#my brother was jake and i was steven

[michelle-jacksons-art-blog]

K but what if siblings

[sadwetcatmk]

It's literally them

[starlight-writer]

Tummy

Warnings: none, fluff, talk of insecurities, slight angst

Gn reader

An: I have returned and gayer than ever Masterlist

Steven

Steven’s always been slightly insecure

His hair was always too messy, his tend to ramble was embarrassing, and his hobbies and interests were too nerdy

And all of that was magnified when you started dating

He always thought ‘maybe this is what makes them leave me’ whenever he saw or did something he didn’t like about himself

The one thing he always liked about himself was that he was always somewhat muscular

He had decently toned abs and a respectively hard chest

So when he found he started growing a tummy, he was certain you would leave him

He started trying to hide it the best he could, hoping he could delay the imagined inevitable

He wore darker colors, cut back on the snacks he was eating, and started walking in the early morning

But nothing really worked

And he was noticeably upset about it

Ask him about it if he’s still upset after a few days

He’ll try to pretend it’s Donna being a bitch

Key word: try

He could never lie to you and keep with it

He would feel so guilty, he could never forgive himself for hiding anything from you

Sit him down and talk through his concern

Give him a kiss whenever he starts stuttering or trying to shy away from you

When he explains is worries, hug him

Hug him like his life depends on it

Tell him you love him and all his quirks and hobbies

And his tummy

Explain to him that having a bit of fat on his stomach or some extra pounds is ok

He knows it’s ok, he’d never insult someone for how they look or weight, but he needs to know it’s ok for him

He needs to know the things that make him who he is, you love every single one

He might start crying, so give him a kiss the top of his head

And tell him he’s beautiful

Every relationship he’s had has ended in flames, but he genuinely, wholeheartedly thinks that all of those failed relationships has led him straight to you

And he couldn’t be more ecstatic to have a domestic future with you

Marc

Marc already doesn’t like himself

He hates himself, actually

He sees himself as a terrible, dangerous person that doesn’t deserve happiness or love

So when he starts dating you, he doesn’t know if he should be proud or sad about it

What if you’re only dating him because you’re dating Steven and Jake?

What if you’re only with him out of pity of his sad, depressing life?

He’s always looking out for the day you fall out of love with him or reveal you never loved him

And it keeps him up at night

And then he found his tummy

Normally, he wouldn’t be upset by this

He knows weight gain is normal and as you grow and your environment changes, it can effect the way your body processes food and works

But he can’t help but feel so sad about it

What if this is the straw that breaks the camels back and you leave him?

He couldn’t handle that

He loves you with his entire being, how could he go back to living a life without you?

Marc isn’t good at hiding his emotions so you pick up on his shift in mood immediately

Ask him what’s wrong as soon as you notice he’s upset

He won’t be inclined to talking about it, he’s not used to it, but he’ll know you’re worried and that’ll help

Eventually, he’ll go to you on his own, so just be patient and occasionally remind him you’re here for him

When he does talk to you about his insecurities, he’s gonna avoid looking at you

Hold his hand and wait for him to finish

Maybe rub his back or place a hand on his knee, but don’t say anything

When he’s done, give him a 

“Baby, it just means you’re happy, healthy, and being taken care of”

Oh

He’s gonna cry cause he knows you’re right

He is happy and healthy because how could he not be?

He’s with you

Give his nose a kiss and hold his face

Squish his cheeks and he’ll smile and hold your hands to his face

He’ll give them a kiss before pulling you into the tightest hug

To make him feel a little better, poke at his sides and tickle him

He’ll start laughing and tackle you to the couch, rolling around in pure happiness

After Layla, he didn’t think he could be with anyone again

His life was too dangerous and he thought he didn’t deserve anyone

He didn’t want to ruin someone else’s life, his was already depressing and full of death, what kind of man would he be to subject someone he loved to that kind of life?

But then he found you and you changed his entire world view

And by god he’s never letting you go

If he had the chance to redo anything in his life, he’s comfortable saying he wouldn’t change a thing

Because it all led to you

Jake

Jake takes pride in his appearance

He always makes sure his hair looks good before and after he has his cap on

His suit is always well taken care of, never folded or hung up without the proper covering

And now that he lives in a stable home with you, he has a skin care routine

And while Jake knows having some tummy and fat on your bones doesn’t mean you’re out of shape or not fit, having that extra meat on his bones is not how he sees himself as fit

He tries everything to work off his tummy, but it persists

And he’s so genuinely upset

He kinda pulls away from the relationship, unintentionally, but it happens

He focuses on why he can’t lose the few extra pounds he gained and solely on that, momentarily abandoning your relationship

When you confront him about it, it’s after you’ve realized why he’s upset

You caught him in the mirror frowning at himself and poking his stomach

It broke your heart

You’ll confront him about in the the morning while you two still lay in bed

“Jake?”

He’ll hum in acknowledgment but keep his eyes closed

“I love you.” “Te amo, mi amor.”

“Jake?” “Hm?” “I love you.” “Yo también te amo, cariño.”

“Jake.” You’ll cup his cheek. “I love you.”

Jake will open his eyes, slightly concerned

Why’d you say it so... heavy?

Like you meant something behind it

“Cariño?” “I love. You. All of you.”

Oh

Ow

His heart

He’ll smile and place a hand over yours, only moving it to place a kiss on your palm

“Thank you, mi amor.”

Later in the day, tell him he still looks as hot as ever, if not more and he’ll kiss you passionately

He’s never been in a relationship, at least not a romantic one, so this relationship means the entire world to him and you being there for him, comforting him over his anxieties is something he would never let go

It feels so domestic and he could tear up at the thought of having a future with you

Te amo, mi amor - I love you, my love

Yo también te amo, cariño - I love you too, honey

Cariño - Honey

Mi amor - my love

[avawritesthings]

MY TUMBLR RECS !

disclaimer ! NONE OF THESE FICS WERE WRITTEN NOR PUBLISHED BY ME. please give these author’s a little bit of your love ! all fics are x reader, and some are nsfw.

ava’s note ! i have read and reread all of these fics at least twice, and i just wanted to show my love to them and so other’s can read these wonderful stories! some of these are also on ao3. take this as my apology for barely posting xx

formula one !

lando norris

call it magic - @444lec33

caught orange-handed - @mariahcarreyyy (+ oscar piastri)

slow down, be here - @katsu28

workplace distractions - @curiousthyme

life is like a box of chocolates - @dilemmaontwolegs (+ oscar piastri)

hazy days - @coff33andb00ks

charles leclerc

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'? - @yazmarina (+ oscar piastri)

you wonder why i’m bitter - @moviecritc (+ alex saint mleux)

red flags - @holllandtrash

daniel ricciardo

sweet like grenadine - @scuderiahoney (one of my favs!!!)

picture perfect - @thef1diary

got drunk on you - @userlando

feels like home - harley_sunday (ao3)

oscar piastri

no more mister shy guy. - @jamminvroomvroom

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'? - @ yazmarina (+ charles leclerc)

caught orange-handed - @ mariahcarreyyy (+ lando norris)

life is like a box of chocolates - @ dilemmaontwolegs (+ lando norris)

lewis hamilton

harmony - @curiousthyme

partition - @monzabee

jenson button

missed flights - @whorekneecentral

max verstappen

he must be lucky ! - @adventuringblind

little verstappen - @lxclerc

milk and sugar - @sunrizef1

in the mind of another - @pierregazly (author has a lot of great fics!)

masterlists i’ve binged:

lewisvinga’s masterlist

maplesyrupsainz’s masterlist

pucksandpower’s masterlist

theemporium’s masterlist

nhl !

matthew tkachuk (i am nothing if not matty t’s #1 fan)

baby it’s cold outside - @raysofcrosby

waking up in vegas (masterlist) - @doc-pickles

you say you hate me - @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys

praise you like i should - @senditcolton

want you to want me - @troubatrain

4 times you faked a relationship + 1 time you didn’t - @hockeywhy

love you like me - @heavenlyhischier

jerseys and dumplings - @hockeyboysiguess

four times you sat in Matthew’s chair + the one time they called him out - @ extratragic

jack hughes

saturday sleepies - @leaentries

jersey - @sydnikov

feels like home - @ quintinh43

always an angel - @wineauntie (technically hughes brother x sister!reader)

sidney crosby

sugar sugar (masterlist) - @ holy-pucks

home is where the heart is (masterlist) - @fallinallincurls

bubble wrapped (part of a series) - @myhockeyworld87

lovestruck, went straight to my head - @harlowhockeystick

andrei svechnikov

fake numbers and date numbers - @matsbarzal

gaslight - @comphy-and-cozy

high speeds - @thewintersoldierdisaster (so many great andrei fics!)

in five - @ sydnikov (so many great andrei fics)

quinn hughes

heavy heads and heavy hearts - @quintinh43

wiped away kisses - @theemporium

game night - @sc0tters

baevillier’s masterlist

marvel !

tony “iron man” stark

straight lines and sharp angles - nicky_writes (ao3)

kinds of love (series) - bartonstark (ao3)

james “bucky” barnes

sweet dreams - abovethesmokestacks (ao3)

these ties that bind - sweetascanbee (ao3)

druig (eternals)

three-part series - @ohcaptains

how could they not know? - @saintlike78

mark spector/steven grant/jake lockley (moon knight)

man in the mirror - @fettuccin-e

i’m getting to know someone - davosmymaster (ao3)

keep a secret? - cakealicoi (ao3)

matt “daredevil” murdock

dirty little devil - @courtforshort15

kate bishop/yelena belova

blank space - @ mrsyelena (ao3) (unfinished)

wanda maximoff/natasha romanoff

kidnapped - artemis_writes123 (ao3)

star wars !

anakin skywalker

save a spaceship, ride a starpilot - kkismygod (ao3)

jealousy - kkismygod (ao3)

patched up - kkismygod (ao3)

eventide - ohgodmyeyes (ao3) (more darth vader, less anakin)

the babysitter - ohgodmyeyes (ao3)

braids - sarcastic_bubble (ao3)

primal - lullows (ao3) (ft. obi-wan kenobi)

drunk confessions - oreosmama (ao3)

master + padawan knight senator = ? - darthtrek (ao3) (ft. obi-wan kenobi)

say my name - kkismygod (ao3)

the mandalorian

cold showers - cptnbvcks (ao3)

misc !

jj maybank (outer banks)

amnesiac - cherienymphe (ao3)

i know (5+1) - heathersmoonlight (ao3)

soul deep - heathersmoonlight (ao3)

art donaldson (challengers)

beyond the play - @sapphire-writes

and then there were three… - @kolsmikaelson

good luck, babe! - @sunsburns (ft. tashi & patrick)

the mikaelsons (tvdu)

patisserie - wickedlyemma (ao3)

carmen “carmy” berzatto (the bear)

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - tinybluewitch (ao3) (the link literally won’t work im sorry)

david von erich (iron claw)

yellow rose - @daysofyellowroses

ransom drysdale (knives out)

rubber? i don’t even like her - @ whateveriwant

lip gallagher (shameless)

out of excuses - @ borntobewondering

billy loomis/stu macher (scream I)

jealous jerks - @ potter-imagines

bruce wayne (the batman 2022)

written in the stars - batsingotham (ao3)

*please let me know if you want me to remove any of these links or anything, i hope i didnt offend anyone <3 also sorry that i couldn't tag everyone !

** i WILL be adding more as time goes on. i have many many recs

[runa-falls]

pornstar!moon-boys x fluffer!reader

part three: jake

a/n: some headcannons bc we filthy up in this bitch >:) 1.5k??? i'm overcompensating for something lmao

others: marc | steven | more steven

as a fluffer, it's your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences:

(NSFW 18+ under the cut)

jake: the troublemaker

GIF by manny-jacinto

Jake was the last (and final?) alter you met. He didn't ask for you the first time you met. Actually, you thought you were seeing Marc, but it turns out Jake was 'covering this one' for him, whatever that means.

It turns out Jake had been in the industry longer than Steven but you've just never met him. Unlike the other boys, he was used to taking whatever fluffer was offered on set, not really preferring or caring who was preparing him for the day. It never really mattered to him.

And then he met you.

His eyebrows raise when you walk in, eyes taking in every inch of your body. You're dressed in a pair of comfy shorts and an oversized shirt, hair styled casually so it's out of your face (Marc was going through a phase where he craves to see you in pajamas, needing that extra domesticity and softness).

Jake doesn't greet you, or even bother to stand up from the couch to shake your hand. He looks...amused, like he recognizes you.

"You're that girl that has my brothers wrapped around her finger." It's not a question, more like a statement.

He leans back against the couch as if to get a better view of what's in front of him. He looks like Marc, but he doesn't sound or carry himself like him. And he's definitely not Steven.

You don't deny his words, "And... you are?"

"Lockley, Jake Lockley." He still doesn't move to shake your hand, just says it with a nod.

"Another...?"

"Yeah, there are three of us... As far as I know."

"Where's --"

"Marc? I dunno." He doesn't look too concerned. It's almost like he's barely interested in the conversation when it isn't about himself. "But I'm here." You catch your first glimpse of his famous smirk, one that you've learned spells trouble.

You've named Jake as the troublemaker of the trio because he constantly bends the rules and does what he wants. Especially with you.

For one, he's the first alter you ever fucked. Actually, he's the first pornstar you've fucked, too.

Usually you have a longer session the first time, but 20 minutes would have to do. He's still staring at you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. Inviting.

You go up to him like any other client, not phased by his dark eyes and mischievous allure, and straddle over his thighs. His hands immediately come up to hold your waist, steadying you easily against him.

Other than that, he doesn't make a move, clearly waiting to see what you'll do.

"So what do you like, Lockley?"

"Aren't you supposed to figure that out, sweetheart?"

Kissing Jake always takes your breath away. He's demanding but somehow he makes you feel like you need it, not the other way around.

He's dirty with it, drawing you in with soft kisses before nipping at your lips and then deepening it by laving his tongue against yours. It's addicting how smoothly he moves against you, tempting your body to take it a step up, to cross that line.

You are sitting up on your knees just a few inches off of his lap, hovering over and making out with him, hands cradling his jaw. You have the upper hand (and are literally over him) but you've never felt so lost in a kiss.

You feel his hands drag from your waist to your ass. He grasps you, shoving your loose soft shorts up so he can feel your skin against his palms. You let him.

That was your first mistake.

You're distracted by his mouth when his hand shifts from your butt to your aching center. You've been dripping -- soaking since he gave you a taste of his tongue, since he first held you.

You let out a surprised moan as his fingers press flush against your clothed core, stroking against your most sensitive area. He applies the perfect amount of pressure against your cunt, brushing and prodding at your entrance over your clothes before cruelly teasing your clit.

You let it go on far longer than you should've, but it just felt so good. And then it felt too good.

He rubs your clit until you're seeing white, until you can only think of him and how he's touching you.

You gasp, "Jake!" Your legs shake from having to hold yourself up as he pushes you off the edge. He growls as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep you steady. You settle back onto his lap, forehead resting against his chest as you pant and calm down.

He's hard as a rock against you, practically pulsing as he watches you come down from your orgasm and melt against him.

He figured you out, and you, him.

Jake gets off on getting you off.

When you're his fluffer, you're his to touch, tease, and prod, not the other way around.

You wouldn't really call him a 'giving' partner because at the end of the day, he does it for himself.

He's selfish in how he'll pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, just because it pleases him. He doesn't care if you're writhing under him.

That first session didn't end where it was supposed to. Giving you an orgasm was already more than you're used to. But he kept going. You were distracted, caught off guard.

That was you're second mistake.

Before your lust-fogged mind could wrap around what was happening, your loose and stretchy pajama shorts were tugged to the side and he was pushing up into you.

The stretch was intense, but he slid in easily with how wet you were for him. You both groan simultaneously as he filled you to the brim.

After that first round, Jake ceased production for the day, telling everyone to go home while yelling "Don't fucking interrupt me" on his way back to his dressing room.

---

(He's not allowed to fuck you during working hours anymore -- they even put it in his contract. He wasn't too happy about that.)

Needless to say, you were called back the next day.

As much as Jake loves to play with you, sometimes there isn't enough time, especially on bigger projects with less time to fool around. In those cases, he takes a quick sloppy blowjob.

And by sloppy, you mean sloppy.

He loves watching you struggle to swallow him down, eyes shiny with tears and drool dripping down your neck.

His hand grips your hair, guiding the smooth pace as you bob against him. You whine as he slowly speed up, your jaw is already tired and knees are sore. You hold on your his hips to help stay steady as he starts to thrust back into you, cock hitting the back of your throat every so often. You gag and he growls.

He's the one who pulls you off, knowing his own limits.

He's the most controlled out of the three, able to slip you off his cock just at the right moment before walking out and starting the day.

He groans when he peers down at you, "Fuck...I wish I could cum down that pretty throat," You're wiping your mouth, lips still vibrating from the way he fucked into you. "C'mon baby, let's go. Call time's in five." You comb your fingers through you messy hair before he helps you up.

Then you follow him out.

Like Marc and Steven, he also refuses to be prepped by anyone else. But he also takes it a step further (bc of course he does), he takes you to set with him. Like some 'bring-your-girlfriend-to-work' day.

(oh yeah...you're with them now...)

You didn't even know that you were allowed to physically be on set when scenes are being recorded, until Jake insisted, claiming he could only keep it up if you were watching.

Sometimes when he's fucking a girl (or fucking himself) he looks up, eyes scanning the room until he finds you. The cameras don't exist to Jake and this isn't his job. Porn -- or being recording -- is just him doing the company a favor and letting them have a glimpse into his bedroom habits. He doesn't give a fuck.

He meets your gaze and sends you a cocky smirk, hands restraining the body under him as he roughly slams his hips against hers. It never fails to make your breath hitch and skin bloom with heat.

He gives you the same intense look when you're under him, choking on his cock. He's imagining that you're under him now, stretched and ruined for him. Whimpering and crying out for more. As much as you try to ignore him, you can't. It's like driving past a car wreck, you can't look away.

Directors have had to scrap countless recordings for the final production of videos when he'd get really carried away, grunt dirty words in spanish to the girl in the corner of the room (you) that the camera can't even see.

It's not all bad though, the company sometimes uses those behind-the-scene vids of him, basically cuckholding you, for exclusive content. And viewers go feral for it. Probably because it's more genuine than half of the videos out there.

[boredzillenial]

“Is That My Shirt?”

After befriending Jake and Marc, one night you find yourself growing a little closer to their brother, Steven.

Themes: college Au, boys are in separate bodies, f!freader is tipsy, mostly fluff, mention of morning wood

Wordcount: 1.2K

You’re sophomore year at college is going amazing so far. Classes aren’t too bad, your RA is lazy and can’t be bothered to keep alcohol out of the dorms, and you’d made fast friends with Jake. While you both often tore up parties around campus you also have a blast dragging his brother Marc out every once in a while.

Despite some initial sexual tension you’d had with Jake and then Marc you three found your friendship much more fun. So most nights Jake would end up with a girl and if you’d done your job of wingwoman right so would Marc.

Their other brother, Steven, is a bit different to say the least. Soft spoken, studies focused and honestly a bit of a nerd. Talking about anime and history whenever the chance arises. Spending most nights watching said anime’s or studying.

One particular night Jake and Marc had managed to find girls on their own and disappeared with them in the dorm building. So you, still piss drunk and now alone, wander back to your room. Banging on the door you giggle “Roomie, lemme innnnn.”

You roommate quickly unlocks the door, giving you a panicked look as she opens it a crack. “Hey, I’ve got a girl in here. Can you stay with your friends tonight please.” She pleads.

“Well-shit everyone’s gettin pussy tonight.” You grumbled “fineeeee, but you owe me.” You groan and stumbl back to the elevator. After what felt like way too long you land on the boys’ floor. You try as quietly as you can to get to their room and push on the door, it’s unlocked.

“Stevie,” you whisper far too loudly. “Stevie itsme donworry.” You giggle as you make your way inside the dark room. “ ‘m jus gonna crash here tonight. You’re brothers are gettin busy - I mean they’re busy t’night.” You laugh.

“It’s Steven…” he grumbles behind a pile of blankets. As you look closer you see he’s got his laptop set up in bed.

“Are you watchin’ anime inthe dark?” You ask as you pad closer, shivering on the cold tile in your party dress.

“What else should I be doing.” He says in a mixture of annoyance and confusion as he sits up. His face is half illuminated by the flashing screen and for a moment your drunken brain dredges up that old flutter in your stomach.

You quickly try to snuff out the rising feeling and slur “Oh, shit I’mso sorry.” You pout out your lower lip, “next party you’re comin’ withus!” You declare with a shiver. “Why’s it so cold in here.”

“I sleep better in the cold.” He shimmies to lay back down. “Just lay over there I guess.” He waves over to Marc and Jake’s bunk bed.

Your teeth chatter as you make your way over to a set of dressers. Unsure who’s stuff is what, you grab a soft oversized shirt and a pair of boxers at random. You glance over your shoulder and see Steven has returned to his original position, laying on his side facing the wall, anime continuing to play quietly infront of him.

Quickly you shimmy out of your dress an into the clothes you’ve commandeered. As you slip into the lower bunk your teeth begin to chatter. “You alright?” Steven calls over his shoulder.

“ ‘s cold.” You whine. “Can I - can I huddle for warmth?” You ask softly, alcohol inhibiting any sense of boundaries you would’ve normally had.

“You want a cuddle?” His tone lilts in surprise.

“Please, I’ll owe you bigtime m’kay?” You plead shivering in the cold sheets.

“Alright c’mon.” He rolls onto his back as you jolt out of the cold sheets and under the warm ones. “Gods your freezing!” He flinches as you press your cold form against his.

“Toldya.” You mutter as you shudder, the remnants of cold chased away by his warmth.

“Lemme just, my arm I need to -“ he sat the laptop across his legs as he sat up again, this time lifting his arm up. Instinctively you nestle right into the open space. His arm lays lightly across your back as you lay your head on his chest. Surprise raises your brows for a moment at how firm he is.

“That - works I guess.” He says softly, settling his arm around you. His gaze lingers on you as you settle in. You glance up a moment, something stirs in you as your eyes connect. “Is-“ he leans in squinting a bit “Is that my shirt?”

“Tell me about what you’re watching.” You quickly look back at the screen, trying desperately to stop yourself from doing something really stupid.

“You haven’t heard of The Last Airbender? Avatar is amazing! This is Aang he’s -“ The excitement in his voice becomes a distant hum as you slip from consciousness. The last thing you’re aware of are the soft circles his fingers make across your back and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear.

~~~~~~

The first sensations that come to you are the throbbing of your head, the shaft of light across your eyes making you squint, and the warm body pressing tightly to your back. You shift a bit to avoid the harsh column of morning light filtering through the blinds, causing the arm around your stomach to tighten and pull you closer.

Steven hums sleepily, his face snuggled into your back. For a brief moment you relax into the embrace. The pounding in your head juxtaposing his warm soft embrace. Well, not entirely soft.

“Ah Steven.” You pat his hand in an attempt to stir him.

“Yeah love?” Still not entirely present his hips rolled slightly. Then like a freight train he gasps and jolts away from you. “Oh I’m so sorry I, oh gods I’m -.” He awkwardly climbs out of bed and hit the cold linoleum with a groan.

“Shit are you alright?” You sat up to see him sprawled across the floor. Keeping the blanket up to your neck for warmth.

“Yeah.” He grunts, staggering in his oversized pjs toward the mini fridge. Glass clinking and the rustle of plastic sound as he turns, in one hand a bottle of water. In the other - a prepackaged bottle of vanilla iced coffee.

“Never pegged you for an iced coffee guy.”

“Oh no, these are Jake’s coffees. Figured he can share.” Steven shrugs, his face flushed as he awkwardly tries to cover his morning wood. “Sorry I- here.” He gently tosses the drinks on the bed and shuffles off to the bathroom.

You laugh weakly under your breath as you took the water, nearly emptying it in a long gulp. Next you crack into the vanilla coffee and sip slowly, blanket falling around your waist as you test just how much your headache will allow you to move.

You hear the shuffle of footsteps as you rub your eyes. “Look Steven I don’t care about your boner I-“ your sentence haults in your throat as you lock eyes with Jake, then Marc.

“Why are you in Steven’s bed, talking about his -” Marc’s eyes go wide.

Jake’s blow wide as well “and why are you drinking one-a my Iced Vanilla Lattes…”

Steven’s soft footsteps sound in the hall, as he rounds the corner his gaze flicker between his brothers and you. Marc and Jake look at Steven, then back at you. That moment will be forever cemented in your mind, Marc’s look of confusion, Jake’s expression shifting from cross to a shit-eating smirk, and Steven’s entire face now a ruddy hue as he tries to slowly back away.

“No no no get back here!” You hear Jake tease as he chases Steven out into the hall with a laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

MoonKnight Bingo Masterlist

Taglist: @moonknight-events @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @moonknight-events

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter five

Summary: A meeting with your brother doesn't go to plan.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s). Russian language.

Word Count: 1596

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A/N: What do you mean, Dr Barnes? What do you mean?. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Series: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan | @angelbabyyy99 | @kaithesimps-blog | @julvrs

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

Feeling a whirlwind of emotions, Dr. Barnes’ cryptic words and steady gaze haunted your thoughts as you returned to the library. A mix of fear and desire intoxicated your mind. Peter was sat where you had left him, immersed in his textbook, unaware of the turmoil inside you. You tried to focus on the material in front of you as you settled back into your seat.

Your eyes drifted to the door every few minutes, you half expected Dr. Barnes to appear. Peter noticed your distraction, placing a comforting hand on your bouncing thigh. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

Turning to face him, you forced a smile. “Yeah, just… a lot on my mind.” 

He returned the smile, giving your thigh a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here if you need to talk about it.” 

You nodded. “I know,” you replied, you reached up to cup his cheek before placing a soft kiss against his lips. “Thank you.” 

The library began to empty as the hours passed in a blur, the sky outside turning a deep shade of indigo as evening approached. “Ready to call it a night?” Peter asked as he stretched and yawned, closing his textbook.

Packing your things, you nodded. Peter walked you to your dorm, you leaned into his familiar warmth as he placed his arm around your shoulders. Approaching the entrance of your dorm, he cleared his throat. “Hey, um… yeah, I hate to do this, but I need to get back to the house tonight.”

You smiled reassuringly, “No worries, I get it.” Despite the events of the day, you had hoped to spend more time with him. “Duty calls, right?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he replied, relieved by your understanding. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He gave you a quick kiss before turning toward the way to the fraternity house. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” you said with a grin, waving before he disappeared into the evening shadows. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door. 

Inside your room, you changed into something more comfortable and sat on your bed. The urge to email Dr. Barnes was overwhelming as you started at your phone, yet you hesitated. What would you say? What would he say? Would he even reply?

You pondered with your internal struggle for a few minutes before ultimately deciding to send a simple message: “Thank you for the advice today.” 

Fidgeting with the edges of your phone case, your leg bounced. It wasn’t long before a reply appeared in your inbox: “You’re welcome, Miss Spector. I look forward to seeing how you apply it.” 

Your heart pounded at his words, the promise hanging in the air. Putting your phone down, you tried to calm yourself. 

~

The next day, you decided to visit your older brother, Marc– or Steven, or Jake, whichever one of them was in control. Steven was also known as, Dr. Steven Grant and was also a lecturer. He’d always been a source of support for you, and you hoped talking to him might help clear your mind. 

When you reached his door, it was slightly ajar. Knocking lightly, you pushed it open. “Hey, can I talk to one of–” You stood there for a moment, the sight before you catching you off guard. “You?” Dr. Barnes’ presence was unexpected, he sat across from your brother in deep conversation, his eyebrow raised with a steady gaze on you. 

“Ah, Miss Spector,” he said smoothly, amusement hinted in his eyes. “What a pleasant surprise.” 

Steven gave you a warm smile, though concern filled his eyes. “Hey, what’s up? Come in.”

Stepping further inside, a sudden rush of nervousness coursed through you under Dr. Barnes’ gaze. “I, uh, just wanted to talk to you about something, if you have a moment?” 

He nodded, gesturing to an empty chair beside his colleague. “Of course, we were just finishing up here. Please, sit.” 

Dr. Barnes’ piercing gaze didn’t go unnoticed as you took your seat, following your every move. The air thickened with unspoken tension, the walls of the room seemingly closing in on you.

“Is everything alright?” Steven asked, his tone gentle. 

Briefly, you glanced at Dr. Barnes before focusing on your brother. “I’ve been struggling to focus, it’s been a bit… overwhelming lately. I was hoping to get some advice.” 

Dr. Barnes leaned back slightly. “Sometimes a shift in perspective can help. New challenges or seeking different… experiences, might be what you need.” 

Steven nodded in agreement. “That’s a great point. Have you thought about starting a new project?” 

“I’ve been considering that,” you picked at a loose thread on your skirt, glancing toward Dr. Barnes for a second. “I just need something to ground me, channel my energy into.” 

Dr. Barnes’ eyes sparkled with intrigue. “And, what kind of project would provide such focus?” 

You glanced at him again, the weight of his attention heavy. “I was hoping to get some advice on that too.” 

Steven beamed, his tone encouraging. “You’ve always had a knack for languages. Maybe explore one of them further?” 

A hint of a smirk played on Dr. Barnes’ lips as his eyebrow raised toward you. “Immersing yourself in language studies can be incredibly rewarding. Which language would you be considering?” 

For a moment you hesitated. “I’m currently taking Romanoff’s Russian class,” you replied, despite the butterflies in your stomach, your voice remained steady. “I’ve been studying it for some time now.” 

His reaction was immediate, eyes darkening slightly, and his jaw tensed. “Russian,” he repeated, his voice lower, as he gave a slight nod. “A complex yet fascinating language.” 

You nodded, as Steven replied. “She’s always been drawn to its history and intricate grammar. Plus, it opens up a lot of opportunities in various fields for her.” 

He nodded in agreement with Steven as he leaned closer to you, his interest clearly piqued. “Have you found Romanoff’s class to be challenging?” 

“Yes,” you said, offering him a smile. “In a a good way. It’s demanding, but I’ve learned so much.” 

His eyes never left yours, as he seemed to consider this choice of words. “Russian can be quite challenging. If you ever need any assistance, don’t hesitate to ask, I do have experience in Russian.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” you smiled at him, crossing your leg over the other. “I appreciate that.” 

“Sounds like you’re on the right track,” Steve continued his encouraging tone, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. “Maybe focusing deeper into your Russian can help you.” 

You nodded, trying to appear as casual as possible. Steven glanced at his watch, then back between you and Dr. Barnes. “Oh, I have a lecture to prepare for, but I’m glad you came by. Let’s catch up more soon, alright?” 

“Absolutely,” you said, standing up as you watched him rush his paperwork into his bag. “Thank you, bro, and of course, to you, Dr. Barnes.” 

With a final nod, you exited the room, closing the door softly behind you. The tension you once felt under his gaze began to dissipate as you walked away from Steven’s office.

~

Later in the afternoon, you found yourself wandering back through the library, each step increased the anticipation. Before you knew it, you were outside of Dr. Barnes’ office once more. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovered over the door handle. Unsure if you should enter. Your longing proved too strong to resist as you took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside. 

Looking up at his desk, his expression was unreadable as he fixed his tie. The air charged instantly with unspoken tension. “Miss Spector,” he said in a low and controlled voice. “I see we’ve lost our manners?” he questioned, gesturing to the door. 

“I can’t stop thinking,” you admitted, a tremble in your voice. 

He stood, his gaze meeting yours as he walked around the desk. “Is that so?” he murmured, his lone laced with a hint of amusement as he swirled the liquid in his glass. “And what exactly have you been thinking about?” 

“You,” you confessed, your cheeks flushed. Excitement mixed with embarrassment. “The way you look at me, the way you make me feel… I want more.” 

He placed his glass down on his desk as a smirk spread across his lips, pushing against the desk he closed the distance between you. “You want more?” he reached out to gently caress your cheek. “Well, I do believe we can arrange that.” 

Your breath hitched as he glanced down at your lips, his gaze was appreciative. His eyes lingered as he noticed the subtle nervous habit of your bottom lip catching between your teeth. Your skin prickled with anticipation as the room grew warmer. Nerve endings tingled as the magnetic pull intensified.

The heat between your thighs surged, and you swallowed hard as your pulse raced in your ears. You struggled to maintain composure. 

Leaning down slightly, he growled low in his throat. “I want to hear you beg for it.” 

A shiver ran through you as you realized he intended to make you earn it. “Please, Dr. Barnes,” you pleased, your voice quivered. Opening your mouth to continue, you were interrupted by his hand covering your mouth. 

“In Russian,” he demanded, his voice a husky whisper against your ear, as he slowly moved his hand back to your cheek. 

“Пожалуйста, ты мне нужен.” 

He smirked, pleased with your response. “Нет.” 

Disappointment and confusion flickered across your face. “No?” you echoed his reply softly in English as you tried to conceal the surprise. 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[melodygatesauthor]

The Fractured Moon - Part 4

Yandere! Moon Boys X f!Reader

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Not Beta Read - Series Masterlist

Summary:

After Steven's ruthless beating, you need time to recover, and the boys are going to show you how nice they can treat you, if only you'll let them, and as long as you behave.

Tags/Warnings (for entire series):

Disclaimer: I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character. NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

Word Count: 3.4k

Marc was still afraid to take any unnecessary risks, so he kept your wrists tied to the dining room chair just in case. Marc fantasized about a time that you would be in complete submission to them. He dreamt of how nice it would be to wake with you in their bed, curled up into his chest while you slept soundly. He thought about what a wonder it would be to have you kissing him and begging him to make you feel good. He wanted you to want them.

Steven was delusional and Marc knew that. Maybe he was too, he thought. He wondered if it was delusional to think that one day he could have all those things. Every time he looked at you he felt a stab of guilt in his gut. When did things get so fucked up? This wasn’t the kind of person they were, and whenever Marc’s sanity broke through the barrier of his fantasy, he thought about letting you go. But then he thought about you out there where anyone could look at you, talk to you, touch you.

No.

“Your wounds are healing nicely honey,” he said, breaking the otherwise deafening silence in the dining room.

You nodded, still feeling a bit defeated from the beating Steven had dealt you over a week ago. Was it a week ago? You couldn’t remember how long it had been. It was hard to keep track of time there. When Marc mentioned the bruises you could still feel the sting left behind from Steven’s lashing. Your eyes darted to the floor quickly, not wanting to think about it.

“Hey,” Marc’s hand went out, finger tucking under your chin and turning your gaze back to meet his. “Jake and I told you we’d keep you safe, right? Remember? We told you we’d handle Steven? And he’s been much better to you, hasn’t he?”

You nodded slowly, bottom lip trembling while you thought about what his brother had done to you. Even with his and Jake’s reassurance that no further - serious - harm would come to you by Steven’s hands, you still didn’t dare to even touch yourself when the urge arose. If Steven’s goal was to frighten you into obedience, it had worked.

Every night, sometimes multiple times a night, Steven would fill you so full you were stuffed and dripping his cum for the rest of the evening. He was often the first person you’d see in the mornings too, taking your body and bending it to suit his needs. You were exhausted most days, and he showed no signs of stopping.

You couldn’t deny the sweetness that came with his insatiable sex drive though.

“Oh darling, you’re so pretty,” he’d say with his forehead against you, the tip of his nose touching yours. “I…I know you’re so sore and I’m so sorry but, mm-fuh–”

And then he’d come, spilling his hot white spend into your aptly stretched hole. His hips would stutter, and he’d look at you as though no one else in the world existed. Once in a while you even forgot yourself and felt tempted to reach out and touch his face, like you might want to lean forward and kiss those hooded, sex drunk eyelids of his.

But you resisted. 

The part of you that still wanted to fight for survival was stronger than that, and it was screaming inside of you to stay resilient. Sometimes Steven made you feel good though. When you were particularly achy, and full of so much cum you couldn’t hold anymore, he would kneel at the foot of the bed, drape your legs over his broad shoulders, and start cleaning and slurping his spend right out of you. He was better at that than the other two, and when he looked up at you from between your thighs with glossy lips and shoulders heaving with heavy breaths, you had to shake yourself from that small sense of adoration you falsely felt for him. 

He kidnapped you, he raped you, he beat you, you would remind yourself like a mantra over and over again until you were sick of it. You still needed to fight to survive this. You couldn’t accept that this was the end of the line for you. 

“M-Marc?” you whispered.

His entire face lit up to hear you speak his name in such a soft tone. Marc’s hand cupped your cheek gently, as though a firmer grip might break you. His thumb brushed over your skin softly, such a gentle touch for someone so monstrous.

“Yeah honey?”

You gulped, looking around to make sure that neither Steven nor Jake were going to show up before making your inquiry. If Steven, especially, heard you, you’d be in for another harsh reminder of your position and you knew it.

“Can I have those pills again?” You thought about how much they eased your pain before, and how sleepy they made you. If you were going to continue to survive, you would need something to help you get through for now until you came up with a plan.

“Oh, baby, last time I gave you those, Jake and I agreed with Steven that it wasn’t fair to him. I’m sorry I can’t–”

“Please,” you looked at him with such desperation it almost made him flinch.

Your eyes welled until they were nearly spilling over. If you were being honest, you were laying on the theatrics a bit, but another part of you was genuinely in need of something to ease the ache you felt when Steven made you a glorified sex doll. Marc finally nodded slowly and gave you a sympathetic half-smirk.

“Yeah, I’ll give you half a pill to hide in your bedside table. That should relax you enough without knocking you out. You can take it when you know Steven’s coming just…don’t let him see it, alright?” Marc raised his brow in emphasis. “I’m not worried for my sake but you…you know how he can get.”

You nodded eagerly, “yes,” a sigh of relief left your entire body, “yes, I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll get you one after you’re finished eating.”

Dinner was one of Marc’s favorite times of the day because it was one of the few times he got you all to himself. They each had a role to play in your day: waking up with Steven, the greedy little shit wanting you both before sleep and after. Marc took care of your bathing and meals, making sure each time he had you was nicer for you than the time before. Then there was Jake, giving you a firm hand in the early afternoon to make sure you learned to mind, and then making you play dress up and sit on his lap in his study shortly after dinner.

Marc liked to think he was different from the other two. He liked to think you needed him, like he was taking care of you and you wouldn’t be able to survive in this house without him. He was protecting you - as much as he could for being one of the three who did this to you - . But Marc felt justified in that he wasn’t hurting you, not really. He never struck you, and he wouldn’t. When you were afraid of the other two and looking for someone to comfort you, he would be your safe space.

Marc took a strawberry and lifted it to your mouth, watching intently as your precious lips parted to bite into the ripe fruit. He chuckled watching some of the juice drip down your chin.

“My messy little girl,” he cooed, wiping the juice from your chin and popping his thumb into your mouth.

His brow furrowed, feeling your tongue roll over his thumb. Marc’s dick sprang to life almost instantly while you teased him. No…he was starting to think like Steven. You weren’t teasing, you were just cleaning him off, but still…what if you knew exactly what you were doing to him? It was always possible that you wanted him but were just playing coy…right?

“That’s very good honey,” Marc pulled his hand back, “do you want some more?”

You nodded, feeding into his delusion that you did want this.

Marc moaned this time when you bit into the strawberry, more juice dripping down your chin and landing on your chest. He leaned in toward your face, his tongue darting out to lap up the mess and bring it to your lips. You let him in, and he wondered if you actually wanted to kiss him, or if you were just behaving because you were afraid of what may happen if you didn’t.

He didn’t really care at the moment, because you kissed like you wanted it. Your tongue melted with his, and he swore he heard a breathy whine roll up through your throat only to be muffled by the wet sounds of your mouths moving together.

“Fuck, baby,” Marc breathed as he pulled back, breaking the kiss plopping into his chair across from yours. “You’re so…” He couldn’t think of a word sufficient enough to describe the way you made him feel.

Despite yourself, the arousal was building between your legs after that kiss. Something about Marc did make things feel a little less horrible, even if you knew you shouldn’t feel that way. You were feeling yourself giving in, and you hated it.

You realized now how thirsty you were, like your mouth was dry and filled with cotton.

“P-please,” your voice was still a soft croak in the otherwise silent room. 

You looked at the glass full of red wine next to the rest of your meal. You gulped, looking back over at Marc and nodding. He smiled, bringing the glass to your lips and pouring it into your mouth. He started tipping the cup just a little before you drank faster and faster until it was gone. You breathed like you’d run a mile, licking the remnants of the sweet drink from your lips.

“Jeez honey, do you want some more?” He chuckled.

You nodded, watching him as he filled the glass once more and you chugged all of it down quickly. Marc having his way with you was inevitable, and since you knew that, you were going to make yourself at least a little numb to it. Perhaps you could even enjoy yourself without feeling completely guilty. If you were a bit buzzed then maybe you could forgive yourself later when you enjoyed the way he touched you.

Marc shouldn’t like you drunk, but he did. Something about how much happier you seemed to be made him feel at peace. It didn’t take you long to get there either, he could see your eyes start to droop a bit while you looked at him after a few more moments passed.

“Baby, I’m going to take these off your wrists and ankles,” he said, referring to the straps holding you against the chair. “I don’t think you’d be able to go anywhere even if you wanted to.”

He let out a lighthearted chuckle as he finished freeing your limbs. You stood up immediately, stretching your arms and legs to get the blood flow back through your body. You stumbled forward, and Marc stood fast to catch you. God you were so tiny. Sometimes he forgot just how small you were compared to them.

“Easy, easy,” he said, laughing while you leaned against his chest. “Let’s go sit you down in the living room.”

He helped you - basically carried you - to the living room, setting you down on the couch and sitting himself beside you. It didn’t take much, just a little nudge with his hand to get you to lay down on his lap. Marc rubbed your cheek softly with his thumb, looking down at your eyes and the way the fire from the crackling fireplace reflected in your pupils so prettily.

“There you go, just rest honey. If you get tired I’m sure Jake would understand.”

“Speak for yourself, pendejo.”

Marc didn’t reply, still certain he wanted to keep that insanity from you for now. Maybe once you were better adjusted he would feel more comfortable sharing more about his personal life, but until then, he would only subject you to one crazy thing at a time.

You shifted your face against his lap, your cheek brushing against the obvious tent he’d pitched from when he kissed you earlier. He didn’t think it would go away any time soon, but he could take care of himself later, or maybe even ignore and let Steven deal with it when he was fronting. It was a shock to him though, when you picked your head up and placed a small peck on the clothed shaft of his dick through his jeans.

You did that all on your own.

“Baby, what the hell are you…oh shit…”

You brushed your lips over it, feeling enticed by the scent of his musk. Obviously the wine was making you feel something, maybe something you wanted subconsciously, or maybe it was purely a physical need induced by the arousal building in your core. You felt hot, like your body was made up of pure lust and nothing else. You hated yourself and wished that you hadn’t drank the wine, even if it would make your night easier.

None of it mattered now, because you did drink the wine, and you were feeling yourself grow hotter by the second at the thought of giving Marc pleasure. You fucking wanted him, and you couldn’t loathe yourself more over it. You slipped off the couch to your knees, looking up at him from between his legs and feeling nothing but pure desire for him when you did.

Who the fuck am I? You thought to yourself.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes. You were on your knees between his legs, a sight he was certain he wouldn’t ever see, not this early on in your life of captivity anyway. Your little hands fumbled with his belt, managing to slowly pull the leather strap from the buckle before you started to unbutton his pants. His mouth hung open while he watched you tug his jeans and briefs to his thighs, letting his cock spring free. 

You looked at it like never before, leaning forward and giving the length of him a small kitten lick all the way from the base to the tip. Marc couldn’t breathe while he watched you. He knew that you could fit it in your mouth, you’d done it with Jake the night they took you, but this time was different. This time, you were acting like you wanted it.

“Take your time honey, I know your little mouth can hardly handle us,” he cooed, reminding you that you didn’t need to rush.

You gulped, lips parting slowly as you stared at his leaking tip. Once more you flicked your tongue out and licked the bead of precum off of him. He wondered if you even realized that you hummed as if you liked the taste. He reached a hand behind your head, not to pressure you, but instead to guide you. Marc wanted to make this as comfortable for you as possible, especially considering it wasn’t very often that you showed eagerness or compliance to satisfy their needs.

You opened your lips wide, leaning up over his cock before lowering your head down around it. The second Marc felt the warmth of your mouth surround him it was like the breath punched out from his lungs.

“Oh…god honey,” he growled through clenched teeth. “F-fuck.”

You didn’t take it all, and he hadn’t expected you to. He was impressed that you even made it to the halfway mark before the head of his cock was probing against your throat. Maybe one of the other two would stretch your mouth out more and teach you how to use it, but it wasn’t going to be Marc, not today.

Maybe it was the fact that you were drunk, or maybe it was that you liked the way Marc was breathing and whining, but you couldn't ignore the feeling of your aching clit any longer. You put your finger between your legs, still using your other hand to hold onto Marc’s thigh for stability, and you started touching yourself. It was embarrassing how wet you were over someone who had done such horrible things to you.

“Does it feel that good honey? You like sucking my cock that much?”

Marc was mesmerized by your eyes and the way you furrowed your brow while you sucked him off. That was the same expression he recognized from before when he’d made you come around his cock. You moaned around his dick, an acceptable answer to his question.

You know you look so pretty like that,” he nodded, breath blowing out through his pursed lips while he tried to hold back from fucking your throat wide open. “Sit back for me, honey.”

With a loud ‘pop’ you let his cock fall out of your mouth and you sat back on your heels. Your eyes were stuck on his throbbing length, mind still fuzzy with arousal and intoxication, feeling yourself wanting nothing more than to have it back in your mouth. You hadn’t stopped circling around your clit with your fingers, your wet slick making it easy to move around just right. Another bead of precum trickled teasingly down Marc’s shaft, dripping onto the floor and leaving you salivating.

“You really want more, hm?” He asked, grabbing the thick base of himself firmly and slowly starting to jerk himself off in front of you.

Yes, you thought to yourself. You didn’t know why, and you were still a little mad at yourself for appearing so eager, but yes, you fucking wanted it.

Marc couldn’t believe his eyes when you nodded, your gaze still trained on his swollen dick while he held onto it. He gave it another firm stroke, slowly, up to the tip. When he squeezed around the top some slick, clear precum dripped down onto his fingers. With his free hand he beckoned you back over, holding the back of your head and positioning his tip at your lips.

“Open, please, quick-fuck-fuck-fuhhh!"

All it took was the brush of your little tongue against the backside of his leaking head before he lost it. He moaned loudly, surprising even himself as he squeezed his cock, aiming the shots of spend over your tongue, coating your mouth in a layer of white. Marc couldn’t imagine a better view than you looking up at him with your mouth wide open as he fed you every last drop he had. 

You came the very second you tasted his cum on your tongue. The delicious hot ropes ran down your throat while you took what he gave you, and you rubbed your clit faster, feeling yourself go weak over his taste. A series of choking gasps were lost in the living room while you felt your cunt contracting around nothing, your hot arousal gushing and dripping down your thighs.

In your mind-numbed state you couldn’t hold your body up anymore and so you fell to the ground in a heap, breathing heavily and letting the soothing warmth of your intoxication wash over you. 

“Someone had too much to drink,” Marc commented with a soft chuckle, tucking his dick back in his pants before lifting you into his arms with a contented sigh.

His heart leapt with a sense of joy and love for you when you held onto him, tucking your face into his broad chest and nuzzling against him. You murmured something nonsensical and unintelligible, inspiring another laugh out of Marc. He wished with all his heart that this was the first of many nights that you would start to warm up to them; that you were finally accepting your place and finding peace with your fate.

He hoped so deeply that it was true. He needed it to be true.

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Moon Knight Masterlist

[variety-fangirl]

Can I request Marc Spector having a marking/spit kink? I feel like it totally captures his tough exterior but also his need for intimacy and closeness

Forever and Always Yours / Marc Spector x fem!reader

Summary: people abandoned him his whole life until he met you, you loved him endlessly despite his flaws. So any threat to that would cause Marc and the boys to become a little... jealous.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS SHOO mentions of Jake and Steven. Porn with some plot. Smut obvs 😏 (rough yet vulnerable sex, marking and spit kink, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, hand job, mild choking, multiple orgasms, vulnerable and intimate behaviour,) lmk if I missed anything!

Author's note: of course my lovely, thank you so much for requesting 😁! I completely agree with you, our baby boy Marc has a very dominating side and yet craves/needs intimacy like his life depends on it. I'm so sorry it took me so long to do, I'm currently moving, finishing college, and trying to listen to my mental health in what I need so writing kind of got put on the back burner for a bit. Hope you love it tho! Thank you for reading, it really does mean the world. Liking, commenting, and reblogging really helps me out.

Word count: 2.8k

Your boys had always been a little... Jealous to say the least. Not that you had minded and it often ended up in my mind-blowing sex so you weren't really complaining but you sometimes wished they knew that they had nothing to worry about. That you were theirs through and through. You never had an issue with reminding any of them of that, which you knew they always appreciated, without even having to say anything. They would always be extremely vulnerable and intimate afterwards, keeping and holding you close with lots of affection on both parts. It was something you had grown to love honestly.

What you hadn't expected though, was for all three to become jealous of your new colleague at work, Justin. He was a super sweet guy, younger than you and on the slightly nerdier side. You had formed a wonderful friendship with him in only a few weeks, helping him to blossom and encouraging him to come out of his shell more. As a thank you, Justin would often buy you coffee and something sweet for breakfast every so often and offer to walk you home on the occasion. You had grown fond of the younger sweet boy, seeing him as a brother you wanted to protect. And you knew he didn't see you as anything more than a friend.

But that didn't stop your boyfriends from freaking out and acting jealous all the same. No matter how many times you had tried to ease their worries or assure them of the only innocent friendship between you and your colleague, they didn't seem to feel any less stressed about the situation. And you weren't exactly sure why. You knew the underlying feelings and traumas hiding beneath that they often refused to talk about, even Steven had been reluctant with information in the three years you'd been with them. You never pushed for further details though, only what they were willing to divulge on their own.

When you finished work this afternoon, it was like any other day. Justin offered to walk you home, his being on the way also, and left together with coffee in hand. The weather was beginning to get colder now, coats and scarves beginning to appear in people's attire. The leaves had begun to turn different colours, with peaks of orange, yellow, and brown forming. You hadn't thought it would be so cold so early, so you'd forgotten to bring a thicker coat or a scarf with you. You begin to shiver, wrapping your coat as tightly around your body and neck as possible but it didn't seem to quench the cold breeze that seemed to blow straight through you. You could feel goosebumps form on your skin. You were almost home luckily.

"You look freezing, come here." Justin fussed, pulling you into his side with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You smile up at him, "Thank you." He nods with a smile, continuing to chat mindlessly about how his latest date had gone, a friend you had set him up with. You smiled fondly, happy that the pair were getting on great, they seemed well-matched. Ten minutes later and you'd finally reached home, the cold had begun to worsen. "Thank you, Justin, I'll see you Monday yeah? Enjoy your date Saturday!" you call with a smile, waving goodbye as he walked to his own home. "See you Monday, thank you!" he called happily. You watched for a moment to ensure he was okay before making your way inside.

You couldn't wait to eat, you hadn't eaten anything in four hours and had been busy so you were starving. It was Marc's turn to cook tonight, he always had something new up his sleeve, he enjoyed cooking. He and Jake were much alike in that sense, not that poor Steven didn't try love him. Once you finally reached your floor, you unlock the door and unload your belongings in their rightful places, grateful to get your shoes off after being stood on them all day. It was 6 PM on the dot when you looked at the clock and your boyfriend was standing by the window of the living room, looking down at the scenery beneath you.

You smile and walk over, wrapping your arms around his surprisingly tense back after setting your coffee down on the living room table. You frown, wondering if something had happened, "hey baby." You whisper loud enough for him to hear, stroking the clothed skin of his back and sides. "That Justin that walked you?" Marc wondered, not making any move to reciprocate affection or turn to face you. You frown into his back, "Yes it was, why?" you question, sensing something wasn't right in his behaviour. Marc ignored your question as he turned around to finally face you, a look of something unreadable on his face.

His reply came with more annoyance and hostility than when he usually mentioned Justin, "I saw him with his arm wrapped around you, all smiles and holding you close." You sigh, pulling him closer with a small smile as you shake your head, "I was cold and didn't dress for the weather, that's all it was, nothing more baby." Grabbing the back of Marc's neck, you pull him down to connect your lips, tangling your fingers in his dark locks. You squeal into Marc's lips as he pushes you against the wall closest to you both, his hand going around your neck but not constricting your breathing. "You're mine, only mine," Marc growls with intent, tightening his grip on your neck just slightly.

You knew you shouldn't find this such a turn-on, this raw jealous possessiveness over you but damn you just couldn't help it when you felt your desire pool in your underwear, an involuntary moan escaping. Marc grabs your legs and lifts you, your body immediately tangling with his, wanting to be as close as possible. With tongues still exploring one another's mouths and hands pulling to remove each other's clothes, Marc carries you to the bedroom. Your back hits the soft mattress, and your boyfriend immediately climbs on top of you, not wanting to be away from you.

Marc pulls his shirt off, gracing your eyes with his beautifully scarred chest and back, you bite your lip as you touch his skin. You wanted him to know just how much you loved him and wanted no other, "god how did I get so lucky?" you whisper, pulling him down to kiss you once more. You often wondered what you did to deserve three amazing men in your life, gifting you with each of their amazing personalities and qualities that you adored. Your hands explore his skin with freedom as you grind against his crotch, feeling how hard he already was. Marc groaned into your mouth, his hips moving as needily as yours.

Marc pulls back enough to remove your shirt, throwing it on the floor with his. He groans as he sees you hadn't worn a bra today, his hands groping your breasts. You gasp as his fingers brush and play with your nipples, his eyes staring in wonder as they harden at the exposure of multiple sensations at once. Marc's lips attach to your left nipple, licking a stripe up the little nub before sucking gently. You throw your head back with an open mouth as electric jolts of pleasure pulse down to your core, ruining your underwear further. Marc's lips travel up your nipple to the soft flesh of your breast where he bites and sucks, the mix of pleasure from his fingers playing with your right nipple and the pain of his assault on your left breast was delicious. After a few moments, he works his way over to the other breast to repeat the process to mark the other.

As his lips kiss their way down your body to your waist, his fingers make quick work of removing your jeans and underwear. He pulls your remaining clothing down your legs, moving backwards down the bed at the same time to get off. You watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he discards his remaining clothing on the floor with yours. You smile as he returns on top of you, his face moving to connect with your core. Marc's tongue licked a stripe up your lips before working its way between to give your clit some attention. You cry out, finally feeling some relief of your swollen clit. Marc licked in upwards motions and sucked gently at the little nub, luckily not teasing you any further. His tongue stimulated your clit just the way you liked, each jolt of intense pleasure building the growing knot in your stomach.

"You like that baby?" Marc questions without moving his mouth away from your vagina. You nod frantically, "So good Marc." you knew each of your boys enjoyed hearing their name during sex, it made them individually feel acknowledged and special. Marc groans into your core at the mention of your nap, kitten licking you in between praises. "Look at me, who's making you feel this good?" he demanded softly, looking up at you, but not letting up on the stimulation of your clit. You lift your head to look down at him, almost coming at the sight of his dishevelled hair and swollen pink lips between your legs. You knew Marc and your other boys were possibly feeling a little insecure and jealous about the Justin thing so you wanted to squash any qualms they may have had about it. You moan, "You Marc. Only you, Steven, and Jake can ever make me feel this good and more. No one else."

He seems satisfied with your answer, his eyes flicking to the mirror in the corner of the room behind you, before turning to look back at you. "That's our girl." He dives back in but adds a finger into the mix, making you cry out instantly. The sounds of your juices filled the room obscenely, you were so wet that Marc could add a second finger quickly. It wasn't long before you could feel your orgasm approaching, the intense pleasure building at a rapid pace. "That's it, baby. Come for me." Marc groaned, pumping his fingers inside of you a little faster. You couldn't breathe properly as you approached your high, your body squirming to feel release. You scream loudly as you finally come crashing down, Marc working you through your high. He laps up everything you give him, not leaving one drop to go to waste before crawling up to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on his lips as his tongue invades your mouth, making you moan. You allow your hand to wander down Marc's body, working between his clothing and skin and grabbing his cock. He groans into your mouth as your hand wraps around his cock and slowly begin pumping him, quickly working him into a breathless mess above you. "I love you so much, Marc. You're my everything." You whisper breathily, knowing he needed to hear those words from you to feel reassured. But not just for him, for Steven and Jake also, because you knew they were watching and listening intently right now. Marc presses his forehead against yours at your words, a smile forming on his face and a feral lust-filled look peering back at you.

Marc crashes his lips against yours feverishly, his hands exploring your body wildly but with intent. You rush to remove his remaining clothing, needing to feel his bare body on yours, skin on skin. You hear the soft thump of Marc's clothes hitting the floor alongside your own, allowing you to touch him fully now. Marc wastes no time removing your hand from his cock and lining himself up with your dripping awaiting hole, entering you with no issue, pain, or resistance. Having already prepped you beforehand perfectly. You both gasp as Marc enters you completely, his hips flush with your own. "Fuck baby, you're so tight and wet. Feel so good. Can I move?" He asks breathlessly as he stares directly into your eyes with the most amazing lustful yet loving look you had ever seen.

While biting your lip and staring back, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than for him to claim you in all ways he wanted to. He sets a slow pace to begin with, just to help you get used to it before he wrecked you, the ever-considerate boyfriend. It was passionate and mind-numbing, the way his cock slowly yet roughly dragged against your walls, his pelvic area rubbing directly on your clit and stimulating you perfectly. The feeling of Marc's hand gripping your face has you bringing your head back so you can look at him properly, that familiarly dark yet seductive look staring back at you. "Open up for me sweetheart," Marc instructed huskily, already knowing you understood and recognised what he was asking of you.

You open your mouth wide with your tongue sticking out, trying your best not to close your eyes as he continues to slowly fuck you. "Such a good girl for me, that's it, baby." Marc slowly and gently spits into your mouth, savouring the moment that does not happen often, only when he feels particularly possessive over you. "Swallow." You do as you are told, swallowing his saliva and sticking your tongue back out to show you had. The hand on your face moves up to your mouth and inserts two fingers into your mouth, "suck." He instructs, staring intensely as you wrap your lips around his fingers and begin sucking and licking. You moan loudly as Marc removes his fingers and replaces them on your clit instead, stimulating you as he fucked you.

"Oh fuck Marc!" You gasp, feeling the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach. The constant stimulation from his skin on your clit had already had you pushing to the limit, but his fingers were getting you off faster. "Come for me, baby." He groaned as he sped up both his movements, increasing your breathing tremendously. As quickly as it built, it released, your high hitting you like a train for the second time tonight. You scream in delight as Marc worked you through your high once again, now you were exhausted. Marc gives you a few minutes to recover, spending the time showering you with affection.

Marc takes this time to kiss your lips until they are red and swollen, and even then he did not let up. He littered your neck and shoulders with more marks, claiming your skin once more as his own. As if he were an artist painting his blank canvas with signature markings that told it was his work. Painting your skin in purple, red, and black bruises. When Marc asked if it was okay for him to continue and you agreed, he fucked you into a moaning mess. Each thrust was meticulous and targetted, aiming to provide you with as much pleasure as possible.

Marc's groaning sweaty figure above you was something to be marvelled at, he was truly insatiable and the definition of beauty. You felt utterly grateful and lucky that you were the one that got to call him, Steven, and Jake yours. With each thrust, yours and Marc's moans got louder, both becoming more and more needy for the other. As Marc tucked his head into the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back, nails digging into his beautifully scarred skin, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close. You could feel that Marc was close by the way his thrusts got sloppy and slightly stiff.

Marc feels your walls tighten around his cock, "with me." Marc groans, placing his forehead against your own, breathing one another's air. You scream as the knot releases, exploding into multiple surges of pleasured fireworks that runs through your whole body. Marc groans loudly as he also finishes, his come painting the inside of your walls as he fucks you both through your highs. Marc collapses on top of you once you're both done, panting loudly. You lay with your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as your nails gently scratch Marc's bare back. His own fingers playing and tracing patterns on your own skin, often digging in a little now and again. You knew in times like this he just needed to be held and loved until he was ready to move or say something.

"I'm yours, forever and always. Nothing can change that." You whisper into his hair, one hand tangling gently into his damp curly locks and your lips placing a soft prolonged kiss onto the side of his forehead. Marc's arms tightened ever so slightly around your body and digs his head further into your neck, "thank you." He whispers into your sweaty skin, lips attaching to your neck regardless.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Personal Time [2]

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Personal Time Series Masterlist (You don't have to read it to read this)

Summary: Steven orders a strap-on.

A/N: @lonelyisamyw-0love this is especially for you 💚

This is unbetaed (like all of my fics) I have read it over a few times, but my head just isn't in the game at the moment and I feel like I'm just not chatching errors. I appologise that there are probably more here than normal. Also Downward dog is a yoga position.

Warnings: oral (both m and f receiving), fingering, pegging, anal sex, sucking on a strap, praise kink (I’m sorry), the term ‘good boy’ used, begging, ermmmm kind of an exhibition kink?, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning.

Word Count: 4967

________________________________

Steven had spent the better part of 24 hours researching. Not all at once mind you. 

He hadn’t meant to fixate on this, it had just sort of… happened. 

One thing had led to another and another, and another. But he’d finally found a strap-on that he thought would tick all the boxes for both of you. 

He had ordered it online, after checking fifteen times that the delivery would be with discreet packaging. There was no need to give Mrs Thompson on the second floor anything to get all gossipy about. Especially when she managed to churn up enough ‘scandal’ about the block’s private lives anyway. (Quite early on in your and Steven’s relationship Mrs Thompson had engaged you in conversation in the lift. And when she had noticed what floor you were headed to, had promptly filled you in on all the ‘juicy titbits’ about the ‘odd gentleman’ that lived in flat 502 and his two ‘unusual brothers’. You had struggled to keep a straight face and had blurted the whole story out to Steven the second you saw him.)

The discreet (ordinary) packaging was the main reason why Steven had just dumped the parcel on the coffee table with a couple others when he got home from work. He’d had a shower and gone as far as slicing open the brown parcel tape when you’d knocked at the door. 

“Hi Steven.” You smiled as he held the door. “How was work?”

“Hi love,” he grinned and kissed your cheek before standing back to allow you to come in. “Good, good, shit actually, but good.” 

You snorted as you took off your shoes and hung up your jacket. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

“Aw, thank you, just water.” 

He grinned again and waited until your hands were unencumbered before he gave you a proper hug and a kiss. “Hello.” 

“Hello.” You echoed as he held you tightly. 

“Jake has been driving me fucking insane.” 

You laughed as he broke the hug. “Why?” 

“Why?” He pulled a face, mock exasperation that you knew was a put on just to amuse you. “His current obsession with Mrs Thomspon.” 

You giggled and Steven gestured for you to take a seat on the sofa as he went into the kitchen to get you a glass of water, and himself a cup of tea. 

“What’s the latest update in the saga?” You said as you sat down, noticing the three large parcels on the coffee table, one partially open. 

“He baked her cookies.” 

“Cookies?” 

Steven leaned back so that he could stare at you dramatically. “Cookies.” 

You laughed again. “How did she react?” 

Steven rolled his eyes and went back to making the drinks. “She loves him! You know that already from her most recent lift update to you about, ‘that strange Mr Grant, his odd brother, and that lovely Jake.’”

You couldn’t stop your giggles at his impression of Mrs Thompson. 

“I know Jake said he was going to kill her with kindness, but really.” He tutted. “He’s just doing it to annoy me. And to get all the gossip about everyone in the building.” 

You smiled. While you were sure that Jake did enjoy hearing about the little mini-dramas that were going on in the block of flats, you knew that he had originally spoken to Mrs Thompson after the first lift incident as a precaution. A safety check. Just to see what the woman had been saying about them to other people. 

He had ended up in the 77 year old's flat being fed tea and biscuits and had fixed her bathroom window, which hadn’t been closing right.

The kettle clicked off as it boiled.

“So what’s with all the boxes?” You called. 

“Oh!” Steven answered excitedly, “I think they are the books I was telling you about!”

You chuckle. “Did you buy a library?” 

“Pretty much!” 

Your smile widens. 

“I just had to get the full colour edition of the history of Iraq, because the photos looked amazing! Have a look!” 

You paused for a second, a little ball of impoliteness prodded at your mind even though Steven had just given you express permission to look in the box. But you shook the feeling aside and opened it. It was silly to be worried, it was just…

Ah. 

Steven came back into the room and paused at the look on your face. “Love?” 

You looked up at him quickly, trying to hide the smile that wanted to take over your entire being.

“You okay?” 

“It’s not your book in that parcel.” 

He frowned. “It’s not,” then he sighed. “Have they sent the wrong bloody thing?” 

You took the strap-on out of the packaging, all neatly sealed in its own very posh looking box, and held it up to him. 

“Oh, yeah.” Steven blushed but he was grinning. “That’s not a book.”

“I didn’t realise you could also order these from Waterstones.” 

He snorted. “No, that was definitely from a different place.” He gave you a sheepish smile as he put the drinks on the table and brushed his curls out of his eyes. 

“I didn’t realise you’d ordered one.” 

“Well,” he shrugged and sat down next to you, fiddling with his fingers ever so slightly. “I just, I wanted to make sure it was alright first.”

“You were gonna use it without me?” You teased.

“No,” his eyes shot up straight to yours, relaxing only when he saw your playful expression. “I just wanted to make sure it looked comfy for you.”

“For me?” The sentiment touches deep within your heart. “Steven, surely, I mean, it’s going in you. Your comfort is much more important.” 

He pulled a face like you’d just told him that the sky was orange. “Don’t be silly, love.” He shifts a little closer to you, his knee resting against your leg. “So,” he points to the box in your hands. “I did some research to find one that was good for beginners and each party.”

“You did some research?” You tease gently and he nods.

You can’t help yourself as you rub your legs together. Unable to stop the thought of Steven hunched over his laptop on his desk, his glasses on the tip of his nose as he read in depth reviews. Had he worked himself up? Gotten all hot and bothered thinking about you fucking him again? Had he desperately relieved himself at his desk? 

“Do you want to try it out today?” You ask tentatively. 

“Now?” He asks eagerly.

“Now’s good.”

.

He had happily let you lead him to bed, your lips fastened to his as if he was your only source of oxygen. His tea long forgotten and growing cold. 

You had drunk down his little moans, softly pushing him back onto the mattress and stripping him of his clothes. You bit his lip gently every time he tried to take off your own and he giggled. 

When he was naked, at last, you took a moment just to admire him. The flushed golden hue of his skin, his beautiful dark eyes, the way his mouth parted with every breath. 

Languidly you trailed your hands up his legs, placing gentle kisses on his inner thighs and smiling against his skin when he jumped and squirmed. His cock was already hard, twitching against his stomach and leaking. Desperate and waiting for you. For the smallest touch or caress, for anything you’d grace him with. 

It was dizzying sometimes, the thought alone making your head spin, how much faith and trust Steven gave you, putting every single part of himself in your hands as if it was as natural as breathing. 

You kissed his balls, nuzzling into them before licking them all over. 

Steven swore, his back arching ever so slightly as he pushed himself closer and spread his legs wider. 

You happily obliged him by licking a board, flat stripe up from the base to the very tip of his cock. Moaning slightly when the beaded precum at his head touched your tongue. 

He groaned, trying to bury the sound behind his hand, “Love… please.” 

You took your mouth away from him and he whimpered, a look of betrayal flashing across his features. 

His pout made you smile. 

You kissed the base of his length, running the tip of your nose against the thick vein that ran up the underside of his cock. Your smile widened when he shivered. 

“Can you grab the lube out of the drawer?” You asked quietly and broke into a laugh at how quickly Steven moved. As if he had been struck by lightning.

He partially rolled over, carefully not to whack you with his thighs, and fished around for a second before pulling out the bottle and placing it into your waiting hand. 

“Thank you.” You said in a singsong voice. 

Since finding his dildo and your recent escapades with it, you had made it your personal mission to learn how to work Steven open yourself. Savouring every moan and clench of muscle. He’d seemingly become quite addicted to it. 

You poured a generous helping of lube onto both of your hands. Then positioned your left hand around his cock, pumping him in lazy strokes, while you slide the fore and middle fingers of your right down his balls and pressed them lightly at his hole. 

Steven’s breathing hitched, his hips bucking ever so slightly into your touch as he fought with himself to stay still. 

You gently eased both of your fingers into him. Yours weren’t as thick as Steven’s own, and you knew from previous experience that he enjoyed that slow, tortuous stretch at the start. Happy to take two or three in the first breach, as long as they were well lubed. 

He moaned, shuddered, and swore, fisting his hands into the sheets beside him and pressing his head back, exposing the tendons in his neck. 

“Nice?” You asked as you moved your fingers, stroking them perfectly against his prostate. 

Steven gasped loudly, nodding, his eyes screwed up tight at the sensation. “Yeah, yeah, yes, good, nice, really good!” He rushed all his words together, the syllables becoming a blur. 

“Good.” You muttered. Heat swam in your lower belly, pooled at your core just from watching him. His pretty little sounds hypnotic. 

You scissored your fingers lightly, just enough to stretch his tight ring of muscle before going back to your tortuously slow, deep strokes.  

His thighs shook slightly, his muscles twitching as he fought with them to keep them still. 

You lean up, moving slightly so that you can swirl your tongue over the tip of his cock. 

Steven whines and you sink down, taking him deeper into your throat, and the action breaks him. 

“Fuck!” He hisses between his teeth, grabbing hold of your shoulder and bucking up into your warm, wet mouth and then grinding down onto your fingers. He can’t stop himself now, the last of his resolve breaking so easily under your touch. 

You let him writhe under you for a minute, let him buck and moan and sob as nonsense falls from his mouth. 

Incoherent pleas of, ‘love’ and ‘good’, and ‘more’. 

You keep one arm pressed against his hips, stopping him from thrashing too much. Slowly you start to avoid his prostate, just skim along the edges of it, until he whines. Almost delirious under your touch. “Looove!” 

You chuckle, pulling off his cock and chuckle before going back to stroking and stretching him wide. 

“Shit, ah, thank you, I-” He swallows, gasping for air and then quickly his hands are on your shoulders, pushing you back. “Wait, love, wait, too much, sorry.”

You removed your fingers instantly, sitting up as panic chills your veins. “You okay?” 

“Good,” he breathes in deeply, “really good. Too good.” He gives you a lopsided smile. “Didn’t want to cum.” 

You smile back as his words soothe you. “I thought I’d hurt you.” 

His eyebrows pinch together in concern. “Oh love, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” You give him a kiss and he chases after your mouth as you pull away. 

You giggle. “I’ll be right back.” You quickly move away to the bathroom to wash your hands. 

When you come back Steven has moved a little, now sitting more fully on the bed. He grins at you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

“Oh?” You mock surprise as you approach him. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” he grabs hold of you playfully and pulls you into an embrace as he kisses all over your face and neck. “Far too many.” 

His hands are so warm, and you giggle as he slips them under your clothes, removing them like he was unwrapping a gift. He kisses your chest, lavishing attention on each breast before pulling you back down on top of him. 

You let out a little squeak of surprise as he gently manhandles you into the position he wants - your thighs on either side of his head. 

“Steven-”

“Hmm?” He asks innocently, pushing down on your hips so that your knees slide wider and your pussy inches closer to his waiting mouth. 

“This is meant to be about you.” Your voice comes out weak and breathless. 

“Oh, it is.” He whispers, leaning up and running a board, flat lick across your centre, and moaning loudly. The vibrations run up and along your clit. 

You bite your lips together, trying to gain some kind of control over yourself as your toes curl and eyes roll back at the slow swipes of his tongue. 

“Good job this is what I want then, isn’t it?” Steven mutters, his eyes dark and hungry before diving back to your folds and pressing you down to his waiting mouth.

“Steven,” you bite your lips together to hold back a moan, your right hand flying to the headboard, your left hand to his soft curls. 

He wraps his arm around your waist, pushing down on your hips and rocking you back and forth against him, urging you to buck and grind on his tongue. 

You can't help yourself, your muscles moving on instinct as you obey his commands without thinking.

Pleasure sparks low in your belly as he swirls his tongue over your clit, lightly scraping at you with his teeth before he curls his tongue through your folds and slips inside. You gasp, following his hypnotising rhythm as the familiar heat begins to build. 

There’s a dull scratch of his stubble against your thighs as you ride him.

The bridge of his nose presses against your clit as he fucks his tongue deeper into you, groaning at every pull of his hair and every sound that falls from your lips. 

His fingers dig in and bruise your skin, trying to bring you closer, urge you nearer despite the fact that you are as physically close as possible. It’s never enough for Steven, always hungry and desperate for more. More of your sounds, your taste, your warm, soft skin against his.

If you let him, he’d never stop. Would be content to spend the rest of his days with his head between your thighs. 

Your toes start to curl, muscles clenching as the heady build of your orgasm begins to crest. So close, so close, so close. But you don’t want it yet. 

You push on his forehead with the palm of your hand, moving your hips back and away from him. “Steven,” you breathe as his mouth chases after you, your words sounding indistinct from sighs of pleasure. You push against his head harder. 

“Steven.” You try to inject some firmness into your voice, managing it barely. 

He stops, his grip on your waist and thighs still tight, but he flops his head back against the pillows as he stares up at you. His eyes dark and hooded with lust, your slick covering the bottom half of his face. He’s breathing deep, his eyes dark, and his dick throbbing against his stomach. Hot and needy. 

“You okay love?” He swallows as he asks, his chest heaving and you can feel the strain in his arms, the twitch of muscle as he fights with himself not to pull you back down onto his face. 

You give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good, really good. Too good.” You repeat his previous words back at him. “Didn’t want to cum.” 

“Love-”

“Wanna cum with you.” 

He groans, biting his lip as his eyes roll back. He swallows and nods rapidly, almost as if he is afraid to speak and voice his deep-down urges. 

You grin as you wiggle free of his grip, placing a quick kiss on his lips as you get off him and stand by the bed. 

Steven sits up to watch you put the strap on, his eyes fixated on every movement. “Is it comfortable?” He breathes when you’ve adjusted it. 

You nod.

He smiles, a little pinch of anxiety loosening. 

You go to reach for the lube, but Steven clears his throat. 

“Erm, love?” He waits until you look at him to continue. “Could I, erm, I mean, you can say no, if you don’t want to, I mean, could I maybe…?”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. But you gently place your hand on his cheek, softly stroking his skin. 

He swallows. “Could I suck it?” 

A little smile pulls at your lips. “You wanna suck it?” 

Steven nods, fiddling with his fingers. 

“Get on your knees then.” You whisper, your voice low. 

He moves fast, quickly scrambling off the bed and to his knees on the floorboards. You chuckle, stepping back slightly to give him some room. But Steven’s hands go to your hips, reaching around to knead and squeeze your ass and pull you closer. 

He licks his lips, staring at the strap, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Slowly he places a kiss to the very tip before ducking down to the very base and licking back up to the head, something you realise he has learnt from how you please him. 

He takes the tip into his mouth, easing down slowly and bobbing back up. A low groan building in his chest. 

“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath, almost too quiet for Steven to hear. Something about him there, on his knees, just does it for you. 

With a little more force than you intend, you take hold of a handful of hair at the back of his head and push him deeper. 

Steven moans louder. His eyes immediately snap open so he can stare up at you, lustful and cock dumb as salvia drips down his chin to mingle with your wetness that is still covering his skin. 

He pushes against the strap ever so slightly, purposefully grinding the base of it against your clit and you gasp. 

His dick twitches at the sound. 

He swallows around the strap, easing further down, the silicon disappearing into his throat. 

You pull him off with a harsh tug on his hair, a string of salvia connecting his mouth to the tip as he gasps for breath. His eyebrows pinched together. 

“I get to fuck you now.” You growl and Steven nods his head swiftly. 

He leans back and grabs the lube off the bed and hands it to you as he stands. 

“How do you want to do it?” You ask as you pour a generous helping all over the length. 

“Well,” a slight blush graces his cheeks, touches the tips of his ears. “I was reading,” another flash of Steven furiously jerking off at his desk in front of the laptop as he was ‘researching’ plays behind your eyes, “and there’s, erm, this position that’s meant to be really good.” He shifts his weight back and forth for a second before moving. 

He places both hands on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs on the floor, and leans forward like he’s doing a slightly adapted version of a downward dog. “And, I was thinking-” His sharp intake of breath cuts off his words as you pour more lube against his entrance. 

“You want me to fuck you like this?” 

He nods, his lip back between his teeth. “Uh huh.” 

You lean forward a little and his shoulder blade. “I think we can do that.” 

He groans at your words, the sounds growing in pitch as you press the tip of the strap against his hole. 

“You okay? You need me to warm you up some more?” 

“No, please, I’m good, keep going, keep,” he pushes back against you, trying to work the dildo into himself on his own. 

You chuckle a little at his eagerness, sliding your hand down to his right hip to steady him as you painstakingly slowly thrust forward. It sinks into him. Steven lets out a satisfied moan as the bulbous head inches past his tight ring of muscle. His hands fist at the bedsheet. 

You can take your eyes off how it just disappears into him. The way he stretches around it, completely split open. You swear quietly under your breath and pull his cheeks apart ever so slightly so you can experience the full view as he greedily swallows the strap. 

“Fuck, Steven, you look so good like this.” 

He moans in response, his eyes screwing up in bliss, feeling so full. The thickness of the strap in him, your hands on him, the heat of your skin as the front of your thighs kiss against the backs of his. It’s almost too much. 

His cock throbs painfully hard, heavy, and pleading for relief. So persistent it’s almost maddening. 

Finally, you bottom out, your hips flush against him. You ease out again slowly, savouring the torturous pace as you pull back until the tip is barely inside before sinking in. 

“You look so good like this Steven,” you praise and delight in his little whimper. “So good taking all of this for me.” 

He nods rapidly, eyes screwed shut. He shifts a little as you slide back into him, dropping to his elbows against the bed. 

“Next time, shit,” you start to move a little faster. The press of the strap against your clit burning deliciously. “Next time, I’m gonna take photos of you split open like this.”

He moans wantonly. 

“Gonna take a video of how well you take me. Of what a good boy you are.” You slide deeper, brushing against his prostate and Steven keens, his back arching. “Gonna watch it every day, gonna touch myself and cum looking at you,” warmth spread along your veins, tightening in your core. 

“Oh fuck, please, please, please,” he grinds back into your every thrust, needing you deeper, harder, craving anything you would give. Words pile up in his mind, so many that it’s practically impossible for them all to fall out of his mouth. He wants you, needs you, everywhere. Everything you could possibly do to him. He’ll suffocate without it. 

Pleasure sparks up from the base of his spine, tightening his muscles and he’s so, so close to just falling into it. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he slurs, “take videos of me,” he whines, too cockdumb to have any verbal filter. “Split me open, fuck, post them online, I want everyone to seee- Ah!” He sobs as you thrust particularly deep, and you focus all your energy on hitting the same spot over and over. 

“You want everyone to see Steven?” You lean forward, hissing in his ear. “You want everyone to see how well you can take it?” Want them all to cum looking at you.” 

“Ohshit!” He can’t help it, the thought of it, it’s too much. He tenses, moaning loudly. Every muscle clenches as he cums, spilling thick ropes all over the side of the bed and floorboard. Splashes hitting his stomach. He had intended to warn you when he was close, but now he just can’t stop as he convulses through his orgasm, the pleasure twisting and building impossibly in his stomach. 

You kiss his shoulder blade and start to slow your hips. 

“No, no, no, no,” he reaches around to grab hold of your hips, moving back against you. “Please, please, keep going, I think I can, ah!” He rocks on the balls on his feet as you start thrusting again. “I think I can cum again, please.” 

You groan at how he leans back into you, his breathy, needy, desperate whines, all of it combines to make you lightheaded. 

Steven grabs at your right hand, his eyes half closed, mouth hanging open. For a moment you think he just wants to link fingers but he quickly moves it to his head. 

“Pull, pull my hair, please, pull me back, just- fuck!”

You do as he asks, taking a large fistful of hair and yanking him towards your chest. He moans loudly as you pull, his spine arching, his throat bobbing as it bends under your grip. He barely manages to keep hold of the bed with both hands, his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. 

It’s like there’s a snap in his abdomen releasing bliss and pleasure overwhelms every thought.

He sobs out your name as he cums again. Every nerve shaking. And while not much more than a dribble shoots out of his aching cock, he cums harder than he thought possible. It’s like liquid gold explodes along every cell, coating and purifying every single part of him. 

He doesn’t remember blacking out for a second, but he must have because the next thing he knows is that he’s in your arms. Your muscles hold him steady and stop him from falling back and smacking his head against the corner of the bedside table. 

“Steven?” There’s a tiny pinch of panic in your voice that makes his chest hurt. The idea that you’re worried about him, that he caused your worry is almost too much in that moment. 

“I’m fine love, sorry,” he moves to stand fully, taking his weight off of you. “That was so amazing, I just…” He breathes deeply. 

You keep your arms around him, keep up that steadying hold. “Are you sure you're-” You yelp, the rest of your sentence lost as Steven turns quickly, pulling the strap on out of himself with a wet pop. 

He kisses you deeply, his hands on your cheeks as he slides his tongue into your mouth and groans. 

It’s so sudden that you barely register his movements before he’s turning you around and pressing you back against the bed. (Purposefully avoiding the wet patch he left, with mumbles of how he’d change the bedding later.) 

He unbuckles the strap hastily, his short nails leaving shallow scratches before he throws it to the side. 

“Steve-”

He kneels, dragging your hips to the mattress's edge and spreading your thighs wide. 

Without any pause he quickly slides two thick fingers into your aching heat, groaning low in his chest at your wetness. You gasp as he curls them, finding that perfect spot instantly as he strokes your walls. 

“Steven, you don’t have to-” Your moan cuts off the rest of your words as he leans forward and presses a board, flat lick across your clit. Timing the movement with the caress of his fingers. 

You squirm against his touch, already so worked up, and fight the urge to clamp your legs around his face. 

Steven looked up at you, large puppy dog eyes dark and hungry. 

Heat builds rapidly in your core, the sound of your wetness echoing around the flat. 

He dips his tongue down, slipping in through your folds and into your core just above his fingers. He moans as your muscles tense, never taking his eyes off you. 

His name falls from your lips like a prayer as your rock against him, trying to chase that tantalising pressure. Needing more. 

The movement of his tongue and fingers overtakes and outshines any other possible thought as all you can do is mindlessly buck against his face as you near your high. 

Steven presses deeper, slipping in a third finger and nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit. And fuuccccck.

You cum against him with a wail you’d be embarrassed about if you could formulate thoughts. Every possible thought is overtaken by the sudden wave of pleasure he pulls out of you, drowns you in. Stars dance behind your eyes as your muscles shake. 

Steven laps at you steadily, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible until you are gasping, tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. 

You place a hand on his shoulder and he slowly withdrawals his fingers, groaning at the white, creamy mess you left on his digits. 

He presses a kiss against your knee as you breathe hard. 

“I think the strap was a success.” He says, quite matter of factly, as if you had just managed to find a slightly quicker route to work. 

You giggle as he glances up at you and pulls a silly face. “Definitely.” 

He pauses for one moment, nuzzling against your thigh. “I, erm, maybe we don’t upload videos of me online though.” He blushes a little and you lean down, kissing him deeply. 

“I know that was just sex talk, those are all for me anyway.” 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Didn’t… weird you out or anything?” 

You shake your head. “I loved it.” 

“Good.” He leans into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him. 

“Though, if we did upload videos of you,” you tease, “I’m sure we’d make so much money, you could buy all the books you wan-”

You yelp and giggle as Steven tackles you back onto the bed and kisses you roughly. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[m00nsbaby]

BABES HEAR ME OUT- Ever heard of the song "the moon will sing" by the crane wives?

I was wondering if I could get "I loved you like the sun; with no light of my own, I shine only with the light you gave me"? With the moonboys 🥺💗

I CRIED???? Y'ALL NEED TO STOP SENDING ME SONGS THAT SOUND LIKE THE BABIES BECAUSE I CRY LIKE AN IDIOTLKSDJFKLG

I LOVED THIS ONE, HERE WE GO

The moon will sing.

Moon system x reader.

Tags & warnings. A bit of angst (you know me), fluff and some self steem problems.

Word count. 2.4k

Summary.

I loved you like the sun; with no light of my own, I shine only with the light you gave me.

Over time, you came to understand that this couldn't be, at least not in a romantic sense, but you had no problem accepting that the four of you worked incredibly well as best friends.

You loved them, and there was no greater reward than seeing how your love had been a significant support in their lives. Sometimes, there's nothing like watching the love of your life grow. However, no matter how hard you worked, there was something they still couldn't shake.

But the silver lining was that many times, they just needed a little reassurance.

In Steven's case, it was always his memory.

As it turns out, Steven, for logical reasons, didn't remember much of his life, and he never really thought about it until now when he was in this strange balance with Marc and Jake. Even though the three of them stood thinking, "Hey, this is better than how I felt in the past," there were things in his head that they never expressed because sometimes comfort gives you a false sense that you shouldn't complain about your current situation.

That you should be grateful.

And Steven Grant was thankful for many things. He was grateful for Marc and Jake, grateful for you, grateful for his life, and even grateful for Gus's new friend. So when throughout the day he heard or saw something that triggered a false deja vu, he suppressed the urge to cry, knowing that it was probably a memory of Marc that he wasn't identifying correctly.

Much of his life was spent questioning what had been real and what was a product of his imagination.

"Listen, listen," you whispered, looking at him intently.

Both of you were sitting on his carpet right in front of the sofa, your backs against the couch and your shoulders touching.

You were introducing Steven to the magic of Green Day, and he was the only one who could tolerate your habit of pausing every song to say, 'this is the best part,' in a short 3-minute period.

Well, this one was really the best part. The build-up during the 'Til then I walk alone' always gave you shivers, and it did the same for him, but for a completely different reason.

It was silly to think that a young Marc Spector, unsupervised and burdened with a thousand problems to deal with, didn't take advantage of every opportunity to distract himself in any way he could, like at parties.

In 2004, at just 16 years old, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" was one of those things that made you say, "Woah, this is definitely the best thing humanity has ever created." It was at one of those ridiculous parties that Billie Joe Armstrong figuratively opened his eyes.

Suddenly, Steven wasn't with you anymore. He was on an uncomfortable couch surrounded by cigarette smoke, and the taste of beer lingered in his mouth. He could deal with the memory, but not with the flood of feelings that hit him like a runaway truck. The feeling of being a lost child, without parents, without friends, without his brother, and without any desire, fighting not to sink as the days went by.

Sometimes, it was a good reminder of how much of an anchor he was for Marc.

He ripped out his earpiece before the song could finish, and he looked at you with fear. You furrowed your brow, confused but not as detached from the situation as you had been in the past. It wasn't the first time.

"Steven? Are you okay?" you whispered, putting your phone aside to look at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I…," he stammered, closing his eyes for a few seconds just to catch his breath. "It was a… It's nothing."

You placed your hand on his cheek to seek his gaze, and he immediately melted at your touch, his head tilting toward your hand like a puppy seeking affection.

"What happened?"

"I… I remembered."

Oh, so that was it.

You nodded slowly, and your arms slid around his shoulders, he hugged you by the waist to pull you closer to his body. You learned with time that Steven's love language was physical touch.

You felt him squeeze harder with his arms, and his forehead rested on your shoulder.

"It's okay if you want to cry," you knew he was holding back.

Like clockwork, you felt your T-shirt getting wet from his tears.

"I can't anymore," he whispered with difficulty, his body experiencing small spasms from crying. "I can't anymore, I don't know what's… I don't know," he stammered, and you nodded slowly.

"I understand." The position was uncomfortable, but you weren't willing to let go. "I understand, Steven."

"I don't know what's real, I don't know." He took a deep breath. "I was at… at some kind of party," he tried to laugh at his silly memory while sniffing.

"And were they listening to Green Day? It sounds like fun," you joked back with a slight smile, your fingers combing his curls to your liking. "Marc definitely had a Green Day phase."

You managed to make him laugh, even with his difficulty in breathing.

"Maybe," you whispered, trying to get his attention again. "We can talk to him; he'll help you remember."

"He doesn't like to talk about it."

You moved away just enough to look him in the face. Your hands traveled from his shoulders to his cheeks, which you squeezed with your fingers while giving him a small smile.

"He'll understand," you whispered, the tip of your nose brushing against his. Finally, you saw him smile back.

"Do you think so?"

"I do," you confirmed, wrinkling your nose at him affectionately.

For Marc, it all depended on embracing his inner child, both literally and symbolically, the one who was always scared and never knew how to express it.

The sound of one of his crystal glasses shattering made you look up from the sofa. He was looking at the floor in annoyance, and within seconds, you heard a second crash, him hitting the nearest wall.

"Shit!" he exclaimed loudly. You sighed heavily and got up to go to the kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I… yeah," he said, looking at his hand, which had a cut on the palm. You could hear his heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling in front of your eyes.

"Calm down."

"I am calm," he replied immediately, looking at the juice stain on the floor.

"Marc, it's okay." The glass crunched under your shoe, and you almost gave him a nervous tic. You were making an even bigger mess; you were going to get him in trouble.

But with whom?

Who was going to punish him?

"Look at that." Your voice was soft, and he found it ridiculous how your expression wrinkled in concern when you noticed the cut on his hand.

He'd been impaled once; this was nothing.

"It doesn't hurt."

You ignored him, placing your hand under his to bring it closer to your face. Your other hand removed the tiny shard of glass stuck in his skin, and he hissed; it hurt a little, just a little.

Very little.

"Come on, let me…" You whispered, bringing his hand with you. This time, his shoes completed the mess beneath both of you. You turned on the sink and held his hand under the water.

He stayed still, obedient to you. He could feel the rhythm of his heart slowing down.

He watched as you put soap in his palm and then rubbed it with yours as if he were washing his hands himself. It stung, but he paid little attention when you were so close. The genuine concern you felt for him made Marc's stomach turn; this hadn't happened to him before.

The blood stopped flowing within seconds; it wasn't anything serious, just as he had thought.

"Do you think you need a band-aid?"

He thought you were teasing him until he saw you smile with your characteristic tenderness. He slowly shook his head, not knowing what to say.

His gaze dropped to the floor, and you did the same.

"Oh, that."

"Take off your shoes." He moved to the dry part of the floor, doing as he had asked you to do. His tone was so gentle that your smile unconsciously grew on your face.

This was the point you wanted to reach with him.

"Let me pick up the glass, okay? Get a towel to dry this."

And together, as if they were on a children's show, you cleaned up the mess Marc had caused, without raising your voices or arguing.

"Do you want to choose the movie for tonight?" You gave him a little nudge with your shoulder as both of you finished washing your hands, and he pushed you back in the same playful manner.

"I thought that was a given." It's amazing how quickly you can forget your mistakes when no one scares you for making them.

You were willing to stay as long as it took for Marc to understand that accidents were just that—accidents. If only someone had told him that many years ago.

The rest of the night passed as if nothing had happened. He hugged your shoulders, and you ate popcorn from the bowl resting on his stomach. Marc chose the worst action movie you had ever seen, but you enjoyed his silly comments as well as his laughter when the effects were terrible.

A broken glass wasn't the end of the world; it never was.

Topics with Jake were always deeper, both literally and symbolically; the conversations you had about the existence of human beings always seemed like a philosophy class.

Because unfortunately, he still had trouble feeling like a person with autonomy, not just an extension of Marc and Steven's needs.

He wasn't just a tool.

"I don't understand why they need another room." He looked around with a furrowed brow, still not sure how you managed to get rid of all the clutter in that room.

It was completely empty, except for an old desk that Steven refused to get rid of. It was the perfect space.

"For you."

"Huh?" He looked at you as if you were crazy.

"For you. I talked to Steven and Marc, and they both agree that you deserve to have a space for yourself that isn't your car."

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't spend that much time in my car."

"Steven says you like the car more than him."

He thought about it for a moment.

"Well, that's true."

This time, you rolled your eyes.

"But…" He continued. "It's not necessary. I'm sure Steven's books would make better use of the space. Why do I need a room?"

"For listening to music? Reading? Watching those dramatic afternoon novelas? Watching pornogr…”

"Fine! I get it!" He wasn't thrilled with the idea. You could see it as he continued to look around the room, not sure if he was planning something or simply disdainful of the idea.

"Do you like it?"

"No."

He was the most difficult person you knew; that wasn't a surprise. But he gradually warmed up to the idea, especially when you brought him two different posters, each with a completely different painting printed on them.

Café Terrace at Night by Vincent Van Gogh.

Vs.

Las Meninas by Diego Velazquez.

It took him hours to decide; every now and then, he would stop to look at the paintings and examine every detail.

"Did you know…" He caught your attention as you organized some books on the desk, new books he had chosen. "Van Gogh didn't sign this painting?" He pointed at the poster, and you looked up to analyze it as if you were going to refute it. "Historians know it's his because he mentioned it in letters before."

Well, that was something you didn't know.

Steven probably said he knew it from the headspace.

"I had no idea."

"I think I'll go with that one."

"Then that's the one."

And so began the extensive collection of meaningless decorations on the walls of Jake's new room. He had a thousand photos with no order, pictures of Marc and Steven (anyone who walked into the room would think he just had very high self-esteem), pictures of you, cats he saw on the street, his car or cars he thought were cool but would never be his.

He had photos of the moon and Queen posters. Papers that made him look like one of those hoarders from the reality shows you watched with Steven, because when he realized he could find a bit of his reality in the smallest things, he didn't stop.

A parking meter ticket, some from the corner convenience store where he bought spicy potato chips that painted his fingers red, the wrapper from one of his favorite candies, some tickets from different movies at the cinema, that note you left on the passenger seat wishing him a good day.

The collection was so extensive that you'd probably never finish listing it.

Oh, he also had a shopping list from Steven.

He never thanked you out loud, but the fact that he started using the space was enough for you. Ah, and the way he lifted you in his arms to make you laugh.

"Jake! No, no, no!" Your legs were wrapped around his hips, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

"You're amazing, you know that, cariño?"

"Why?"

"Just because you are." He kissed your entire face, oh, never the lips; he didn't cross that boundary even though the temptation was constant, especially when your huge eyes fixed on him in this way, your forehead resting against his.

"Just because you are." He repeated with the same smile.

The truth was, neither Steven, nor Marc, nor Jake had much in mind about what their life was like before you, and that's why they were afraid to think about what it would be like without you in it.

Maybe that was why they were so afraid to take that extra step, why they enjoyed your love the way they did, without giving you the exchange you deserved.

What if it didn't work out? Could they live with the memory of how well you had treated them?

What were they before you?

And what would they be if you weren't there?

None of them wanted to imagine it.

So every night, Steven held you tighter, praying that you would never realize that you deserved more than this, more than fixing someone broken; Marc told you stories you had heard before, as a way to let you know how much he cared, how confident he was that if someone wouldn't judge him, it was you; and Jake kept buying your favorite chocolates as if that would be enough to keep you, oh, and sometimes he kept the wrappers.

If you ever decided to leave, those would be proof that you were once with them.

Mk's tag list :)@ninebluehearts @icreatedthisat317am @onefinnedwonder-fm @shousha133

this one wasn't that bad, right?

[onbearfeet]

Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 3

previous part | part 4

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: AHHH- Thank you all so much for reblogging, liking and commenting on my past chapters!!! I just reached 50 reblogs and it honestly means the world that people are embracing a newbie like me (✿◠‿◠)

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: Steven and Marc have a little...carfuffle when Jake finally lets them front again, after days of taking over. The date plans are set and both parties eager to meet soon but are we surprised when things don't go as planned..?

2,200 words

Steven at home

‘I can’t believe this- how does this even happen Steven?’

‘Mate, I don't know! You were there weren’t you? You know how it happened…’

‘So you’re tellin’ me that any pretty girl can just sit there and you will literally tell them all about our personal business???'

‘How else was I supposed to find out about Jake huh?? Say that he’s my identical twin brother and then have to explain myself-'

‘Steven you would never have had to explain anything! Because this was supposed to be ONE conversation over a non-committal coffee- not a damn first date.’ Marc replies sternly. He looks at Steven in the glass of the fishtank and notices him looking deflated and guilty. Great- now he feels guilty for making Steven feel guilty. ‘I-I am sorry man, I shouldn't've gotten this mad, you know how I am about…personal stuff.’ Marc says sincerely. He really has been trying to be better at communicating, it’s been a feat to get here but he would do anything to make Steven's life easier. ‘It’s alright Marc..you’re right I should call off the date’ Steven says while looking at his hands, remembering your touch on his shoulder. The way you made him trust you so easily, even though he barely knew you. How desperately he wanted to get to know you an- ‘Steven, you know we share a brain right?’ Marc says trying to stop Steven from swooning any further. ‘Look- clearly you like her and she seems to like you as well, so who says this won’t turn out well?’ ‘well- you know: “we share a brain”’ Steven says, mocking Marc's previous comment. ‘Okay okay I get it-  I messed up. I’m sorry. There, will you let me help you now?’ Marc looks at Steven expectantly.

Days passed since they had returned home after you left them in the cafe. Steven was pretty sure Jake had taken over after leaving the coffee-shop but he was finally fronting again after a few days. Steven squints his eyes at Marc but relents ‘alright fine, I don’t know what to text her…I think she might be waiting for me to initiate conversation…’ ‘You realise we wouldn't have this issue if I had fronted and you wouldn't have had the chance to fall in love like a desperate teen-boy’ ‘I thought you said you lay off with the mean comments! And i am NOT in love-’

‘yeahyeah, you’ve never had a girlfriend have you? You must be reeaaally nervous…’ he adds in a singsong voice. Marc won’t let up, he’s being dragged into this mess so he might as well have a bit of fun. ‘Okay now I know you’re just takin’ the piss- are you gonna help me or not?’ Steven says fully aware of his embarrassing situation. ‘Alright, you text and I tell ya how to start, alright?’

‘Oh bollocks- uum okok I-I can do this..’ Steven is fronting now sitting on the office-chair and stares at his phone screen, starting with a simple introduction.

steven is typing...

‘Hiya- it’s me Steven!’

He had written, deleted and rewritten the message about six times before finally sending it.

You answered very quickly, you’d been waiting for him to text since you got home a few days ago. Processing everything that happened between you and steven- and well, Jake.

‘hi:) glad to hear from you. I wanted to apologise for leaving so abruptly, but it was all a bit much to process and i was running super late for work haha…i hope you understand’

‘Of course luv. If you’ve got any questions you can always ask, I hope you know that.’

‘i do’

‘i was actually hoping to ask you some questions on that date you promised me;)’

You seemed a bit more forward over text and Steven did not mind it one bit, since it was just the push he needed.

‘Right! I thought we could meet friday? There's this great vegan restaurant, I'd love to take you there?’

‘sounds great! could you pass me the address of the place?’

‘No need luv- I’ll pick you up.’

‘oh!’

‘that works too’

You hadn’t realised the age gap until this moment. They were probably around 10 years older than you with you being in your mid-twenties. You did notice the wrinkles and silver strands when you first saw Jake but hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was about a decade older than you. Just now as he offered to pick you up did you realise the generational difference. You didn’t have an issue with it, you’ve always liked your partners to be a bit older so this definitely wasn’t a turnoff. If anything it only amplified your attraction.

‘I’d love your address’

‘Whenever you get the chance to send it:)’

‘right! sending it now…’

You send him your address. 

‘Thanks luv. Alright, I’ll see you Friday at 7pm then?’

‘yes! see you tomorrow steven<3’

He sat back, setting his phone on the sink. ‘Alright there's your date’

‘Thanks for taking over, Marc- couldn’t have done it alone’

‘Relax Steven- this was just texting. But you realise I can’t just take over during the date, right?’

‘Of course I know that…doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand by just in case…’ 

‘So- wait, what are we gonna do with Jake's notebook?’

‘I uuhm couldn't find anything besides drawings and sketches of her…I mean at least we had those, otherwise we would’ve never found out about him loaning that book.’

‘By the way…we know Jake likes her as well, by getting to know her better, we have a chance of actually luring Jake out-’

‘That might be true but that's not our goal! I- I actually like her…she might become my first proper girlfriend, I don't wanna mess this up.’ Steven is adamant on getting to know you, very hopeful of the connection he feels towards you. An almost magnetic pull he felt between you, one he has never felt with anyone before.

Marc chuckles at the reminder but reassures Steven, ‘And we won't, I promise, you will do fine Steven’

Friday

It’s 4 am. You’ve been trying to sleep for the past four hours but the thought of getting to see Steven and possibly Jake later today was not letting you relax. If anything it was causing a very persistent tension…in places you really dont wanna delve into. In fact, you’re trying really hard not to think about that tension, which might be the exact reason as to why you can’t seem to find your way to a peaceful slumber. You try to distract yourself by thinking of how this all even started. The way Jake intrigued you since the beginning and had you speechless every time he appeared. And you think about steven- steven who's the polar opposite to jake and is this shy sweetheart that can’t seem to even look you in the eyes but somehow managed to bluntly ask you out on a date. You keep thinking about them and their differences and analyse them, not noticing your eyes slowly shutting closed and your thoughts slowly forming into vivid dreams based on your memories with the boys…you sit up in your bed abruptly remembering your texts with steven. Realising you had shared your private address with a fucking stranger…you hold your head in your hands and push your palms into your eye-sockets trying to calm down. You don't actually know shit about these men…you really should’ve told your friends about them cuz literally no one knows about these encounters. But truly it was all so bizarre and absurd that you really didn’t want your friends to spoil it for you by using anything close to logic or realism. To maybe argue that they could have anything untoward in mind with you. 

You lay back down and finally feel a wave of exhaustion hit you. You want to believe that they actually maybe even like you…of course there is a possibility that Steven only asked you out to find out more about Jake. oh and marc, was it? You wonder what he might be like and if he's anything like his alters. You turn from your clock having hit 5am and finally force yourself into sleep.

You wake up to your alarm blaring and prepare yourself for work. You start the day groggy and tired due to only sleeping four hours. But just the thought of your date tonight has you motivated enough to hurry up and catch the next bus.

Moonboys POV

Marc woke up around noonish since Steven took forever to finally fall asleep. Lately he’d been better but last night he was as jittery as a six year old the night before christmas. Currently standing in the kitchen brewing himself a cup of black coffee and prepping his mug with two brown sugars. ‘So loverboy, what are you planning for tonight?’ He says while wearing an amused smirk on his face.

‘Okay well first off, cool it with the nicknames yeah? And secondly you literally texted it for me yesterday. We are goin’ to my favourite restaurant.’ Steven replies proudly while also ashamed for not even having the balls to text you himself. ‘About that…I don’t think that place is open right now- in fact I think all the restaurants are closed today, no?’ Marc remarks and pours himself the long awaited bitter brew. ‘Wha-Whatareyousayin mate??’

‘Well’ He clears his throat ‘when I woke up I saw today's date and remembered that today is that weird holiday, the only thing open are convenience stores and the 24-hour Tesco’ he says, his voice laced in an amused tone and takes a slow sip of his sweetened coffee. ‘Bollocks- what am I gonna do?...I could cook?’ ‘Steven’ ‘No, I-i can't even make a- a salad! How the hell am i supposed to cook for her if I can't cook marc?!’ he says panicked ‘Steven’ marc sternly interrupts, carefully putting his half empty mug on the counter 

‘I can help you. I may not be amazing at it but I can remember a few things from- from what our dad taught us.’ Marc and Steven rarely talked about their past but recently they were kinda forced to deal with it. Just the fact that they, let alone Marc, can mention anything from that time so casually is kind of a huge step for them. 

Marc and Steven spend the rest of the day planning, buying and preparing the food for the date. The time comes when Steven has to take over the body to get ready to pick you up. He finds a shirt in the back of his closet- same oversized cut as his others but a bit less casual and more sleek looking than the usual shirts he wears. His hair is as unruly and fluffy as usual despite Marc insisting on sleeking it back. He convinces him to use some curling cream he had found in the back of the bathroom drawer.

Steven applies it sceptically, coming to the conclusion that it does look pretty good. He makes his way to your address making sure to ring on the right door. Basically buzzing from anxiety, Marc is doing everything to keep him calm and rehearse with him what he was gonna do and say when you ringed him in and opened your door, knowing full well, that all the preparation would fly out the window when he actually met you…Jake is silently watching this all transpire and cant help but be amused at all this, not admitting that he was actually a bit nervous himself.

You came back from work tired BUT extremely excited to get ready. You had to stay a bit longer than anticipated and thus only had about one hour to get ready. Hopping in the shower as quickly as possible you try to calm down under the warm streams of water hitting your body, melting all the tension out of your back, shoulders and sore legs. Work had been exhausting and this shower was proving to get difficult to leave. But the alarm you had set to remind yourself of the time, successfully cut your relaxation short. You quickly exited your shower wrapping your body in a fluffy white towel. Wiping the steamy mirror to see your reflection more clearly, you start getting ready. Adding whatever products you use to your hair and applying sweet smelling lotion to your body, basically doing any- and everything to make you feel as confident and ready as possible for your date, who was supposed to arrive iiiin…twenty minutes?!

You hurried your makeup routine and rushed to your room quickly picking out an outfit you felt sexy in but also had a grounding and comfy vibe. You threw on a beige knitted sweater, which had an oversized fit with a mini-jean skirt. Paired with sheer brown tights, thigh-high beige cashmere socks and brown leather knee-high, high-heeled boots. Finishing off the look with your favourite jewellery and accessories, you look over at the clock. It's 6.50pm and you are just adding the last finishing touches to your look and making sure you've moved all the important things from your ‘work-bag’ to your ‘going out purse’ when the door rings. ‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

a/n: hope yall liked this chapterrr- in the next chapter you'll be able to read all about the date and i am SO excited for yall to read about it *squeals* don't mean to toot my own horn but GURL it's so good i already wanna post it ♪(´▽｀)

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

[oddballwriter]

How would each of them react to the reader telling them that they’re ready for another little one?

Warnings: There's talk about Marc's trauma. Are you surprised? You shouldn't be. 

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

Steven Grant

Okay so I already said in my original Moon Dad post that Steven is the type of man who wants a bunch of kids with you

Like I literally said that he would be the stay at home dad with a million photos of all of his kids and talks all about their achievements, big or small

So when you say you want another kid he's actually been on board since you had/adopted your first

He doesn't really care about the gender of the second kid even though I've made it clear that I just see him being a girl dad

Of course he has a talk with your first to say the whole "You're going to have a sibling and they'll need a lot of attention but that doesn't mean we love you any less.". That whole thing.

Though he does like the idea of having one of each. So if your first is a girl then he'd want a boy next. But again. He doesn't really care.

He's just happy because he gets to have another little one running around

Marc Spector

He'll need a bit to think about it and sit with the idea

It's not that he doesn't want to have a big happy family with you. I actually feel like he does want the whole happy family with the nice house and picket fence

But we know that he has a good amount of self doubt

Sure you and your first helped him kick the idea that he doesn't deserve a happy life but the idea of a second puts him in a funk for a few days for obvious reasons

He will leave it or make the effort to leave it and say yes but he just needs that moment to mentally prepare correctly

Marc does his best to prepare your first into being an older sibling and what that entails and means

It's the usual briefing that most older siblings get when there's going to be a little sibling. "Don't do anything bad or risky because they'll copy you." "They're going to follow you around a lot." "Be gentle"

Marc leaves behind the baggage the best he can and just asks that they love each other the same way he loved his little brother

Being a dad heals him in a way and it heals even more when he has more than one kid

I do think he imagines just two though. Marc hardly even thought of a second child so he's defiantly never thought of a third or more even

But maybe Steven can convince him with the "one for each of us" idea and I mean... the system are like brothers so maybe a third kid wouldn't be too bad

Jake Lockley

I think Jake just says yes because he's just cool with any number of kids you want

He also wouldn't really care about the second one's gender because like I said in my og post he doesn't care if he has a girl she's going to know how to do certain things and maybe how to be rugged

I do feel like he has this sense of pride if he has a good amount of kids. It makes his dad level stronger

I also feel like he gets more methodical in his work and better able to expect the unexpected

Because let's face it. Children are chaotic and unpredictable. So he knows to keep his senses up

Too quiet? Something's happening. Everyone too still? Someone is going to bolt. Giving glances? Plotting.

Jake Lockley knows how this works because everyday his kids are doing something

So yeah, sure. Add another. Add as much as you want.

[holylulusworld]

The assistant (7) - A lost Captain

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader

A/N: Okay, I went a little crazy with all the CEvans charaters in this one.

Warnings: angst, flirty CEvans characters, language, plussized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, fluff, domestic brothers, mentions of anal fixation, remorse

The assistant masterlist

Part 6

“Whoa, Capsicle. What crawled up your ass?” Tony snickers.

He only wanted to check on Steve, because he didn’t hear from him for the better of two days. Now he’s watching Steve despair.

His office is a mess. There are papers splattered all over the floor and his desk. His phone won’t stop ringing, and the printer makes an odd noise as it tries to print some pages.

“Uh-I like how you decorated your office. Chaos and despair look good on you.”

“Tony, not now,” Steve jerks his head toward the cocky billionaire. “Since you fired my assistant…” He shakes his head. “No, since Y/N is gone, this office is a mess.”

“Well shit, Capsicle. You wanted her gone. Who would’ve thought, that she takes harassment and the way you treated her personally?” Tony sneers. “It was you and Sandy making the best assistant and friendliest person I ever met leave. Shame on you.”

“I was-“ Steve wrinkles his forehead. “I don’t know, Tony. Maybe it was the way Sandy treated me. She showered me with attention, and deep down inside, the young boy was all too happy to give in to her advances.”

Tony makes a retching sound. “Steve, too much information. I don’t want to know about your sex life. Keep little Steve out of our conversations. Please.”

“I didn’t…I mean…I would’ve but…you know,” Steve sighs. “I didn’t have sex with her. Sandy got mad as you fired her, and I refused to help her get her job back. It took me a while to realize that I made a grave mistake.”

“Good for you,” Tony smirks. He looks around the room one last time. “Don’t worry. Rumors say Y/N found a new job in no time.”

He hates to admit it, but guilt is eating Steve up. “Good for her. I hope they treat her better than I did. I even forgot to buy her lunch.”

“Yeah…I mean…she will get free cookies and cupcakes every day. Not to forget to mention they will shower her with attention.”

“Who?” Steve quirks a brow. “What are you talking about? Y/N is not that kind of girl! She’s a good girl.”

 “Poor sheltered Steve,” Tony grins. “She moved in with six brothers, Capsicle. Do you think they let her move in to play cards all night?"

Steve looks at his shield, swallowing thickly. What has he done?

Steven Grant Rogers. The golden boy. Captain America himself pushed you into the arms of six men.

He doesn’t want to think about all the things they will do to you.

“How’s that?” Jake smiles wildly when you take a large bite of the cookie he made only for you. He loves to experiment in the kitchen, and even more to share the experience with you.

“Perfect,” you chew audibly. “Is that cinnamon and blueberry?” You moan. “The taste is…I can’t describe it.”

“I’ll put it on the card.”

You love how excited Jake gets when he bakes. He grins and does a little dance before adjusting his classes.

“Aw, I love this so much more than sitting at my office all day,” you glance at the cookies, licking your lips. “I shouldn’t eat more, but…”

“Free cookies for my girl,” Jake shoves another cookie in your mouth. “You’re perfect the way you are, Sweetie. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Jake watches you munch another cookie. He just loves watching you relaxed and happy. “You are going to make me burp if you stuff me with more cookies!”

“I got cupcakes too,” he purrs and points at the cupcakes he baked this morning. “Which one do you want to taste first?”

“You’re a menace,” you sigh. “I can’t eat more, Jake. I love your food but, I’m full.”

“Alright. Jake and Y/N are not around. Now we can get to the plan,” Lloyd points out. “We need to strike hard and fast. I want a hand grenade in Captain Asshole’s ass within the next few days.”

“Lloyd, we talked about your anal fixation, didn’t we?” Andy rolls his eyes as his brother won’t stop making stupid plans. “Did you forget he’s living at the Avengers tower, surrounded by the Avengers? They have a Hulk; we only got you…and your mustache.”

“Ah, we got a little more than my mustache to beat the shit out of Captain America.” Lloyd unlocks his phone to show Andy the tank he got not months ago.

“You’ve got a fucking tank? Lloyd, did you lose your mind? You can’t buy a tank!” Andy throws his hands up as his brother is rather unimpressed. “I mean it!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andy,” Lloyd tuts. “I didn’t buy it. It was a gift from one of our business partners. They are very generous.”

“Yeah, because you fucked her,” Ari sneers. “I wouldn’t have poked that bitch with a stick.” He shudders.

“My dick made sure that we got a tank and a rocket launcher for free.” Lloyd proudly puffs his chest. “What?” He glares at Curtis. “Don’t act like you are better. You fucked every bimbo coming to your path.”

“Hmm…if you are busy fucking other girls, I can try to make a move on Y/N,” Mike says more to himself than his brothers. He nods, and already thinks about your first date. “I’ll ask her out.”

“Hey, we saw her first,” Ari and Curtis say in unison. “If anyone asks her out, it’s me.”

“Can you stop with the sync shit?” Lloyd wrinkles his nose. “I hate when you do this! And I’m the one who saw her first.”

“Jake saw her first,” Andy corrects. “But I don’t care. I think Pookie is the right girl for me. She’s smart, cute, and sweet. I like it.”

“You like to corrupt the sweet ones,” Curtis snaps at his brother. “You’ll keep your hands off her!”

“Guys! We made…” you burst into the room, grinning wildly. “You need to try the cupcakes Jakie made!” You frown as the brothers look like they were about to attack each other. “What’s wrong?”

“We tried to decide on what we want to order for dinner,” Lloyd lies. He doesn’t want you to know they were fighting over you. “How was your day, Cupcake?”

“It was great! I checked on the numbers for a few hours, and then Jake let me taste his cookies!”

Lloyd’s features darken. “He let you taste his cookies?” He cocks his head to size Jake up.

“Yeah. He made some with cinnamon and blueberries,” you excitedly tell the brothers about the cookies and cupcakes. “How about pasta for dinner?”

“If you want noodles, you’ll get them.” Lloyd purrs. “How about a real thick—” Andy slaps the back of his brother’s head to stop him from saying something stupid. “Let’s order takeout.”

“Let’s order food and have a…MOVIE NIGHT!” You clap your hands. “What do we want to watch?”

The brothers watch you with amusement as you walk around the room, telling them every detail about the movie you want to watch with them.

“You heard the lady,” Mike says. “We need to order food!”

Part 8