Love You Like The Sun Came Out

love you like the sun came out

ˣ pairing: steven grant x reader

ˣ summary: steven spends an evening with two of his absolute favorites— the egyptian exhibit at the museum and you.

ˣ warnings: purely fluff + cheesy love declarations but we need it ;_;

ˣ a/n: this is just a ficlet i whipped up after bawling my eyes out at the end of episode 5. marvel better watch out bc i’m sending them a bill for my therapy this week lololol. hope you enjoy!

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2 years ago

through the storm | jake lockley

a/n: i'm squeaking i loved this. seeing jake be so rough on himself and finally giving himself what he needs; you. ugh, it's a trope I'm all here for every second of every day 💗 thank you to the beautiful nonnie who requested this ☺️

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, marc and steven are only mentioned,

summary: steven loves to cuddle through a storm, marc too. but jake can't give himself the pleasure of falling asleep in your arms, until finally you convince him.

w/c: 0.8k

moon boys masterlist

Through The Storm | Jake Lockley

The rain poured against the top of the apartment, bringing you out of your book. You were cozied up in bed, watching as flashes of lightning illuminated the nook-like space. 

You yawned, feeling tiredness sweep through your body like a tidal wave. Stretching your limbs, your eyes follow the line leading to the door which was twisting open to reveal him. 

With a cap on his head, he shimmied out of his jacket in silence, droplets of rain meeting the floor beneath him.

“You’re home?” You call out, earning the man’s brown orbs to lift.

Jake. You knew exactly who was fronting. 

“Finished early,” Jake responds. “We’re in for some crazy weather,” He informs you.

You nod your head. “Which is the perfect nap weather, am I right?” You giggle, bookmarking your spot. Every time the rain came and a thunderstorm ensued, Marc and Steven would adoringly cuddle with you. Steven wanted to be as close as possible, while Marc enjoyed the sleep he got while wrapped in your arms. 

Jake deserved the same. 

He rarely gave himself over to a side of affection. Swearing to himself that his sole purpose was to protect Marc and Steven, he tried not to come around as much because he didn’t want you to suffer. He knew he could be bitter at times, but he had the best intentions. 

“Yeah,” Jake mumbles, fishing his belongings out of his pocket and placing them in the bowl. He walks through the room after removing his shoes, never once beelining for the spot beside you. 

“Jake?” You call his name.

“Yes, cariño?” Jake responds, the pet name making your face soften as your lips part. 

Another roar of thunder sounded outside, making you sigh. You really wanted him to let go for a bit– to know what it was like to relax. 

“Why don’t we take a nap together? We can be nap buddies.” You inform him just as he turns the corner. Jake’s eyes soften as he stares a hole through the side of the mattress that was currently vacant. 

“I’m fine, sweetness. Go on without me.” He deters. 

“Jake Lockley,” You clear your throat. “There is a persistent thunderstorm outside, and I want to cuddle. It’s the perfect nap weather! Come on, don’t be so grumpy.” You cross your arms. 

Jake glances to the side, certainly hearing as the rain pelted against the rooftop. 

Deep down, he wanted to. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to fall into your embrace, but he knew better. He couldn’t risk it. 

“Hermosa,” He says, but stops when he sees your bottom lip push forward. “–Don’t do that.” 

You shake your head. “I know you don’t want to–”

“That’s not it. I promise.” He stops. “Marc and Steven– they can. I’ll see if–”

“I don’t want Marc or Steven. No offense if they can hear me. I want you, Jake.” 

Jake was having a bitter internal fight. He could hear the voices of his alters chuckling and both persuading him.

Steven said you were like a physical form of honey. 

Marc said he wouldn’t regret it, it would be the best sleep of his life. 

Even the two boys wanted the best for their grumpy alter. 

Another ferocious roar of thunder seals the deal for Jake. He can visually see the room growing darker from the clouds overhead, and strikes of lightning slipping through the window panes. He takes a few cautious steps forward, watching as you eagerly move the sheets back.

Jake falls into them nervously and the moment he feels your hand caress his arm, he knew what Steven meant. You looked at him with such an adorable expression, your limbs tangling through his. He was stiff, and you were trying your hardest to coax him to relax.

“Come on, wrap your arms around me, Lockley. I know you can do it.” You tease him. 

Jake sighs and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

The moment his nose brushes yours, his eyes fall immediately to your lips. His mouth parts slightly and he feels a sudden rush consume him. Cautiously, Jake journeys his hand up the trail of your arm until he ghosts an index finger across your collarbone, soon delivering a feather touch to your jaw. He sees as your eyes dilate with pure adoration, pupils blowing wide as you gazed at him with a sense of longing. 

“Mi Vida,” He whispers. He cups your soft cheek, brushing his thumb underneath your eye. You melt into his touch and nuzzle your cheek against his palm. 

“Give into it, Jake… You’re safe here.” You reassure him. 

Jake closes his eyes, soon finding the softness of your lips. He brushes his fingers through your hair before he pulls you closer, the thunder rolling more repetitively now. 

He gives into the feeling, the way he feels safe. He lets it consume him, and soon, he’s fast asleep in your embrace. You’re cuddled to his chest as strong arms engulf you, crushing you to his body, but keeping you safe. 

The rain continued to pour and nothing could take this moment away from Jake.

Through The Storm | Jake Lockley

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2 years ago

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒. 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒. 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋

paring: fem!reader x miguel o'hara

summary: just how would be a friends with benefits relationship with miguel.

warnings: Miguel out of character maybe? nsfw, not established relationship, unprotected sex, jealousy, i'm being self indulgent.

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒. 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋

❊ it starts one night after having some drinks with friends. He was taking you home, when you two started to talk about how horny the alcohol makes you both

❊ which leads to you inviting him in just to have some coffee to sober up, but it's just an excuse, because you didn´t drink that much, just enough to find the courage to do what you both have been wishing for so long

“are we really doing this?” you moan while he kisses your neck, trailing kisses down your body.

“do you want me to stop?” he asks, stopping what he's doing, looking into your eyes.

“no, keep going. Keep going” you beg, spreading your legs, allowing him to kiss your clothed pussy.

❊ it was suposse to be a one time thing, but it ends being an anytime thing. Any of you calling or sending a message with something as simple as “wanna come over?” or “can I see u?

❊ the first few times were great. After hooking up you used to leave, and that was all. Until one night, it was a long day for Miguel, and he just fell asleep after one of your sessions

you are trying to recover from your climax when he starts to cum, shooting his seed inside you with a raspy groan.

“mierda” he mutters against your neck, still inside you, trying to catch his breath “you have no idea how much I needed that, cariño” he pulls out slowly, collapsing on the bed next to you “can I sleep here just for tonight? estoy realmente cansado”

“yeah” you say, not sure if he heard you before falling asleep

the morning after, you wake up with Miguel still sleeping, with his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he can

❊ after that everything feels more intimate, crossing the “just sex" line

❊ and of course, your friends are not blind. They see the stolen glances, the holding hands under the table, all those "accidental" touches

“we're just friends” you say, rolling your eyes, taking his hand off your thigh.

And for some reason, he hates how hearing that makes him feel.

❊ I think that he would be the first one to catch feelings, so he is the first one to be jealous

“wait, are you jealous?” you smirk, placing a hand on his chest.

“what? no. why would I be jealous?” he mutters, walking away from you

❊ but at the end of the day, neither of you are willing to make the next move because you're too scared of screwing things up.

“we're just friends, right?” you whine and he almost laughs at the scenario. At how funny it's the question while he has his dick buried deep inside your cunt.

“yeah, just friends, preciosa” he hisses, rocking his hips against yours.

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒. 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋

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2 years ago

Sweet Nothings [Santiago "Pope" Garcia]

Summary: It's never easy choosing between your feelings and your friendship. In other words, Santi has to decide if he wants the new guy in town to snatch you up or if a friendship will have to be ruined.

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x best friend!reader

Warnings: Angst, Best Friends to Lovers, Santi being an idiot, Benny being a little shit, touching, lots of yelling, Angst with a happy ending, mentions of Santi getting shot, one sided love not really

A/N: scraped endless drafts because I had to look at it from so many angles. 3rd Commission of the year thank you so so much🥳 so sorry it took me so long, had to deal with a lot of bullshit at school and the depression it brought me. I really do appreciate the support you guys bring❤️✨ this one is for Alex (please link your username because 1am here am I'm sleepy as fuck to try and find it at the moment)

Sweet Nothings [Santiago "Pope" Garcia]

Sweet Nothings [Santiago "Pope" Garcia]

He’s an idiot.

He wants a taste.

You’re murmuring a quick answer to Frankie’s question with your mouth full of a blueberry cupcake. Then you take a sip of some beverage Benny ordered. You hardly pay attention to whatever Ben and Frankie are bickering about, eyes too drawn to your book.

But Santi’s paying attention. To your mouth. To your lips. And he wants a taste. He’s an idiot who wants a taste.

“Santi, hermano, come on. Help me out here.” Frankie groans, exasperated while Benny’s mischievous grin flashes brightly.

“Hmm?” Santiago hates having to take his eyes off you. His thigh brushes yours under the table. It maddens the flutter of his heart. The only indication that you took notice was the brief glance in his direction and a tiny smile before your gaze returns to the words on your page.

No doubt whatever the little shit said only said it to grate in Frankie’s last nerve and it is working. And by extension, it’s getting on Santi’s last nerve because he hates it when Frankie starts complaining.

Before he even has the chance to tell them both to be quiet and eat their pancakes (mostly because he hadn’t been listening to a word they said), you chime in, without even looking up from your book, “He wants you to tell Ben that he’s an idiot for thinking that mint chocolate-flavoured stuff are better than caramel-flavoured stuff.”

Santiago raises an eyebrow. “Wait, you’ve been listening this whole time?”

He doesn’t understand how you can be drifting between two worlds. The real life and your book. Usually, you prefer the latter, especially when you’re out in public. Too often, he becomes jealous of the characters in your books. You pay far more attention to them than you do to him.

“It’s hard not to.” you mutter, taking another bite of your cupcake. “Not with that mind-numbing chatter.”

It’s hard not to laugh at your sardonic quip. He revels in these little moments. The tidbits of chaos in your eyes that spark from time to time. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Benjamin has the inability to shut the hell up and enjoy a good meal on a quiet morning.” You put down your book with the most disgusted look on your face. “Also, mint chocolate? Really, Ben? I bet you like the taste of toothpaste in your coffee as well.”

“Oh, fuck off!” There was a chorus of laughter that sparked Ben’s scowl. “Leave my coffee out of this. It has nothing to do with anything.”

“Your coffee has everything to do with this.” you shoot back, nose wrinkling as you smile.

Frankie’s laughing harder with each second at the exchange. Benny crossed his arms, shrinking in his chair. “God, she sounds exactly like the jackass sitting next to her.”

Your gaze shifts to him, smiling. That knowing look as you let him in on your thoughts. He returns it with a grin.

He’s a moron.

I know, right?

The little moment that you both share as you peer into each other’s minds is one of many that will be cherished. Santiago shook his head, chuckling as he watched you roll your eyes and return to your book. To your own little world. You lean back on your chair, smiling.

There was nothing Santi loved more than watching you be at peace in your own little world. Hardly anything draws you out for too long. Not even him, but he doesn’t mind. As long as you’re happy there because this world doesn’t give much to live for, to dream for.

But you?

You’ve always given him something to dream about. 

“Hermano.” Frankie nudges (kicks) him under the table and Santi has half a mind to wring his neck from where he’s sitting. 

He’s got that shit-eating grin from where he sits, along with Ben. Will doesn’t smirk but simply gives him that look. Like he knows exactly what those two are thinking and he wholeheartedly agrees.

It’s not the first time they caught him staring. It certainly won’t be the last. Nor will it be the last time they’re going to give him shit once you’re out of the vicinity. Frankie gives him the hardest time because he has pried the most information out of him.

Pendejo–

“I said–” Will starts, and it takes a second for Santiago to realize that it was him who spoke. “Are you coming to the game tonight or are you preoccupied? Again?”

Preoccupied is code for ‘trying and failing to ask you out’. Emphasis on failing. Dismally, in fact. He’s blown them off so many times to spend nights at your place, just trying to get the words out.

But all that happens is that his hands start sweating while his heart rattles violently in its cage and he stares at the back of your head while you’re preparing the popcorn in the kitchen. Or he stares at you when you’re watching a movie. Or when you’ve fallen asleep on top of him. No words come out.

He can’t tell you. He just can’t. Because what if you say no? What if he loses you–

God, he doesn’t even want to fathom the thought. But he’s going to keep trying anyway. He doesn’t know how many nights he’s going to spend at your house just trying to ask or tell you how he feels

Before he can answer, someone calls your name.

Then your eyes glance up and–

Oh.

Oh, how they light up. And oh, how his stomach drops because who has the power to yank your head out of that book with such ease?

“Oh, hey, Jax.” You grin sweetly at the man who dared to walk over to the table, to all five of you.

Santiago has seen him before. He’s new in town. Moved a couple of months ago and he’s steadily been making himself acquainted with the locals.

The man is tall. Blond hair in a half bun, baby blues to match, and a jaw that could cut diamonds. He’s tall, built in all the ways that make the women giggle and whisper. He’s got a friendly face and attitude and it doesn’t help that he’s so… nice.

It doesn’t help that his attention seems to be focused on you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Jax smiles before his eyes glance at Will, then Ben and Frankie. Then finally, they meet Santiago’s. The man gives a genuine nod, acknowledging all four of them. “Hello.”

And just like that, the boys are tense. On a razer’s edge and he seems to clock in on that. Good. Santiago wants him to know that he’s not welcome around here– around you. Frank and Will nod back, trying to be friendly, trying not to make a scene. But Santi stays as he is. Stiff as a board. Silent as a stone.

“Hey, man.” Ben plasters a bright smile, but it feels more like he’s baring his teeth. “How are you doin?”

But –heavens forbid– you’ve put the book down.

Santiago stares at it, failing to mask his shock for a brief moment before he masks it when you stand up. You introduce him to the boys. Pleasantries are exchanged but Santiago doesn’t say a word. He leans back on his chair, eyeing this man, Jax.

Those baby blues falter when they find the heat in the eyes of Santiago “Pope” Garcia. And he takes much pride in how he takes a step back, more out of self-preservation. He realizes that he’s looking at four hungry wolves, rather than men.

Only, you follow and go to stand farther away than all four of them would like. You and Jax talk like you’re old friends– buddies. Santi’s fist threatens to break the mug at how you touch this guy’s shoulder and offer a nod and he smiles right back, touching your elbow. Both of you just touching and something aches and burns and threatens to claw its way out of Santi’s chest to tear this man to pieces if he keeps doing that.

When the conversation looks like it’s coming to an end, Santi is jolted in his seat when Jax leans to kiss your cheek and you do the same, waving him goodbye with his two friends, who have their beverages in hand.

Santiago doesn’t want to plan yet another murder. 

But it is damn tempting.

Sweet Nothings [Santiago "Pope" Garcia]

“Want me to make pasta?”

He hums absentmindedly, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Eyes glare out the window as he waits for the traffic to move. It’s slow. Agonizing to be trapped in the car with you.

He still thinks back to the man at the cafe. Jax.

He hates how you were around that guy. He doesn’t think he’s seen you like that with him or anyone else. You don’t let them touch you like that. You don’t let guys kiss your cheek like that.

Santiago has had to bear watching you with previous boyfriends and even a fiance one time and it was one of the most agonising things he has ever gone through. During those days, when you were with someone, he always opted to go back to Columbia so he doesn’t have to be near you. Some days, he wished he would catch a bullet in his head there because it would hurt less.

You say something. He doesn’t hear. But he can’t seem to bring himself to ask you to repeat yourself. Instead, he gives a curt– “Yep.”

“Santi.” The cut of your voice makes him flinch and his gaze flicks to you. Your eyes are narrowed. Makes his hackles rise. “You just agreed to let me put olives in the salad.” 

He hates olives.

His expression twists in disgust. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you counter.

“No, I didn’t.” He’s pretty sure he didn’t.

“No, but you should’ve been paying more attention to me.” You face forward on your seat, crossing your arms and slink one knee over another.

Your dress rides up a little, revealing more of your thigh and Santi thinks his blood might boil more because of that than the fact that you’re poking at him. He grits his teeth, facing forward too. His hands clasp the steering wheel tightly.

“What? You mean like how you pay attention to your new friend?”

He didn’t mean to let the words out. But he can’t stand the silence. Can’t stand to let you win this round. He feels a storm brewing and it is going to chew him up and spit him out if he’s not careful.

The lack of your response makes him realize he made a dumb move. He reveals his entire hand. Fucking idiot–

“So that’s what this is about?”

His mouth seals shut. Eyes fixed forward in a scowl that might burn a path through the cars in front so his can move. His teeth might shatter if he doesn’t loosen his jaw but he could care less. It would be easier to deal with than having to explain himself.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. Not when the car moves. Not until he reaches your place and gets out of the car. It’s a torturous stalemate for now, but you hold the upper hand and you don’t realize yet.

You follow, slamming the door. “Santi, we were just talking. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“C’mon, we both know what he was doing.” He’s in your house, beelining for the kitchen to open a cupboard. A bottle of tequila awaits him. He pours himself a cup.

You’re silent as he throws his head back, downing the shot. “Okay, what’s your problem?”

His nose flares, eyes shifting to meet yours. “My problem?”

“Yes, your problem.” you counter sharply, pointing a finger in his face. “You do this every time you see me talking to Jax–”

“No, I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do.”

He hates how your voice remains level while his reaches new heights. He does not understand how you remain calm when he feels like he’s boiling over. You’ve always been so annoyingly exceptional at pushing his buttons to the point where he almost can’t decide between two urges; to yell at you or kiss you.

He wants to choose the latter. Every time. And every time he has to choose the former.

Santiago wants to hurl the bottle of alcohol against the wall. But all he does is run a hand through his curls, letting out a frustrated groan. “God, you’re so blind sometimes! Not every guy who walks up to you has good intentions!”

“So?” you counter. “Why do you insist on acting like this?”

He rounds the counter, eager to get away from this fuming mess before it implodes on his face. But you’re just as eager to follow. 

“Like what?!” 

“Like you’re jealous, Santi!” you snap, finally raising your voice to match his. “You shut down every time you see me with a guy. And what’s worse is that you take off and head back to war because you can’t stand to see me happy!”

And something cracks within him as soon as that happens. He stops in his tracks immediately.

You don’t think for a second that he would whirl on you in a split second. But he does and the silent violent rage that comes with his close proximity frightens you. Even if the urge to kiss you threatens to burn him alive.

“Do you want to know what a jealous boyfriend looks like?” He takes a step towards you, and another. You don’t resign to his simmering rage, your expression remaining impassive, even as he backs you into the kitchen counter.

He wants to show you what a jealous boyfriend looks like. He wants to show you how much he hates not having your attention on him at all times.

There is nothing that can make him understand how or why he’s so drawn to you. He’s known Frankie longer than you. Benny and Will nearly just as long. They get on his nerves nonstop, but never to this extent.

Never to the point where he wanted to tear himself from the inside out at the thought of telling you how much he yearns to put his lips against yours, yet the mere thought of you turning away from him the minute he says it instantly seals his mouth shut.

He remains at that crossroads. He wonders if you’re there with him, trying to decide which path to take. Do you know that this time– this time he’s wading into dangerous territory? Do you know that he hopes it’ll lead him to you?

“You don’t see it, do you?” You don’t say anything. He chuckles dryly. “You don’t see how much it hurts when you’re with someone else–”

“How do you think I feel when the guys talk about your informants?” you harshly interject, eyes burning like dark flames. “You don’t think it hurts when they joke about how pretty they all are?”

Those fuckers. Why the fuck would they tell you that?

His shoulders draw in, ears burning with shame, even though he knows he’s done nothing wrong. He’s never slept with any of his informants. Yes, there is a pattern. His informants are women. Beautiful women. But he doesn’t sleep with them.

Not when he’s constantly thinking of you. This last job, getting rid of Lorea, all he could think about is getting that money so he can make a better man of himself. For you. All for you. That’s why he was so determined, so driven. Not by greed, as everyone thinks. But by love.

He did it because he loves you and he would do it all again if it meant it would give him the slightest chance.

He feels himself careening towards the point of no return. He takes a steady breath, eyes fluttering shut. “Do you know how much I wanted–”

But it’s like no matter how much he tries to choose his words carefully, they all lead him back to the definitive truth. The one truth he’s always tried to keep under heaps of soil, in the deepest grave he could dig.

It is unearthing and unbinding itself from every restraint, every chain and rope. Finding its way to you.

You wait for him to keep going. Only to be met with silence and it does not sit well with you.

He feels your hand graze his chin. The soft caress sends him spiralling further and further away from his sanity. “Wanted what?”

How many times has he let you touch him like this –like you weren’t his best friend? Too often, that line is blurred and the singular question of “what are we?” hangs in the balance. Taunting him every time his knee brushes yours under a table. Haunting him with your scent when you stand too close.

When his eyes flutter open, he falls right into the deep end. Whatever restraint he’s been clinging to all this time, it snaps as easily as a twig.

He inches forward, pushing against you, pushing past that line, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands grasp your arms, pulling you closer. He couldn’t bear it if you decide to draw away when he’s just getting the taste of you for the first time, and maybe the last. But you don’t. You don’t move away, you don’t push him away.

He takes another kiss. Then another. He can’t get enough. Years of orbiting around you and he realizes how starved he is after only having you in small doses. Each kiss feels like an overdose. It feels like it will kill him, but he doesn’t care. He wants more.

“You.” he rasps sharply against your mouth. “Wanted you.” You don’t stop his hands from cupping the back of your neck, angling your head as he quickly amends, “Want you.”

A weak moan escapes you as he touches you, a sound that melts right through his ache. He brings you closer, letting you sigh into his mouth, your hands slipping through the curls of his hair, wondering how he could’ve gone without this for years.

“Oh, Santi…” you peck his lips as he does to yours, nudging your nose against his. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

But you’re giggling. You’re laughing and it makes him weak at the knees and when you draw him close, closer until your lips meet his again–

It’s like he’s learned a new meaning to breathing again.

He starts to laugh a little too, at the ridiculousness of it all. The record number of years he has gone without telling you how he felt seemed silly now. He was worried over nothing.

“For the record…” you murmur into his mouth, grinning. “Jax is gay.”

Jax.

Tall blond, baby blue-eyed, who’s got the women giggling and whispering Jax.

Santiago is momentarily stunned by the revelation. It doesn’t correlate. He thought that… No, because Jax was all over you. Constantly talking to you every chance he got. Touching your shoulders, your arms. Smiling sweetly as he speaks. Kissing your cheek to say goodbye. It never occurred to him that Jax might just be friendly. That he might not be attracted to you.

He groans, frustrated more at himself than anything. “Oh, for fuck’s sake–”

You’re laughing when you kiss him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck while he’s muttering curses in his native tongue. Yet he smiles as he walks forward. His mouth slinks against yours while you walk back against his steps until your knees hit the couch and you both fall back.

You’re still laughing, half moaning as he draws the zipper of your hoodie open to plant kisses along your neck, your shoulders as he mutters “tu puta madre– idiota–”

You’re still laughing because you’re overjoyed. Filled with such warmth because finally–

“Pendejo–” he’s still murmuring curses into your mouth, though they’re more directed to himself for being plain stupid.

Finally, he has you in his arms the way he wants. Finally, the boys are really going to dig into him for saying something.

“No way he’s gay.” he whines, pulling his head back to look at you with a stern expression. “Did he tell you that?”

“He’s been checking you and Frankie out since he got here.” you explain, smiling and shaking your head. “Wanted to know if either one of you is available.”

Santiago clicks his tongue, cheeks heating heavily as he shakes his head. “Get outta here.”

He feels stupid. Blinded by jealousy. Throwing tantrums like a petulant child over nothing. He should’ve come clean a long time ago. 

When his mouth meets yours, he comes to one final conclusion.

He really is an idiot.

Sweet Nothings [Santiago "Pope" Garcia]

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2 years ago

Bad Knight, Good Knight

Pairing: Marc Spector x Fem!Reader (feat. Steven Grant)

Summary: Give Marc a certain look and he’ll give you his all. In the condition that you’re gonna be good.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Unprotected and rough p in v penetration, overstimulation, slight D/S dynamics, sir kink, creampie

A/N: I caught up on Moon Knight yesterday and who would’ve thought that it’d be Marc Spector to give me my groove back LMFAO thanks @soldatspet and @bemine-bucky for the push 😘😘😘

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bad Knight, Good Knight

“You have got to stop giving me those eyes in the middle of a job.”

You felt Marc trail closely behind you as you both stepped inside the elevator of an old motel. Unable to help yourself from smirking, you bit down on your lip as you turned around.

“What eyes?” You innocently asked, blinking up at Marc while slightly tilting your head to the side.

The soft yet low grunt that Marc made was almost inaudible. He rolled his eyes before towering you, making you walk backwards until you felt the cold wall of the elevator against your bare shoulders.

“Those eyes,” Marc hoarsely whispered as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning your cheek as he teasingly nosed your skin. “…the kind of look you give me when you want to get fucked.” He said, pulling back just to take in your look.

He hasn’t even laid a finger on you and yet your eyes were already so glassy. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you breathed, your mouth parted and lips glistening.

“That what you want?” Marc asked, his tone teasing as he tipped your chin up with his fingers.

You merely nodded, whining softly when you felt Marc’s knee slot in between your legs to tease your mound.

“Want me to fuck this cunt until you’re begging for me to stop?” He asked again, this time moving his knee back and forth to rub at your aching pussy.

Marc didn’t even let you answer because the way you were arching your back against the wall was enough to let him know how much you needed him to use you. He took a step back from you and smirked in amusement when you whined at the loss of contact.

“Tell me you’re gonna be good.” He demanded, voice louder and firmer this time around.

You panted and almost sagged against the wall, your need to feel his cock almost rendering you weak in the knees.

“I’m gonna be good.” You whispered.

Marc snickered, “Louder, princess.”

You groaned, “Gonna be good for you, Marc!” You exclaimed just as when the elevator reached your floor.

A satisfied smile tugged at Marc’s lips as the doors slid open behind him, “As soon as you step out, you’ll only do what I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

-

“Is my princess getting tired? Thought you were gonna be good?” Marc asked, the patronizing tone of his voice giving you a new sense of vigor to keep going.

He had already fucked an orgasm out of you as soon as the both of you reached the motel room, but of course, Marc was an overachiever. One climax wasn’t enough for him, he needed more so he sat on a chair and had you straddle him, with your hands tied behind your back.

“‘’m not tired…” you panted, slowly getting your rhythm back as you bounced on his cock

Marc chuckled as he watched you with lidded eyes, so desperate to please him like the good girl you said you were. He licked his lips as he looked at your tits bouncing with every movement.

“You’re gonna have to try harder, princess. I fucked you good earlier, didn’t I? Made your pussy cum so hard it had your eyes rolling back to your head. If you want another reward you’re gonna have to ride my cock better.” He mocked, gripping your neck with both of his large hands to pull you closer for a messy kiss.

You moaned against his mouth, feeling his tongue slip into yours. He kissed you roughly, slightly canting his hips upwards before he completely stilled in his seat again.

“Go on, princess. Ride me harder, you can do it.” He encouraged before letting you go and leaning back against the chair to watch you.

Taking in a sharp inhale, you ignored the way your thighs were burning and sped up your pace. You kept your gaze on Marc as you rode his cock, sometimes sliding back and forth instead of bouncing up and down.

Marc’s face scrunched into pleasure when your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock, parting his mouth to let out a soft grunt.

Moans continued to spill out of you; the girth of his cock stretching your cunt out deliciously. There was a slight sting to it but god, you loved the pain.

And you loved how Marc was looking at you like a predator eyeing his prey.

Sweat trickled down both your bodies, mixing together with your wetness that was pooling at the base of Marc’s cock.

“That’s it, fucking my cock so well. Good girl.” Marc praised, opening his legs wider and pushing your thighs even farther apart.

You keened when you felt the tip of his cock hit your cervix when you slammed down on him, your body trembling at the surge of pleasure that coursed through your veins.

Marc choked out a chuckle, “That hit the spot, princess? Felt your cunt clench around me tightly. Squeezing me so fucking good, getting me all wet from your juices.” He said.

“Marc, please…” you whimpered, feeling that familiar tightness in your abdomen.

“What does my princess want?” Marc asked, brushing your hair away from your face.

You swallowed hard and tried to keep your eyes open, “Touch me, please. Wanna cum so bad.” You moaned, rolling your hips against his harder and faster— needier.

Marc hummed before cupping your face with one hand and holding your waist with the other. He held back from touching you that when you felt the roughness of his palm against your skin, you almost felt like your entire body was burning.

“Need my help to get you off, huh? Can’t cum without me touching you?” Marc teased again, running his thumb along your lower lip.

You nodded, “Yes, sir. Please, please. Need you to touch me, need you to make me cum.” You sputtered out your words.

Marc grunted and shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to suck on them before he reached down between your bodies to rub on your bundle of nerves.

The action made you moan out loud and your legs quiver from the pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes as you neared your release.

Marc knew your body perfectly, he knew the little cues it would give each time you were about to explode. He firmly planted his feet on the ground and gripped your waist tighter before finally thrusting his hips up to meet yours.

The pleasure from Marc’s cock fucking into you and his fingers rubbing at your clit was overwhelmingly good, so good that made your entire body tremble as you finally came.

A silent scream left your mouth, your nails digging into the palms as you tried to hold onto something but to no avail. The restraints had already left marks on your wrists but you couldn’t care less because you were too focused on how his cock kept on fucking into you to prolong your orgasm.

Tears tainted your cheeks as you went limp and fell against Marc’s sweaty chest, your body jolting from aftershocks as his cock slowed down from slipping in and out of your abused cunt.

You might have lost your consciousness because when you opened your eyes, your wrists were no longer tied behind you and Marc was soothingly rubbing your back while whispering praises into your ear.

“You back?” He laughed as you straightened up to look at him.

His face was red sweaty, with some of his curls sticking onto his damp forehead. You breathily chuckled as you kissed him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You still gonna be good for me?” Marc whispered against your mouth as he stood up from the chair, hoisting you up with him.

You squealed at this sudden movement, feeling his hard cock continue to throb inside of your swollen pussy.

“I asked you a question, princess. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Marc warned as he walked to the bed.

You nodded and kissed him again, “Yes, sir.” You responded.

“Good.” Marc said and wordlessly dropped you on the bed, manhandling you and roughly turning you around before kneeling behind you.

He lifted your ass up and pressed down on your nape, pushing your face against the mattress as he slid his cock back inside of you with no prior warning.

You cried out at the friction, your pussy absolutely overstimulated and begging to breathe. But you’d do anything for Marc Spector, so you took in every thrust no matter how abused your cunt felt.

His grunts and groans filled the air as he fucked you to his liking, landing a spank on your ass every now and then. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, your toes curling from the tension slowly pooling in your abdomen yet again.

Two climaxes in and yet your body was begging for more despite the exhaustion.

“God, your pussy’s so fucking tight. So fucking greedy for my cock, aren’t you?” Marc said, thumbing your puckered hole.

“Mhmm!” You hummed, arching your back even deeper.

Marc slapped your ass again before squeezing it playfully, “Could feel you getting close again, can you cum again for me?” He asked, gripping your waist tightly.

You nodded as you drooled on the sheets; your eyelids fluttered as you neared your third orgasm, you were already incoherent and babbling— just the way Marc wanted.

He loved it when he’d fuck you dumb like this. You were so helpless and so willing to surrender everything to him.

Marc lifted his knee up and planted his foot on the bed to find a better angle before he fucked you relentlessly, barely pulling his cock out of your cunt.

You cried his name out like a prayer, cumming hard after one particular thrust that had you seeing stars. Marc groaned out loud when your pussy clenched around his cock, pushing him to his own orgasm.

Marc bent down to press kisses along your spine as he spilled inside of you, his warm release filling you up to the brim.

His sweaty chest was pressed against your back as he pressed a kiss behind your ear, “Did so good for me, princess.” He whispered, allowing your pussy’s contractions to milk his cock until the last drop.

“Hold it in for me?” He whispered as he straightened his back, pulling his softening cock out from your pussy.

Following Marc’s instruction, you clenched hard to keep all of his release inside of you as you caught your breath. Keeping your ass up in the air, you sighed in comfort when Marc started caressing your ass.

“Let go, princess.” He said.

You relaxed your entire body and allowed Marc’s cum to spill out of your cunt. You whined at the feeling of it dripping down the insides of your thighs.

“Beautiful.” Marc praised, landing a gentle spank on your ass as he watched his release continue to drip out of your puffy pussy.

He licked his lips and gently helped you lay down on your back. He crawled over you and smiled proudly, “God, you’re gorgeous. You satisfied now?” He teased, pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

You chuckled and forced your eyes to open despite the exhaustion, “Hmm yeah. Thank you, sir.” You whispered, slowly feeling yourself doze off.

You still heard Marc praising you, making you smile before you completely succumbed to sleep.

-

The shaking of the floor and the loud noise of the tracks as a train passed by woke you up. You were still slightly annoyed that the motel Marc chose to laylow in was near the railway. However, memories from the previous day quickly changed your mood despite the noise.

Your body was sore all over, especially in between your legs. Shifting on the bed, you realized that you were in one of Marc’s shirts already. He must have helped you clean up last night while you were dead asleep.

Smiling, you turned to the other side and was met with Marc’s face, peacefully asleep. Carefully, you reached over to fix a stray curl away from his face.

Marc stirred and scrunched his nose making you laugh, “‘’m sorry, did I wake you?” You softly asked when he opened his eyes.

His eyes met your eyes and it didn’t take him more than a second to let out a scream as he jolted out of bed. You panicked and jumped out as well, asking Marc what was wrong.

“Who are you?! Where am I?!” Marc exclaimed fearfully, eyes wide and seemingly disoriented.

His accent changed too.

“Calm down, Marc. It’s just me.” You coaxed.

Marc’s shocked expression was immediately replaced by that of worry. His shoulders visibly relax as he sat back down on the bed, rubbing his face with his hand.

“Oh no, oh no.” He murmured to himself, “Not again.” He added before realizing that he was merely clad in a pair of boxers.

Marc hurriedly covered himself up with the blanket. His sudden change of demeanor made you realize what was going on.

You cautiously approached the bed and sat down, allowing some space in between the two of you.

“This shouldn’t have happened.” Marc continued to talk to himself.

Steven, rather.

“It’s okay, Steven.” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Steven turned to you quickly, “You…you know me?” He asked incredulously.

You nodded, “Steven Grant.” You said.

“Marc told you…about me?” He asked again, still unable to believe.

“He mentioned you a couple of times. Steven…with a V.” You explained.

You’d known about Steven for quite a while now, it was something that Marc thought he needed you to know. With the kind of relationship you two had, it was important that you knew about these things.

It left you quite confused at first and to be honest, you didn’t understand Marc’s situation. He was patient enough to explain everything to you and after a while, you felt like you already knew Steven.

Now that you finally met him, it felt surreal but nothing’s really changed with how you felt about Steven’s existence— he really was a lovely lad.

Steven let out a sigh, “I must apologize, I must have frightened you.” He said, finally calming down.

You laughed and shook your head, “It’s alright. I figured I’d meet you one day, just didn’t expect it’d be right after…” you trailed, feeling your face heat up.

Steven was quick to understand what you meant and felt just as awkward. There was a pause for a brief moment before he cleared his throat.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you—“ he trailed, squinting as if he was recalling whether Marc had told him your name.

You quickly introduced yourself and extended your arm for a handshake, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” You said.

Steven glanced down at your hand and noticed the marks on your wrists, “Oh my, you’re hurt.” He worriedly said, mindlessly taking your arm to take a close look at it.

You felt your body heat up even more, “No, don’t worry. Those are…” you said, figuring out how to tell Steven where those marks came from.

“Marc and I…last night…” you stammered.

You saw the embarrassment in Steven’s eyes the very moment he caught your drift, “Ohhh, oh. Must have been a fun night.” He said and immediately regretted his cheeky remark.

You laughed and nodded, “It was indeed a fun night.” You affirmed.

The awkward atmosphere turned lighter thankfully. Steven glanced at you again, “Did Marc…take good care of you after?” He carefully asked.

Your eyes softened up as you looked at Steven. You smiled and nodded, “He did. Thank you for asking, Steven. He did leave me quite hungry though.” You admitted.

Steven chuckled, “Well then, I should get Marc back.” He said, preparing to stand up until you stopped him.

“Why don’t we get breakfast together, Steven with a V?” You asked with amusement.

“Marc did tell me that I’d have to get to know you at one point. Perhaps we can do that over coffee?” You hopefully asked.

You could see the gears in Steven’s head turning before he looked down and scratched at his neck, “I’m not sure Marc would like that.” He said.

Smiling, you stood up and grabbed his shirt on the floor before handing it over to him.

“Marc was right about you, Steven with a V. You worry too much.” You said with a slight chuckle, “I’m absolutely sure he wouldn’t mind.”


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2 years ago

mr hozier i am so happy for you getting the recognition you deserve but your tour completely selling out in 30 minutes is a LITTLE uncool actually


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2 years ago
A digital illustration of items and icons from the Moon Knight premiere 'The Goldfish Problem'. The image are laid out in a loose grid / mosaic arrangement. From left to right, top to bottom, the images and words shown are: a blue, white and red rubic cube, 'moonlight to show the way' (lyrics from Man Without Love), a goldfish framed by a blue square, 'laters gators' in a red speech bubbles with the letters split into threes, a number sequence for a lock (6 3 2 4, then 7 4 3 5 then 8 5 4 6), a postcard for Madrid showcases Las Vantas Bullring, a phone with a hieroglyphic phonecase, a blue keep cup, a white name tag that says 'STEVEN', a pile of books, fiction logo used in the show for the National Art Gallery of London, a golden metal scarab beetle, weighing scales where the arms are crocodile head (like Harrow's tattoo), 'Not planning on going solo' (lyric from Wake Me Up Before You Go Go), a green Wunder-baum scent tree, a Glock-17 gun, a rectangle filled with daisies and purple flowers, a iced cupcake in front of a yellow red and pink square, another goldfish with bigger fins framed by a pale yellow square, a clock depicting a cat and goldfish, a plush koala keychain, three balls of belgian chocolate, a pink heart-shaped box that says Belgian Chocolate, a red and white keychain card with a 'u' like shape on it (logo for fictional storage company in show), flip-phone phone screen showing Missed Calls from Layla, a illustration of Ammit, a vertical barcode, a lit-up vase, and finally the words 'Let Me Save Us'.

One year ago today, The Goldfish (Moon Knight) gave me Problems (brainrot).


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eatingyouryoung - Eat your young
Eat your young

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