looked at you and you looked back at him.

“I'll go to your room in a few hours.” He whispered, nibbling on his bottom lip with what you could identify as eagerness.

You nodded, turning on your own two feet to head to the kitchen as well, biting your bottom lip too, trying to hide your smile.

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet

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[ivystoryweaver]

My Boyfriend’s Sweater

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven's jumper folds you up for a rainy day long book binge

It’s fading into a cozy, Steven-scented hug

It’s intellect and nuzzles and crinkled smiles

It’s earl grey tea and clumsy snags

You adore that jumper. He adores you.

Marc’s sweater is heaven

Cologne and warm, sundrenched earth

It’s secrets millennia old

It’s the first thing on your body on a cold winter's morning - hot coffee slipped into your hand just after his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a shelter. As you are his.

Jake's sweater is pulled languidly over your naked body

All sweet spice and dangerously seductive

He wants your body warm, but your thighs bare

Out at night, he wears his your sweater and he is safe. He is home.