#no idea if marc is somewhere in there

[palebluebirdcomputer]

Vengeance of the Moon Knight theory

[emmylksblog]

Hey I love your stories and account

I wanted to ask if you could do a Hector fort x fem reader story

The reader is Marc guiu‘s sister and she mets hector fort for the first time at an after party (party for winning a match) and then you can come up with something I’m not that creative😭

DANCING DESIRES // H.FORT

requested

content: suggestive, smut

warnings: bad written smut

words: 3613

a/n: sorry for being so late, i got writers block and also tried to figure out how to write smut, hope it’s not that lame 😭

The party is hot and cramped. You push through drunk bodies sweating through clothes and perfume. You don't like parties, but you're here because your brother was insistent that you came here.

Suddenly, someone grabs your hand, yanking you to the side. You turn around, coming face-to-face with Hector Fort. Your brother's teammate and best friend.

His eyes are dark and intense as they lock onto yours, and his grip is firm. "What are you doing here by yourself?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth.

You scan his face, noticing the slightly off-balance nature and the smell of alcohol on his breath. Yep, he's definitely had a few too many drinks.

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual. He’s very handsome, with his tousled hair and his intense gaze. Focus, you think to yourself.

"Me? I'm just enjoying a drink after my game," he says, a sly smile playing at the corner of his lips. "But I couldn't help noticing you alone over here. Te ves un poco perdida. (You look a little lost)"

You roll your eyes, feeling a flush of annoyance. "I'm not lost. I'm just here against my will, watching out for my idiot brother. He's somewhere around here, getting drunk off his ass."

Hector chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, so you're the responsible one. That's a shame, I was hoping for some fun tonight."

"Yeah well, somebody has to be responsible," you say, unable to help feeling a spark of attraction to his confident arrogance. Bad idea, very bad idea, you should just walk away, you think to yourself.

Hector leans in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Come on, lighten up a little. I bet you can be fun when you want to be," he says, his voice low and seductive.

You scoff, trying to act unphased by his charm. "Oh please, I've seen your type before. I bet you've got a dozen girls eating out of the palm of your hand at every party you go to."

He grins, unashamed. "And yet here I am, wanting to talk to you." He steps closer, invading her personal space. "There's just something about you that's different. I can't quite put my finger on it."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "That was the most cliché line I've ever heard. Do you use that with every girl you meet?"

Hector laughs, not seeming bothered by your bluntness, if anything it only seems to intrigue him more. "I don't need pickup lines to get girls. But I was hoping it would work on you," he says with a coy smile.

You roll your eyes again and shake your head. "As if. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that."

His smile widens, his eyes lighting up with a challenge. "Oh yeah? And what do I get if I prove to you that I'm serious?"

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "You first have to prove to me why I even should give you my time."

Hector steps closer still, now only a breath away. His voice drops to a low, seductive murmur. "Because you're the most beautiful, captivating woman in this entire room. And I can't take my eyes off of you."

Your heart jumps in your chest, caught off guard by his directness. You try to stay cool, but you can't help the hint of a flush rising to your cheeks. "That's a start. But you're going to have to do better than flattery."

Hector grins, loving the fact that he's gotten a reaction out of her. "Then how about I show you instead? Come dance with me."

You hesitate for a moment, caught between wanting to shut him down and secretly wanting to see where this goes. Finally, you decide to throw caution to the wind. "Fine. One dance."

He grins triumphantly and takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor. The music is loud and the air is thick with bodies grinding together. Hector pulls you close to him, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Suddenly interrupting the rhythm of your dance your brother Marc emerges from the crowd.

Marc's eyes flick between the two of you, his expression changing from surprise to irritation. "Qué estás haciendo con ella? (what are you doing with her?) " he asks Hector, his voice low and protective.

Hector grins sheepishly, clearly trying to avoid causing a scene. "Calm down, Marc. I was just having a chat with your pretty sister here."

Marc's eyes narrow as he steps closer to the two of you. "Yeah, I can see that. But why do you have your hands all over her?"

"Marc, relájate. Todo está bien. (, relax. Everything's alright) Hector's just had a bit too much to drink," you say, trying to calm your overprotective brother down.

Marc looks at Hector skeptically, but he seems to relax a little at your words. "Are you sure? You don't want me to kick his ass?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head at your overprotective brother. "Marc, eres muy ridículo a veces. Hector está borracho y solo estaba hablando conmigo. Además, él todavía es tu mejor amigo, ¿no es así?" ("Marc, you are very ridiculous sometimes. Hector is drunk and was just talking to me. Besides, he is still your best friend, isn't he?")

Marc huffs, still not fully convinced. "Yeah, he's my best friend. But you're my sister, and I don't like seeing him putting his hands all over you."

You can't help but laugh at your brother's protectiveness. "Marc, I can handle myself, you know that. I'm not some fragile little flower. Besides, Hector's harmless."

Hector chuckles, clearly enjoying the dynamic between you and your brother. "Yeah, I'm harmless. And I have to say, your sister here is quite feisty. You should give her more credit."

Marc looks at Hector and then at you, his gaze softening. "Fine, I'll back off. But if you do anything to hurt her, I will kick your ass. Got it?"

Hector holds up his hands in surrender, his expression mock-serious. "Understood, boss. I promise I'll behave."

Marc gives Hector a firm tap on the shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. Though you can't hear what he's saying, you see Hector's expression soften, and he nods at whatever your brother had said. Marc then shoots you a final protective look before disappearing into the crowd.

"What did he say to you?" you ask Hector curiously, wondering what your brother could have said that made him look so unusually serious.

You can't help but think about how protective your brother had acted just now, wondering what it was that made him so adamant that you not spend time with Hector. He must think I'm not capable of handling myself, you think to yourself, annoyance prickling up your spine.

"I can tell what you're thinking," Hector says suddenly, breaking the thread of your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, surprised. "And what am I thinking, listo (smartass)?"

Hector grins at your sassiness. "You're thinking that your brother is too protective, and you're wondering why he's so against the idea of us getting to know each other."

You frown, not liking how accurately he had guessed your thoughts. "And if I am? So what?"

He leans in closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If you want to know the truth, I think I know why he's so protective."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of you. "Oh yeah? And what's the reason behind my brother's overprotectiveness?

Hector grins, clearly enjoying having your full attention. "Promise you won't get mad if I tell you?"

You huff, already getting a sense of what he's going to say. "I can't guarantee that. But go on, tell me anyway."

Hector leans in even closer, his voice low and intimate. "I think it's because your brother knows me better than almost anyone. And he knows that I have a bit of a reputation for being a heartbreaker."

You look him straight in the eye, not intimidated. "Is that so? You think you can break my heart that easily?"

Hector chuckles, clearly enjoying your confidence. "I didn't say I could, I just said that's what your brother thinks. But let's be real, I could probably have you begging for more within a week if I wanted to."

Feeling emboldened, you step closer to Hector and whisper in his ear, your voice low and sultry. "Bold of you to assume you could break my heart. But if you think you're up to the challenge, I bet I could have you begging for more before the night is through."

Hector's eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting your forwardness. The challenge has been issued, and he can't back down now. "Is that so? You think you could have me wrapped around your little finger that easily?"

You grin, enjoying the flicker of doubt you see in his eyes. "Oh, I know I could. But the question is, are you brave enough to take the bet?"

Hector's gaze heats up with a mix of desire and caution. "I don't back down from a challenge. But you better bring your A-game if you think you can tame me so easily."

You lean in closer, your breath tickling his ear. "Oh, don't worry. I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Feeling a sense of victory, you decide it's time to start playing your game. You press closer to Hector, your body almost flush against his. You tilt your head, allowing your lips to brush against his ear as you speak. "Here's how this is going to play out. We're going to dance, and every now and then, I'm going to touch you in a way that you wouldn't expect."

Hector shivers, the sensation of your lips against his ear sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. "And what happens if I can't handle it?" he asks, his voice hoarse with anticipation.

You chuckle, enjoying how quickly he's unraveling under your touch. "If you can't handle it, then I win," you reply smoothly. "But be warned, I don't play fair."

Hector grins, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Good. I like a little bit of chaos."

He pulls you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to lead you in a slow, sultry dance. His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

True to your word, you begin to make your moves. Every now and then, you'll brush against his body in a way that's just a little bit more than innocent. You'll lean in to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing against his jawline. You'll let your fingertips trail lightly down his chest, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.

Hector is struggling to maintain his composure. Every touch, every move you make is driving him crazier than the last. He tries to focus on breathing, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. The desire to take control of the situation is growing stronger, but he's determined not to let you win so easily.

Hector is clearly not one to be outdone. As the dance continues, his own touches become more intentional and deliberate. His hands slide from your hips to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. His fingers dance along the edge of your clothing, occasionally skimming across bare skin. He bends his head, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers words that are more than a little provocative.

Each touch from him only fans the flames of desire further. You can feel the heat emanating from his body as his movements become more assertive. He pulls you against him tightly, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes it difficult to think straight. His lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make your knees weak.

Seeing that Hector is starting to gain the upper hand, you silently acknowledge that it's time to up the ante. As you continue to dance, you decide to pull out your "ace in the sleeve". You angle your body so that your back is against his chest, and then you roll your hips against him in a slow, seductive movement.

Hector lets out a sharp intake of breath as your body grinds against his, the action taking him by surprise. His hands on your hips suddenly grip tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggles to maintain his composure. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as his breathing quickens, an obvious sign that he's losing the game.

Emboldened by his reaction, you continue to move against him, enjoying the effect you're having on him. You let your head fall back, exposing your neck to his gaze, and you know he's completely lost. He's too wrapped up in the sensations you're creating to resist anymore.

Hector loses all self-control, the desire to have you all to himself taking over. He snatches your hand and pulls you away from the dance floor, leading you through the crowd and towards a secluded area.

Hector drags you into a private bathroom, the sound of the music muted as soon as the door closes behind you. He pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours in a way that's both possessive and desperate.

He doesn't say a word, instead his mouth crashing down on yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands begin to roam, exploring every inch of your body with an intensity that's almost primal.

Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the sudden whirlwind of sensation. Hector's kisses are greedy and relentless, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to get closer, to claim every inch of you.

He lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you across the room. He deposits you on the edge of the sink, his body wedged in between your thighs. His kisses trail down your neck, his teeth nipping and biting at your skin as he presses himself even closer.

Hector's hands move impatient to remove any barriers between you. He pulls the dress over your head, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in only a bra.

He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing over the skin of your chest, his gaze dark with desire. "Eres aún más hermosa de lo que imaginé." ("You're even more beautiful than I imagined.")

Your hands are just as eager, tugging off his shirt and exploring the hard planes of his chest and stomach. Your fingers trail along the ridges of his muscles, relishing the feel of his skin against yours.

He growls lowly, the sensation of your touch driving him even wilder. He pulls you back against him, his mouth finding your neck once more. His hands move to your back, deftly unclasping your bra.

The garment falls away, and his lips move lower, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your chest. He worships your body with his mouth, his hands roaming every inch of you as he feasts on your skin.

Hector's lips and hands continue to roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His kisses become more demanding as he continues to taste your skin, his fingertips tracing light, teasing patterns on your flesh. He whispers your name, his voice deep and rough with desire.

"Me estás volviendo loco," ("You're driving me crazy,") he says, his lips against your ear. "I want you so badly, I can hardly stand it."

Your hands tangle in his hair, holding on as he worships your body with his mouth. You can feel the heat of his skin against yours, the muscles of his chest rippling under your touch. You arch against him, wanting more, needing more.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the sink. His mouth moves down the center of your chest, his tongue trailing a path of kisses down to the hollow of your stomach. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his voice a growl.

"Tell me you want me," he says, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat, the raw hunger in his eyes setting your body aflame. You pull him back up to your face, your hands framing his face.

"I want you," you murmur, your voice low and sultry. "I want you so badly, it's almost painful."

Hector growls again, the sound primal and feral. He captures your lips in a savage kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he presses himself flush against you. You can feel the proof of his desire, hard and demanding, against your hip.

Growling against your lips, he devours you in a hungry kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. His grip on you tightens, as if he's scared to let you go. His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his erection against your hip with an insistent need. Fuck...

Your mind is a haze of lust and need, your body burning for his touch. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, trying to get as much contact as possible. Your hands roam over his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving marks that will leave a delicious reminder tomorrow.

His body tenses, a moan escaping his throat as he starts rocking his hips, rubbing his erection against your heat. Fuck... He grunts, his hands groping at your body in desperate need.

The feeling of you tightening around him brings Hector to the edge. He groans as he reaches his release, letting out a deep, visceral sound as he pushes himself deeper into you. His muscles tense and his head falls forward, resting against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

You hold onto him, your body continuing to feel the aftershocks of your own release. Hector's weight presses you against the sink, his body still trembling with the aftermath of pleasure.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there that you've never seen before, a raw honesty that makes your heart flutter.

He strokes your cheek, tracing his thumb over your lips. "You're amazing," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You reach up and touch his face, wanting to return the tender gesture. "Neither have I," you murmur, your voice filled with a mix of wonder and awe.

Hector leans in and kisses you again, this time it's gentle and slow. It's a kiss that's laced with affection and tenderness, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of moments ago.

He lifts you from the edge of the sink, setting you gently on the ground. He gazes at you, his eyes roaming over your still-trembling body. "We should probably fix ourselves before someone comes looking for us," he says with a soft chuckle.

You nod, knowing that he's right. You quickly pick up your discarded clothes and begin to get dressed, your movements a bit shaky from the intensity of the moment. Hector helps you, gently pulling your arms into the sleeves and zipping your dress.

Once you're both presentable, Hector glances at the mirror and runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. He looks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, we didn't get to finish our dance."

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're right, we didn't. Is that your way of asking me for a second dance?"

Hector grins, the cocky smirk returning to his face. "What if it is? Are you going to turn me down?"

You shake your head, a hint of regret in your expression. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I can't. My brother will start to get suspicious if we disappear for too long."

Hector's expression falls a bit, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Ah, right. Your brother." He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. "I guess we'll have to save the second dance for another night then."

You give him a soft smile, trying to reassure him. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find another opportunity. Plus, it gives us something to look forward to, right?"

Hector grins again, the disappointment replaced with a hint of excitement. "You're right. Something to look forward to." He reaches out and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the gentle gesture. "Just so you know, I expect some fancy footwork next time," you tease, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Hector chuckles, that cocky smirk returning to his face. "My footwork is always fancy, darling. You're the one who's going to have a hard time keeping up with me."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Is that a challenge? Because I might surprise you with my own dancing skills."

Hector laughs, pulling you closer to him. "It's a promise. Next time, we'll dance until the sun comes up."

He gazes at you for a moment, seeming to memorize every detail of your face. Then, he reluctantly releases you. "We should really go back now before your brother starts questioning our absence."

Hector and you make one last check in the mirror, ensuring that you're both presentable. Then, he opens the door and leads you back into the ballroom, where the music and laughter of the other guests envelop you once more.

The rest of the night is spent dancing, drinking, and chatting with friends. However, throughout the evening, you can't help but feel the heat of Hector's gaze on you, and the promise of a second dance hanging in the air between you.

[belovedspector]

Leap Year

Pairing: Jake Lockley x gn!reader (mentions of Steven Grant x gn!reader and Marc Spector x gn!reader)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Jake has never celebrated his birthday. He didn’t even have a birthday, until you urged him to pick a date. Of course, he picks the most chaotic date possible.

Content: Fluff, one use of a pet name (honey)

A/N: I was thinking about the fact that it’s a leap year, and this idea sort of just came to me. I don’t have much else to say about it. Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

“When’s your birthday?” you ask out of the blue one day over dinner.

Jake pauses, forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth. Carefully, he places the fork back on his plate and says, “Don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Jake shrugs. “I know Marc’s is March ninth. I didn’t exactly check the calendar on the day I first showed up.”

“What about Steven?” Your food is now totally forgotten.

“Same as me, I guess,” Jake says. He looks into the reflection of his glass, likely listening to one of his alters.

You sit there for a few moments, deep in thought. Finally, you look up at Jake. “Well, then you’ll have to pick one.”

“What?”

“You and Steven should pick your own birthdays.”

Oh, boy. Jake knows that look in your eyes, knows from the way they’re sparkling that there’s no way you’re letting this go.

“Look, I dunno—” he tries.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” you encourage him.

Jake knows there’s no getting out of this. “Fine,” he relents, pretending to be more annoyed than he actually is. Really, he thinks your enthusiasm is adorable, and he’d do just about anything to make you happy.

You cheer. “Great! Do you want me to help you pick a date? I should have some astrology books around here somewhere—”

“Astrology?” Jake scoffs. “I don’t need astrology. I already know what date I want.”

“Oh? Which one?” You lean forward in anticipation.

“February twenty-ninth.” Jake sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“February twenty-ninth?” you repeat. “Why?”

Jake shrugs. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, I—” You sigh. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ll put it in my calendar,” you say with a smile. “Now, we just need to find a birthday for Steven.”

“He’s already blabbing on about it.” He rolls his eyes fondly. “I think he’ll take you up on the astrology book offer.”

“Perfect!” you say. He can see the moment you get that faraway look in your eye, no doubt already analyzing which sign would match Steven best.

Seasons change, time marches on, and Jake completely forgets about the birthday conversation. Sure, Steven had made a big fuss over choosing his own date for a while, but, once that was settled, there was no need to think about the matter anymore.

So, it comes as a shock when, on a random winter day, Steven has called out of work and insisted that Jake take the body. Jake tries to argue, to get Marc on his side, but it’s no use. His alters slip deeper into the headspace, leaving Jake alone for the time being.

He notices you’re already out of bed, and it’s at that moment he hears movement coming from the kitchen. He throws on a t-shirt and sweatpants and gets up to investigate. Sure enough, there you are, singing to yourself as you stand at the stove.

Jake has spent a lifetime creeping in the shadows, so he’s gotten very good at sneaking up on people. Silently, he moves across the kitchen and wraps his arms around you from behind. You startle before laughing and leaning into the touch.

“Good morning, Jake,” you say brightly.

“Morning, honey,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck. “What’re you doing?”

“Making pancakes.”

Jake perks up at that. “What’s the occasion?”

You laugh. “Don’t you know what today is?”

Jake thinks about it. “March first?” he tries.

“It’s a leap year, silly,” you correct him, “so it’s February twenty-ninth. Happy birthday!”

Oh, right, that.

“You didn’t have to do anything special,” Jake protests.

“Are you kidding? This is the first-ever birthday you’re celebrating. We’ve gotta make it special.”

Jake feels something warm blooming in his chest, a feeling that is occurring more and more often when he spends time with you.

You plate the now-finished pancakes—banana, his favorite—and lead him over to the kitchen table, which has already been set. You dish out the pancakes and pour two glasses of juice before joining Jake at the table.

“Is this why Steven and Marc were being weird this morning?” Jake asks as he cuts into his pancakes.

You chew thoughtfully. “Probably. I swore them to secrecy.”

Jake grunts. “Really, you didn’t have to do all this.”

“Oh, Jake,” you say with a grin, “we’re just getting started.”

Jake hates drawing attention to himself. It’s the antithesis of his being; at least, it used to be, when he was still keeping himself hidden from his alters and working for Khonshu. Now, even though he can be more present, it still makes him uncomfortable to be in the spotlight. So, being the center of attention, the “birthday boy,”  isn’t really his style.

Of course, you know all this, and you plan the day around it. There will be no impromptu singing of “Happy Birthday” by waiters and random patrons in a restaurant—not on your watch. Instead, you spend a nice, quiet day together, walking around the city like a couple of tourists. It’s a mild day, not nearly as cold as it could be, so you even get to spend some time in the park, one of Jake’s favorite spots to relax.

It’s rare for Jake to get to spend a whole day with you like this. Sure, he and his alters have figured out a pretty fair schedule, but between work and life, it doesn’t always work out. Some days, he only catches glimpses of you in the morning, and come evening you’re so tired that he practically has to carry you to bed.

On the way back to your home, you make a quick stop at a little building with a pink awning. “Lily’s Bakery,” the sign reads in looping cursive. You pop in quickly and return moments later with a matching pink box.

“What’s that?” Jake asks.

“You’ll see,” you say with a glint in your eye.

After you’ve cooked and eaten Jake’s favorite dinner, you bring out the pink box again. You tell Jake to close his eyes, and, with a little eye roll, he complies. There’s some rustling, the sound of a box opening, and the click of a lighter before you say, “Okay, open!”

Jake uncovers his eyes, and he’s shocked by the gasp that leaves him. In front of him is a chocolate chip cookie cake that you’ve added candles to. Blue letters spell out, “Happy Birthday Jake,” and there’s even a little taxi cab drawn with frosting.

“I hope this is okay,” you say quickly. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of cake…”

“Are you kidding? This is perfect,” Jake assures you, blinking back the tears in his eyes.

When you sing “Happy Birthday” to him in the comfort of your home, Marc and Steven join in from the headspace.

“Okay, blow out the candles and make a wish!” you say.

Jake doesn’t need any wishes. He already has everything he could ever want right in front of him.

“What about next year?” Jake asks as the two of you lay in bed that night.

“What do you mean?” You roll onto your side to face him.

“My birthday next year. Do we skip it?’

“Of course not,” you say. “We’ll just celebrate the day before or after.”

Jake hums.

“Is that okay?” you ask.

If you had asked Jake that a year ago, the answer would have been a flat-out “no.” He hated drawing attention to himself, hated being fussed over. He felt like he didn’t deserve it.

What a difference a year makes, though. Instead, he smiles at you and says, “That sounds nice.”

“Happy birthday, Jake,” you whisper, leaning over to kiss him softly before returning your head to the pillow. “I love you.”

By the time he murmurs back, “I love you, too,” you’re already asleep.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! Also, I have some ideas for follow-ups with Steven picking his birthday, plus celebrating Marc’s birthday, so let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in! :)

[oddballwriter]

Valentine's Day with the Moon Boys

Warnings: None that I really know of. To be fully honest I can't think of anything at all but if there is any then just let me know. 

Author’s Snip: Happy early Valentine's to you all! 💘

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

Steven Grant

The literal archetype of a Valentine

Steven gets you a mixed bouquet of your favorite flowers and some other flowers that mean something in flower language in regards to love, a gift basket of your favorite candy and snacks, and a handwritten card that is basically a love letter

And he gets you two a spot at that fancy restaurant you like

It's literally how you see a couple celebrating Valentine's Day in the movies

He's happy about any gift you got him too but honestly he, and the rest of them, love spending the day with you the most

Cliché? Yeah. But it's true. Steven loves quality time and being with you. And Valentine's Day makes it a bit more special even though they all love you year round

He also gets a bit giddy when you call him your Valentine even though he's your boyfriend/husband, it just makes him blush a little

Marc Spector

Marc is the type of person to complain about Valentine's Day and goes on the whole "It's just a way to sell overpriced chocolate and stuff." but he'll be damned if he doesn't do something with you either

He hates the commercialization of the holiday but he's your Valentine regardless, them's the rules

Marc also doesn't really like the whole fact that everyone is in all the restaurants to have dinner because then there's no parking and it takes a long time to get seated

If you want to actually go then he sucks it up because it's still nice to go out with you, but he actually prefers ordering from the restaurants and eating at home

You guys honestly have more power and say over things if you order delivery from there. If you want to feel fancy then you guys can get the fancy plates and put the food on them, buy some wine or whatever dress the dinner table with a cloth and candles, dress all fancy, and just eat there.

No loud chatter of other people or a waiter to come in at the wrong time and ruin the moment between the two of you.

Maybe you want to slow dance after eating. And you can just do that. You can just walk into the living room put on some music and gently slow dance and sway for as long as you want.

It's honestly so romantic with it genuinely just being the two of you together with no interruptions

Jake Lockley

Jake might be the one who takes you on a "normal" date, as in it's like all your other dates or it's not your typical "Valentine's Day" type of date. But he makes sure that it still feels special in its own way.

Like you do to the same diner and spot that you usually do but there's just this air to it that makes it so deeply intimate and romantic in its own way that only you two feel

I do like the idea of Jake basically "running away from a day" with you where you two just hop into his car and drive somewhere, sort of go on an adventure

I honestly don't know how to describe it other than you guys just go somewhere and there's just this type air to it that makes it something that isn't just the fact that it's Valentine's day

Like idk maybe you find this clearing that has a nice view or you just drive someplace specific

Something that later on down the line becomes "your spot"

You guys are basically having your own Rapunzel and Eugene on the boat moment or any type of moment where its just very much a loving/falling in love scene except you guys are probably falling even deeper in love

Taglist: Applications open

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi Fen! Hope you're doing well <3

I've been having such a hard time going to sleep lately and I was wondering if the moon boys ever have that problem - when they're not trying to stay up that is. So what do you think? Do any of them have trouble falling asleep? What do they do when that happens? And how do you think they'd help a Reader who couldn't fall asleep?

I’m so sorry you’re having trouble sleeping! (And that it’s taken me so long to reply) I hope you're doing better now <3

Rating: PG  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: brief mention to sex

Steven

Doesn’t have trouble sleeping, and can go to sleep quite easily when he’s not fighting it AND when Marc isn’t co-fronting (Marc’s sleeping issues bleed over into Steven).

When you can’t sleep though Steven is more than happy to stay up with you.

“Spend most of my adult life on 2 hours of sleep a day, didn't I? Yes. So this isn’t even water off a duck’s back, this is air off a duck’s back, this is not even noticeable love.” 

Will suggest lots of different things to do: reading (he will read to you if you want to try to sleep), watch something, listen to music, go on a weird London at 3:30am walk, “the night tube is running and we could go to 24 hour karaoke in Soho?”, “did you know these libraries are open at 4am?”, “I know a 24 gym that has a pool, we could go swimming!”, “Beckenham Place Park actually has open water swimming, I bet we’d be the only ones there! But I’m gonna wear a nose clip because I don’t want possible brain-eating amoeba up my nose, do I? No.” Proceeds to tell you a documentary's worth of information about Naegleria fowleri and how it was found in 1978 in Bath, so “yes it is in the UK Marc.”

Basically he’s full of ideas about where to go in the middle of the night that’s open because that’s what he used to do when he was trying not to sleep. (Also it’s nice to do things when there’s not so many people about.) 

Will suggest driving to a spot he knows outside of London where there’s less light pollution to look at the stars. Will wake up Jake to do the driving. Will bully the hell out of Khonshu if the sky isn’t clear. (And will make him get rid of the cloud.) 

100% would ask if you would like him to fuck you to sleep.

Marc

He’s not asleep either. 

Usually gets Steven or Jake to fall asleep for him.

However, if they’re already asleep, or not available, he goes with the ‘I am laying down with my eyes closed, because it’s still resting’ philosophy. 

He tries not to toss and turn a lot, but he does bless him. 

Has tried to drink himself to sleep on several occasions. 

Doesn’t like to see you having trouble sleeping at all and spends ages fussing over you. 

Fluffs the pillows, gets extra blankets, gets less blankets, turns the heating on, gets the fan out, will run you a bath and put all the lavender stuff in and make you 500 herbal teas, then change the bed covers. 

Will offer to sleep on the sofa or the floor so he doesn’t disturb you while you’re trying to sleep. (Then apologies when you obviously hate the idea of him being away from you.)

Is giving ALL the cuddles, however you want them. Will lay in the most uncomfortable position for himself for you to be comfy (will not tell you the position is uncomfortable for him.)

Tells you the most outrageously made up stories in quiet hushed tones to help lull you to sleep and then acts mock offended if you doubt that anything he says didn’t really happen.

Makes you cum on his mouth repeatedly until you’re so exhausted you have no choice but to fall asleep.

Jake

Can actually fall asleep anywhere at any time. 

I still firmly believe that before Steven and Marc know about him he would front just to go to sleep because they are so bad at getting some shut eye and constantly run the body into the ground.

Has melatonin tablets and a whole pharmacy's worth of sleeping aids to share. 

Will 100% take you for a drive to try to get you to fall asleep (or just to take you somewhere if you want, or if Steven has woken him up to drive.)

“Jake, I need you to drive to-”

“Steven… It's bedtime, time for sleep. No driving.”

“Oh, but S/O is having trouble sleeping and-”

Jake is already out of bed with his car keys in hand.

Will offer to be your weighted blanket and lay all over you. 

Says he will threaten Khonshu to keep the sun down so you can rest if it takes you a while to get to sleep. 

Tries to (lovingly) bore you to sleep by counting sheep out loud and in detail. “This one is a Merino sheep, the ones that are very fluffy. Her name is Harold. She likes grass, but not clover. Which is unusual for a sheep. So that’s one so far, one sheep. Now this next one is…”

Doesn’t offer sexy times because he doesn’t want to be pushy, however if you suggest it he’s happily all over you.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[sooniebby]

A dream i had has been haunting me so here i am.

A jock any sport my dream wasnt specific just a popular jock is the reader and he is just so popular and everyone loves him and of course everyone assumes since his this big jock his the dom in the relationship between him and his boyfriend when in fact his the complete opposite.

The boyfriend can be in the band or a part of the cheer team again it depends on the sport and my dreams never clarify, He hears one of these conversations and has a brilliant idea that he was gonna put the reader in his place and everyone is gonna know that place.

Kinks you can go wild with, But praise and a little the reader getting dumb on whoever you choose the nerd to be cock but the rest you can do what you please 🤭🤭

ఌ 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 2.5k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › praise, voyeurism, semi-public sex, use of pussy/feminine terms

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

“Isn’t that (Name)’s boyfriend?”

“Mickey?”

“I thought his name was Mikey?”

“Nah man, it’s Mickey!”

Marcus sighed. He hated having to practice for the marching band when the football team was practicing as well. The players didn’t know how to whisper. He was really wondering if he should give them a look that he could hear them.

He wasn’t sure why the football coach allowed them to practice with them here but he was sure it was because the teacher for band was a sexy man. Marcus could tell the coach, Coach Pattinson, loved to stare at his band teacher’s ass.

But he couldn’t lie. Mister Yang had a nice ass.

More importantly though, Marcus could sometimes see his boyfriend playing. But it was mainly rare. (Name) played soccer so obviously he couldn’t play while the football team occupied the field.

Today was that day the soccer team practiced somewhere else.

He was getting a bit agitated at this point. The heavy drum strapped to his chest and the sun beaming down at him. God, he wanted to just walk home. But he did like his band mates. He didn’t want them to hate him for any reason so he’d put it with it.

But that didn’t mean he’d do it without complaints.

“Marc! Pay attention.” One of his band mates whispered, poking him with a drum stick. Marcus quickly put his focus on Mr. Yang as he continued to drone on and on about timing and making sure to be energetic during performances.

Marcus tried to pay more attention, even though he had already heard this speech once before. Expect the two players whispering (?) about him started up once more.

“I wonder what (Name) sees in him.” Thing 1 said.

“What do you mean? Mickey is a cute ass guy. Especially his ass…” Thing 2 muttered.

“Mikey… And yeah I guess. It’s kinda flat to me. Mr. Yang has a much fatter ass than him.”

“True true… I mean look it at… I wonder what it looks like when he jumps…”

Thing 1 whispered. The only time he ever whispered. “Perv.”

“You started it!” Thing 2 shouted, earning a glare from Coach Pattinson. Thing 1 & 2 quickly quieted down.

“But for real, who do you think tops?” Thing 2 muttered.

“(Name)… obviously. The dude is bigger and taller than Mikey. How could Mikey top him?!”

“(Name) is only 5’10 at the most. He’s not that tall. And he’s hardly that muscular. It’s mainly his legs.”

“Says you, Mister 6’4!” Thing 1 punched Thing 2 on the arm, earning a wince. “(Name) has an ass that could rival Mr. Yang, though.”

“Didn’t he play baseball?”

“He plays both sports. Such a cool guy. I’m not sure how he doesn’t go crazy.” Thing 1 looked as if he had a crush on (Name). Marcus didn’t like that, he could feel himself tighten his grip on his drumsticks.

“Maybe he knows how to manage himself… unlike someone…”

“Say that to my face you beanstalk!”

“Alright boys, break time is over!!” Coach Pattinson yelled. “Back to the field!!” He blew his whistle before glancing over to see Mister Yang’s ass once more.

Yeah, he wasn’t hiding it.

Marcus thought hard about what Thing 1 & 2 talked about. Damn, did he not give off top vibes like the thought? Shit—what could he do to show it off?

Well it wasn’t that he really cared what those little shits said but he didn’t like that his looks somehow determined his sexual position.

Oh. Marcus smirked to himself.

He could always make it known that he is the dom in the relationship… and he knew just the way to do it.

“Dude… the fuck are you smiling about?”

Marcus glanced over to his band mate, Olivia. “Nothing important.”

Olivia didn’t look convinced but she turned her attention back to Mr. Yang. Marcus couldn’t wait to test out his plan.

ꕥ

It was the next day and Marcus didn’t have band practice today. But (Name) was at soccer practice. He hardly joined him because he mainly wanted to go straight home after school. Any minute he stayed longer at this cursed school was a damage to his mental health.

(Name) was sitting down on the bench, drinking water when he spotted his boyfriend. He waved, a large grin on his lips. If he was an animal, many would say he would be a golden retriever. So happy to be with people.

“Marc! Something happened?”

“I can’t just see my boyfriend?” Marcus grinned, his blonde locs pulled into a ponytail. He wore a ridiculously large jacket with a red tee with black pants. (Name) always wondered why Marcus always complained about being hot when he chose to wear such clothing during summer.

(Name) simply hummed and pursed his lips, closing his eyes. He titled his head up earning a laugh from Marcus. Marcus would usually just give him a light kiss. He wasn’t one for PDA.

But this time, he grabbed (Name)’s chin and held him in place as he kissed him. (Name)’s eyes widen as Marcus immediately bit his lip, causing him to automatically part them. The innocent kiss (Name) wanted was quickly turned into a full on make out with tongue.

(Name) whimpered into the kiss, wondering if any of his teammates were looking at him. Marcus pulled away from the kiss—a small trail of saliva connecting their lips—as he glanced back to see if anyone saw that. It seemed at least a few did—with the embarrassed looks on a few of the boys face.

The coach didn’t seem to have saw it though by the fact she was paying attention to another player. Good. He just wanted the other players to see.

“What…?” (Name) muttered. He didn’t hate it. No he loved it but he would’ve loved a warning first.

“Trying something new. Like it?” Marcus said, wiping away a stray line of drool on (Name)’s chin.

“I like whatever you do. But I thought you didn’t like public stuff.”

“I still don’t.” Marcus simply said and sat down on the bench.

(Name) didn’t understand Marcus sometimes.

Marcus fanned at himself, starting to complain about the sun cooking him alive.

“I’m lucky I can’t get any darker ‘cause what the fuck, man…” he complained.

“Take your jacket off.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll mess up my style. I had this whole outfit planned and everything. I mean, look at my shoes—it matches the jacket!”

It did.

(Name) simply laughed. “Alright. Enjoy the sun, Mikey.” He said as he got up to return back to practice.

“Ay! It’s because of you those other jocks are calling me Mikey or Mickey! I’m not a mouse!”

“Sorry! I didn’t think anyone else would call you that!”

Marcus simply huffed. He mainly couldn’t wait until he could enact his plan. The kiss was simply to just get it started for later.

Ah he couldn’t wait.

ꕥ

(Name) knew Marcus liked to try new things. Y’know, only live once and all that jazz. But he didn’t know that he’d be into something so… scandalous?

So risky.

“Isn’t this nice?”

(Name) simply huffed, not able to say anything due to the cock in his mouth. They were behind the bleachers—not too far from door that leads to the locker room. When (Name)’s coach called for a thirty minute break, Marcus saw that as his cue to go ahead with his plan.

He had pulled (Name) to the back of the bleachers were no one could see them and forced him to his knees. But the spot they were in was hardly hidden. Someone could just walk up to the locker room door and get a clear view of them.

(Name) was kneeling down on the balls of his feet, forced to keep his balance this way. It wasn’t a good position to try and suck dick at, especially when Marcus was only 5’7 to his 5’10. (Name) wasn’t immediately at face with his cock.

He had to bend a little. Suffice to say, he was uncomfortable sucking dick right now. But he loved Marcus telling him what to do so who was he to stop him.

“Did I tell you that some guys said that you were topping me?” Marcus laughed.

(Name) hummed, pulling away from his cock. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Maybe.” Marcus tapped two fingers on (Name)’s lips. (Name) eagerly took them into his mouth—sucking them to lather it up. His cock twitched in his gym shorts as he thought about someone seeing him in this position.

Kneeling down in front of someone physically weaker than him.

“So I thought… maybe I should prove them wrong, y’know? But then it hit me… if they think like that—than everyone else must think like that.”

(Name) wasn’t sure if he believed that. No one could be that weird to care about his sex life.

Marcus hummed as he forced his fingers down deeper (Name)’s throat, enjoying the panicked choke he got from his boyfriend. He dragged them out of (Name)’s mouth. (Name) took a few shuttered breaths as Marcus motioned for him to lay down.

“Pants off.”

(Name) slipped off his pants and boxers as he moved to lay down on the grass. It felt dirty to do so but he didn’t care at the moment. Marcus hummed, deep in thought before he tapped (Name)’s waist.

“Doggy.”

(Name) flushed. He always felt embarrassed during doggy. Marcus always got full view of his ass at this position. It also didn’t help that doggy was the quickest way for Marcus’ cock to reach his prostate.

With a little hesitation, (Name) moved into the doggy position. Just as he was about to try and not think about the fact someone could see him in such position, Marcus slapped his ass.

“Hey, you forgot your move.”

(Name) blushed in full embarrassment as he leaned down more so his ass was in the air and shyly shook his ass. He hated doing it. The first time he ever did it was by accident. He didn’t think Marcus would’ve wanted him to do it everything for doggy.

Marcus had said it reminded him of a cat getting ready to pounce. It was the only time (Name) was ever said to resemble a cat.

“Good boy.” Marcus shoved in his two fingers, gaining a scream from (Name). “Hey, do you want them to hear you?”

(Name) shook his head.

“Your pussy says otherwise. It tightened as soon as I mentioned it.” Marcus laughed, dragging his fingers against (Name)’s wet walls before grazing his prostate.

Marcus loved to call (Name)’s features with feminine terms. Boobs, tits, pussy, cunt. You name it. He didn’t use it all the time. Sometimes he was nice to called them pecs or asshole.

(Name) liked both. But there was something different about his ass being called a pussy. He wasn’t sure what it was.

“I’m surprised they haven’t wondered where you are…. Do you often use these breaks to jerk off? Play with your clit?” He grinned, enjoying the whimper he earned.

(Name) shook his head, gripping at the dirt beneath him. His hole clenched down on Marcus’ fingers. He had never done that but he did usually use the break time to sit in the locker room with the air conditioner.

Marcus pressed against his prostate, teasing it as (Name)’s ass twitched upwards. He loved it whenever (Name) tried to chase the relief. His ass was a sight to see as it bounced at every sudden movement he made.

Maybe Thing 1 was right about his ass… it could rival Mr. Yang’s…

“You think you’re ready?” Marcus asked, continuing his grazes against (Name)’s prostate.

(Name) simply whined, too dumbed out to say anything. He honestly didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without moaning anyway.

Marcus took that as a yes as he slipped out his fingers and grabbed his cock. It was a good size, six inches. But the best part about it was how thick it was. Imagine a soda can.

He slowly pushed inside, moving one hand to grip (Name)’s waist. It took everything in (Name)’s body to not cry out. He bit his lip harshly—digging his fingers into the dirt.

Marcus was antagonistically slow. Dragging his cock in and out of (Name)’s hole. He wouldn’t go fully in—set to just tease his prostate before pulling out. (Name) was going to die if he continued this way.

“You always take me so well. But that’s just cuz you were made for me.” Marcus muttered, pushing down (Name)’s shirt to press soft kisses on his back. His back is sweating, from playing or sex? Marcus hoped it was sex.

(Name) huffed as he began to thrust backwards, hoping that Marcus’ cock will reach in deeper. Marcus simply laughed to himself as he stopped his thrusting—allowing (Name) to continue his lackluster performance.

“Mikey…”

“Yes, baby?”

“C’mon… we don’t have all day… please…”

(Name) was right. They had thirty minutes. It could’ve been thirty minutes already for all they knew. If he didn’t want to play soccer with a raging boner—he needed to cum now.

Marcus frowned. He hoped he could drag this out longer but knew it wasn’t fair to (Name).

“I’ll get you off. We’ll worry about me when your practice is finished,” Marcus said, grasping (Name)’s waist and holding him still as he began to thrust harshly inside of him.

He purposefully aimed for his prostate, enjoying the panicked hiccups (Name) accidentally slipped out. (Name) was struggling to keep his voice down. He could hear his coach saying they had a minute left.

Could he really cum in under a minute?!

Marcus was going to make sure he did though. He didn’t let up with his constant thrusts, reaching down to jerk (Name)’s leaking clock as well.

It doesn’t take too long for (Name) to cum. Before he could scream, Marcus quickly shoved (Name)’s own shirt into his mouth. It muffled it a little but he could still hear someone ask if they heard something.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Marcus pulls out despite his cock twitching for his own release and pulled his boxers and pants on. (Name) stayed on the ground, trying to catch his breathe before slowly moving to put on his pants.

(Name) looked numbed. He certainly looked as if he could fall asleep any minute. Marcus helped him to his feet (with a little struggle but he would never admit that).

“Go back to practice. I’ll be waiting for you,” Marcus said, patting (Name)’s ass. (Name) glared at him before limping away to his teammates.

If anyone asked why he was limping, he’d just say he hurt his leg while playing earlier. Though he was sure a few of his teammates didn’t believe that.

And unlucky for him, it was the few who loved to tell everyone what they knew. At least Marcus plan worked. Everyone was going to know who was truly the top in the relationship.

After practice, when almost everyone had already left, (Name) was changing into his clothes after taking a shower when Marcus walked into the locker room.

A small smirk on his lips.

“It’s time to worry about me.”

A limp walk wasn’t going to be the only thing (Name) went home with. A nice creampie would accompany it~

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

My comeback! Marcus is so fun to write, I hope you guys like him!! If you guys want, I can do a little fic of how he started dating you 🤭 lemme know!

Tag list: @mello-life69 @the-ultimate-librarian @nakedtoasterr @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo

Number 1 fan: @elegantcecile

[revolutionary-thoy]

Random Scene Marc I drew after friends on Discord brought up the idea. It may not look like him at all, but I swear Marc is somewhere under all those accessories

[notquitecanon]

Look at you // Moonknight system x reader

Summary: Three words, three men. Crazy how it meant something so different coming from each of them. You cherish them all.

TW: Marvel's version of DID, sexual mentions through out, jake's section is just smut sorry I'm a whore, fingering, oral (f receiving), no use of Y/N, I don't think I mentioned specific pronouns but I used feminine descriptions of genitalia, terrible and overused Spanish. terrible and overused British slang. mentions of penetrative sex and male receiving oral. Marc is touch starved and self sabotaging but what's new? criminal overuse of italics I think that's everything worth mentioning?

I typed this up In like 30 minutes after the idea came to me. There are typos + I've never written for the moon boys before (idk how I literally never stop thinking about them) Anyways on with it:

Steven says it like he’s won a prize. His eyes light up with that amazing grin, and he holds his hands out to you like you are about to hand him whatever the archeology equivalent of a Nobel Prize is- except in this metaphor you’re also the trophy. He says it often- when he sees you in a new outfit or hair style for the first time, when he greets you after not seeing you for a couple days, when you step out of the steamy bathroom in a towel, when he’s had one too many pints at the pub and the light is hitting your eyes just right, when you kneel between his legs and look up at him. 

“Look at you!” His voice is somewhere between breathless and a growl, yet still chipper and awestruck. His eyes are roving over you as if he can’t find a favorite part about you, and he can’t- it’d be like comparing wonders of the world, “Darlin’, you look absolutely stunnin’!”  He inched closer, hands reaching out to you. You couldn't tell if it was a demand for you to close the distance or hesitation that you might not allow him to touch you. And while Steven could be fun to tease, you weren’t cruel… usually. His eyes still couldn't settle, but they kept flicking nervously- hopefully- back up to yours, “You didn’t do all this for me, did you, luv?”  “All for you, Steven.” You promised, taking his hand and placing it on your hip. His breath catches as he starts feeling the delicious fabric and he didn't wait for permission for his other hand to roam up to your hair. His eyes were still roaming, no the better word was analyzing you like you were the depiction of an ancient deity come to life. He nodded as his breath became heavy, and the sweet thing almost melted when you reach up and brush a curl from his face. He might have had wandering eyes but you had wandering hands, cupping his cheek then dragging down his neck, down his chest to the hem of that sweater you so often stole, and then underneath just to drag back up his bare chest.  “All for me, don’t know how lucked into you. Bit hard to believe, innit?” He rambled but you let him for only a moment. You playfully smacked his ribs under his shirt. It wasn’t hard to believe at all, you’d told him a thousand times just how lucky you were to have him. He breathed a laugh, shook his head, and apologized quietly. You smiled softly, reaching towards him to press a kiss to his jawline, then his cheek, and finally his lips.  When you pulled back, Steven surprisingly wasn’t still leaning into the contact like usual. This time his chocolate eyes start at your feet and rake up, painstakingly slow, “Look. at. you.”

Jake says it like he’s proving you wrong- he usually is. His smirk is as smug and irritating as it is thrilling, his eyes darken like a predator about to pounce, and his fingers flex like he’s focusing all his energy on not pouncing too quick. When something he picked out looks just right on you, when he sneaks up on you just enough to see you startle, when he makes a flush creep up your neck, when he pins you while teaching you self defense, when he pries out 'one last' orgasm after you were sure you couldn’t do it again. 

“Look at you, mi amor.” Jake teased, as if he wasn’t the reason you were the mess you had become. His strong arms were the only reason you weren’t boneless on the mattress as he held you up enough to see your reflection in corner mirror- you idly wondered if Steven and Marc were enjoying the show. Jake was grinning and his eyes are practically danced as they took in every last inch of your shaking body. If you had anymore control over your body (which you obviously don’t), you’d smack that smirk right off his smug face- and Jake would've probably liked it, the deviant, “Follame, dulce nina, lo haces tan facil.”  Unfortunately, you didn't have much control at that moment. That much was obvious to both of you (and probably your neighbors). In fact, all you had been able to manage between moans were breathy ‘pleases’ and screams of Jake’s name. Instead, you clung to him the best you could, leaving claw marks down his shoulders. Your knees had knocked back together, clamping his hand between your thighs- still too cock dumb to realize that was part of the problem. Trapping those evil but delicious fingers next to your throbbing core as you writhed through the most recent wave of pleasure. You hear Jake’s cool chuckle, but when you look at him- both of him… shit when did your eyes cross?- he’s still just watching you.  He is kind enough to wait until your eyes uncross edand your breathing to evened out before he swatted your thigh, just hard enough to make you gasp before you realized what he wanted. You couldn't even be embarrassed when he lifted it up and your slick almost shimmered on his hand in the low light.  Jake's grin was wolfish, clearly proud of his work as he rounded the corner of the bed. Leaning over you, his lips ghosted over your sweat dropped forehead and then your own swollen lips. His large hands took purchase at the soft flesh of your hips, squeezing as a warning before quickly, efficiently tugging you down to the foot of the bed where he took to his knees.  “One more for me.” It wasn’t a question or a request- a statement. You shook your head, but didn’t tell him to stop- you didn’t want him to stop but you genuinely didn’t think he could make you come again. From between your twitching thighs, he simply arced a brow. “Don’t believe me, princesa?” "Told you." Minutes later, he emerged victorious from the vice of your thighs, nose and chin practically dripping as he grinned up at you. Your fingers were still knotted in his curls as your chest heaved, stars dancing in your vision as you gasped or maybe you were screaming… you couldn’t tell. All you knew was Jake and the little circles he was rubbing on your knees with his thumb as you came back to Earth.  Jake’s dark eyes watched you like you were a living piece of art, voice rasping and zealous, yet still holding that annoyingly familiar ‘i told you so’ candor, “Dios mios, Look at you.” 

Marc says it like it just might save him. His eyes soften and his shoulders lose some tension, like the weight of the world (moon?) lessens when you’re around, and if you’re really lucky, you might catch a small, sweet, relieved smile. When you say such pretty things while he’s inside of you, when he comes home and your making enough dinner for two, when you open the curtains in the morning and the light shines in, when he looks up at you with his head on your lap and your fingers toying with his curls,  when you first wake up and the first thing you do is sleepily smile at him, and sometimes, most times, when he’s not even fronting when he’s watching as a fly on the wall as you are just as gentle and loving with Jake and Steven. 

“Look at you.” Marc whispered it, it was intimate, reverent. Like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. His head was in his lap and he’d been somewhere between half awake and mostly asleep for the better part of the afternoon. Jake had run the body ragged while he fronted, and now with Marc at the wheel all he wanted was to rest and be near you- not necessarily in that order. So, he didn’t argue nearly as much as usual when you simply pulled him onto the couch and pushed his had to you lap where you played with his dark curls until he went limp, sprawled over the overstuffed yet still too small couch Steven had chosen for the flat. It was comical how his long legs hung over the arm and back of the sofa, one arm draping over you and the other hanging off so his knuckles grazed the floor. But Marc knew how to be grateful, knew how to realize when he got more than the thought he deserved.  This was good. You were good. And he had known plenty of bad, so for the moment he’d soak up your good like a plant soaks up sunshine.  In between long blinks, he had watched you with soft eyes as you rotated from your latest book, scrolling on your phone, and whatever show you’d throw on the TV. Sometimes you were humming as you read or muttering comments about your show. Your free hand was twisting his curls, combing across his scalp, and occasionally gently drifting down to rub his back. God, you were a fucking angel. How could he not look at you?  “What about me?” You asked, quiet but bemused, magic fingers tracing from his hair to rest at his chin so you could see his eyes. Softer than usual. Your smile was reassuring, a promise this was real. A promise he was actually here. That he deserved to be. Marc sighed. He could wax poetic at you for the next four hours and not even cover his opening remarks on how grateful he was for you, why he didn’t deserve you, and what he’d do to keep you. But he also knew how upset it made you when he talked like that, so instead, he shook his head slightly, burrowing even closer into you if that were possibly before tugging you down to meet his lips briefly, “Someone’s feeling sentimental today. Everything alright?”  “Perfect, baby, perfect.” He promised, still openly staring. You shook your head, hiding behind your book, but Marc gently pushed the pages to the side, “How could I not be, just… look at you."

______

translations:

mi amor: my love

follame, dulce nina, lo haces tan facil: fuck me, sweet girl, you make it too easy

Princesa: Princess

Dios Mios: My God / Oh my God

I'm gonna be so real with y'all I know the Spanish words need the accent marks but consider the fact that I am dumb and can't figure that out yet. Did I put three gifs to distract y'all? yes. also he's pretty. sue me.

Anyways sorry if this sucked laugh out loud

the boys during this

[bowieandqueen11]

Honeymooning With Steven Grant Would Include...

I’m so so sorry to the lovely anon who requested this - I tried to copy this into my drafts and accidentally deleted half of it :( I remember it being for honeymoon headcanons, so I hope this is alright love! 

(I do not own Moon Knight or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @marc-spectorr.)

Warning: nothing too explicit, but NSFW so 18+ please!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Do you have any idea?? How soft I am for this?? I am so soft I am YEARNING you have made me yearn god I love this concept so much

I feel like the two of you would go somewhere sunny: perhaps a couple of weeks in Egypt, staying in a nice resort by the Red Sea, since Steven is so fed up of the dreary London weather. Just a really nice spot, where the two of you can hire out a boat for the day, and he can sit holding you at the back and feed you strawberries. If he’s not too busy trying to taunt you with the fruit, or giggling like bursts of sunlight as you nip at his fingers, he’s leaning awkwardly over your head to give you a sweet upside down kiss. His lips are so plump, so tender as his top lip latches onto your bottom one, that for a moment the two of you are lost in a sweet abyss where the only thing that exists is the tart tang of each other’s mouths. Or, the poor man is holding onto your biceps for dear life, only being drawn away from your lips by the feel of the boat rocking wildly from side to side.

As twilight began to flood in, flitting past your eyes like a gliding moth chasing the last drop of the honey sun with its velvet tail, you and Steven perch up from where you’re entangled on the chaise longue. Underneath the silver flecks of the waves, a few hawksbill turtles languidly glider underneath the navy froth. Steven’s eyes immediately light up, seeming to glow like shining jewels against the strung lights hanging from the masts. ‘Turtles’, he whispers and points towards the water, turning to look at you as if he’d just seen true magic. You grip onto his finger and place his palm flatly against yours, doing your best not to laugh when he squeals and buries his head deeply into your neck. ‘Yes love’, you caress your free hand through his stubborn curls, ‘those are definitely turtles.’

He nearly loses his mind when a dolphin appears above the crest of the water line. He has to lie down for a little bit against your chest, panting like crazy and his heart racing a mile per minute because even though it’s day one, he’s becoming a bit overwhelmed by all of this bless him. You just snuggle down around him, rubbing your nose against the shell of his ear and whispering sweet nothings until he finally calms down. He looks so calm, so peaceful, with his pursed lips rising and falling in time with his chest, that you’re not too surprised when he begins to snore a few minutes later. 

He makes you leave the hotel room before dinner for a couple of minutes while he gets dressed. With an ear pressed up against the door, you ignore the weird looks you’re getting from the elderly vacationers heading down to the dining hall as you listen to the thud of Steven falling across the floor. He seems to be... jumping, probably trying to pull his trousers up quickly, which is followed by the sound of a hanger crashing onto the floor and a squeaky ‘oh, bollocks!’. You’re pressing a finger to your lips to stop yourself erupting when he finally unlatches the door, but it immediately drops down to your side when you take him in. He’s wearing his best polka dot yellow tie and sheepish smile, gazing down in terror at his feet and back up at you. He’s got a squashed box of chocolates in one hand, and a rather pressed bouquet of roses in the other; it almost takes your breath away, since he looks almost identical to the way he arrived at your doorstep for your first date. Even though you’re married now, his arm is still shaking as he offers it to you, and he still sighs a breath of relief when you loop your own through enthusiastically.

‘I’d been dreaming of this moment ever since I first put eyes on you, you know that love?’ He manages to say between shaking words as he leans you downstairs. ‘Every night. All I could blooming think about was how lucky I would be if I could hold your hand every night. You might as well pinch me right now, ‘cause I must be blinking dreaming.’

You spend a lot of your honeymoon down by the sandy strips, sharing a sun lounger and lying together underneath the warm shelter of a beach umbrella. He would read to you, his lips brushing against the tip of each with the pronunciation of each word: hot, tingly, the inside of his lip dragging against your earlobe from time to time. Eventually, when he noticed you were starting to fall asleep from where you were tucked up around his arm, he would become like a big child. He would teasingly shove you with his shoulder with a booming ‘tag, you’re it!’, before giggling as heartily as birdsong and running off across the sand. You finally manage to rugby tackle him down after a solid ten minutes of him skiting around the place, and he looks up at you as if you hung every swinging star in the sky as you hold him in place. Your legs are firm against the taut muscle of his calves, your hands pinning his trembling wrists above his head, and his breath is shaky as you press your weight against his lower abdomen, your bottom resting firmly against his groin.

He feels he’s about to pass out as you let go of his left wrist to run your fingers gingerly across the stubble of his jaw, before cupping his chin to hold in in place. He squirms beneath you, beginning to mewl as you lean down to kiss him. You’re quickly thrown to the side before lips can meet, though, as Steven manages to get you turned and shelters you from the massive wave that comes breaking onto the shore. When he looks down at you, sea water dripping down his wet hair and onto your nose with the most disappointed face in the world, you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in laughter. 

This man is the BIGGEST softie in the world oml. You come wandering out of the bathroom that night, not expecting to see Steven biting his bottom lip and jutting his chin out. He’s muttering nervously to himself, a quiet ‘oh dear, oh dearie me’ busting out of him as he squats down and runs back and forth across the floorboards like a terrified little crab. He’s grabbing at rose petals he tried to shower across the floor, not realising the cool night breeze would burst in through the French doors and steal them away. When he notices you from the corner of his eye, he quickly straightens up, hiding the woven basket behind his back. He pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on as you walk over to him, but when you drop your towel and grab the back of his head to bring him down for a fervent kiss, the basket is quickly dropped to the floor and the jig is up.

Bro.. bro... oh my god, the body worship this man is hellbent on showing you is beyond crazy on your honeymoon. Like, dear lord, turn it up by a hundred and you might get a little closer to understanding how this emotionally vulnerable, touch starved, drowning in love man might be. I mean, Steven’s always been a giver if you know what I mean, but this is just next level. He’s so nervous though the sweetie pie, that you decide to help him out by loosening his tie. He’s nearly drooling on the floor by the time you throw it off of him, standing there like putty in your hand and just watching with lovesick eyes as you undress him. When his mind finally registers the almost inaudible pop of his shirt buttons though, he’s full on racked by whole body shivers as your palms glide the material apart from his chest. His firm pecs tighten against the feel of your bare skin against his, and behind the breathless inhale he swears he could die quite happily right now as long as you just don’t stop.

When he finally can’t take it anymore, it’s your turn to groan as he grabs onto the back of your thighs and shoves you backwards, pulling your bottom until it’s resting at the edge of the mattress. He slots his frame between your legs, knees coming down onto the floor as he buries himself between your soft flesh in ineffable bliss. Your thighs tighten around his head, and he breathes against your inner thighs as he kisses a path up them, gripping tenderly onto the back of your leg. When a little bit of extra oomph seems to overcome him, and his teeth nips across your panty line as they try to pull the seam of your underwear down, he immediately starts cooing and pressing a delicate brush of his nose against the mark, as if in apology. 

Although he’s far better around you, some nights Steven still doesn’t sleep very well. You do your best to wake him up gently on these days, unlatching him from where his legs have tumbled onto yours during the night to start the kettle going. The smell of peppermint tea always perks him straight out of his dreams, and so he curls the duvet around his head like a hedgehog diving into the soft mound of a giant marshmallow as he goes looking for you. His feet slog around the room until he reaches the kitchenette, and he feels his heart begin to fizzle and pound as if a thousand scarabs were flitting around trying to escape the mortal walls when he spots you bopping around to the static hum of the radio. He immediately scares the pants off you by wrapping his arms around your waist, joining in your dance by swaying your hips side to side in time with his own. He’s impossibly close, his warm breath tingling against your neck as he kisses you. Suddenly, you’re enveloped by darkness, realising Steven’s taking the opportunity to assimilate you into the duvet fortress as well, so he can lean down and kiss every inch of exposed skin on your face and neck as he can, with a billion rushed pecks. You finally manage to push him off by pressing your hand against his mouth, and he relents to go get some tea.

The two of you sit knee to knee, criss crossed on top of the unmade bed. ‘We’re married’, he suddenly says, sitting bolt upright as if he’d been shocked between sips from his cup. ‘Yes, Steven’, you reply as he turns to look at you with a smile of pure wonderment, ‘I remember. I was there too.’

‘But it wasn’t a dream. That actually happened. You married me. This isn’t a joke, is it?’

‘It’s not a joke, Steven. I love you’, you state plainly, grabbing onto the back of his hand.

You can see the tears begin to gather behind his bloodshot eyes, his bottom lip blubbering out as his fingers turn to grip, almost painfully, the ends of your own. ‘I love you more than everything in the universe, Y/n.’

I mean, it’s Steven Grant so you 100% go sightseeing around the place! He so delicately holds your hand on the bus, nearly vibrating out of his seat he’s so excited. He even manages to ignore the side-eyes of fellow passengers as you pass by a really exciting historic site, Steven’s shoulder butting against your own as he points out to everything through the window. He hunches over your side until he’s nearly fully leaning onto you as he begins to rush out a boatload of facts he’s learnt from his books back at home. By the end of the night he’s so exhausted he’s fully lying across both the seats, legs planted in the aisle and his head blissfully cradled in your lap. His content smile is literally beauty incarnate, and you can’t help but disturb him from his sleep by kissing the tip of his nose. He replies by latching onto your top lip when you go to pull away, pressing his tongue tiredly against your own before flopping back against your knee as if he’d just won the lottery.

Steven definitely makes you take silly photographs in front of everything you go to see: the picture he took of you jumping in front of the pyramids past Cairo end up pinned on the wall next to his fish tank. After he kisses you goodbye in the mornings before work, it’s become part of his routine to also press a kiss against your cheek in the picture <3

Although he did manage to come round one of the market stalls holding a stray cat in his arms. With pleading eyes, he sounded like he was about to burst out crying as he looked at you, sniffling.

‘Can we keep him?’

‘Steven, how are we supposed to smuggle a cat back in our suitcase??’

‘He can have my plane seat instead, I don’t mind :(’

He tugs you down back alleys during your last few days in Egypt, running down cobblestoned streets hand in hand, flying across the dusty ground like loose kites free in the breeze. He’s on the hunt for a second hand bookstore: one he gets lost in almost immediately. You finally manage to find him hunched over by a knobbly looking bookshelf in a dusty side crevice near the back of the small shop. You have to literally hitch yourself over a pile of pretty worn, ancient looking encyclopaedias, shimmy past a dusty looking globe, and brush through a gap between two lined oaken bookshelves before you spot him. He doesn’t realise you’re behind him until your arms are squeezing around his soft belly, and you’re kissing the bunched material between his shoulder blades. His hand comes up to squeeze your fingers as he gives you a loving, slightly embarrasssed ‘oh! Hello love! Fancy seeing you here!’

He becomes even more shocked when, after you’ve finished resting your nose against his back and just breathing him in for a moment, you spin him round to face you. His eyes widen as he drops the book he was looking at onto his feet, but the confusion is quickly replaced by his features melting into one of intoxication as you press a lingering kiss against the side of his mouth. His eyes are blinking slowly, trying to shut as he crumples against your chest, his elbow knocking backwards and nearly knocking over a few piles of books domino style.

He literally tells you he loves you at least ten times a day. It just blurts out of him, as if he’s going to burst if he doesn’t get to say it. Baby. Baby boy. He deserves this forever love, and has wished for nothing more since the two of you first met.

[bamboobooshark]

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. T-SHOT PREFS : 941 WRDS

CW : Shots, Needles, Syringes, etc.

A/N : I came up with this idea in the middle of a class and couldn’t get it off of my mind! The scenario here is that you’ve recently received your first prescription and want the boys to have the honor of giving it to you. I don’t take T myself, but for those who do/want/plan to, I hope you all enjoy these prefs!

STEVEN GRANT .

You better bet your ass that Steven would love to help you with your T shot. He’d be smiling idiotically as you grab it. He follows you to the bathroom all giddy, unable to keep still as you get the small bottle from the cabinet behind the mirror.

“It’s a shot? Why does it have to be a shot?! Isn’t there an easier way to do this? What if I hurt you?”

He gets a little weary once you inform him that he will have to put a needle in your skin. You reassure him that everything will be fine. He’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.

Once you’re settled on the edge of your shared bed, he kneels down in front of you and offers to help you shimmy your pants off just enough to show your hip.

“I’m just making sure one more time; you want me to do this?”

His hand trembles softly as he holds the syringe. His cheeks are hot from being so nervous. His eyes keep flicking from your eyes, your hip, and the syringe.

You take his free hand and place it on top of your thigh opposite of the hip he’ll inject you in. Your thumb reassuringly runs over his knuckles before you clasp your palm on the back of his. You tell him once more that you’re sure and he nods his head, feeling more sure now that he has your touch to comfort him.

He carefully injects the liquid into your hip, cringing, but eyeing the needle intently, as he does so. In all honesty he looked more scared of giving you your testosterone than you were of receiving it.

“Hey! Look at me go! Look at us go!” He’s beaming after he’s done. He quickly gets up from his feet to lean forward and kiss your forehead. He’s proud of himself for giving you the shot, proud of you for taking it, and happy that you’re taking another step to being more comfortable in your own skin. “You took that so well! I’m truly amazed at how well you did. Good job, really.”

MARC SPECTOR .

Marc is familiar with the shots, syringes, etc. from all the hospital visits. As soon as you mention there’s the option of taking it in your thigh or hip, he tells you he won’t give it to you unless you let him inject your thigh.

It’s not because he’s a thigh guy, but because he knows it’s less painful and he would never want to hurt you. Espically if he has control of the situation the two of you are in.

He does everything pretty quick. Getting the bottle and syringe prepared, making sure you’re sat somewhere cozy, and moving your pants aside so he can get to your thigh easily.

Marc lets out a deep exhale as he looks up at you from his knees. “You ready? I can hold your hand if you want. We could get you some numbing cream. I’ll do anything if it means you’ll be a little more relaxed.” His other hand rubs the back of your calf, feeling your tensed muscles. He really would do anything to help you feel less stressed about this shot, espically considering how he would be given them with little to no warning and forcefully.

Once both of you knew you were for sure ready, he quickly but gently injected your thigh while he kissed the skin around it softly. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

From his gentle touch, soft kisses, and reassurance, the shot felt like nothing. You were smiling the whole way through from how much he simply cared for you. God, he made your heart melt.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

Jake was on the fence at first when you asked him to help you with your T. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no.

“Would it be better if I did it? Do you want me to hold your hand while you do it? You sure you trust me to do this?”

He felt so appreciative that you were giving him the option of injecting you with your first shot, but he also didn’t believe he deserved to do it.

Once you convinced him that you really wanted him to do it, he accepted it with a prideful and happy smile.

“No, no, no. Don’t even think about it. Let me get everything for you. Don’t move a muscle, mi amor.”

Jake was insistent that you relax while he does everything he can to make this moment memorable, comfortable, and happy. He kept rambling about how happy he is for you and that he’s proud of you for bringing it up with your doctor.

Some time later you were sat comfortably on the couch. He got your favorite blanket, some pillows to go behind your back. He lowered himself onto one knee and carefully prepared the liquid into the syringe.

You both decided that he would inject the testosterone into your thigh. He softly asked you to take some deep breaths with him before counting down until the needle reached your skin.

Jaked talked you through the whole dose of testosterone. His opposite hand slipped under your shirt, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

“One, two, three… There you go. You’re doing great, cariño. It’s almost all gone. You’re so strong. You’ve got this!”

Once he was done he got himself up off the floor, kissed your forehead, and safely disposed of the syringe. He gently ran his hand over your thigh with a subtle smile on his lips. He was incredibly proud of you, and himself for helping you out.

[hotmessmaxpress]

Rosquez Horror AU, part 3

Vale notices the bags underneath Marc’s eyes on Wednesday afternoon, when he lands at the airport and sees Marc for the first time in over a week. Marc had a break between races and Vale expected him to have gotten at least some rest, while Vale is joining from a WDC weekend. He’s surprised to find that Marc looks so tired. 

“Vale!” Marc greets, happy to see him despite looking so exhausted.

“Marc,” Vale says happily. He doesn’t comment when Marc gets in the passenger seat of the car, forcing Vale to drive. Judging by the exhaustion on his face, it’s probably safer for Vale to drive. 

“You look exhausted,” he finally says, as he watches Marc’s head loll to the side and then jerk upright for the fourth time. “You should sleep while I drive.”

Marc gives him an apprehensive look. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be bad company.”

Vale smiles. 

“I’m happy to have you around, even if you’re asleep.”

Marc gives him a genuine, blinding smile, and Vale takes his hand. 

“Sleep, love.”

Marc falls asleep almost immediately, snoring softly in the passenger seat as Vale drives them to the track. He’s given up pretending to stay somewhere else, and isn’t wasting time checking into a hotel. He knows he’ll end up staying with Marc in his motorhome anyway, so he may as well go directly there. 

When they arrive at the track, Vale parks the car but doesn’t wake Marc. He wants to give him time to sleep, because he clearly needs it. Vale engages the parking brake and then opens a game on his phone, content to sit there while Marc gets the rest he desperately needs.

Vale finally wakes him up an hour later when he decides Marc’s neck is probably pushing its tolerance for the position he’s in. 

When he gently touches Marc’s shoulder, he’s shocked when Marc sits bolt upright, jerking away from him with a gasp. His eyes are wild and his breathing turns ragged. Vale holds his hands up in surrender.

“It’s just me, love. We are at the track. We can sleep when we get to the motorhome.”

Marc rubs the sleep out of his eyes and nods. 

“Okay. Good idea.”

Vale doesn’t mention the terrified look in Marc’s eye when he woke up, and he instead climbs out of the car and grabs his bag. 

The paddock is only sparsely filled, with only mechanics roaming around and getting work done. The media and medical staff will all come tomorrow, but for now Marc and Vale are left alone as they make their way to the motorhome. 

When they step in the door, Vale is surprised to see that all the lights have been left on, and the blinds are all open. 

Vale steps toward them to shut them. 

“Lay down,” he says gently. “I’ll close the-”

“No!” Marc protests. “Leave them open.”

Vale pauses, turning to look at Marc in confusion. 

“You want to sleep with the lights on and the sun in your face?”

Marc nods. 

Vale considers for a moment whether or not he wants to press Marc on this, but thinks better of it. He knows that Marc has been having occasional nightmares about the Cavities; he told Vale what he saw happen to the Pramac woman, who still has not been found. 

He hopes that maybe his presence can help stave off the nightmares enough for Marc to catch up on some sleep. 

“Okay,” he says, gently. “Let’s lay down, then.”

He climbs into the bed and Marc wastes no time climbing into his arms and falling asleep. 

Marc wakes up in Vale’s arms, finally feeling rested for the first time since the Shadow started haunting him. He’s at once both happy to have Valentino around and seized by terror that the Shadow will terrorize Vale along with him. 

Marc tenses, dragging in a shallow breath. 

“Good morning,” Vale says with a smirk. “Or, good night, I suppose.”

Marc slept all the way until night. He feels panic well up in his throat. The lights are all on, but that doesn’t mean they can’t go out. He swallows thickly. 

“I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” he croaks.

“That’s okay,” Vale says gently. 

Marc is so in love with this man. It nearly brings tears to his eyes that Vale is being this kind to him. He knows part of the flood of emotion he’s feeling is that he’s still so tired from sleepless nights, and the torment of the Shadow, and the memory of the days when Vale didn’t have so much compassion for Marc; didn’t have any compassion, really. 

“We should eat,” Vale suggests. “We can go pick something up.”

The thought of walking through the paddock right now makes Marc’s heart pound in his chest, but he doesn’t want to call attention to the Shadow. He hasn’t seen it since Vale arrived, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees it standing in the darkness, waiting for him to make a wrong move. 

“I- I am not hungry.”

“I am,” Vale says with a grin. “Come on.”

Marc allows himself to be tugged out of bed. He tries to keep his hands steady as he puts on his shoes, though his hands are shaking. 

When he looks out the window he sees that the lights in the paddock are all on. They’ll stay on all night, keeping the area illuminated to protect the valuable machinery housed in the garages and various buildings. He knows it’s meant to be secure, but he can’t help but scan the dark areas between motorhomes where the streetlights don’t touch. He holds Vale’s hand as they walk toward the parking lot, keeping the two of them in the center of the walkway and directly beneath the lights. 

It’s not until they reach Vale’s car that Marc sees it. 

It is frozen beneath a streetlight on the edge of the lot that has burnt out. It’s a circle of darkness among spots of light, and panic wraps around Marc’s lungs. He stares at it, knowing that it won’t move when he’s staring at it in the light. He takes a chance and looks in a panic at the car, seeing that the inside of it is cast in shadow. Without explaining, he turns his phone flashlight on, illuminating Vale as he opens the door and steps in. 

“Ow!” Vale says, covering his eyes as he turns the key. “What the fuck?”

The interior lights come on, and Marc turns his flashlight off. When he looks up, the Shadow is gone. 

Marc checks the backseat, a lump in his throat. 

“Marc?” Vale asks, and Marc realizes how odd he must look. He finally slides into the passenger seat. 

“Sorry,” Marc says. “I just thought you might need help seeing the keys.”

It’s a stupid excuse, but Vale keeps with his theme of giving Marc grace and doesn’t press him on it. 

Marc’s eyes keep drifting to the back seat, which is bathed in darkness every time they pass between street lights. Marc feels like he’s in a haze as Vale drives them to a takeaway place. Marc plays along as Vale orders and pays, and he holds the food on his lap when they drive back. He can’t shake the feeling that the Shadow is close by, and his tired eyes scan the side of the road. 

He sees it when they’re almost to the track. It’s still, standing, watching. Marc fights the urge to cry out. They’re safe as the car pulls into the lot, and Marc flips the overhead light on. He knows that it would only take seconds of being bathed in darkness for the Shadow to appear, slitting his throat with its claws. His hands shake as he thinks of Vale being hurt, and he opens the car door. He turns on his phone flashlight again, and Vale holds a hand up to block his eyes but doesn’t complain as he shuts the car off and climbs out. 

Marc nearly throws up as he shuts the door and sees the Shadow, now watching him from the dark backseat. Marc stumbles backward and nearly drops their food. Vale comes up to him and rests a hand gently on his back. 

“Marc, are you okay?”

Marc sucks in a deep breath. He can’t manage to respond. His eyes are locked on the eyes of the Shadow. Its eyes are lifeless, so dark that Marc’s panicked brain wonders if he’s really looking at eyes. It’s smirking at him, and Marc whimpers.

Vale grips Marc’s shoulder. He gasps and looks away for only a split second, and when he turns back around it’s gone. 

“You have to tell me what’s wrong,” Vale begs. “Now. I thought you were just tired, but I’m scared.”

Marc swallows.

“I’m being stalked by a Shadow.”

Vale’s eyes widen, and he looks around them. 

“No, an alert would have gone out by now,” he insists. “If one were detected in the area.”

Marc shrugs. “Maybe they missed it.”

Vale looks at him in concern. 

“Okay,” Vale says gently. “Okay. We can go back to the motorhome and figure this out together.”

Marc knows there’s nothing to figure out. There’s nothing that can stop a shadow. If he’s being stalked, there’s nothing he can do. He has to hope it gets bored and finds someone else or he will slip up and be killed. There’s no fighting, no running. Just surviving. 

When they wake up in the morning, the lights are all still on and they’re both alive. It’s a relief for Marc, but that doesn’t mean it can’t find him. In fact, many people who are hunted by Shadows are killed in the daylight; they’re lulled into a false sense of security and get careless.

Vale doesn’t seem concerned, even as Marc’s paranoid eyes scan all around the motorhome. 

“It’s okay, Marc,” he says. “Let’s have breakfast.”

Marc is on edge through breakfast and remains anxious the rest of the day. He does his media duties with a smile, practically a professional at lying through his teeth about how he’s feeling. 

Marc’s anxiety grows as the sun climbs across the sky and begins to set, casting longer shadows across the paddock and creating pockets of darkness. 

Vale seems to sense Marc’s unease, but he’s unfortunately as concerned as Marc. They’re walking along when Vale steps into a particularly dark corridor and Marc yanks him back. Vale turns to him with a flat look. 

“There’s nothing there, Marc.”

He’s not wrong, and Marc doesn’t want to argue, but he knows that it doesn’t matter if the thing was standing in the darkness. It doesn’t take them any time to travel between patches of darkness, and standing there for even a moment could call it to them. Marc makes sure to walk squarely in the light for the rest of the evening, hoping that Vale will stick close enough to his side to keep him safe. 

Things are fine until they get to Marc’s trailer after dinner, and Vale closes the blinds and begins dimming the lights. 

“No,” Marc says. “Please leave them on.”

Vale sighs but does as Marc asks. The air between them is oddly tense, but Vale leaves the lights on as they slip into bed together. Marc’s exhaustion overwhelms his anxiety, and he falls asleep tucked against Vale.

When he wakes the lights are off. 

His entire body seizes up with fear. The lights are on in the other room, so he realizes with horror that Vale must have turned the lights off. 

Marc looks up in terror and finds that the Shadow is standing in the corner of the room, staring at him. 

Marc is frozen. The terror of looking at it has overwhelmed him. It’s so horrifying to see the creature blending into the shadows, waiting to attack. It doesn’t move while Marc stares at it, and he finally manages to free his arm to reach over and grab his phone. He turns the flashlight on and the monster disappears, and he stumbles out of bed to turn the lights on. 

His knees are shaking so badly that he collapses there, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. 

Vale sits up, and Marc immediately wants to scream at him.

“Why would you do that?” he says, sounding pleading rather than angry. “Why would you turn the lights off? It was- it was there.”

The look on Vale’s face is nearly bored. 

“Marc, I checked with the Anomaly Bureau. There is nothing. There’s no Shadow stalking you.”

Marc wants to scream. He points to the corner where it was. 

“It’s here. It was in the room with us! It could have killed us. Why don’t you believe me? 

“There’s nothing there,” Vale says. “Marc, it’s not there. There’s nothing there.”

“No,” Marc insists. “It’s there! It moves when the lights are off, I swear.”

“It’s not,” Vale soothes.

Marc sobs. “I saw it!”

Vale reaches over and turns off the light.

There’s nothing. 

He turns it back on. “You’re tired and under stress,” Vale begins. 

Marc’s stomach jumps into his throat. Vale doesn’t believe him; he played along last night but now that he has managed to go this long without seeing it…  He doesn’t believe Marc is seeing one. 

Marc schools his face into a politely blank expression. He doesn’t want to fight with Vale over this. He is tired and under stress. He is coming down from his shock and horror and now he’s just tired. He stays where he is, simply staring at Vale.

“You’ve been through something terrible. I know that what you saw happen to that woman must have been terrifying, but it’s making you paranoid.”

Marc hears the undertone. Get over it is what Vale really means. Vale doesn’t believe that Marc is dealing with something real, he just thinks he’s gone crazy. 

“Okay,” he says, not allowing himself to agree or disagree. 

If Vale doesn’t believe him, there’s nothing Marc will be able to do to convince him otherwise, short of letting the thing kill him. As mad at Marc has been in the past, he really loves the man too much for that, so he has to accept that Vale will simply not believe him. There’s no point pushing back. 

“Come back to bed,” Vale suggests. “It’s not sunrise, yet. You need sleep.”

Marc shakes his head. 

“I won’t be able to fall asleep again.”

Vale sighs, and Marc wants to cry. He keeps his face impassive, not wanting to let Vale know that he’s in absolute despair. 

Vale observes him for a moment and seems to deem it not worth arguing over. He lays back down, and Marc manages to pull himself into a seated position.

“Turn the lights off,” Vale says, from where he’s shoved his face against his pillow. 

Marc hesitates, then stands on shaky legs. He turns the lights off and slides under the covers next to Vale.

His eyes lock on the corner of the room, where the Shadow has returned. It stands there, staring, until morning.

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #8b: You Won't Be Alone

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #8b Summary: What do you and Marc do with your newfound gift of touch? I bet you can guess...

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader (alters mentioned)

Word count: 3.9k

Content: nsfw, mdni (more below the cut)

references to death, dying, burial, dead body; romance, the yearning, angstyish, domestic fluff, mentions of food, smut, p in v, cockwarming, not beta'd. reader is not bigger than the system because she can wear their clothes.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

“I’m scared to move,” you explained in a strained whisper. “I’m afraid that maybe I’m dreaming.”

“I’m real,” he assured you, running his hands down the curves of your body, touching you all over reassuringly. “You’re here with me…somehow.”

You sighed dreamily, brushing his cheek with your soft hand.  "Maybe you brought me to life.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc had a few ideas about how the two of you should spend your morning, but as your body came to life fully, it made the natural demands a living body makes. Your throat felt parched with thirst, and you wanted to visit the restroom.

Your mind began to race with all sorts of thoughts, such as: were you really here? Were you human? Where did your body come from? Were you still buried in the cemetery? Were you even buried at all? Had you been cremated? If so, where did your flesh and bones come from? And why were you still wearing the clothes you died in? Surely Marc's old hoodie wasn't what you were buried in.

There were small things to consider too, such as: did you need to brush your teeth? Yes, probably a good idea. But you didn’t have a toothbrush anymore. Should you go shopping? Did you have any clothes? Did they keep your stuff or get rid of it? Your eyes swam with uncertainty as you pushed yourself into a seated position on the edge of the bed.

Marc had already climbed out of bed before you and was peeling Steven's soft, white T-shirt over his head. That view alone distracted you just long enough to bring you back to the present.

"Baby? You okay?" Marc asked, easing back to your bedside, hoping not to startle you. Reaching out, he brushed his knuckles along the curve of your cheek, and peered down into your eyes.

Shaking the previous thoughts out of your head, you managed a smile. "Yeah, I’m okay. Just ready to get up." So you did just that. Your bare feet hit the cold floor, the sensation chilling you all over in an instant, causing you to misstep.

Marc was already there, catching you safely in his waiting arms. He gathered you close and touched his forehead to yours. "I’ve got you," he assured you, helping you to stand upright.

"Thank you," you whispered. "Just a little clumsy, I guess."

Rubbing his nose against yours affectionately, he pressed a sweet kiss to your mouth. "Must be overwhelming." he sympathized. "Take it one step at a time, okay?" You couldn’t resist another kiss before clinging to his arms as he led you to the bathroom.

As if reading your thoughts from earlier, he rummaged around in one of the bathroom cabinets, explaining to you that there should be an extra toothbrush somewhere. You stared, dumbfounded into the mirror, at your reflection. You looked like yourself - not a thing had changed, but somehow you felt as if you were gazing at a stranger.

As Marc handed you the toothbrush, he caught your gaze in the mirror. "Sweetheart, hey. It’s okay. We can slow all this down." He turned toward you, pulling your attention away from his mesmerizing reflection.

"Hey. Look at me," he softly commanded, "Stay with me."

"I’m okay," you assured him, grasping his arms for support. "I promise. You’re just really...beautiful."

Wetting your lips, your eyes flickered to his own before dropping to his bare, muscular chest. Brushing your fingertips over his bicep, you felt him shiver at your touch. "I’m sorry," you whispered. "It just takes me a minute to process every single thing. I feel like I'm running a little slow."

Marc nodded understandingly. "Trust me, there is nothing I want more than to spend the day touching you. But let’s take it easy," he suggested. Sliding his arms around your back, he pulled you into a gentle but secure hug. He pressed you protectively against the heat of his bare chest - the warmth of him comforting you in a way you could not have imagined only yesterday.

“Let’s just be together,” he reiterated, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a wave of chills down to your toes.

From there, everything was an adventure: the tingle of Jake’s cinnamon toothpaste on your tongue, the foaming bubbles in your mouth, the cool, fresh water as you rinsed your mouth before taking a long, refreshing drink.

You and Marc decided to shower, and when it came right down to it, you suddenly felt nervous. Not to be with Marc, or even to be naked, but just at the powerful, overwhelming sensations happening every second of every minute.

Staring deeply into your eyes, Marc brought you back to the present as he reached for the zipper of his old hoodie, which enveloped you so adorably. Dragging the zipper down, he worked it free of your shoulders, finding a well-worn Chicago cubs T-shirt underneath.

"I forgot about this old thing," he quietly gushed, with a tender smile. Brushing his fingertips underneath the hem, you flinched slightly as he caressed your stomach. 

His body was responding in obvious ways and he wanted more.  He wanted all of you. His fingers inched around your back, to the tiny sliver of baby-soft skin where the hem of your Cubs t-shirt rose up above the waistband of your joggers.  He slid one hand possessively underneath, splaying his long fingers over the curve of your lower back.  He remembered that curve quite well from your years together. He remembered every curve.

His dark eyebrows shot up questioningly, asking permission to continue. You nodded, so he worked the soft cotton over your head, tossing it to the floor to join the discarded hoodie.

Wetting his lips, his gaze fell to your chest and the navy blue sports bra covering your breasts. Brushing the strap from your shoulder, his eyes bore into yours.

"You sure?" he whispered.

You nodded again, feeling so loved and cherished at this moment, even though you wanted to question everything, like why the universe gave you this second chance.

Crossing your arms, you helped Marc pull the sports bra over your head and you didn’t miss the way his tongue swiped over his lips hungrily.

"My beautiful girl," he uttered, cupping your cheek and bringing your mouth to his, sampling your lips one at a time before kissing you, deeply, reassuringly. Your hands locked behind his neck as he pulled you against the solid wall of his chest. The feeling of your bare skin touching his again electrified you and made your knees go weak, but he held you securely. Squeezing you so tightly, he lifted you off your feet.  By the time your lips parted, you were practically gulping air as your skin burned with passion.

Marc set you down, pulling at the drawstring of your baggy joggers, before pushing the material over your hips. Kneeling down, he kept working until you were bare. Then he stood on his knees before you, fingertips tracing the curves of your thighs, and just when you sensed the bathroom steaming up from more than just the shower water, you felt his lips against your tummy.

He hugged you, there on his knees, so desperately. "Missed you so much," he murmured into your skin, kissing you reverently before peering up at you, his own eyes glistening with tears.

"Come here," you coaxed, beckoning him to stand so you could help him take off his sleep pants. Marc’s breathing grew shallow as you eased the material over his hips, freeing his throbbing erection. The soft cotton pooled at his feet and he noticed your gaze fixed on his crotch as he stepped free of the joggers.

“Come on,” he sweetly offered, leading you by the hands into the shower's warm spray.

You hissed as the water pelted your skin, causing you to jump back a bit.

"Too hot?" Marc asked, using his body as a shield against the hot spray.

"Maybe a little," you sheepishly confessed.

"I’m sorry baby, I thought you liked it hot. I’ll turn it down." He rushed to get everything perfect for you, which made your heart burst with love for him.

"It’s not that," you assured him as he turned back to pull you close. "Everything is intense right now - every single thing is bright and loud and hot and cold and..extreme."

"All right. It's okay," he assured you, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "Let’s get you washed up."

The next several minutes convinced you that you had definitely passed on to heaven. The soft lather of suds on your skin, the dragging scratch of the loofa, Marc's careful attention as he took gentle care of you. This had to be paradise.

His lips trailed down the side of your neck as he pushed the loofa down the curve of your back. The softness of his lips made you shiver. As his hand neared the swell of your hip, he dropped the sponge and squeezed your soft flesh, nibbling on your shoulder.

"Is this okay?" He asked you between tempting kisses.

"Yes," you breathlessly whispered, sliding your fingers into his drenched curls as he lifted you up. Pulling your thighs around his waist, he pushed you up against the steamy, tiled wall. Licking hotly into your mouth, he gently pushed his way inside you.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

If this was a dream, Marc never wanted to wake up. A delusion? He would gladly accept dementia. If he were dead, he would willingly never again draw breath.

You were here. Alive, somehow. In his arms, skin pressed to skin, your breath on his lips. As his body joined with yours, he shuddered, overcome in every possible way with every imaginable emotion. He felt that familiar clench as he entered you - heard the hiss as he stretched you open over his length. He loved the way your body fit his - with a perfect tightness to generate the most delicious friction for you both.

You gasped his name, your fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Feels so good, baby,” he groaned, mistaking your sounds for satisfaction.

"Wait. Marc, stop," you cried, desperately gasping for air as you pushed against his shoulders.

With an involuntary groan, he pulled out of you, lowering you down so your feet could touch the shower floor, making sure to support you as you got your bearings.

"D-did I hurt you?" He panted, frantically checking you over.

"No. No, it's just...it's too much," you gasped, your chest heaving as you gripped his arms for support. "I can't...I can't breathe. It's too much."

He thought his own chest might collapse as he watched yours heave.

“I’m so sorry. I…what do I do?”

Marc felt as if he should pick you up and carry you out of the humid bathroom, while simultaneously fearing you needed space from him. Turning off the water, he reached for a clean towel, wrapping you up protectively.

Dark eyes scanned you over, desperate for an answer. "Okay...tell me what to do. Is it me? You-you weren’t ready?" If he fucked this up, he would never forgive himself.

You heard the pinch of panic in his voice as your eyes met his. The last thing you wanted was for him to leave you right now.

"No, Marc, it’s not like that. Please hold me," you begged him, sliding your arms around his back and laying your head on his shoulder. "It's not you,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his skin. “I want you more than anything. It's just too much. You feel so good - it was so intense, I thought I was going to pass out."

"Okay. Okay, sweetheart," he soothed, rocking you gently, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple. "Let's get you out of here."

The next several minutes were filled with longing gazes as Marc dressed you in his clothes.

“Sorry I rushed you,” he whispered as you stepped into fresh joggers.

“I promise you didn’t,” you swore, halting his motion to meet his gaze. “Believe me, that’s what I want. It’s almost all I can think about. But like I said, I’m just…trying to catch up.”

He nodded, but you could tell you didn’t change his mind.

The final result of you wearing Marc’s clothes was a touch comedic, but you were clean and felt so cherished.

"There," he declared, satisfied with his handiwork. "Warm enough?"

"Yes," you nodded, feeling so safe in his arms. The two of you wore hooded sweatshirts and joggers, and Marc even found Steven's fluffiest pair of goldfish socks to keep your feet warm.

“You’re sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you?” He sweetly questioned, his eyebrows shifting and worried.

“No, I promise. I wanted to. I want to. Believe me, I don’t think there’s anything I want more than to be with you again,” you assured him. “I just…I couldn’t breathe for a second. Too much of a good thing, I think.”

His familiar scowl relaxed slightly, so maybe he was starting to believe you. Right then, your stomach let out the loudest growl, making the two of you chuckle.

"Kitchen?" Marc proposed.

"Kitchen," you agreed.

As you left the bedroom, you asked Marc to grab Jeremiah's fish bowl.

"Don't want to leave the little guy alone in here," you explained. He was only a fish, but you felt apprehensive to be without your little family.

As soon as you departed your bedroom, your heart longed to see your writing loft. But before you could even think to mention it, Marc was already apologizing about the house.

"Things might look different," he softly explained, tucking Jeremiah underneath his arm while holding onto your hand with his other. "We...I wanted to...um..." He swallowed, slowly trudging toward the staircase. "I needed to...Jake and Steven - they helped me put your stuff in the shed. So, the house’ll look different."

Pausing at the top of the staircase, he turned back to you. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you assured him, squeezing your joined hands. "It's important to me that you were living your life. That you were grieving. It sounds healthy."

Chewing your lip for a second, you pulled him by the hand toward your loft. "I want to see it. Please."

"Okay, of course," he agreed, but he tugged you back. "Remember...it looks different.”

You nodded before pushing open the door to maybe your favorite place in the whole world. The birthing suite of all your little friends - the characters that leapt straight from your heart onto the pages of your books.

Glancing at cute Jeremiah, darting around in his fish bowl under your partner's arm, you sighed a long, cleansing sigh.

Your computer was gone. Several of your bookshelves were cleared. Artwork and pictures no longer lined the walls. A bulletin board of letters from your sweet fans was empty.

Dust had settled on every surface, and you could tell the sun had not shone through this window in months. Heavy drapes blocked out the light. The whole thing felt stale.

A smile lit up your face as you pulled the curtains open. Light flooded the room, as a swirl of dust danced and scattered. You stretched out your fingers as if you could feel it, like a child might reach out to touch snowflakes.

Marc thought maybe he'd never seen anything more magical than your face at this moment, despite the miracles and wonders he'd witnessed as the avatar of an ancient god. And just when he thought his heart might explode with love for you, your nose wrinkled up at the intrusion of so much dust, and you sneezed.

"Bless you," he found himself saying as you bounced on your toes, swiping your finger through a trail of dust which had settled on your desktop.

"I hate dust," you practically giggled, your nose scrunching right before you sneezed again. You laughed out in delight. "I can sneeze. I can cry and sneeze and feel everything."

Your dust-disturbed, watery eyes landed on Marc. "Thank you," you gushed. "Thank you for not selling this house. Thank you for being here with me."

Worried that he'd taken so many wrong steps to get to this point, Marc felt a tightness in his chest loosen. "You're welcome. I'm sorry about your stuff. I-I couldn't look at it. It was my fault," he hurriedly explained. "It was me. Steven and Jake couldn't bear to get rid of it."

"It's okay," you assured him. "It's perfect. Just the dust and sunshine to greet me. Anything else would have been overwhelming." Your eyes met his. “It’s like you know just what I need.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The two of you finally made it down to the kitchen, but not before you delightedly greeted your other three fish, thrilled to see them all thriving.

Little Jeremiah swam happily in his fish bowl on the kitchen countertop while you and Marc decided to make some breakfast. You were still experiencing sensations as if every one of them was new to you, so it took you several minutes of feeling a cold egg in the palm of your hand, hearing the satisfying crunch as you cracked it open, smelling the bright citrus of orange juice and the slight burn of toast, before you noticed Marc sort of…staring at you.

“Hey,” you softly called, moving into his personal space. “This is crazy, right? We’re just making breakfast - ”

“Like a regular morning,” he supplied. “I can’t believe it. I seriously cannot believe you’re here with me right now.”

“I’m here,” you assured him, tangling your fingers with his. “Just…stay with me. Talk to me. Please don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not,” he quickly protested, bringing your joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m here too. I’m here, sweetheart. And I know we need to talk...to figure this all out. We will."

Nodding, you turned back to breakfast, your heart fluttering as Marc moved in behind you. Working hand over hand with you, he stayed close. He knew you needed it somehow.

The two of you tried to choke down some food, but something between you felt unfinished.

“How are you feeling?” Marc asked, pushing his plate away.

“Like I want to be close to you,” you whispered, reaching for his hand.

“Come here,” he beckoned you to follow him out of the kitchen. Venturing into the living room, he sat down in his favorite chair and pulled you into his lap, just like old times.

“Better?” He questioned, feeling a shiver of desire as you draped your body over his.

“Much,” you replied, snuggling close to him.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, brushing his thumb over your lips.

You answered by pressing your lips to his. You felt clearer now. Steady. Just the way Marc had made you feel when you were nothing but a spectre. He gave you substance, made you real somehow.

After kissing him for a brief eternity, you pushed your hands underneath his hoodie demandingly, needing to feel his skin once again. Marc released his hold on you, one arm at a time, to shrug the thing over his head and all the way off his arms before using both strong hands to boldly push your sweatshirt up your back.  

You paused, pulling back to look lustfully into his eyes as you ran the tip of your tongue over your nearly bruised lips. Crossing your arms, you assisted Marc in sliding the hoodie all the way up your torso and over your head, where it landed in a pile on the floor.  

“You okay?” He panted, forcing his hands still before running them all over you the way he wanted to.

You leaned forward, breathing hotly on his ear.  “You can touch me.”  

Marc was quaking with longing for you.  His arms wound around your back again, pulling you tightly against him.  “Baby,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. “I need you. Anything you can give me, I want.” He kissed you again, deeper this time. 

You stroked his cheek, rubbing his nose with your own. “I want you too, so much, Marc.”  Using both hands to pull his face to yours, your lips met for another kiss. 

A fire ignited in his body and he needed you like he needed air to survive. He pulled you against him as his tongue licked into your mouth. You felt dizzy and deliriously enraptured as his body flexed under yours, his hands seeming to touch everywhere at once.  In a matter of moments, you pulled your remaining clothes away, kissing and touching - desperately caressing every inch of skin.

Marc’s touch felt beyond amazing and you allowed his hands to explore and touch anywhere he desired. Wishing to hold nothing back from him, you would give him everything you could.  

You moaned when your bodies made nearly the most intimate contact possible as he brushed his fingers between your thighs. One hand found a home on your hip, guiding you to move against him, while the other hand set your body ablaze with his unabashed caress. You felt delirious with desire, your fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Please, Marc,” you begged. “I need you.”

He stilled his movements, causing you to whimper in protest, worried he might be too nervous to proceed.  

Suddenly, he shifted his hips and you felt him plunge inside, stretching you in a way you could hardly remember was possible. He held himself still, his forehead pressed to yours as he moaned out your name.

The feeling was so intensely perfect for Marc that he was almost afraid to move, but not for reasons of fearing he would hurt you. He had simply felt so alone and in so much pain for so long, he almost forgot that bliss like this existed. He felt surrounded by you and he never, ever wanted to leave.  

“Baby…oh fuck,” you gasped, seating yourself on him fully - the stretch of him filling you perfectly. Bracing your palms on his muscled chest, you held yourself still, hoping to keep from getting overwhelmed again.

Marc felt as if a million tons of pressure that had been a crushing weight on his chest were being lifted and his body energized with new purpose and reborn love. He experienced the most pure moment of clarity and freedom, knowing this was right.

He gasped up at you, thick fingers gripping your hips as he struggled not to thrust before you were ready.

“Jesus…honey,” he almost growled, his fingertips digging into your flesh. “Look at you. Need you so bad.”

Finally, you started to slowly rock your hips, your breasts bouncing as you held Marc’s gaze. Your back arched as pleasure tingled up and down your spine. A delicious pressure built in your core, already, overwhelming you. Your head swam and you started to get dizzy…but it felt so good that you decided to give into it. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc panted, pulling you against his chest to support your weight. Your body seemed to meld with his and you started to wonder where you ended and he began. He was so deep inside you making you feel more alive than anything ever had - not once, ever in your life.

You went limp in his arms, unable to do anything but feel, the sensation of friction, the salt of sweat, his hot breath, the texture of his skin, the rumble of his groans of pleasure, the heavy drag of his thick cock inside you.

“Don’t…stop…” is all you managed to pant before your body seized in a pleasure so consuming, you almost felt as if your soul left your body.

Which was the whole damn problem in the first place.

Only you were here, with him. 

“I’ve got you,” he promised again, and again.

You remained. You were real.

And when he filled your core it felt like molten lava.

You never wanted to move from this spot.

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

Join my tag list - for chaptered fics and one shots only

[jake-g-lockley]

The Anonymous Annotator (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: ARGUING!! then a heated "kiss me." and suddenly their hands are all over each other

Warning: MDNI, dom!Steven, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, dry humping, cockwarming (if you squint), nipple play 

A/N: Ok so I was watching MK again, as one does and I realized I want more of the Steven who talked back to Marc before he and Layla went to explore the tomb, so here is Steven being a little shit, cuz that's hot. Forget everything you know about sweetie Steven, k bye. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You sat in your dorm listening to music when you heard a knock on your door. You jumped up and opened the door, only to find a mysterious package on your doormat. It was wrapped in brown paper and had your name scrawled on it with messy handwriting. You rushed to your bed and pulled the string, tearing open the paper, revealing one of your spicier books that you hid under your bed, making your eyes widen. 

You frantically threw yourself off the bed to check under the bed and to your absolute horror, the book wasn't there. You spread your legs in front of you and pulled the book from the top of your bed and flipped to the front page, where the same handwriting blossomed. 

“To the one who’s eyes make the stars feel shy.” 

You flipped through the pages and found every bit of white space was covered in intricately detailed annotations. Your face heated up and you spent the next few hours reading how the mysterious annotator would alter the events of the books to make it more suitable for you. You gulped at the small smiley faces that would mark the end of the most crude sentences that you had ever laid your eyes on. 

“Where would you like my hands, sweet angel? Around your wrists, while I watch your tits bounce around while I thrust myself into you? Around your thighs, when I pin you down as you squirm against my face when my tongue carves my name out in your wetness? Around your neck, to see whether you’d be able to resist the urge to cum around my cock without me even moving a single muscle? :)”

It was seductive, and you were absolutely tantalised by the idea that you had a secret admirer. Suddenly, you can’t think about anything else but sex. 

“I wonder if I could fold you over like this, cover you with my spend after I’ve fucked you like a pathetic toy, leaning all of my body weight against you to whisper more things that could cause your pussy to clench around nothing.”

Every word, every phrase that was etched into the pages of the book in pencil burned coarsely against your skin and mind. 

“I think the protagonist could totally do better here. I’d love to hear your pretty noises as I devour you whole, to watch you come apart from my touch would be a blessing like no other.” 

You feel a warm pulsing somewhere below as you try taking deep breaths, trying to control the urges that rushed through your body. You rub your thighs together and you are suddenly hyper aware of your body’s changes, your skin feeling prickly, your breasts feeling uncomfortably trapped under your bra.

“Hah, rearranging her guts? I’d rearrange your brain chemistry just with my fingers in your sweet tight cunt.”

The warm tingling pulsation of your clit and increasing wetness and builds up from there, to the point of frustration where you have trouble thinking about anything other than your complete desire to be filled by the person who had taken the time to write all of their unrefined and vulgar thoughts on paper. 

“I’d let you sit and warm my cock for hours with you reading this over and over, till your eyes get tired and your cunt puls-”

Suddenly, your phone rang and you snapped out of whatever trance you were in, realising that it was your alarm for your class. You shook your head and slammed the book shut, throwing it into your bag, leaping up to leave your dorm.  

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You chewed your inner cheek as you tried to listen to the lecturer, nervously tapping the table to calm your mind. 

“Quit the tapping, dumbass, I can’t focus.” hissed the person beside you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to glare at Steven Grant, third year Egyptology student and your No.1 academic rival. Pity the fact that he was such a pretty boy because he was sometimes just a sarcastic cunt. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger a little longer at the silhouette of his side profile, your sight grazing down the beautiful curve of his nose and settling on the plump of his lips.

Steven knew you were staring but didn’t say a word. His eyes were trained on the lecturer before him and he was quite positive that the lecturer was going to call you out any second now.

“Is there something more interesting about Mr. Grant’s face?” you heard the lecturer call out to you and you tore your gaze away from Steven and looked horrifyingly at her.

Steven bit his bottom lip and tried not to smirk as you slowly stood up from your seat. 

“Uh, no Ms. he, umm,” you tried to speak but your mind was jumbling at the thought of being caught and called out all in one second.

“Sit down! And eyes on the board, young lady, I want your focus here as your grades have been steadily declining.” the lecturer said before turning back to the board.

Your face was flushed and your hands were shaking. You could literally feel the smugness radiating off Steven and you gritted your teeth and stared forward, determined to keep your eyes on the board. For the past few weeks, you had been plagued with the mysterious book annotator and your focus had been slipping. You found yourself searching far and wide for the person’s likeness but you never seemed to catch the person anywhere near you. 

Finally the class was dismissed and you quickly gathered all your things and practically sprinted for the exit when you heard your lecturer call your name. You turned to see Steven speaking to your lecturer and sweat beaded at your palms, knowing you were in deep shit today.

“Mr. Grant here has agreed to tutor you, with the promise that you would make proper grades this semester.” your lecturer said and you glared at Steven who had a sweet, innocent smile on his face. 

“Your tutoring sessions are whenever Mr. Grant is free and you are to focus, alright?” you hated the way the lecturer was speaking to you but you purse your lips and nodded. 

“My place, 8 pm today.” Steven whispered and you grimaced but nodded.

Steven eyed the book that poked out of your bag as you quickly walked away and smirked to himself. 

“If she doesn’t have the brains to figure it out herself…”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“No look, that happened before this, you’re getting the timelines mixed up!”

“I’m getting the timelines mixed up? What about you? Did you write this goddamn book, Steven?” 

You knew how this was going to go down, you and Steven arguing away about the stupidest misunderstanding. Your pride made it hard to back down as Steven tried teaching you, and you could tell that he was genuinely trying from the way he pulled out his own flashcards to help you. You couldn’t admit defeat, not to Steven Grant. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pushing your knuckles into your eyes and counting from one to ten before looking up at Steven again. 

“Come on, it's not that hard.” Steven tried justifying as he flipped through the cards again.

“It’s fucking difficult Steven, stop sounding so fucking smart.” you groan.

“You’re not that fucking stupid either, I just need you to focus.” Steven chastised you, slightly more gently this time.

“I’d probably focus better if you didn’t make such a hot fucking teacher.” you hissed under your breath as you flipped the page angrily.

“What?” Steven whispered.

“You heard me.” you snapped, glaring at him. “You know, you’d probably teach me better if you stopped giving me those big ‘fuck me’ eyes either. Like what? You want me to kiss you or something?” 

You were definitely losing your shit as Steven inhaled a sharp breath of air. Suddenly, everything happened so quickly that you didn’t have the time to register the book being ripped out of your hands and soft plump lips settling against your own. It was a soft kiss at first, testing, unsure, but when you began to move your lips against his, it became more passionate as he pulled you onto his lap without a second thought. 

It took you long enough to push past your primal urges to realise that you were kissing Steven Grant. You snapped out of it and pushed him away, only to see his flushed face, swollen lips and half lidded eyes. It switched on something in you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close once again as your lips began another dance with his. His hands were on your hips as he pushed your clothed core against him, groaning into your mouth. 

“Fuck, Steven, what’s happening?” you whisper against his forehead as he trailed kisses along your cheek and jaw, making your muscles buzz with anticipation. 

“Let it happen, love.” he moaned against your neck as you pressed yourself onto his hardening member again. 

Your hands found his soft hair and you pulled him closer as he began to suck softly at the soft skin of your neck. One of his huge hands palmed at your tits through your tank top, twisting at your hardening sensitive bud and you arched your back, whining and leaning towards your source of pleasure. 

“Love your pretty noises. Don’t stop.” Steven softly encouraged you as he continued to play with your nipple, your mind racing into overdrive.

There was a familiar throb that bloomed inside of you at Steven’s words as something finally clicked. Steven must have sensed the shift too as he smirked darkly against your neck, instantly biting down so that he could drag you away from saying what you needed to say.

“Bloody hell, unngh, it was you.” you managed to say as Steven pushed you against his hardening erection.

“Mhm.” Steven moaned as he licked a long strip up your neck to your ear, kissing the shell of your ear softly.

Every part of you felt sensitive, all tuned towards Steven. You had the sudden urge to be filled and you rutted yourself over and over against him, as if begging him to know what you actually needed. 

“Is it okay if I touch you like this?" His question was spoken lowly, as if he didn’t want to break the fragile veil that was forming over the both of you. 

“Yes, please, mngh, why didn’t you tell me sooner…” you whimpered as his hand grabbed your ass, kneading it softly as his fingers dug through your shorts, trying to feel your skin. 

“Wanna taste you so bad.” he murmured as his lips met yours again.

You were lost for words as the pages and pages of vulgarity blinded your eyes, making you squeeze them shut as you suddenly feel Steven pick you up. You were now lying on a bed, his bed, staring up at the mysterious annotator who had been plaguing your mind with absolute filth and filling your dreams with sweet wet melodies that cursed you throughout your waking life. 

“I bet you know the things I’d like to do to you, my sweet angel.” He said, trailing both of his hands down from your shoulders to the top of your tank top. 

“But you’re supposed to be-”

“Sweet Steven Grant who only cares about his studies? Oh please, darling, let me catch a break.” He ripped your tank top with surprising strength, leaving you bare for him. 

His darkened iris dragged themselves down your body, painting you with their own poetry that could not be described using words in the English dictionary. He pulled his sweater off himself and you gulped at how defined he looked. This shouldn’t be attractive. You shouldn’t be attracted to your rival. You shouldn’t be attracted to the guy who stole one of your private possessions and spilled all of his blasphemous thoughts on it before slyly returning it.

“Wanted to do this since the first day I laid my eyes on you. Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl until I got ahold of one of your books, love.” He said into your chest and you gasped at his confession, your brain still trying to comprehend everything.

Steven had your head out of your books for weeks and now he had his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as you cried his name and pushed his head against you. You desperately needed him to quiet your mind with his tongue and you wanted it so bad that you were already shaking under him. His fingers hooked at your waistband and your hands join him there and the both of you slowly pull your shorts off you.

Steven felt up your thighs, telling you how soft you are, how nice and warm your thighs are and how they’re so pretty, whilst burying his her head in your shoulder and neck, lightly panting and nuzzling you. His hand slowly slid to your mound as he started peppering small kisses along your collarbone. His fingers grazed your hardening nub between your legs as you clench your legs together and turned your head to the side. One of his legs wrenched yours open and pinned you down, sliding his fingers through your wet swollen folds, groaning against you.

“Inside Steven” He obeys, pushing one finger inside and pumping it slowly, bringing his face up to watch your expressions contort beautifully on your face.

You throbbed and twitched around him, your cunt responding beautifully to his touch as his thumb rubs soft circles around your clit. Steven adjusted himself and now had been grinding down his erection on your thigh, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet cunt. Quick breathy moans filled the air as they mingled together and you could barely differentiate yours and Steven’s from the heavy ringing in your ears. 

“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you to be.” he whispers and you sigh.

Suddenly his hands are off you and you whine at the loss of touch but it quickly morphed into a moan as Steven’s tongue flicked at your clit. He was so worked up that he pushed his entire face into your already wet cunt and breathed in deeply, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head. He started fucking you with his tongue, thrusting the flexible muscle in and out of you with accurate precision that had you writhing around. He pushed two fingers into you easily and started pushing them in and out as he latched himself onto your clit. Your cries were getting louder and more uncontrollable now as you found yourself heading towards your first clift of the night

“Shut the fuck up and listen, Listen to how fucking wet you are, how fucking wet you are for me.” Steven says, going shallow at first so that you could hear all the sloppy, vulgar noises that your cunt was making.

Your face was heating up and you tried to hide behind your hands but Steven wrenched your hands away, gripping them in a lock as he now pushed in deeper, deeper, going knuckle deep, finding the spots that make you shake, make you quiver.

“Come on baby, I can feel you close, you’ve already made such a huge mess around my face and hands, go ahead and cum.” with that Steven’s mouth was back on you as you hurtle past your pleasure, pussy tightly clenching around his fingers as Steven lapped up all of your spend before it could wet the bed beneath you. 

He slowly massaged your tit as you came down from your high, twitching slightly as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and started to suck them clean, moaning at the taste of you and giving you a show that you didn’t know you needed. 

You look up at Steven when he was done, your eyes big and wide as a question sits on your tongue. Steven nodded and your eyes dropped to the tent between his legs. 

"Can I touch?" you ask softly, keeping yourself from palming him through his sweats. 

"Touch what, darling?" Steven asked, making your face heat up again.

“Your cock, Steven, please.” you decided to say please anyway, before he had any forethought to tease you any longer. 

Steven flops down beside you and gestures at his crotch and you take it as a sign to undress him. You tug his sweats down along with his boxers and his cock pops out slapping against his abdomen. You lick your lips and grab ahold of him, feeling him in your hands. You kneel next to him and spit on your hand, taking his cock and starting to pump him up and down as his head lolled back onto the pillow. 

You take the tip in your mouth, just sucking on it gently. You let your tongue drag over it, smearing pre cum all over the tip as your hand continues to slowly pump him up and down. Suddenly your mouth is around him and you start sucking, driven by the noises that Steven started making. His hand was soon in your hair as he involuntarily started pushing you to take more and more of him and you obliged, swallowing around him as his tip grazed the back of your throat. 

“Gods, I didn’t know your mouth could work like this. If I knew earlier, I could use my cock to shut you up whenever I please.” Steven moans and you rolled your eyes and licked the underside of his shaft, making his cock twitch. 

Soon, you had him properly squirming against you as you bounced your head up and down his shaft. His hands were suddenly at the back of your head as he pulled you off him, spit trailing from your mouth to his dick as you took big gulps of air. 

“Need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he gently takes your arms and pulls you towards him for a bruising kiss. 

You straddled him, settling your pussy against his spit soaked cock, making him moan against your lips. You pulled away to watch his facial expression as he moved his cock to prod at your entrance. You sunk down slowly and Steven watched as your cunt swallowed him up whole, tipping his head back again as the both of you hissed from the fullness. You folded your legs behind Steven and he nestled his head against your bare breasts, inhaling your scent. He pushed himself slightly forward so that he would have enough space to fuck up into your cunt. 

And that's what he did. 

With small shallow strokes, Steven began to thrust up into your warm cunt, moaning at your tightness and feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of you around him. It was true, he’d wanted you ever since he laid eyes on you. He thought you were the most fascinating human beings he had ever met and loved the passion that flowed through you. But you were one smart cookie, beating him in every test, acing everything that made you triumphantly yell at his face. 

Sure, he wanted you to fall back a little bit and he taught himself how to gain control over you. One day, that control came upon him in the form of one of your books. He wasn’t surprised that you would read something like this, his mouth forming into a grin as the evil thoughts began to fill his mind. He jotted them down in your book and one morning, decided that it would be a good idea to deliver the book to you, setting it down at your front door and walking away quickly. 

How you didn’t notice his handwriting for weeks absolutely baffled him. He knew you were smarter than that and suddenly he realised that he’d indirectly gotten you in a chokehold. You were frantic, searching around, trying to find the person who had an iron grip around you when the person was right beside you. Part of him felt guilty when your grades started dropping and he really was going to teach you today, but your mind was clearly elsewhere. 

He snapped his hips against your ass a little harder, your face buried in his curls, moaning into his scalp. He tilted his own head up and kissed a soft spot at the bottom of your chin, making you giggle slightly. It was incredibly intimate, being in this position with Steven, but you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was doing this for his own benefit. Steven could feel your breathing change and he stopped, bringing himself to your eye level as the both of you panting softly, breathing in each other’s air from the close proximity. 

“Love?” 

“Do you really want me, Steven, or are you just doing this to have a one up on me?”  you say, trying to find a comfortable position as Steven was buried in you up to the hilt. 

Guilt began to pour over Steven’s head and he sighed, pushing your hair away from your face and taking a good look at you.

“I really want you, darling. I know my methods are questionable, but oh, I wanted you and still want you so bad.”  he said, cupping your face in his hands. 

“I’m still mad at you Steven, for making my grades drop .” you stay sternly, combing your hands through his unruly locks and dragging them to his face, tracing all of its sharp edges as his eyes flutter close. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the man before you and his words truly did turn you on. They were etched deep into your mind as you read them over and over whilst your hand was between your legs, trying hard to picture the person who had spilled all of their sins onto the pages of the books. Now you had your picture in front of you and the picture was beautiful. 

“But I can’t help but want you too.” you whispered and his worried face morphed to one of pure bliss as he relaxed, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“So, you’re going to have to make it up to me by fucking me like you promised in your writings. Okay?” you whisper against his soft breaths and he chuckled as his cock throbbed impatiently inside of you, causing you to moan. 

Steven immediately flipped you over and claimed your lips with his again, drawing his hips back and slamming into you with so much force that your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He began to thrust in and out with his own rhythm picking up speed. A calm, deep growl, and soft grunt filled your ears with each increasingly deep thrust inside you as Steven quite literally started railing you into the bed. 

Your cunt spasmed around his length and a primal craving snapped inside of Steven as his thrust became more and more powerful. He took in deep breaths, becoming high on your pheromones as you moaned his name over and over, until it started to sound like garbled garbage. He loved the way his cock stretched you out and he loved the way you were taking all of him, your whimpers spurring him on as he watched your tits jiggle. 

He grabbed your legs and folded you over, the new angle making you sob at how intense the pleasure was. Steven pushed himself against you and the sting you felt throughout your body as well as the constant thrust of Steven’s cock pushed you over the edge again with the help of his thumb at your clit. You came, squeezing Steven as tight as you possibly could. Steven felt himself collapse against you as he could only roll his hips and grind against you, your pussy sucking him in and keeping him there as he tried to help you ride out your high. 

Steven finally let himself relax as he used you for his own release, fighting against the muscles of your pussy as his cock twitched intensely. He pulled out of you and slammed into you a few more times, before releasing his own pent up spend into you, painting your walls with his seed as he rode out his own high. 

Steven let go of your legs and slumped against you, his whole body going absolutely limp from fucking you like a mad man. You pressed a small kiss on his temple and whispered a thank you into his ear as he floated back down to earth, his head pounding from the intensity of his release. 

“I’ve got more books, if you want to ruin them with your filth.” you said softly, earning a chuckle from Steven.

“Only if you focus and let me teach you, love.”

“Yada yada, fine, Professor Grant.” you say jokingly, but gulped when you felt Steven hardening inside you again.

“Hmm, looks like someone wants round two.” 

You were definitely done for now. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @celiaswife @violet-19999 @melodygatesauthor @romanarose

[oddballwriter]

Honeymooning with the Moon Boys

Warnings: I don't really think there is any. The only note I want to give is that the boys are all individual and there no reference to the others' honeymoon ideas. So yeah. 

Author’s Snip: I really have no excuse. I've just had this idea bubbling in my mind for a bit.

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

Steven Grant

I feel like the obvious choice is Egypt, and yeah sure maybe he does want that to be your honeymoon location, but not for the reasons you think

It's a miracle. Steven isn't info-dumping about Egypt. Lol

Okay but in all seriousness he doesn't really say anything unless you ask him because he's probably explained everything before you two even got married. Yeah you visit some spots and he'll tell you a bit but otherwise. Complete zip

Steven feels like if him talking all about it takes away the magic of the honeymoon and what it's meant to be. It's meant to be a thing that you both get to experience as a newlywed couple. It's a personal thing for the two of you. So he knows that him fanboying will take all that away because his focus isn't on you, his spouse, the light of his life and the air in his lungs, and what kind of husband would he be if he focused on anything else

So you two go see more scenic places like the shores or the nightlife

Do something together

And I mean, you have the rest of your lives together. You can be tourists some other time

Marc Spector

I have a feeling Marc would actually want to go somewhere where no one will bother you

He would be okay with whatever you wanted but if you genuinely want him to say what he wants and imagines for the honeymoon then he'll say that

I know Marc gets played as a grouch a lot but like, Marc is just not a people person and he doesn't want to deal with people during the trip where it's meant to be just for you and him

He doesn't want to hear a million strangers congratulating him and you and all that

So maybe a cabin somewhere nice with scenery. Where you can soak in all the sights together with no one interrupting you

You don't need to go anywhere where there will be a bunch of people because its all right there if you just look out a window

The two of you can just cuddle and have a peaceful time

Yeah, you guys go out and get dinner someplace nice too but just like

Just the two of you

Like it will be always, now that you're married

Jake Lockley

Here comes Mr. Party Boy /hj

Jake wants to go somewhere lively since he sees your honeymoon as one big party vacation for the two of you to celebrate trying the knot

He still values it the same as Marc and Steven would with it being something for you but he just wants it to be fun and big

So he'd want to go to someplace like Las Vegas, New Orleans, Miami, or New York. Just something fun.

You're newlyweds so why not act like it?

I do see one thing that seems like something Jake would do and that's doing one big road trip to your honeymoon location

It sounds wild but in all honestly, Jake's wild, and also why not?

You guys are married now, you're going to be with each other for the rest of your lives so might as well pack yourselves into a car and have fun on the road

Stop at some spots you see advertised on the billboards that you pass. It'll make for great stories to tell others or reminisce on down the line

I can see Jake being the type of man where he keeps his old cars and has a story for every single one of them

Anyways, the honeymooning

Jake makes sure it's something that you two will always remember and look back on as your first big trip together as a married couple in the face of maybe other trips

[moonshynecybin]

Hi, if its convenient can you put me a link to all Bezz vrimes of haterism on Marc. Is he really that insane to go on record like a drunken man

omg i would love to... those videos are so literally iconic and all of this is so funny to me... SO um. like marc absolutely had a hand in crashing bez out really early at valencia 2023, but it didnt get on the broadcast bc the fucking TITLE FIGHT was happening and stuff. like there were other priorities. HOWEVERRRR this reallyyyyy pisses bez off. like a lot. so he fucking shows up to honda hospitality to demand justice or something, maybe get an apology or explanation. i have no idea what he thought would happen tbh, because marc had ALSO crashed out of that race (jorge martin doing stupid shit) and it was his LAST RACE WITH HONDA. so marc is CRYING all over the place and trying to achieve emotional catharsis about closing a major chapter of his life and then bez (A FUCKING VALE CRONY??) shows up and starts literally maybe yelling at him. which i imagine did not impress marc. so he refuses to talk to him! or turns him away idk but SOMETHIN happens that pisses bez off even moreeeee so he goes into his post race briefing just absolutely spitting mad in like. a puffer jacket with a beer literally in his hand. messy.

so he starts YAPPING. calls marc the dirtiest rider in motogp and says marc only got away with it bc hes MARC MARQUEZ and there was a conspiracy from the stewards and the broadcast (um. buddy.) and its makes a bunch of headlines bc vr46/marquez flavored beef keeps the lights on around here. marc says to the media i dont wanna even talk about that person. NEXT. so it goes.

but its not even over! because later that day bez gets WAYY drunker (TOASTED.) and posts up to the ducati garage to celebrate with the championship win with pecco whereupon he steals a microphone from skyitalia and goes around bothering people and dropping little digs at marc the wholeeeee time it is VERY funny. hes like pecco hello how are you today congratulations i WILL beat you next year. did anyone know that marquez made me crash. now lets talk to your GRANDMA ! like its awesome. i watch it when i get sad and imagine the PR guy was locked in a closet somewhere screaming. theres a vid with excellent translation here. homie is on the MOON.

anyways he saw marc on track at testing was a lil annoyed but then he walked most of this back like three days later (i DO think some stories got published saying they physically FOUGHT and there were some made up quotes that were obvs crazy, but i also think my man marco got a taste of the vale/marc media divorce vortex and went runningggggg) which is. also so funny. "i dont care what people think" (cares sooosossoso much)

[marinettesaltprompts]

Hi! So, I’ve been writing a few bits of Marinette salt, some involving my OCs in Mendeleieve’s class calling her (And sometimes Bustier, Damocles) out, and season 5 really helped with that. Finally, it’s good for someone 😅

Anyway, this prompt centers around the class discovering Marinette’s stalker-like tendencies when it comes to Adrien thanks to a certain redhead. Nathaniel and Marinette were assigned to work on a group project together and went to work at Marinette’s house… In her room. While pulling out his supplies, Nathaniel dropped his pencil, and it rolled under Marinette’s bed, where he found numerous photos of Adrien that don’t look like they were taken from a magazine. He finds more, and more until he comes across a spreadsheet of some elaborate plan to get a date with Adrien and finally… The schedule. His friend is a stalker. Before Marinette can return, he takes pictures, hides everything he found and gathers up his belongings with the excuse he has a family emergency at home. Really, he just needs to get out of there.

The next day at school, Nathaniel drags Marc somewhere private and tells him what he saw, and of course, Marc tells his classmates. They’re horrified by the photos on Nathaniel’s phone and set out to confront Marinette right in the middle of class for what she’s done. Adrien is disturbed, Bustier is taking Marinette’s side and berating the class for exposing something so private, the Girl Squad (Sans Alix) is a little torn, and the rest are on Adrien’s side because they weren’t aware that Marinette was doing these things. And all the while, Mendeleiv’s class is calling Marinette out. The ending is up to you, maybe someone gets Akumatized, I don’t know.

(Honestly, this is just word vomit and I’m not really sure about this)

For a supposed "word vomit" prompt, it feels really thought out! I love how you chose to utilise Nathaniel (at least in regards to how Miraculous keep pushing him more and more to the sidelines each season) and I appreciate how open ended you left the idea in case someone gets inspired by your post!

Thank you for sharing your prompt! Hope this blog will inspire you with more ideas to come up with!