#moon boys system

[360iris]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[traveller-of-the-knight]

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

[moonyflesh]

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

[jayke0]

Just The Tip

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

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

Rating: 18+, smut

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

Word count: 1,605

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

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

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

"Marc–"

Your second attempt at getting his attention is futile.

"Marc!"

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

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

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

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

"Nothing, I just…"

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

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

Uh oh.

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

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

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

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

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

"Show me how much. Please, darling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe being away had made him a poet too.

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

"Marc? Are you o—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, I'm going to."

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

"We'll see about that, baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuuuuckk!"

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

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

"Good girl. I love you sweetheart."

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

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

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

[jamjjamm]

Marc Spector

[evilbubu]

Marc in that one CCTV footage:

[starsarekind]

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

[chaos-and-ink]

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

[ivystoryweaver]

I love them so much 🥹

[m00nsbaby]

Your camera roll as Steven Grant’s girlfriend.

(And the person Marc Spector secretly loves tolerates)

Inspired by; Already over.

[pygmi-cygni]

Moon boys hc

Steven: tits guy. 100%. likes to sneak his hands up your shirt and just rest them there. What can he say? they're warm and soft and his hands get cold. also he loves to sleep on your chest, esp if he can snuggle under your sweater and lay his head over your heart. He can squeeze them like stress toys (gently, ofc). this is why he buys you oversized sweaters: so he can fit under there too :)

will try to guess the bra you're wearing based on the shape. has them memorized.

Marc: ass guy. for sure. smacks it playfully if he passes, will hold you with his hands over ur ass so he can squeeze. loves it. bodycon dresses? yes. always. unless you're leaving the house because no you're not, that dress is on the floor.

buys you lingerie in his favorite color.

Jake: legs/thighs. Strong thighs make him weak. rubs and massages them to help with soreness but also because the plushness makes him so unbelievably horny. lays on your lap like a puppy. will start purring if you give him head scratches.

nsfw - eats you out and afterwards kisses and bites ur thighs. they're a nice palate cleanser before round two.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @krakenkitty @twwcs @ominoose

taglist - comment if u wanna join

[360iris]

make it awkward | moon knight system x camgirl!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what really reeled him in was your voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t remember. Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ii. Before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to kill it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iii.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh. She with you, man?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[traveller-of-the-knight]

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

[moonyflesh]

mood.

[jayke0]

And They Were Roommates

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: You catch your roommate, Marc, having some private time, and it's only when he comes at the sight of you that something inside you is released.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: Friends to lovers?, Male masturbation, fluffy/soft sex, Marc being insecure at first cuz he hasn't had his chode ridden in a while, some nipple play (f receiving), protected sex (pill), mention of female masturbation, p in v, breeding if you squint, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 2,275

A/N: Uhmmmm so i accidentally posted this too early, so if you see it please reblog so it reaches others! Thankyouuuu

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

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

Marc Spector had always found himself to be a very private man. You're lucky to have even gotten a glimpse at his phone that one time, given how precisely he guards what little personal belongings he has and hides his emotions behind a stone-cold glare.

That's why he always waits for you to go out before he touches himself.

He'd gotten into the habit of it after realizing the wall dividing your bedrooms is so paper thin that he could hear every word the character was saying on whatever show you'd been watching at the time.

The anticipation; the waiting was always the worst. You'd take your sweet sweet time getting ready and checking your shopping list, only to forget something and come back 2 minutes later; luckily, he'd gotten used to that part too. Though, as much as he pretended he hated it, he actually found it quite endearing; a little quirk of yours that made you so fucking adorable to him.

“I'll be back in an hour!” Marc hears your voice echo through the hall, simply responding with a grunt that was somewhere along the lines of ‘alright’. He hears that first front door slam and waits a couple of minutes, before excitedly scrambling to his bedroom, cock already twitching at the prospect of release.

He'd had a particularly hard few days (pun intended), and with you deciding you didn't want to venture out, he was left to let his mind wander, only to blueball-ball himself in the process.

He's quick to grab his earphones and settle down comfortably in his bed, pulling his t-shirt off swiftly and practically ripping his jeans off. It doesn't take long before he's got his cock in hand, fisting his throbbing length harshly as girly moans fill his ears and do wonders for his imagination.

Oh, how he tries not to think about you. He knows It's creepy, and he knows that if you found out you'd probably kick him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, but it's so hard. His thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the beads of precum and spreading it over himself.

You're always so perfect, so gorgeous. The sun always seems to land on your face beautifully and illuminate each of your features. He twists his hand expertly and pulls a string of breathy gasps from his chest as he squeezes the tip.

The way you walk through the living room in just a towel, dripping wet; it's almost like you're tempting him.

He's now frantically thrusting into his hand at the image in his mind, low moans and growls escaping through his gritted teeth as his head tilts back and the tendons in his neck bulge at the stretch. That coil is tightening faster that he can control, his brain foggy with thoughts of you, just you you you. The thoughts are so close that he swears he can hear you calling his name, begging him to ruin your cunt and fill you u–.

A cold feeling runs through his body as his head shoots up, his eyes meeting your shocked gaze. Unfortunately for him, that's exactly what he needed as he's sent tumbling over the edge. Hot white ropes spill from his ruddy tip and splatter across his toned chest, huffed moans and curses falling from his lips as he fucks his hand through his orgasm.

It's only when he finally opens his eyes again that the guilt hits him and he scrambles to pull his boxers back up, trying to put his still throbbing cock away.

“Fuck, I'm so sorry, didn't realise you were there! I- I had my headphones in–.” He pulls them out, trying to wipe the evidence of his sins off of his chest, but your soft hand stops him; yes, you had gotten closer.

You watch as his dark eyes trail up your arm to your face, a cocktail of dread, fear, and… something else, all brewing in his gaze; it makes you want him even more.

“I'm not mad, Marc.”

“Creeped out, then?...”

Your thumb runs over his knuckles, feeling how warm and soft his hands are. “No. I mean, I probably should be, but fuck,” your eyes are drawn to his twitching length fighting against the restraints of his tight boxers. Carefully, you crawl onto the bed, straddling his legs far enough away from his body so he can push you off if he's uncomfortable.

You inch closer to him, “ ‘s this ok?” Hands either side of his thighs, your words are soft and breathy, your eyes gazing at him with a look that is sickeningly sweet.

It makes his head wurl, a tight feeling constricting in his chest as the prettiest girl in the world sits virtually in his lap. “Yes–” his voice breaks, making you chuckle softly. “Yeah, it's more than ok.” His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and you feel it as you place your hands on his chest to shuffle closer to him.

“You looked so handsome like that, Marc.” You compliment with a smile, leaning in to brush your lips across his and feel him take in a sharp breath. He catches your lips and pecks them with adoration, letting a longer kiss linger on them as you press closer to him still. After a few seconds, he moves his hands to rest on your waist, one running up your back to cup the back of your head as he runs his tongue along the seam of your mouth, and you happily oblige.

Months worth of feelings are poured into the kiss, both of you slowly and softly lapping and sucking at each other's lips before you dissolve into panting messes, biting and licking fiercely as if trying to eat each other whole.

“God damn, Spector, you're a great kisser,” you giggle softly, pulling from his lips to appreciate the shiny and red mess you'd made of him. A familiar growl rumbles in his chest, one that you'd learnt was an appreciative noise rather than something to be put off by.

“You can talk, y'know. You're not gonna scare me off.”

Briefly, you see insecurity paint across his face. It's something that you'd never seen before, a small crack in the otherwise solid structure of his frigid expression. On instinct, you brush his curls from his forehead and cup his cheeks, “I trust you, Marc, it's ok. I'm not here to judge you.”

His shoulders seem to relax as he nods a little, “I'm sorry. I don't do this often, if you hadn't noticed.”

You laugh softly and pat his chest, “that's ok, neither do I,” you smile as you sit back on your heels and pull your t-shirt off over your head. You take his hands gently and place them on your breasts, “none of them were you.”

You swear that you see him change in that moment, your words sinking in and his eyes turning hungry. His thumbs run over your hardening nipples as he surges forwards to seize you in another burning kiss that has you hot and breathless this time.

“Jesus, Marc…” a soft whine is pulled from your lips as he glides his lips down and over your neck, focusing on the pulse point below your jaw by nibbling and sucking softly. He's surprisingly quick at unclasping your bra, and he pulls away a little to admire your body.

“Shit, you're gorgeous,” he mumbles, thumbs running underneath your boobs before they work up and run across your nipples, making a gasp get caught in your throat. “You always have been gorgeous. I always look at you and think ‘fuck how doesn't she have a boyfriend yet?’”

“ ‘Cause I've been waiting to fuck my roommate…” You chuckle softly, feeling him chuckle too as his head dips to your chest and he takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue sliding over and swirling around the hard bud in a way that leaves you grinding against his thigh. Suddenly, your jeans feel so restricting, like they're choking you, stopping you from appreciating any pleasure that Marc offers you, which is why you're quick to unbutton them and slip them off… All while your roommate sucks on your tits.

“God. Do you know how many times I've touched myself hoping you’d catch me?” Your words are breathless as your body rolls against his mouth and a pleased noise from the man reverberates over your nipple. “Left my door open just a crack in hopes my moans would grab your attention, and you'd come and fuck me right…”

He audibly groans at that, pulling away to look at you again while his hands travel to your waistband.

”You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear that.”

He hungrily pulls your underwear down your thighs and off with his own following soon after, leaving you both naked and messily grinding against each other as you're caught up in yet another kiss.

You glance down eventually, being treated with the glorious sight of his thick cock throbbing and spilling pre-cum… Or maybe it's cum from his previous orgasm, either way it makes you clench your toes.

“It's bigger when I'm this close,” a nervous chuckle leaves your lips.

“I know, I know. That's also why I don't fuck much.” He laughs breathily and grips his length at the base, running it between your sopping folds and circling your clit perfectly. You grind down on his tip with a moan and pant.

“We don't have too, if you don't want to.” He reminds softly, pressing a few more kisses on your jaw, but you're quick to shake your head and grip his shoulders, “I need you inside me, Marc. Needed it since the day i fucking met you.”

You certainly don't have to tell him twice.

He's sinking inside you before you can even process his tip probing your hole. It's such a delicious stretch, one that spreads throughout your body and along your nerves. You sink down on him further, wanting to sheath him inside you whole.

You'd like to think that Marc knows you're on birth control, given the endless packets and the way you often rant to him about the imperfections of the drug. You're hoping he knows this, because you're hoping he cums inside you.

“Fucking hell Marc, shit…” You pant softly and look down between your bodies, your hands holding onto his shoulders As he grips your waist and guides you; down down down till you're sat in his lap.

You feel so full like that, and honestly you could probably just roll your hips and cum right there, but it's not long before your roommate is lifting you off of himself just to impale you once again. A rush of pleasure runs through your veins and makes your cunt clench around the girth, both of you groaning as you capture his lips again.

“Dammit… you're lucky you're hot, or I would've kicked you out–ah- for being a creep–”

“You were the one watching me stroke my fucking cock. You liked it deep down.” The man growls on your lips, making a whimper rise in your throat as you nod a little, dumbly. His breath is hot on your lips, each of your moans being swallowed by laboured gasps from the other as his hips rock up.

Although the pace isn't fast, you already feel wrecked. The stretch is so fucking good, and the way he hits your sweet spot everytime has you weak at the knees for this man, your groans turning into gasps and drawn out moans.

“M-arc, honey, I'm not gonna last much longer…” You whine pathetically, but this only makes him move faster, now bringing you down on his cock as he thrusts up harshly and sends waves of pleasure through you as he does so. “That's it, baby. Wanna feel you cum All over my cock; cum all over your roommate's cock… shit, you're so filthy, sweetheart.”

His words have your nails digging into his shoulders, your thighs burning as they finally give up and you let Marc use you, use your cunt for his own damn pleasure. The whole idea has you arching your back, and finally, with your shaky fingers circling your clit, you go crashing over that edge. Your thighs instantly clench together as whorish moans are pulled from your lungs and fill the room, ecstasy washing over you in waves and taking you to a place that you didn't even know existed, not until Marc.

Your clenching cunt is what finishes Marc off, that and the beautiful sounds you make as you come. Your walls milk him dry, taking every drop from him and more as he fills your cunt with that delicious warmth.

You sink back down on him finally and practically collapse into his chest, your arms wrapping around His torso tightly as you try and catch your breath.

The warmth that spreads through Marc's heart in that moment is almost unbearable. It's a feeling he's wanted for a long time, one that he doesn't even know how long will last, but he's sure as hell is not gonna waste it worrying.

You feel his large arms wrap around you tightly, a kiss placed on your shoulder, and then his warm breath sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Never took you as a cuddler, Marc Spector.” You mumble softly into his chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heart as it slows to a comforting pace.

“I'm full of surprises, sweetheart.”

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

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @cupidysm @clemdango04 @flowercrownonapegion @spxctorsslxt

[jake-g-lockley]

City Lights (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

Warnings: mentions of Donna, Steven is too cute in this, I will swoon to death for that man A/N: So there was this boy, the best memories make the sharpest swords but I would like to turn any happy memory I have into something that you guys can enjoy. I love y'all <3 (P.s. Whatchu think of the lil collage I made ehehhehe)

Word Count: 1.4k

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face as you stared longingly at the tall man in mismatched clothes who  stood hunched before a crying child. He kept a respectful distance but let the child cling onto his hand as the little boy sobbed for his mother. Steven Grant, the gift shoppist, produced a tiny plushie of Taweret from behind him. The hippo goddess seemed to bring the child a little peace as he started to sniff and rub his nose with the back of his hand. 

Steven tousled the child’s hair and started to tell him something. You didn’t need to hear what Steven was saying to know what he was telling the kid. As he knelt in front of the child, you were 100% sure he was telling him the story of the goddess Taweret as his hands started moving in animation. 

You averted your eyes just as you saw the kid’s mother hurrying towards him. Any longer and you would’ve either had two exploded ovaries or worse, you could’ve started drooling like a Saint Bernard all over the perfect polished floors of the museum. A few seconds later, you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turn to see big tired eyes boring into yours, perfectly glinting in the dim lighting. You couldn’t help but smile at them, forcing yourself to tear your own away from them before you get lost in the deep chocolate goodness. “Hey.” the British drawl wrapped around you like a warm blanket. “Hey.” you smiled, blinking up at him. “So, uh, we're still up for dinner today love, or…?” Steven scratched the back of his neck as he leaned towards you, a timid smile gracing his beautiful face. “Of course, Steven.” you quickly say as your hand pats his strangely strong bicep. Steven’s timid smile grew suddenly confident as he flashed you his pearly whites, and you were sure that you might just topple over from the force of it. Instead you give him a big smile back and squeeze his bicep, taking a step away. You guys were not going on a date, it was just the ordinary weekly dinner you had scheduled with Steven. You certainly didn’t look forward to the day, that's certainly why you didn’t check your phone about a hundred times to see what day it was over the past week. Your dinners with Steven were the best, it was so wonderful yet took so little effort. You both had found a little pizzeria down the road from the museum and it sold the most wonderful handcrafted pizza and had a great selection of wine (you were definitely a cocktail girl but you loved stealing wine from Steven). You gazed at the glow of the city lights as Steven chatted away about the stock issue that they were having in the museum. “I keep telling Donna that we don’t need to keep ordering the stupid sweets because the kids don’t actually like spending their penny on overpriced museum sweets anymore…love, am I boring you?” Steven suddenly said. You swore you turned bright red at his statement as you ripped your gaze away from the lights. “Steven! No, you’re not, I just got distracted. The lights, look! They look like fairy dust and everything seems so calm today.” You blabbered away and watch as a smile grew on Steven’s face. You frowned at Steven’s wine that he was swirling in his right hand. You bit your lip and when you looked back up at Steven’s face, you realised that he was already looking at you, his smile turning into a smug smirk. “I know you’re gonna ask for it, no matter how much you hate it.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You huff and reach out for the glass before bringing it up to your lips and taking a sip. Your eyes widened and Steven’s smirk became more pronounced. The wine you sipped tasted like no other. You had never tasted anything that went down so smooth before and you were weirdly delighted by it. “I asked for the more expensive kind today.” Steven said while he leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms and legs. “What's the occasion?” you asked curiously, raising your eyebrows as you carefully set the glass down on the table. “You’re right, today does seem a little more special.” Steven’s voice dropped an octave lower as his eyes now stared at the lights you were looking at moments ago. You rested your chin on the palms of your hands and stared longingly at Steven’s jaw and exposed neck. You wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning with your face in his neck, breathing in his familiar comforting scent, legs entangled, your hands brushing his soft fluffy curls. You long to press soft kisses on his sharp jaw, you long to see marks blossom on the nape of his beautiful neck, but most importantly, you longed for his presence. 

As the night progressed, you too ordered a glass of wine as you didn’t want to keep stealing Steven’s. Your head was swimming happily and you had no thoughts or worries, the only thing running through your brain was how pretty the man in front of you was. You were intoxicated with how the light in the restaurant casted a glow on Steven that made him more ethereal than usual. You never knew how pretty someone could look like but you also knew that his kindness was the prettiest part of him. He was the most genuine person you knew and you were positive that he did not have a bad bone in his body. His heart was so pure that you just wanted to hold it, protect it. But Steven Grant was so perfect that he healed something of yours that he never broke. Now Steven and you were walking along the river Thames and trying not to giggle as you helped to steady each other. “Can’t believe you paid the bill when I thought you ran off to the bathroom.” You gently slapped his bicep and hiccuped. “I am a gentleman.” Steven tilted his chin up with a huff which made you giggle. Now what you didn’t notice was how hard Steven was straining to not kiss you silly as he watched you hang onto him like a baby koala. He had always wanted to kiss you, your beautiful smile the first thing that pops up in his head in the morning since the day that he met you. He tried to listen as you babbled away about your friend’s boyfriend issues but he was just intoxicated by the animated way your hands would move as you talked away without a fear of the world. Not too long later, you slumped on a bench and pulled Steven down with you. A strong breeze huffed through the air, which made you shiver and shift closer to Steven, which he didn’t mind. You turned to look at him and he was already looking at you, his face illuminated by the city lights and you thought he looked nothing more than an angel in disguise. In a moment of uninhibited courage, you suddenly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Steven's lips, your heart pounding with both excitement and fear. To your surprise, Steven's response was not one of shock or hesitation, but of eager reciprocation, as he pulled you closer with a tenderness that took your breath away as you gasped into his mouth. His lips were so soft and you could taste the pizza and wine you just had as your hand rested and caressed his jaw. You pulled away and smiled the second Steven’s face came into view. He had a dopey smile on his face that made your heart skip a few beats as you searched his eyes. 

"What took us so long to do that?" you whispered, unable to tear my gaze away from his.

"Wanted to wait for the right time, my love" Steven murmured, his voice soft and tender as he rested his forehead against yours.

In that moment, amidst the quiet of the night and the wine-induced haze, you knew that kissing Steven was definitely the best decision you had ever made in your life. You sighed and kissed Steven’s cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder, admiring the city lights that blossomed along with your love for him. 

Tagging:

@fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @violet-19999 @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @britishscum @spookyysilverr @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @pimosworld @anonymously35 @nerdreader @vintagebunni @marylovesdilfs @jakelockleysdoll @pigeonmama @sarveshishwarishsuta