#first jake lockley fic let's go
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Little Runaway
Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader
Summary: “You heading home, carinõ?” “Not exactly.”
You decide to run and leave everything behind you, but the cabbie you've hailed to drop you to the airport might just change your mind.
Word Count: 2.3k
a/n: I'm not saying that you should listen to this song whilst reading but it definitely gives off the ~vibe~
It was raining and you hadn't packed a jacket.
You hadn't packed much of anything, really. A heap of clothes, your passport, and what little cash you had. You had no clear idea where you were heading; you'd decided you'd figure that out as you went.
The pavement was already beginning to flood, water seeping into the soles of your shoes and dampening your socks. You cringed, readjusting the bag on your back. Your arm, which had been extended to the road in a desperate plea for someone to take pity and pick you up, was growing heavy.
The sky rumbled above you, an unpleasant preview of the deluge that was to come. You huddled in on yourself.
The screech of rubber against gravel split the air as a blue Honda Civic made its entrance at the end of the street. It spun from one side of the road to the other in flamboyant turns, and its radio blared so loudly the windows vibrated and quivered.
You took your chances and raised your arm. You'd take a lift from Ghostface at this rate if it meant getting off this godforsaken sidewalk.
The car sped up, frighteningly so, and your stomach dropped. It swerved towards the path, purposely speeding through the puddles collecting in the gutter. The small wave of water drenched the legs of your pants, from your knees down to your shoes. The blaring music barely drowned out the hysterical laughter from inside the car as it sped off.
You stepped away from the road and the squelch of your wet socks almost reduced you to tears. You folded your arms across your chest and started walking. You weren't even sure you were heading in the right direction but anywhere would be better than here.
Five minutes into your trek and drenched to the point it was a miracle your skin hadn't turned blue, a car horn sounded. You turned to the road.
A cab emerged from the heavy curtain of rain, black and sleek. Its tires were deathly quiet against the gravel and you questioned if it was a figment of your psyche. An imaginary savior.
It slowed as it pulled up beside you, tires kissing the pavement. The paint job was so prestine you could see your reflection staring back at you.
You were a pitiful sight.
The tinted window rolled down painfully slow and you squinted your eyes against the rain to catch sight of the man who sat inside.
Dark brown eyes regarded you from under the fraying edge of his cap. His stare was stern but not judgmental, looking you over with something close to pity.
"You need a ride?"
You oddly found yourself speechless. Blinking twice then once more, you surveyed the car again before looking back to your knight in clad leather. His hand tapped against the steering wheel in an uneven beat, an action you might have mistaken for impatience if his expression was an inch less friendly.
You shuffled your feet, the small puddles of water collecting in your shoes making themselves known. This was exactly what you'd been hoping for but the reality of getting in a car with a stranger was daunting.
"I don't bite, carinõ." He said suddenly. "Look–" he leaned forward and tapped twice on the taxi sign and (albeit run-down) fair counter on the dashboard. "I'm the real deal. I'll take you anywhere you need to go."
He motioned to the back of the car. You inched forward, then fell back on your heel.
"Look, I'd do anything for a pretty face but I don't have all day, are you coming or going?" Despite the nature of his words, his voice was still low, even; you'd dare say kindly.
Throwing caution, (as well as your memory of every murder mystery film you'd ever seen) to the wind, you slipped into the back of the car.
It was an instant relief. The warm air from the heaters kissing your skin and heating your cheeks. Even the heavy scent of cigarettes that clung to everything inside the taxi was somewhat comforting.
"Coming, then," you heard your driver muse as he pulled back onto the road.
You'd given him your destination, (the nearest airport, railroad or dock) and then you were off. Watching the world fade into a blundered mix of grey's outside the car's window made what you were doing feel far more real.
A few minutes of silence passed, followed by a small handful spent trading small talk, mostly about the weather. You supposed that it was all part of his job.
"You heading home, carinõ?" he asked casually and you supposed it was a fair question to ask.
"Not exactly," you answered, choosing to leave it at that.
You caught sight of his nod in the rearview mirror. He was quiet in contemplation for a moment. "Anywhere in mind?"
A laugh of disbelief, mostly at your own actions. "Anywhere away from here." In all honesty, you hadn't planned that far ahead. Your destination largely depended on which ticket was cheapest.
Another hum of thought from your chofer. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess you're not going to tell me what it is you're running from, no?"
You crossed your arms over your chest and huddled in on yourself. Your clothes were still dripping and the heating was doing little to fend off the chill now.
"Then you'd guess right."
The car lulled back into a gentle quiet. The rhythmic sound of the tires gliding over the road, the occasional bump throwing it off its rhythm. The rain pattering at the roof and windows, and the persistent beating of your driver's hand against the wheel.
You shivered again, a rebellious droplet having fallen from your damp hair and sliding down your back. You missed the look the cabbie gave you in the mirror.
He slowed the cab, just enough for him to lean across and open the glove compartment without having to worry about ending up in an unplanned game of bumper cars.
A large, brown jacket was tossed to you, the faux fur lining the neck feeling heavenly between your stiff fingers.
"Warm yourself up." His eyes were already back on the road.
You slipped the coat over your shoulders. It swallowed you up in warmth and you sighed, pulling it taunt against your damp frame. It smelled of ash, cigarettes and gasoline, an unusual cocktail that somehow screamed comfort. Given where he'd produced it from, something told you that giving his coat to strangers wasn't all part of your cabbie's general service. You sank into the item of clothing a little more.
You thanked him and comedically he tipped his hat to you. The small smile you managed made your cheeks feel warm.
The rain let up if only a little and the radio took its place as the dominant sound in the car. It was a quiet, dreary song playing; one you'd expect to hear from the front porch on a Sunday morning. Soft and gentle, easy to listen to. And the Spanish singing was ethereal.
'Tuvo compasión, más allá del sol, más allá del sol, yo tengo un hogar, hogar bello hogar.’
You let your head fall back against the rest, shoulders slumping and a gentle hum passing your lips.
Your cabbie lifts his brow in the rear view mirror and oddly you don't feel patronized under his gaze.
"The song," you say instead. "I like it."
In a beat, he reached across and turned the radio dial. The song flowed through the speakers with new strength. His gentle raps against the steering wheel fell into tune with the ballad on the radio, and his features softened.
"En la turbación, más allá del sol, más allá del sol."
His singing was nothing like his voice, the gruffness vanished and the rough edge softened. It was light and gentle, soothing and rivaling the artist on the radio. It was homely.
"Yo tengo un hogar, hogar bello hogar."
You weren't sure where or what you were running to, but you thought that whatever it was would, maybe, feel like this.
A warmth sat in your chest now, not just in place of where the rain had left its chill but where a deep void had been, a cold emptiness that had driven you to run in the first place.
This, you realized, was the feeling you were chasing. You just hadn't expected to find it in the back of a stranger's cab.
You pulled off the main road and turned onto a smaller street. The curbs were flooded and the traffic lights shone dimly through the downpour. You cringed at the thought of leaving your little haven, with its calming music, warm coat and absolute enigma of a driver.
"Here's fine," you said, gently tapping the seat in front of you twice in case the sound of rain against glass had drowned out your voice. You caught his gaze in the mirror again, his brows were pulled together, concerned, but he complied and pulled over all the same.
Within a moment of the car slowing to a halt against the path, he turned fully in his seat to face you.
The airport was at least another twenty minute drive and it was a half an hour to the nearest train station. But you'd watched the red numbers on the fair counter as they went up. This was as close as your money could get you.
You shrugged off his coat, the act sluggish and slow with hesitance. As you attempted to hand it back, he pulled away, raising his hands like the item of clothing would burn him.
"Keep it, carinõ. You need it more than me."
You rushed to refuse, practically tossing it back to him. But your fight was short lived and in the end your cabbie reigned victorious.
You reached for the door handle, catching sight of him resetting the fair counter to zero without your payment. He hadn't expected you to see so you decided not to comment.
"There's nowhere else I can take you?" He asked. His voice was so soothing you almost wanted to say yes just to spend more time with him.
You opened the car door, hoping he didn't notice you slipping thirty pound into the pocket of the backseat. It took several attempts of carefully crafted sentences topped with faux confidence to convince him you were fine being left where you were.
“Thank you,” you said, buttoning up his jacket and sending a stiff wave his way. “You've really helped me out.”
Then you were gone, disappearing into the worsening night. And the rain had gotten heavier.
Jake had always prized himself for his indifference; His ability to stumble upon something and, for the most part, decide that it wasn't his problem.
But as he pulled back onto the road and left you stood on the sidewalk, something that felt an awful lot like guilt settled in his stomach. He didn't know why, he'd done his job; ferried you from A to B. And he'd been generous even at that, given that the rain on your clothes had soaked into the leather seats.
But the way you'd sat huddled up and looking impossibly small in the back seat, it stirred up something in Jake he'd dare call an emotion. He'd offered you his jacket, yes, but that was just being gentlemanly, he assured himself.
The car slowed to a halt at the command of a red light, the rain seeming almost louder now that the car was stationary. Jake turned up the radio. There was an angry rumble of thunder in the distance.
"Ay dios mío." Jake drove through the traffic lights and swerved into the other lane. The worsening weather thankfully meant no one was in attendance to attest to his horrific violation of traffic safety.
A minute of backtracking and you finally came into view, battling your way through the wind and rain, his coat serving as pretty useless armour.
You looked like the human personification of misery.
He stopped the car beside you and rolled the window down, raising his voice over the sound of the rain.
"Get in."
You stared at him as though you'd just experienced the strangest bout of deja vu.
"What?"
"You spend another minute out in this and you'll catch your death and personally I don't want to be responsible for you dying of pneumonia."
He was your cabbie. He shouldn't feel responsible for anything about you. Except perhaps for the fact that he was down twenty-one pound in fairs.
Almost to emphasize Jake's point, you sneezed, sinking into his coat as you did.
God give him strength.
He muttered under his breath, before leaning over his armrest and opening the passenger-side door.
"Come on, don't make me beg."
You regarded him again, much like you did when he first took pity on you and pulled over and Jake suddenly remembered that, yes, this definitely wasn't something regular cabbies did.
"Carinõ, if I had murder on my mind I would have done it back on Leyfield Road." He smirked. "You getting in the car now just lets me have a good night's sleep tonight."
You were skeptical, he could tell. But the feel of his jacket sat heavily against your shoulders seemed to remind you that his intentions were good; or not bad at the very least.
As you stepped off the curb and back into the car, Jake took an unburdened breath for the first time since dropping you off. As he kicked the cab back into gear he stole a glance at you, now sitting to his right.
You were shaking, hair drenched and droplets of water falling down your cheeks and dripping from the end of your nose. He felt like he'd plucked a drowning kitten from the gutter and put it in the front seat, all bundled up in his clothes.
You thanked him and Jake nodded, glad that you hadn't asked for an explanation for his sudden change of profession; from cab driver to protector of the traveller's of the night.
"What now?" you asked instead. A fair question. Jake sighed.
"How do you feel about coffee?"
thank you for reading!
moon knight tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife
#first jake lockley fic let's go#jake lockley x reader#moon knight x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley imagine#steven grant imagine#marc spector imagine#moon knight imagine#jake lockley x y/n
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Fic: Closer
cowritten with @astroboots
Fandom: Moon Knight
Pairing: Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc)
Length: 5.6k words
Rating: Explicit 🔞
Warnings: This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)
Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.
Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.
[ twp’s Masterlist | boots' Masterlist ]
Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead.
Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel.
It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger:
The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert.
A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road.
A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest.
But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations.
For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you.
Always you.
You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world, the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.
And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front.
Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share.
And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one.
The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now.
He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.
“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.
You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.
Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.
He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do.
Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks.
Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.
Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass.
He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.
Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too.
"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there.
Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are.
"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."
Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it.
Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...)
Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.
Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.
Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.
"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"
You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.
It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease.
Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.
As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long.
He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.
When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.
It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him.
Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up.
"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you.
Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze.
“Do you need me to stop?"
"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."
You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.
Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.
Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you.
You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.
You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.
Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.
His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside.
"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"
"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.
"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.
He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.
He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.
It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way.
You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.
"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?"
You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"
That's more like it.
"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"
You nod into the pillow.
He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.
"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh, "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"
"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.
It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc.
"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."
Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.
A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.
One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you.
He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you.
Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.
It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.
And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go.
"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans.
He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.
You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.
"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?"
"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"
Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit.
Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.
You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.
"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.
"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."
The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight.
"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."
Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything.
But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.
He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.
"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again, "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"
"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"
His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go.
The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.
Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you.
He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.
Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor.
Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap.
Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.
There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room.
You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.
"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.
Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.
It's not enough.
He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you.
Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop.
He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.
Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–
"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts.
His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.
He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to–
Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.
The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.
He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face.
Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.
All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head.
You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up.
"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"
"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."
That's all Jake needs to hear.
He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him.
Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it
He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.
“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”
And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.
"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.
"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."
Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release.
By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.
Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom.
When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ”
He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.
You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile.
You’re beautiful.
You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him.
The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up.
“Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.
“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.” He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.
You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.
Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him. He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders, taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.
Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body.
You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower.
He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.
Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.
In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe.
It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep.
.
Thanks for reading!
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Never Let Me Go
AN: Fourth fic for @moonknight-events MK Bingo! So….this isn’t exactly what I’d intended it to be lol (no dialogue? No full on smut?? What’s wrong with me???) but I also kind of like how it turned out? Idk. Hopefully someone other than me enjoys this lol
Jake is feeling lonely and disconnected and you help make him feel better.
(Un-beta’d)
Rated: M+ (labeling this as M since it has cockwarming. not very smutty tho)
Prompt: Cockwarming
Words: 560
Pairing: Jake Lockley x GN!Reader (pretty sure this could be read as GN, please let me know if that's incorrect)
Warnings: cockwarming, angst, feelings of loneliness (please let me know if i missed anything)
AO3
——————
You’re in Jake’s lap, knees bracketing his hips, his cock buried inside you. You’re both still, his strong arms wrapped around your middle, fingers loosely fisted in the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, eyelids fluttering slightly as you comb your fingers gently through his curls. He inhales slowly, deeply, nuzzling your collarbone with his nose, his mustache tickling your skin.
He’s been feeling disconnected, your Jake, lonely even. Tonight is the first night you’ve had with him in weeks. He’d let himself in about an hour ago looking tired, his movements sluggish as he’d toed off his shoes, shucked his jacket, and loosened his tie. You’d gone to him immediately, anxious to see him after such an extended absence. It’s not that he hadn’t looked happy to see you, he had—he was—he’d just looked so down, almost defeated.
He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, whatever it was that was bothering him, and you didn’t push, knowing he’d open up when he was ready. For now, he just needed you, to be with you. He’d never ask for this though, for comfort, even though he needs it and knows you’d happily give it. He forgets, you see, forgets that he doesn’t have to handle everything on his own, forgets that his troubles are also your troubles…forgets that you chose this, chose him.
So, you remind him. Remind him that you love him (and that he is worthy of that love), that you care for him, that you are a team, that it’s okay to need people, to be vulnerable. When he finally gives into you (and he always does), you lead him to the bed and just hold him for a while, your body draped over him like a blanket. You can tell when he starts to get antsy, when his mind is racing at top speed, when he’s no longer present. You know what he needs, how to calm his mind, to bring him back to you.
You raise yourself up on all fours, motioning for him to sit up as you slowly crawl up his body. He does what you want without argument, his eyes focused on you, intently following your every movement. When you kiss him, he sags against the headboard, keeping his arms limp at his sides as you straddle his hips. His lips are soft against yours, his tongue warm and wet as it slides against yours languidly. When you sink onto him, he breaks the kiss, his head thudding back against the wall as he sucks in a breath. You watch him for a moment, taking in the state of him—the tinge of pink on his skin, the way his dark lashes fan across his cheek as he closes his eyes, the kiss-bitten look of his mouth.
He opens his eyes after a moment, smiling softly at your attention. You smile back, the tightness you hadn’t realized was in your chest easing slightly. You shift forward, wrapping yourself around him and pulling him close. He sighs, pushing his face against your neck as he winds his arms around your torso.
Jake forgets sometimes, what it’s like to be this close to someone, to be loved, to be cared for. He’s grateful that he has you here to remind him.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖
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With You part 4
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Summary: The truth is out. Will you see Jake again? Is Moon Knight back in business?
Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, (Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, references to alcoholism and recovery, cursing, a little bit of voice-raising I guess, some arguing, some touching/grabbing but no one is getting hurt i promise. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.
Dividers by saradika
PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...
The two of you held one another in the middle of your drafty little kitchen, the shared answers between you only raising more questions.
“I think you should talk to Steven,” you suggested gently, “if you feel ready.”
Resting his forehead against yours, (Marc) rubbed your back soothingly. “Yeah. And maybe...maybe Jake too.”
It occurred to you, over the next two nights, that perhaps you were a heavy sleeper.
Marc and Steven had a little heart-to-heart about “that bloody stupid pigeon” - Steven’s words, obviously. Steven made it to class and to his university library shifts. Marc’s two years of hard work and sobriety paid off, because he was now equipped with a wonderful support system - you, Steven, a close friend of his, and he even called his old sponsor.
Then he attended a meeting (his idea). It was also his idea for Steven to keep his normal schedule. Marc felt guilty enough for getting Steven fired from the museum those years ago. (That, plus all the secrets.) So he changed his mind about hiding out in the flat with you. Routine was key. Routine and communication.
You were so proud of your guys, but there were still a couple of glaring issues: Jake and the bloody stupid pigeon.
Three nights after you first met Jake, you were determined to talk to him again. Marc had tried, Steven had tried, but Jake was used to operating completely alone. You got the feeling that this alter rarely did one damn thing he didn’t want to do.
So you set three of the loudest, most blaring alarm sounds to go off on your phone - one at 2am, 3am and 4. You warned Marc and Steven, of course. In the event that Jake fell asleep, one of them would most likely wake up. Or Jake might not even front that night.
But in case he did, you wanted to be awake for it. The alarm wasn’t for him anyway. It was because you had apparently slept through Jake’s entire existence, and you would never get to know him if things went on this way. You had to try.
So, tonight you made the effort to sleep in actual pajamas - black satin ones - a gift from Steven, instead of one of Marc’s comfy undershirts. The outfit wasn’t particularly revealing - you weren’t trying to seduce anyone, you just wanted to look a little more presentable than the worried, frantic mess from the first night you met Jake.
Exhaustion overtook you easily and you did fall into a deep sleep, only to be jolted awake by your blaring 2am alarm, which scared the shit out of you. This could possibly be your worst idea ever. But you quickly realized, while trying to calm the hammering of your heart, that your fiancé was not in bed with you.
Sitting up and pushing off the bed, you trudged to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face before checking the apartment for signs of life. Nothing.
So you waited.
You were alllmost back to sleep when he arrived - through the damn window, again.
Sitting up, you flipped on the bedside lamp, just as he pulled his flat cap from his head and raked his fingers through his lustrous, chocolate waves. Sporting what you were starting to believe was his signature look - this alter carried himself with a self-assurance you had never seen from your fiancé.
His expensive but worn leather jacket stopped at his waist, meeting well-fitting, sleek black pants. The same crisp, white shirt and dark tie, along with black, leather driving gloves completed his style. These weren’t clothes off a rack - they were tailored to fit him perfectly. He had chosen his look for a purpose...you assumed.
“Jake?” you softly greeted, easing off the bed.
Warm brown eyes stared at you, flashing as if momentarily caught off guard, before he pulled at the fingers of his gloves, just like he had done the first night.
“Go back to bed, cariño,” he implored, his voice rich, alluring, and much deeper than Steven’s. “It’s late, you should sleep,” he added, forcing himself to look away from the black satin draping itself over your body.
“I don’t respond well to orders,” you nonchalantly replied, easing toward him. “I was waiting for you.”
Clenching both of his removed gloves in one hand, he stopped and turned to glare at you. “Why?”
“Why not?” you shrugged. “It’s the middle of the night. I was worried.”
He scoffed. Dropping his gloves, he peeled off his leather jacket, turning his back to you. “Well, don’t. I can take care of myself.”
“Apparently not,” you shot back, reaching down to gather his discarded hat, gloves and jacket, domestically picking up after him, as if it were completely natural to you. “Not since Marc woke up in an alley the other night, in the Moon Knight suit.”
Jake was not sure what was more infuriating at the moment: you touching his shit, or you running interference for Marc.
“I get it - can’t let anything upset Marc,” he growled, jerking his clothing out of your arms, a little more dramatically than he intended. You didn’t even flinch. “Believe me, muñeca(o), I’ve been dealing with him my whole life.”
You rolled your eyes, bristling in Marc’s defense. “Okay, first of all, I am not your doll.” You matched his glare with your hands on your hips, “and secondly, you can fuck right off.”
“Happily,” he sarcastically agreed. “You’re the one who ambushed me.”
True. You were in rare form tonight. However...
“Oh. I didn’t realize walking around my own bedroom was considered an ambush,” you fired back. “I was worried about you, Jake!”
“You were worried about him,” he sneered, dropping the pile of clothes onto the bed. “And I get that. You two are getting married, or whatever. Just let me do my job in peace.”
“And what is your job, exactly? Being Khonshu’s slave? Almost getting yourself killed?”
Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned.
“I fucked up, okay? It’s never happened before.” Angrily jerking off his tie, he silently cursed himself for coming in the window again, without making sure you were asleep. Although part of him knew, deep down, that he was dying to see you. And now this. Now you knew what had happened to Marc, that night, in the alley.
“Jake, I can’t control what you do,” you admitted, your voice softening. You rarely ever raised your voice, let alone argued like this with Marc or Steven. But Jake just got under your skin. The heat in your cheeks and the heaving of your chest was definitely all worry. Nothing else, not at all...right?
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” you started again, boldly reaching for the tie clenched in his strong fist, which he held tightly to. “Your choices are yours. I respect that.”
He waited for a moment. “But?” He prodded.
“But,” you added, swallowing hard, “You could have seriously been hurt. Khonshu is not obviously not protecting you. He doesn’t care what happens to you.”
“No one cares what happens to me,” he snapped, jerking away from you, tossing his tie carelessly. “That’s how it works. I protect them. That’s my job. That’s my only job.”
“Bullshit,” you challenged, following him closely. “I care what happens to you, Jake. I care!” Reaching out, you desperately took hold of his forearm. “I’ve been waiting three nights in a row to see you again. I set my alarm just to wake up and see you. I’m yelling at you, Jake, and I never yell, ever. You’re driving me crazy!”
“Is that right?” He lowly growled, grabbing your arm - the one connected to him - and walking you back toward the wall. If you wanted his attention, you damn sure had it now. “You’ve known me for three days and I’m driving you crazy?”
All the air rushed out of you as one grip became two. Jake grasped your shoulders and pressed your back up against the wall, bending his knees slightly to descend to your height. “I’ve been sleeping next to you for years, mi amor. So believe me when I say that I know how you feel.”
“Jake, I...” you struggled to breathe normally as his dark eyes burned into yours, the grip of his fingers unyielding, yet somehow tender. “I didn’t know,” you finally uttered. “I didn’t know you were there, all this time. We don’t even know each other.”
“I do know you,” he confessed, his voice softening as his thick fingers loosened their grip. “I know you. Marc and Steven too. So I can protect you.”
“But who will protect you?” you whispered, placing your palms on his chest to brace yourself, the heat of his firm body seeping through his dress shirt.
His searing gaze faltered, eyes dropping, his jaw clenching in determination. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this for them. You have no idea how many enemies Marc has. Nothing else can happen to him.”
“What do you mean?” You asked him, your voice softening. “Doesn’t being an avatar make more enemies? Marc was trying to leave all that behind.”
Shaking his head, Jake turned his face away, sighing loudly. Why was he even doing this with you? As foreign as a personal conversation felt to him, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be looked after - to be worried about, to be touched.
“He can’t - leave it behind. It’s not safe,” Jake finally explained, his head still turned to the side, avoiding your pleading gaze. “We’re not safe without Khonshu.”
You wanted to protest, but in all honestly, how would you know?
“Jake,” you whispered, pushing your fingers up the definition of his chest, over the length of his neck to trace the sharp edge of his jaw. God, he was beautiful. So like the men you loved, yet completely his own, complicated person. You knew next to nothing about him. He could have his own life, his own family - someone of his own to come home to.
...but why, then, had he spent years sleeping next to you? And why were you drawn to him like this - following him, touching him, shouting...your emotions wild and unpredictable?
“Jake,” you began again, your breath faltering as his eyes met yours.
He couldn’t take it - being this close to you. “What?” he rasped, his voice softly betraying the stern pinch of his dark eyebrows. “What do you want from me?”
Releasing your shoulders, finally, he took hold of your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. “Tell me, cariño,” he whispered darkly. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want -” you hardly recognized the plea in your own voice, you fingers still dancing over the angles of his handsome face.
Jake’s eyebrows shot up inquisitively, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. You realized, then, that he seemed pleased to see you falter - to see you speechless.
Well, fuck that.
“I want to know you,” you finally admitted, returning the press of your fingers to his chest, your gaze dropping. “I want to know who you are, and if...if you have anyone. Someone - a family. And I want Marc and Steven to know you.”
Ah, he should have known. Releasing his grip on your hips, he pulled away, nodding as he headed toward the edge of the bed. Pushing his discarded pile of clothes aside, he sat down on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t know what you were thinking,” he finally responded, “but...this is my only home.” His eyes met yours from across the room. “You’re my only family.”
Your whole world stopped.
All at once, you were both devastated and thrilled. Jake had no one else to answer to in his life - he could be a family with you and Marc and Steven, if he was willing. Even if he didn’t want to be involved with you romantically, you wanted him to be a part of your life. But what kind of lonely existence had he led? Out at night, the avatar of a god, bringing vengeance to the vilest of men...protecting the system, but getting nothing in return?
But the two of you couldn’t solve everything in one night. You would try, once more, to take what was in front of you, one step at a time.
“I am,” you finally answered, crossing the room to ease down on the edge of the bed beside him. “I am your family. And this is your home. You don’t have to hide from us, Jake, or sneak in through windows.”
“I’m not...hiding,” he attempted, eyes downcast as his shoulder rubbed up against yours. “I just don’t want to take any more of their life. Of yours.”
“They’re trying to talk to you, you know. You don’t have to shut them out.”
He said your name then, and it almost felt strange to hear him say it. Different, but...good.
He waited until you turned your head to look at him. “What I have...the way we are,” He tapped a finger to his temple, “in here...it’s not like a phone call. It doesn’t always work like that. It’s not always a sure thing.”
Shit. You violated the my-man-has-DID rules somehow. “I-I’m sorry, Jake, you’re right. It’s not my place to tell you how to...I don’t know, interact with your alters. I’m really sorry.”
Scowling, he paused, making you wonder if you really offended him.
“Are you always this damn infuriating?” He cracked a smile, letting you know it was all right.
“Actually, I’m usually a very calm and reasonable person,” you chuckled, leaning against his arm and giving him a little shove. “You just bring it out in me.”
Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot.
“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you.
What a little shit.
“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.”
@stormydaysxx laaundromat @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face
#with you fic#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fanfic#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x you#jake lockley x you#steven grant x you#marc spector x gn!reader#jake lockley x gn!reader#steven grant x gn!reader#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant#moon knight#mcu#moon boys#moon knight system#oscar isaac fic
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playground - 🖤
do u think mr jake lockley would let u steal his hat 😳
STOLEN
a/n: the way i can't stop thinking about this man and stealing his hat. i'd like to wear it at all times. if just to show him i can steal it and he won't do shit about it. i'm throwing this into bullet points because if i do a whole fic i will go on for about 10k. (i had to use that gif because it makes me die every fucking time.)
warnings: jake lockley being possessive and hot. proceed with caution ahead. not for the faint of heart.
Stealing his hat started two weeks into dating him. (Well okay not dating, but meeting every few nights for a drink and some late night...talking).
He didn't expect it the first time it happened.
After all who did you think you were, stealing his hat right off his head and placing it on yours? All the while wearing a sly little smile that made his heart pound in a way it hadn't before.
He let you wear it for the rest of the night before stealing it back as you kissed him - your breath tasting like the sugary drink you ordered at the bar.
The second time it happened he didn't even notice until you were pressed up against the wall of your apartment. His lips attached hungrily to yours, hands yanking up the mini skirt you wore. Your hands found their way into the curls at the back of his head and it's only when you pulled did he notice.
He took it back the same way as before. When you were too distracted to even notice. The dark red hickey at the base of his neck was worth getting his hat back on his head.
He let you steal it two more times after that. Where he looked forward to that small smile every time. Wanting to know what he could do to keep it there.
Except then he took notice of how much he actually liked seeing you in his hat. How people turned to see that you belonged to him, because of it. The first time the realization dawned on him, he had ended up getting you back to your place before you could even reach the bar.
Thankfully you didn't question his actions. Even though you suspected nonetheless.
The second time the realization hit him, he was inside of you. Relishing in the way your moans had grown in pitch. Signaling the end of your release.
He had watched as your face contorted in pleasure, mouth falling open and hands gripping onto his shoulders. You felt him everywhere. The pressure of his hands on your hips, each strong thrust of his cock pressing against something mind numbing. It was all too much - yet not enough. Bordering right on the precipice of euphoria.
But then...he took off his hat, and placed it on your head. Positioning it to where it as perfectly snug and wouldn't budge. He watched your eyes grow darker with need, your breaths coming out in short gasps.
Jake didn't know what he liked more. The sight of you reduced to a wanton moaning mess, or the knowledge that when you wore his hat. You were his.
The fact that you knew it too was an added bonus.
From then on he looked forward to those times when your hand would reach out and place his hat on your head. Knowing you had just stolen more than just an object, but him as well.
#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x y/n#jake lockley smut#moon knight#jake lockley headcanon#my writing#synthwave sleepover💜
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Blossoms & Whiskers
prompt: painting
pairing: jake lockley x f!reader
contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions
wc: 1.1k
an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.
SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist
As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.
“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.
“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.
You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.
You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.
You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.
“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.
You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”
Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”
Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”
“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”
“Are you sure?” You ask gently.
“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.
You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.
“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”
With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.
His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”
You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.
It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.
“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.
“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.
“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.
Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.
“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.
“You?”
“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”
“Me?”
He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.
“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.
You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”
His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”
Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.
“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.
“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.
All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.
You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”
Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.
He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”
“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.
“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.
moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh
#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x f!reader#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockley fluff#moonknight fanfiction#moonknightevents#arson writes
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Could you make a fic with Jake x reader that maybe she is in a relationship with the other two (Marc and Steven don't need to be in the whole fic, just mentioning them maybe?) And Jake at first is rude to her until one day she comes late from work and Jake is covered in blood (not his) from a mission that left him like really bad and he can't stop thinking about it, so the reader helps him (although she's a bit hesitant at first because one day he told her that he didn't want her close), she helps him get a shower, cleans some little cuts on his face, and then when his dressed and ready to sleep, he asks her to stay with him.
I hope it's not too much 😅💖
hii honey!! I love this! so very sorry this is so late. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 @thewinterv
stay a while
jake lockley x f reader
wc || 0.8k
warnings || none? brief mentions of blood
I haven’t wrote for jake before, so I really hope this feels like him
masterlist + rules
taglist
Being in a relationship with Marc and Steven was always very entertaining, never shying away from a dull moment when you shared your time with them. As Jake didn't front as regularly as the other two, you were still foreign to one another, only ever meeting him occasionally. On the very few chances you've met, he was rather hostile towards you, much preferring to keep you at arm's length. You weren't sure if you upset him or offended him in some way, but you couldn't quite figure out what you may have done wrong for him to dislike you.
Returning home from an extra long shift, you pull your keys out of your bag, jingling in the lock before twisting. You open the door, and your eyes immediately land on a very thin trail of blood. Following the blood drips, you see the silhouette of someone hunched over your sink.
"Marc?" you whisper, reaching for the light switch.
Stepping forward, you see a newsboy cap on the counter. A heavy feeling now clouds your stomach. "Jake?" you ask, almost in disbelief.
"What's going on? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" you anxiously blabber, slowly walking towards him.
He grunts in response, yanking the small towel from the hook to dry his swollen and bloodied knuckles.
"That's a white towel," you mumble, watching the fabric fill with small red spots that were sure to stain.
His head snaps over his shoulder towards you, practically glaring at your comment.
"Don't worry, I got more," you awkwardly laugh, reaching into the cupboard for the first aid equipment. "That cut up there looks pretty bad," you start, nodding to the bust piece of skin above his eyebrow. "Let me help you clean it?"
"It's fine," he grumbles, dabbing the towel over it to 'clean' it, instantly wincing at the painful sensation.
"Doesn't seem fine," you say quietly, flicking on the tap and thoroughly washing your hands. "Just-" you say, pouring a small amount of antiseptic onto a cotton ball. "Can I?" you question, hesitantly extending your hand towards his face.
He nods in response.
You watch the way he flinched at your soft, delicate touch, practically cowering away from your comfort. "I'm gonna hurt you," you whisper, lightly blotting around the open skin. "It's okay," you say tenderly, cupping his cheek with your other hand, angling his face downwards as you clean his wound.
He closes his eyes as he melts into your tender touch, finally allowing himself to feel a moment of warmth.
"Okay, some of these are gonna need covering… I think you should have a shower first. Clean yourself up, and I can bandage you up after." you sweetly instruct, sorting through the bag as you search for everything you need for later.
"A shower?" he repeats, looking down at his blood-covered clothes.
"I have a change of clothes for you," you cutely laugh. "They're your exact size too,"
A sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his lips, watching you with softened eyes.
"Bathroom is just down here. I'll put a pile of clothes on my bed for afterwards," you smile, leading him down the small hallway. "The controls are easy, but if you need me, call me…. oh wait, also. Clean towels in there," pointing to the cabinet behind the door.
As you turn on your heel, a soft yet firm grip on your arm halts your movements. "Thank you," Jake whispers, wryly grinning.
You sweetly smile. "No problem, take as long as you need,"
Allowing Jake some time alone to recuperate after his clearly intense mission, you make your way back into the kitchen to clean up the mess. Wiping the blood from the floors and counters, throwing the tissues, anything and everything to keep your mind busy.
You notice the quietness from the bathroom down the hall, hearing nothing but a few scuffles and small groans. You collect the first aid equipment, stuffing everything in the bag, walking towards your room. Waiting a couple extra minutes, you knock on the door, waiting patiently to enter.
"Yeah," Jake calls out from behind the door.
"Hi," you say slowly, making your way in, laying the creams and bandages on the bed. "I'll just quickly put these on, then you can get some rest,"
"Okay," he nods, sitting at the edge of the mattress, facing you.
With clean hands, you apply small dots of antiseptic cream on the cut areas, lightly rubbing it in as you gaze at his face, watching the dozen tiny expressions play out. You tear open a plaster, laying it across his temple, covering the bust part of the skin from earlier and gently smoothing the sticky part to his forehead.
"There we go, all better," you smile, kissing your finger and placing it over the fabric. "I'll let you get some sleep," you say somewhat awkwardly, not quite sure if you overstepped a boundary.
"Stay," he whispers, holding your arm to stop you from leaving. "I won't see you for a while. Please stay.”
#jake lockley#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley fic#jake lockley fanfiction#jake lockely imagine#jake lockely x you#jake lockely x reader#jake lockely fluff#jake lockley fluff#moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#moon boys
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The Fractured Moon - Part 2
Yandere! Marc Spector - Jake Lockley - Steven Grant X f!Reader
PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!
Moodboard - Series Masterlist - AO3 Link
Part 2 Summary:
You spend the next week adjusting to your new life with these men. The longer it takes for them to break you in, the more it's going to hurt.
Disclaimer:
I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character.
Tags/Warnings:
NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting, reader is smol, choking, non-consensual drug use (kinda), cock-warming. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.
Word Count: 15k (Don't look at me)
Así = Like that
Buena niña = Good girl
Vamos = Come on
Comprende = Understand
At some point in the night you slept. Your captors seemed to leave you at peace long enough for you to doze on and off throughout the night. You felt weak, hungry, and thirsty as your eyes fluttered open the following morning. You didn’t even remember actually falling asleep, all you remembered was Steven kissing you on the cheek, and then leaving the room to let you rest. He said he’d come back to wake you with something special. Now you had that aching feeling between your legs while you stirred, something was inside of you that wasn’t there when you’d slumbered off. You recognized that feeling. One of them was stuffing you with their cock again.
Steven had been away from you all night. They’d neglected their duties as Moon Knight for so long that they finally had to put in some work for Khonshu. When they returned home, he wasted no time going straight to your room. He felt a sense of relief when he could see that you were right where they’d left you, sleeping soundly in your bed, and naked.
He was so excited, seeing you laying there so soundly. He’d stripped himself down and crawled in behind you, much like he had the first time he’d taken you. It was Jake’s idea to keep you naked all the time for moments like this. They needed to be able to have you whenever the need arose, and Steven had been kind enough to let you rest overnight. His need was heavy now, and he’d been so good and patient.
“G’morning love, I needed to feel you again.” The one with the British accent was squeezing you against himself again, rutting into you roughly.
“N-no, please.” You croaked, which was promptly followed by a large hand covering your mouth.
“Now don’t start that. You can’t expect me to believe you’re that upset when you’re soaking the sheets like this, yeah?” He groaned in your ear, “I don’t want to hear another word unless you’ve got something nice to say.”
You whimpered into his strong hand. Steven was huffing into your ear while he kept fucking you. He was right, you were drenched, slick dripping over your thighs and onto the sheets. He had himself wrapped firmly around your arms so you couldn’t move. You wished he would stop.
“If you’ll be good and quiet f’me, I can use this hand for something better. Something you might like, yeah?”
You didn’t respond. Admitting that you wanted him to touch you would further his growing delusion that you liked what was happening to you.
“You’re going to be a brat, hm?” He kissed your neck, right behind your earlobe, “s’alright love. When I’m all finished, Jake says he’s gonna make you behave a little better.”
You let out a muffled and half-hearted scream in response.
“Oh hell.”
The sound of your little shriek made his cock twitch inside of you. He liked the sound. Steven gave up on trying to silence you, wanting to hear you even clearer. It didn’t matter anyway, they lived so far removed from others that no one would hear you no matter how hard you screamed. He brought his hand down from your mouth and wrapped his fingers around your neck. He felt your throat vibrate when you gulped against his thick digits.
“Don’t worry darling, not gonna really choke you, just like havin’ my hands on you,” his voice was low. “You know I don’t want to hurt you right? None of us do. We love you. We just can’t risk losing you. That’s why you’re here.”
“It hurts.” You whined, feeling pain searing through your aching hole.
“Sh, I know love, it will feel good soon. I know you’ll be happy here, gonna take real good care of you now.”
Despite your defiance, Steven wanted to give you what you needed, and so he did. He loosened the hand that was holding your waist and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. You squeezed your legs together tightly, forcing a frustrated grunt from Steven as he thrust into you again.
“Darling please, s’not hard to just let me give you what I know you want yeah? Why are you acting like this?” He sounded like he was getting angry with you, forcing a chill down your spine.
Something about the way his cock slid against your walls the next time made you feel an overwhelming sense of pleasure, despite your mind telling you that you should be fighting to get away. Almost involuntarily you parted your thighs just enough for him to slide his middle finger in over your swollen and slippery clit. He let out a shaky moan against your ear.
“Ooh love, that feels good doesn’t it? Can feel you gripping around me so tight.” Steven started rolling his hips into you faster.
He was still in awe of how you felt, so warm and soft while he dragged his length over your walls repeatedly. A soft moan escaped your lips, and Steven thought he might faint after hearing the sound. Did you even know how beautiful your voice was to them, especially when you were enjoying yourself?
“Knew you’d like that, you sound so pretty it’s unreal.”
He swirled his finger around your nub and heard you sniffle while you continued crying. No matter how good it felt, you were still terrified. There was nothing you could do other than lay there. His fingers around your throat would get tighter if you tried to move, and surely your punishment with the mean one, Jake, would be even worse if you didn’t behave.
“You ready for me to fill you up again? Want to feel you gushin’ over me first love, come on.” Steven urged, sliding his fingers over your clit faster.
You didn’t answer verbally, but you arched back into his chest, getting as close to him as you could when you felt his fingers moving at an increased pace. Steven felt relieved to see you becoming more compliant to their needs after only one day. Marc had mocked him when Steven said you liked them, but this was proof. Why else would you be so good for him? Why else would you be reaching up to grab on to his forearm, holding his hand in place over your mound.
A love-struck smile spread over Steven’s face. You were holding onto him, squeezing tightly as he fucked into you harder. Your sobbing got louder, mixed with the soft hiccups of you trying to catch your breath. Regardless, those sweet little moans could be heard between each whimpering cry.
“You sound so good love, so-so good ah. Not gonna last, need you to come for me, hurry please.” He begged, continuing to rub the pad of his finger over your clit.
He didn’t even need to ask, you were already there. You pressed your lips together tightly, not wanting to make a sound. You didn’t want him to hear how good he’d made you feel. You still huffed through your nose though, and a muffled groan rumbled through your throat regardless of your attempt to stay quiet.
“Oh there you go love, there you are. Knew you would come for me, so good-so good-so fucking good-“
Steven squeezed you so tight you thought your bones might break. You made a choking sound that resulted in a flurry of apologies from his lips. His thrusting ceased while you felt his cock start pulsating inside of you, filling your cunt full of his hot spend.
You belonged to him.
He held onto you while he grew soft and kept repeating those words to himself. He had you there, and you weren’t going anywhere. You were theirs for the taking, any time they wanted; any time they needed. Steven muttered various words of affection in your ear while you felt yourself still crying with shame. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction of your orgasm. You’d tried so hard to hold back.
“You did so well love. You feel so good I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.”
His words stuck with you even after he left. I can’t wait until later when you’ll get to have me again.
He said it as though it were a prize you’d won, like he was going to be doing you a favor; As though you weren’t there completely against your will and trapped in a room with no way out. You weren’t sure you could take more, you were so tender from all the torture they’d already forced you to endure. You just wanted to be let free, or left alone. Either way was fine by you.
Jake planned to give your aching hole a break, knowing that Steven was sure to have difficulty restraining himself in the coming days, and perhaps even weeks. When Jake came back to you later, you seemed to have stopped crying. You looked so small, sitting on the bed with the blanket pulled up to cover yourself. As soon as you saw him, you flinched back, putting yourself against the wall as far from him as you could, bringing the blanket closer to your face as though it would protect you. Jake had on his leather gloves, white button down with the sleeves rolled up, and his black slacks. He loosened his tie and undid two of the top buttons on his shirt as he approached you with a smug grin spread over his face.
“Hola bebita.” He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.
You remembered that this was the one who held the gun to your head…the one who had you the most frightened of the three. Jake. Steven had warned that Jake was going to ‘make you behave a little better’, whatever that was supposed to mean. You felt the tears threatening to fall already. You were so sick of crying, but you couldn’t help it, you were so afraid, and in so much pain. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t any of them have some empathy or compassion?
“P-please J-Jake I’m sorry.” You looked to see if he had a weapon that he meant to hurt you with, but it didn’t appear so…not yet anyway.
“Oh sweetheart you were very good for Steven.” He beckoned you over with his finger, “come here, sit at the end of the bed.”
You gulped and shook your head slowly, silently pleading with him to be merciful. You didn’t want to go anywhere near him. There was no telling what he intended to do to you. At least Steven was predictable, albeit painful, but you knew what to expect. Jake brought you a different kind of fear. The fear of the unknown.
“Listen, there are two ways we can do this sweetheart, and one will be much better for you if you just do what I tell you to do, comprende?” Your eyes were glistening wet while you looked at him pleadingly. He loved to see the way your bottom lip quivered.
“Are you going to k-kill me?” You pulled the blankets up over your mouth to hide your quivering chin.
“Of course not, that wouldn’t do me any good at all, would it?”
Faster than you could react, Jake grabbed the blankets and yanked them from you. You were left naked on the bed with nothing but your pillows and the fitted sheet beneath you. You covered yourself with your arms, like it mattered. The man in front of you sighed and started removing his tie.
“One last time, are you gonna come over here on your own or am I going to have to make you?”
You didn’t say anything. Jake noticed that you didn’t seem to talk much. He wondered if you were just afraid, or if you were naturally a quieter person. Either way, it didn't matter. Something about the way you cowered in fear in his presence made him feel painfully aroused, and filled with an insurmountable excitement. After making no attempt to move toward him on your own, he knew he was going to have to make you comply.
“Don’t hurt her, she’s scared.” Marc said in a guilt ridden tone.
Jake wasn’t going to do any actual harm to you, but he was going to make sure that when you looked in the mirror, you were reminded of who owned you now. He wanted you to feel a phantom pain on the marks he left behind every time you thought about screaming or running away. He wanted you to see the reminders on your body and think about what you’d done so you may never think of doing it again. It was the only way they could reasonably keep you there and find a way to make you happy too. His lessons were for your benefit, despite what you might be thinking. If you could learn to obey well enough, they could let you roam the house from time to time, rather than keep you confined to the one room for the rest of your days.
Jake removed a glove and walked to one of the doors in your room. He used his thumb on an electronic lock pad by the door to unlock it. It wasn’t out of the norm for Jake to have handcuffs and torture devices on hand. Sometimes when they were doing their work for Khonshu they had to get answers out of people the hard way. Before this room was yours, they used it to interrogate the criminals Jake would bring back there. When they decided they were taking you, they made it a little more comforting, adding a bed to the otherwise empty room. Steven had suggested adding more to make it warmer, but Jake reminded him they didn’t have time to hire a damn interior designer before bringing you home. Your comfort could be managed later.
He pulled out some cuffs before closing the door and turning to face you once again. He swung the restraints around his finger while looking right at you. You gulped harshly. Defying him was a mistake, and you were wondering now if it was too late to show your willingness to comply with his demands. You crawled to the end of the bed quickly and sat back on your knees, covering your breasts with your arm and placing your hand over your mound in your lap, as if modesty was something you could achieve in your current position.
“Aw bebita, you should’ve done this sooner.”
He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your face from one side to the other. You were so fucking pretty he felt his stomach doing flips from just looking at you, and you were all his. He stepped back and gestured for you to turn.
“Turn around, hands behind your back, vamos.” He urged, never letting that snide grin fade from his face.
“I-I’m sorry Jake.” You said, remembering how much he liked it when you apologized before.
“Oh, princesa, I know. Come on now, turn around,” he said, tone unwavering and stern.
You looked at him a little longer, hoping he would change his mind and be kind to you, but his expression remained firm. You finally obeyed, turning and putting your hands behind your back. Just when you thought you were incapable of crying any more, more tears started falling down your cheeks. You let out a dry sob. If only you could get some water.
Jake knew you needed something to eat and drink, it was obvious in your voice. Marc was already chattering in the headspace with Steven about what they were going to do about that once Jake was finished. He handcuffed your delicate wrists together, smiling at himself when he saw your beautiful body from behind. They hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the full view until now. You were breathtaking from every angle, and he kept remembering that you were going to be there forever now. He could look at you whenever he wanted to.
“Buena niña,” he cooed.
You hiccuped as you cried harder. Jake loved the sound of your cries. He rested his bare hand on your shoulder, caressing your soft skin with his thumb. You pressed your lips together tightly to keep yourself from whimpering too loudly. He shushed you softly, running his palm over your arm.
“Next time, maybe you’ll listen a little better, si?”
You took a sharp breath, nodding slowly.
“Say, yes Jake.” He demanded.
“Y-yes Ja-Jake.”
“You’re a quick learner. I’m proud of you.” His voice was gravely with arousal. “When I praise you, I want you to say thank you, Jake.”
You whined, feeling your chest heave with emotional turmoil. You didn’t want to give him what he asked for, but you were afraid of what he might do if you were defiant. Jake put a large hand over your spine before pushing you forward. You bent in half, feeling your cunt exposed to the cool air of the room. You turned your head to the left so you could breathe. Jake let out a snicker behind you. The cold metal of the cuffs touching your lower back made you shudder.
“Thank you, Jake,” you choked out between sobs.
Jake noticed that you had your eyes closed tightly. You were so fucking afraid it was delicious. He grew excited knowing that he was about to ravage your body, inciting even more terror inside you. He could see how swollen your pussy lips were from their assault on you. Despite the aching of his cock pressing against his zipper, he wasn’t going to give it to you. Marc could later if he felt inclined, but Jake was there to teach you a lesson, not give you something he knew would ultimately pleasure you.
“The rules are simple sweetheart. If you can follow them, then you will be rewarded.” You felt the leather gloved hand press against your left cheek. “When I give you something, like a compliment, or when I let you come, you say thank you. Do you understand?”
You nodded slowly, keeping your eyes closed tight.
“When I ask a question, you will say, yes, Jake, or, no, Jake.” He squeezed your cheek so tight you winced in pain. “Tell me you understand.”
“Yes, Jake.” You opened your eyes, looking up at the man who was tormenting you.
“I need to hear you really say it, say it like you fucking mean it!” He pulled his hand back and smacked your rear, resulting in a harsh scream from your mouth.
“Yes, Jake!”
He hummed in approval, “good, you sound so pretty princesa.”
Jake grabbed onto the cuffs to hold you in place with his bare hand. He started beating against each cheek until you were screaming and begging him to stop. A small puddle of drool collected next to your lips. You sobbed deeply, making noises you’d never heard come from your own mouth before. He didn’t stop though, he just kept hammering his gloved palm against you until you were certain your ass cheeks were going to fall off your body.
“Please, it hurts!” Your throat was sore from your desperate wails.
The burning on your skin didn’t end with his assault, which he fortunately ceased for the time being. Your cheeks continued to ache even when he was done. Through the blur of your tears you could see him reaching down to grab your waist. He was strong, tossing you like a ragdoll onto your back. You groaned at the feeling of the cuffs jabbing into your spine. The sheets, despite how soft they were, stung against your backside.
“Jake, I think she’s had enough, look at her.” Marc said.
“Hmm,” he mused, looking over your trembling form.
Jake didn’t quite agree with Marc, but it was only their first day having you there. He was impressed that you’d obeyed so well, and that you’d been able to withstand the beating he’d given you. Considering that you’d begged so beautifully, he decided to spare you any more torment for now.
“Bebita, I’m going to give you a final gift for today. You handled me so well, I think you can take just a little more, don’t you?”
You sniffled and nodded, “y-yes, Jake.”
A shaking breath left his lips at the words as you uttered them. Did you even realize how preciously innocent you looked? You had your knees up and pressed together tightly, clearly an attempt at modesty, but that wasn’t going to stop Jake. He placed a large hand on either knee and pried your legs apart with a grunt.
“Please, it hurts so much, please.” You begged, closing your eyes tightly.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you sweetheart. Not right now.” Jake’s gloved finger dragged between your folds and rested on your clit.
You arched slightly into his touch. The fact that you were so desperate for stimulation whenever their hands were kind to you made you wonder if there was something wrong with your mind. You found yourself craving it, wanting more. He crawled onto the bed next to you, never removing his gloved fingers from your swollen nub. You bit your lip and moaned despite yourself.
“See, I can take care of you, just as much as I can hurt you, but you have to behave bebita. Gonna mark you up just a little more, okay?” Jake swooped into the side of your neck hungrily.
“Y-yes!” You said obediently.
He started sucking on the skin so hard that you let out a cry in pain. You tried to shy away and spare your bruised skin, still hurting from the way he’d choked you the night before, but Jake reached out, grabbing the other side of your head to keep you in place. You wondered if there would be an end to the torture they were putting you through, or if this was going to go on forever.
“You’ve been so good today sweetheart. Thought for sure you were going to give me a harder time than that. Maybe Steven’s right. Maybe you do like us,” he whispered softly in your ear.
“No, no, you’re monsters.” You bit your bottom lip to stop it from shaking.
“Oh, princesa, I was going to give you a little break from the pain, but now you’re starting to really piss me off.”
You gasped when you felt his teeth latch down over the meat of your shoulder. You shrieked, trying to pull away, but between the hand on your head and the one between your legs, you were trapped. Your body shook violently, trying to get yourself away from the searing pain until finally he stopped biting you. You breathed heavily, and realized he was still rubbing your clit. As the agony subsided, you started to feel that sweet tingling sensation you desired so much.
Jake looked over at you now, and when you met his eye you saw blood glistening on his lips. He smirked, leaning in to kiss you. You kept your mouth closed tightly, not wanting to give him that intimacy he seemed to be demanding from you.
“Do you want another one?” He looked at you with a dark, furrowed brow.
Another bite? No, you wouldn’t be able to handle that, the other one was tormenting you still. You leaned up, slotting your lips against his. He breathed out a feral moan as he entangled his tongue with yours. The taste of iron filled your mouth while your saliva mixed with the blood he’d taken from you. The smooth leather fingers changed direction, forcing a gasp from you.
“See, when you’re a good little girl, you get what you need from us.”
“You really hurt her, Jake,” Marc scolded.
What Jake couldn’t say out loud, not right then anyway, was that he was doing all of this to make sure you would be more pliant for them going forward. He knew that when Marc went to you later, when it was his time, that you would behave so perfectly for him, and that he would be grateful for Jake’s hard work. Marc always felt guilty, it was infuriatingly annoying to Jake, but he hoped when you showed your willingness to comply, Marc would change his tune.
He wondered if you knew how good a kisser you were. The way you kept melting your mouth into his over and over while you whimpered in your ecstasy made Jake’s brain go numb with pleasure. Your spine was arching, and Jake felt you start rocking your hips against his fingers. You started kissing him deeper, relaxing more into the motions. You were enjoying yourself, and that made him soften ever so slightly.
“Así,” he breathed gently against your lips, “mm, vamos princesa.”
You hated yourself for your words, but you were so close, and he was moving his fingers so slow.
“Faster…please,” your voice was almost inaudible.
“Hm? Gonna have to speak up for me sweetheart.”
“Faster!” You tucked your face into his neck in shame.
Jake sniffed out a laugh in response, moving his fingers a little quicker for you. You were there again, for the second time that day, moaning through your orgasm, muffled into his neck while he continued to slide his leather covered digits all over your clit. He muttered some sweet, coaxing words in your ear, no louder than a whisper. You felt fresh tears run down over your cheeks and onto his throat where your face was still buried. When you were finished, you fell back, fatigue washing over you in a heavy wave.
He stood up before turning you over. He undid your cuffs and walked over to the closet to put them back. When he turned around, you were still lying chest down on the bed. He knew you were probably hungry, thirsty, and tired.
“Get your blankets back on your bed and sit there. One of us will be in with some food and something to drink soon.” Jake ordered.
He watched as you sat upright slowly. You looked up at him with big glossy eyes. You looked tired and emotionally worn. Oh but you were still so breathtaking. He watched with nothing but adoration in his heart as you stood up and grabbed your bedding off the floor where he’d pulled it from you, and you proceeded to go tuck yourself back under the sheets, just as he’d told you to. You were learning so quickly. It was more than he could’ve hoped for.
“Very good bebita. Sit tight, we’ll be back later.”
----
They knew everything about you. At least, that’s what they’d thought when they took you. Marc was standing with the fridge door open, staring at the food in front of him. He looked from top to bottom at least a dozen times. Someone would’ve thought he was deciding on a house to buy, not something simple like what food he was going to bring to a girl who hadn’t eaten or had water all day.
“Just pick something hermano.” Jake murmured coldly, “she’s gotta be starving, and with all that cryin’ I’m sure she’s thirsty as hell.”
Marc ignored Jake, but the fact remained…he wasn’t sure what you liked to eat. They’d seen your fridge back at your old apartment, it seemed like you were into most anything. Marc thought that something small would probably suffice, so he started putting together a plate. Steven was chattering on about the things he thought you might like, versus the things he thought you wouldn’t like. Every time Marc brought his hand out to grab something off a shelf, one of his alters had something to say about it.
“Steven, I’m sure she’s going to be fine with this. Jake’s right, she hasn’t eaten since yesterday and she hasn’t had anything to drink.” Marc groaned and decided to put a few different options on a tray before walking back to your room.
“Yeah, sure, but what if she doesn’t like something on your little tray there? Hm?”
“Then I’ll make her something else,” Marc was talking softer as he approached your room, “you need to give her a break, you hear me? I know you’re going to want to spend the night with her, and you can, but for now, give it a rest.”
Steven muttered a few choice words in protest, but eventually conceded, knowing that Marc was right. You were spent. When Marc entered the room, he saw you just sitting there, staring at him. Except, as he got closer to you, he realized that you weren’t looking at him at all, you were looking wide-eyed at the tray in his hands. He felt his heart stop in his chest at the sight of you. You had the blanket covering yourself and you hurriedly pulled it to the side, leaving him a flat spot on the mattress to put the tray.
“Here you go honey,” Marc said, putting your meal down in front of you.
“T-thank you, Jake,” you muttered, rushing forward to your plate.
Marc’s stomach sunk. He supposed that to the untrained eye, he and Jake looked identical. They shared a body after all, and you weren’t accustomed to their minor differences in appearance yet. He sat down on the bed while you guzzled your water quickly, gulping it all down within seconds. He assumed that you probably didn’t care who out of the three he was, you were probably just afraid of the consequences if you didn’t say thank you.
“Woah,” he chuckled, taking the cup from you when you were finished. He held it in his hands and looked at you, “I’m actually Marc.”
“I’m sorry, I t-thought…oh no please don’t-”
“You’re okay,” he said, recognizing the look of panic boiling up inside of you, “just eat, please.”
Marc exhaled a small sigh of relief when you took a small bite of a cracker on your plate. He walked to the other side of the room and opened the only door without a thumbprint reader, the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he filled up the glass with more water from the tap. When he looked in the mirror he saw Steven staring back.
“We have a deal, Steven. We don’t interfere with each other’s time,” Marc spoke in a harsh whisper so you wouldn’t hear.
“Alright, yeah, sorry mate, just wanted to get a look s’all,” he said.
Marc knew that Steven might become a problem. While Marc and Jake shared the same unhealthy obsession as the other, Steven’s infatuation felt a little deeper, a little more…unhinged than the other two. Marc walked back and forth to the bathroom three times to get you more water before you were satisfied. He watched you carefully while you nibbled on your food, but you only ate enough to feed a small child.
“Baby, come on. I need you to eat more than that,” he urged, picking up a grape in his fingers, “please.”
“I don’t want to. I want to go home,” you turned away from him, “it’s probably poisoned anyway right?”
“Oh…no!” Marc spoke in a gentle but very concerned tone. He pushed the tray aside and touched your shoulder softly, “no we would never-”
You winced when his fingers brushed over the bite that Jake had left behind. Marc felt a pang of guilt. Fuck, he thought. They were destroying you. Your spirit, your body, your soul. He thought about opening the doors right then and there and letting you go, but that thought alone made him feel like his heart might stop beating in his chest if he did. No. You leaving wasn’t an option…so he was just going to have to make you learn to love them, and love living there.
“I’m sorry he hurt you, but hey, when we tell you to do something, it’s for your own good, okay?” Marc felt relief when you turned back to face him, “there you go. Can you please eat something for me?”
He picked up the grape in his fingers again and brought it to your lips. Marc felt the weight fall off his shoulders when you opened your pretty, plump lips and let him drop the grape inside. You chewed, and he watched. You felt uncomfortable with him feeding you, but you also didn’t think you’d have the mental strength to continue feeding yourself. In some twisted way, you were grateful.
Marc immediately felt good inside. As if each grape he gave you chipped away at the guilt he’d harbored after they took you. It helped that there were a few times when your lips sucked his finger as he pulled it back. He felt his pants get tight around his groin while he fed you more. He’d told Steven you needed a break, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stick to that himself. He hadn’t even had you yet. Jake and Steven were getting to have all the fun. He reminded himself of his goal though. With time, he’d win you over, and you’d eventually grow excited just from the sight of him. That day would be a dream come true.
“Thank you,” you said softly, once the grapes were all gone.
Marc brushed a thumb over your cheek, “I think Steven will be back again later. He has a hard time with…portion control.”
“I don’t think I can take more, really I-”
“Take this when he comes in,” Marc held out a small pill, “it will help you feel more relaxed.”
“You’re drugging me?” You asked, furrowing your brow at the small tablet in between his fingers.
“No, I’m handing you a drug. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but it might help,” he said, holding it out in his palm.
You eyed the small pill before you took it and put it on the end table next to our bed. Marc gave you a forced smirk in an attempt to reassure you that everything would be alright before he grabbed the tray of half-eaten food and left you alone. From the way he felt Steven buzzing with excitement earlier when he was in the bathroom, he only hoped that you would heed his advice, or you were in for a night of pain.
----
When the time came, you were grateful for the little pill Marc had given you. Steven walked in later that night and you hardly stirred. He wanted to look at your face this time while he fucked you, since the last two times he’d taken you was from behind. While he climbed over you, he couldn’t help noticing that you were more limp than usual, less responsive to his presence. Marc knew he wasn’t supposed to interfere with Steven’s time, but he could feel the panic coursing through him.
“Steven, just relax alright? She’s fine, I just gave her a little something to help with the pain.”
“Pain…are you hurtin’, love?” Steven’s eyebrows were stitched together with concern.
“Mm,” you murmured, “yes.”
You weren’t sleepy, not yet, but you were simply feeling a sense of comfort over your entire body, like you were laying in a cloud. Your head felt a little foggy, but the pain that Jake had caused earlier over your whole body, and the throbbing that you’d felt between your legs, subsided.
“I’m going to help you give her what she needs okay? Just do exactly what I say.” Marc said gently.
“Yeah, alright,” Steven licked his lips and nodded, “gonna give you a treat tonight darling.”
Steven lined his fat tip up with your hole, sliding it between your folds and collecting the juices there. He couldn’t believe you were so wet and ready for him. Even through the sedative, you felt a sharp pain at your swollen and tender entrance. You winced, grabbing the sheets to brace yourself. You were so weak, your grip was meaningless, but you did it anyway out of instinct.
“There’s no way around it, it’s gonna hurt, but at least spit on it a little, get yourself nice and slick all over for her.”
Steven obeyed Marc’s orders, drawing a glob of spit together and dropping it down over his thick cock. He stroked it over himself, coating his length until it was slippery and glossy. Steven moaned, already desperate to feel your cunt again. Of all the things Steven enjoyed in life, nothing made him feel the way your body did. There was simply no comparison.
“That’s good, just like that, okay.”
You were glad you couldn’t feel the full force of the pain when Steven stretched you out over his girth once again. He shuddered forward, dropping both hands on either side of your head. Your eyes were half open, and in your drugged state you were able to convince yourself that he was a little handsome. He snapped his hips forward, filling you full to the hilt.
“Don’t like how little she’s movin’, looks like she might fall asleep,” he muttered quietly in between his grunts.
You wondered why he was talking as if you weren’t there. Maybe he was crazy. A person had to be crazy to kidnap and rape someone, right? It didn’t matter, the drug you took made everything feel a little better, a little more numb, and you didn’t have the mental capacity to think about it. He could talk to all the voices he wanted to, you could hardly feel a thing, and you felt your eyelids desperately wanting to close.
“Steven, if you’re going to keep fucking her a hundred times a day, she needs a break,” Marc scolded.
Steven grumbled and sat back, looking down to see the way you split over his cock. He could see what Marc was talking about. Your poor cunt was swollen around him. Your pussy lips were puffy, clearly aching, and Steven felt a little guilty. You were so wet though, so you must’ve liked it at least a little. Marc didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about.
“Y’know I don’t mean to hurt you, right love? S’not my fault you feel so good. Can’t help myself.”
His voice sounded wrecked while he continued fucking into your near lifeless body. He was glad that at least your cunt was reacting to his movements. He could feel you soft walls clenching down around him every time he rolled his hips forward, hitting the furthest point of your channel.
“Alright buddy, need you to listen to me. Take your thumb and start rubbing her clit. I know you’ve done this before, but let me tell you what to say. She seems to like when you say certain things.”
Steven globbed another ball of spit onto your clit and then started rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. He trembled when your walls fluttered over his girth. He saw your weak body arch into his touch, and that made him feel relieved. You were still right there, still warm and responsive, regardless of the drugged state you were in. Marc started coaching Steven, and the words coming out of his mouth fell like honey washing over you. It was amazing that some simple verbiage could make your body yearn the way it did.
“Look how pretty you are, love. I know it hurts, but you’re doing so good for us.” Steven started moving faster, the words were as encouraging for him as they were for you.
You groaned, a little from the pain, and a little from the pleasure. Steven, felt your cunt flutter around him with every rough and intentional thrust. Regardless of how sore you might be, it was clear that you were enjoying yourself, at least a little. He let out a shaky breath while Marc continued to urge him on from the headspace.
“You’re doing good Steven. Look how pretty she is. Fuck, she takes us so well doesn’t she?” He was watching, marveling in the way your beautiful and tired eyes stayed trained on Steven’s.
“Yeah, you’re stunning darling, f-fuck.” Steven could hardly contain himself, “that feeling good, love? Tell me, please say somethin’.”
You pressed your lips together as best as you could, and tried to hum out a positive response. Hardly a noise came out, and you felt your eyelids close heavily.
Steven noticed immediately when you weren’t awake anymore. He was pissed, to put it lightly. This wasn’t how he liked you. He liked your whines and cries filling the room. He liked to know that he was the one making you feel good, and now he was stuck fucking your sleeping body. It wasn’t like he didn’t love the way you felt even when you slept, his cock still twitched inside of you regardless and he certainly wasn’t going to stop, but he preferred it when you were awake. He reached out and grabbed your jaw, trying to shake you awake.
“C’mon love, wake up. Not done with you yet.” Steven thrust forward faster. You still felt so fucking good. How could someone be so perfect they felt that good even while they slept?
“Didn’t think she’d actually fall asleep. Sorry Steven I-”
“Shut the fuck up Marc,” Steven growled, “you leave her alone understand?”
Steven picked you up with ease before swapping positions, putting himself on his back and you on top of him, never letting his cock slide out of your slick cunt. You didn’t stir in the slightest, you were just a limp carcass splayed over his chest. He grabbed the other side of your head and brought your cheek to his lips. You’d never hear the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear gently while he bucked his hips upward roughly.
“Sorry darling, so sorry you can’t feel me like you should right now. Oh but you-you feel so-you still feel so good.” Steven knew that you wanted him, that Marc had taken this feeling away from you by drugging you. “Not gonna let him do that to you again.”
You couldn’t hear him huffing sharply in your ear while his orgasm approached. Marc had fallen silent, which Steven appreciated. He didn’t want Marc interfering during his time with you anyway. This was his time. Not to mention, what did he need Marc’s advice for anyway? Steven knew how to pleasure you just fine. He’d succeeded to make you come every time he fucked you. Marc didn’t know. Marc still hadn’t felt you yet.
He hadn’t felt how soft your cunt was when it squeezed down on their cock when you were coming; He hadn’t heard the way you whimpered while being fucked relentlessly, and he hadn’t felt what it was like to shoot their hot spent into your channel, overflowing you and feeling it spill out the sides. Steven felt that now while he nearly cried from the way his body shook as he emptied himself inside of you once again.
----
It went on like that for a little while. You weren’t sure how much time had gone by after a few days in that house. Steven and Jake had voted to keep you off drugs, to which Marc reluctantly agreed, being outvoted by the rest of the system. Despite not being drugged, you were incredibly tired, and in addition, sore, and mentally unstimulated, staring at the same four walls every day. There was nothing to do other than sleep, eat, and be a real life sex toy for the three brothers who all insisted on making your life a living hell.
You still wanted to go home.
While Steven agreed that you were probably sore, and in need of a break, he still struggled to keep himself off of you. Most nights, when he was certain the other two weren’t present, he would sneak into your room and fuck you from behind. You’d stopped fighting, and instead tried your best to enjoy it. It was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not, so you figured it was best to try and get something out of it.
This only served to feed Steven’s delusion that you were happy to be there with them. Every moan from your lips was a solid reassurance that he was giving you something you enjoyed, and every time you grabbed onto him or arched your back against his chest, he thought that was your attempt at intimacy. He fucking loved you so much. You could probably slap him and he’d think you were just playing around.
They all loved you, but Marc was the only one who showed you love in a way that you understood, or that at least seemed, dare you say, somewhat normal. He hadn’t fronted in a while, letting Steven and Jake have their fun, but it was his turn. You were beaten up, and he felt that sharp stab of guilt in his gut over it. Your face was still beautiful as ever, but your body was banged up and bitten. Your poor cunt was puffy and raw. You were dirty, tired, and clearly aching all over.
He had something for you hidden from your view behind his back as he drew closer to the bed. You thought it might be something he would use to hurt you like the others, despite not having hurt you thus far. You didn’t know what else these men were capable of, and maybe he was going to join in and start throwing you around too. You shifted further away as he approached, sitting on the other side of the bed with the blanket pulled up to your chin.
“How are you feeling baby?” Marc said, sitting down at the edge of the bed, keeping a healthy distance from you.
You were clutching your blanket to yourself tightly. You didn’t say a word, you only stared. Marc had noticed that you’d become less talkative as the week went on. Jake’s methods seemed to be working to tame you, making you more meek and obedient. It wasn’t their intention to change who you were, not at all. They loved you for you, but they needed you to stop fighting, and start behaving, and you were already getting so much better. Marc thought you should be rewarded.
“Here,” he pulled the gift out from behind his back.
It was a stuffed lamb, like someone might give to a child. You frowned at it, confused as to why he would be giving you something so juvenile. It was soft and plush, and something about it made you feel a huge wave of comfort the longer you looked it over.
“You don’t like it.” He looked disappointed. “I was hoping that you might be able to hold onto it when Steven isn’t giving you breaks or when–”
You snatched the lamb from Marc’s hands and pulled it in close. It was just as comforting as you thought it would be when you brought it to your chest. The soft fabric of the wool against your breasts was soothing. You felt silly finding so much solace in something as childish as a stuffed animal, but given your situation, you stopped caring how it might look to anyone else. You needed any little bit of mental reprieve you could get right now..
“Thank you, Marc,” you said, just as Jake had trained you to.
Marc felt a sense of pride swell through his chest when you took the stuffed animal from him. He wasn’t sure you would like it, but there you were, clutching it against yourself like it was a lifeline. It was at that point he noticed the dried and crusted blood on your collarbone, chest, and various other places where Jake had bitten your precious body. He reached out, but you flinched back.
“I’m not going to hurt you honey, I just need you to come with me. Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up.” He held his hand out to you.
You hesitated, but ultimately you conceded, putting your new stuffed toy down and taking his hand, letting him walk you to the bathroom. His mind was buzzing watching you walk, stepping light as a feather while he guided you. When he looked at you, he felt like you were like a perfect little doll.
“Go ahead and sit there on the toilet, let me get this started for you.”
You wondered if they’d stocked up on bath products while you were sleeping, or if you maybe weren’t the first woman they’d taken. You thought about asking him, but decided you didn’t really want to know. You also didn’t want your words getting twisted against you, as they often did. Knowing them, they’d start thinking you were jealous of past women who had walked in your shoes. He filled the bath with suds, salts, and oils. It smelled lovely, if you were being honest.
He thought he might bathe with you, work on soothing some of your wounds and making you feel more comfortable. He also hadn’t spent any time with you, not really, since you’d arrived. Marc let the water run over his hand, making sure it wasn’t too hot for your tender and beaten skin. Once the tub was full, he pulled off his shirt.
“Go ahead, get in the tub,” Marc gestured to the bath.
When you realized that he was getting undressed, you froze. You couldn’t take anymore, in fact, you wouldn’t take anymore. Your cunt was aching just looking at his bare torso. Against your better judgment, you bolted for the door, knowing that you needed to get away from the impending pain. You ran to the only exit, slamming your hand against the door and tugging on the handle wildly. Although you knew your thumbprint wouldn’t work on the lock-pad, having tried it several times before, you tried it again anyway, slamming the pad of your thumb against the reader. You felt the panic rising in your chest while you kept wiggling the handle.
Why did you do this? You thought. If you weren’t in trouble before…
“Honey,” you heard from behind you, “come on.” He sounded so calm.
Marc felt grateful that Jake and Steven weren’t watching when you made your foolish attempt at escape. He wasn’t going to hold it against you, he understood you were in pain and you were afraid, but he couldn’t speak for the other two. He knew that Steven had intense jealousy, and Jake was…Jake. You turned around, eyes wide with terror. Marc put his arms out, exposing his bare chest to you, an attempt to show that he meant you no harm.
Your eyes scoured his body, stopping at the clear bulge under his jeans. You pressed your lips together tightly, doing your best to keep yourself from crying again. For someone trying to act defiant and brave, you were failing miserably. Your knees were shaking while you stood there, staring at the broad chested man. You gulped and then collapsed to the floor in a heap of sobs. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you just kept your eyes on the floor.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me-please!” Your entire body was trembling. “It just hurts so much. It hurts,” you sobbed.
Marc walked over and stood over your tiny frame, curled onto the floor like you were waiting for him to hurt you. He knelt down and put a gentle hand on your back. When it became clear that you weren’t going to get back up he groaned and scooped you up into his arms. Clearly you’d conceded to your fate, burying your face into his neck and wetting the skin there with your tears.
You didn’t open your eyes again until you felt him lowering you into the tub slowly. The water was hot but soothing. It felt nice against the wounds you’d received, and it felt as if your entire body exhaled in relief. Despite the fear still coursing through you, you felt a small moment of reprieve from the horror. You saw him, even through the blur of your tears, as he unbuttoned his jeans. He pulled both his pants and boxer-briefs down and toed them off.
He watched you gulp and shy away to the furthest point of the tub that you could. You had your arms covering your chest, but that didn’t matter to him. He had no intention of sleeping with you, he just wanted to make you feel good, and make you feel better about being there with them. Making you love them, genuinely and truly, might be the single most difficult thing he would ever do, but he would do it. He slowly got into the tub and watched you turn your head to the wall, avoiding his gaze entirely.
“Come here baby, let me at least wash you.” He put a hand on your shoulder.
You pulled your shoulder away, splashing some water up in the process.
“I can wash myself,” you muttered.
“Let me clean you up, and I’ll make you feel good too honey, please, you deserve it after how good you’ve been.” He urged.
You finally looked at him, sniffling and wiping away a tear, “but I wasn’t good, I just tried to run-”
“I didn’t see anything,” he said abruptly, cutting off your confession.
You furrowed your brow in confusion, until you realized that he was going to keep your little, and unsuccessful, attempt between the two of you. It gave you a small sense of comfort that he was going to protect you, if only a little, from the other’s wrath should they ever find out about your misbehavior. With that understanding, and considering the gift he’d brought you just a little while ago, you felt, in some twisted way, indebted to him. You finally gave in, sliding over to him in the tub.
“There you go,” he pulled you into his lap.
His stomach electrified with excitement while he pulled you over to sit with him. You were straddling him with a knee on either side of his thighs, arms still covering your chest. He couldn’t help the way his cock prodded underneath you, looking for a place to bury itself. When he’d drawn the bath for you, he hadn’t intended to fuck you, not at all, but he was quickly realizing how foolish it was for him to think he could resist you. Your knees clenched on either side of his legs when he grabbed your hips tightly, lining you up with his bulbous tip.
“P-please.” You looked at him, eyes big with desperation for mercy, “it hurts so much.”
“I know, but if you just sit on it, you’ll get more used to the size, okay? The more you let us loosen you up, the less it will hurt. I promise.” He cupped your cheek in his other hand, “I won’t move, just lower yourself down on me. Take your time.”
As Marc had hoped, giving you the freedom to set the pace encouraged you to do it on your own. He didn’t want to have to force you, so he was grateful when you showed your willingness to comply. You were slow, and he willed his hips to remain stationary while you rose up a little on your knees, getting it lined up perfectly. His breath was shaky while he felt you start to settle over it, lowering yourself painstakingly slowly.
“That’s it baby, just like that. Oh my-fuh-you’re so damn tight-shit.”
His hand was squeezing roughly on your hip, and somehow you managed not to pull away. Marc wondered if that meant you were getting more adjusted to the pain. Now he could see why Steven was so obsessed with keeping his dick buried deep inside of you as much as possible. Nothing in Marc’s entire life felt so fucking good. He let out a choked sound while burying his face into your sternum, resting both hands on your hips.
“There-there you go-fuck.” He sucked back the saliva that threatened to fall from his lips.
You lowered yourself completely so you were sitting on him, and he was keeping his promise to remain still. That didn’t stop his cock from pulsating inside of you while you rested there. He looked up at you, mouth slackjaw and eyes hooded with arousal. Under different circumstances you might find yourself attracted to him. Instead you were frightened by the sight of him, quickly tucking your face into his neck so you wouldn’t have to look at him.
“Let me look at you honey. Gotta clean up the marks that Jake left,” he was trying to keep himself level headed, but his voice was rough and wrecked.
You sat back and looked at him. You heard a low roll in his chest accompanied by a twitch of his cock inside of you at the sensation. He looked at your skin with concern stitched in his furrowed brow. He touched one of the bite marks just above your collarbone. You winced and hissed back, reaching a hand up to cover it. Marc let out a breathy rasp at the feeling of you shifting on his member, but he brushed it aside and concentrated on your ailments once more. Marc’s brow turned up. If “I’m sorry,” had a face, it was etched on his expression in that moment.
“I’ll take care of you, okay? You know they only hurt you because they care, right?” He grabbed a soft cloth from the side of the tub and started to wet it in the warm bath water.
You shook your head, “you’re all horrible,” another tear slipped down your face.
“I know it feels that way right now, but if you just relax, and let us take care of you, then you’ll see…everything we do is because we love you.” He touched the towel to your wound, forcing another pained gasp from you, “I’ll always take care of you honey.”
“This isn’t love, it’s insanity,” you corrected him.
You weren’t wrong, it was insane, and Marc knew that, but wasn’t love itself a little crazy? The idea that this unseen thing could bind people so deeply…at least it sounded insane when Marc considered it. You had your eyes closed tightly while he continued to clean you. His arm brushed over your nipple accidentally and he felt your cunt flutter softly in response. He looked up at you, and you finally opened your eyes.
Beautiful.
Without words, he covered your right nipple in his mouth. He was still managing to keep himself from thrusting, despite wanting to so, so desperately. If he could get your sweet cunt to do that again though…oh it felt so fucking good. You let out a quiet and breathy moan. Marc cupped your breast up so he could flick over the peak while looking into your eyes. You still looked like you were in so much pain.
“Relax honey, just enjoy yourself, that’s the only thing you need to do.”
His voice was soothing against your ears. You hated it. You hated that you enjoyed listening to him say nice things to you, you hated that his cock felt good filling you up the way it did, and you hated that you wanted him to put his mouth back over your tit and suck harder. You hated all of it.
“I know you’re still trying to deny your feelings, I understand.” He said as though he’d read your mind. He brushed the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “The second you give yourself over to us, is when it will all start to feel better. I promise.”
You shook your head, “never gonna give in to you…fucking pigs.”
Marc loved you. He really loved you, but you struck a nerve calling them pigs. He was trying so hard to be patient and kind to you. Didn’t you see that he was the only chance you had at any sort of peace from the otherwise brutal nature the other two harbored? Jake was going to continue to bite and spank you until you were more obedient, and Steven was going to fuck you until their cock fell off, but Marc…Marc was going to be a paradise from all that, and you were being so fucking rude.
He grabbed your jaw in his strong hand, “I’m not the bad guy here honey.” His voice was gruff and raspy while he spoke through clenched teeth, “I’ve been nothing but fucking nice to you, but I can start to be real mean if you want me to be.”
You looked at him with nothing but fear in your eyes. You tried to wriggle away, but his hand on your hip was firm, and the grip on your jaw tightened. Marc breathed out a heavy moan, feeling the way your cunt slid over him in your attempt to get away from. It was intoxicating, the feeling of your walls clenching over his girth. He didn’t thrust, he didn’t, he just slowly pushed your hip down while rolling his own hips upward. It was so slow it could hardly be considered moving, but he felt it.
So did you, and you were ashamed to admit that it felt good. You weren’t going to fuck him, you weren’t, but if you tried to get away from him, surely he’d have to pull you back down…right? You struggled again, trying to get away from him, sliding up to the tip of his length, but he pulled you in tighter, shoving his cock deep into you again. You whined in response, trying to keep yourself from rocking your hips against him. Was there any harm in giving in like he’d suggested? If you were stuck there anyway…
“Fuck honey, can’t hold it in anymore,” he said in a low growl.
Any promise he’d made was tossed out the window as his orgasm took over. He was grunting loud, thrusting harshly upward into your cunt, splitting you open wider one snap of his hips at a time. You held onto him tight, nails digging into his shoulders roughly. A gasp fell from your lips. It hurt being fucked like that again. This time you didn’t even come, and it was clear he was going to make sure you didn’t get that privilege.
“Only good girls get to come,” he said as he came down from his orgasm.
When he was finished using you like the other two often did, he lifted you off his cock and put you down in the tub. It was for the best that you didn’t get to come, at least, that’s what you told yourself while he finished washing you. The ache between your legs was screaming for attention, but you were still determined to keep your composure, not wanting to give in to it. When you were done being washed, you got out of the tub, dried off and walked back to your bed.
Marc didn’t say anything else to you. He was trying to decide how he wanted to approach the situation. He was angry with you and your continued defiance. Maybe he was being too easy on you. Maybe Jake was right in his approach. Marc tried not to be so angry with you, but didn’t you see that he was just trying to love you? It would be so easy for you if you’d just stop fighting and let them treat you like the princess they thought you to be. He’d hoped you would be further along by then, it being a week in already, but it would seem he was mistaken.
You could tell he was upset, and fear coursed through your veins. What if he decided to punish you like Jake did? What if he told Jake about your disobedience? This didn’t look good for you, so you did the only thing you could think of to make him happy. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to avoid him wrongly thinking you were content with your life there, this was about survival.
Marc was about to press his thumb to the thumb print reader by the door when he heard you get off the bed. You grabbed his arm, your fingertips sent an electric current through him where they touched his skin. You looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes he loved so much. They looked like they were twinkling.
“I’m sorry, Marc,” you tried to appear as sincere as possible while looking longingly into his deep brown eyes. “Please don’t let them hurt me, please. I shouldn’t have said that.”
His face slowly lit up, changing from his angry furrowed brow to a softer expression. You felt stiff as you stepped back, eyes darting between his in the hopes that your plea worked. You felt disgusted with yourself, not wanting to make him think you favored him in the slightest, but you didn’t see another option. Your bites and bruises ached just at the thought of Jake’s ‘lessons’.
Marc cupped your cheek, sighing and looking at you affectionately “there’s my good girl. I left you a little something in the stuffed lamb I got you. Just don’t tell the other two, okay?”
You nodded slowly, “thank you,” you gulped, “t-thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome baby.”
----
Inside the lamb, behind the velcro opening, you’d found a small vibrator tucked away in the stuffing. No, you’d thought immediately, refusing at first to let yourself fall into any sort of comfort from the pleasure you knew it would bring you. Marc would be so happy if he thought you were using your vibrator that he got you. He’d think you were becoming more content with your life. You couldn’t let any of them think anything like that.
You kept up that way of thinking, that you were above using such a thing, until Steven was on top of you again, mouthing hungrily at your neck, leaving marks of his own on you. It hurt still, the ache of your hole getting stretched multiple times a day and being filled with copious amounts of his and Jake’s cum. It was getting easier, but the pain was there nonetheless. Marc seemed to keep himself from partaking in what the other two had no qualms in having as much as they could.
It had been two days since your bath, since you'd received the vibrator, and you knew they’d be back soon. They seemed to be out of the house most nights. It had been hours that you were alone and it was getting late. An idea struck you suddenly, a thought that you might be able to dull the ache in some way, assuming they’d want to take you when they got back. The vibrator stuck out when you opened the back of the lamb. It was bright pink against the white stuffing. You pulled it out, and turned it on. It was loud and the vibration was strong. If you could make yourself wet enough, it might hurt less when they had their way with you later.
That was the logic behind you laying back on your bed, legs spread out wide with the strong vibration resting on your clit. It was hard to feel grateful for Marc’s kindness, considering he was part of the reason you were there, one of three parts to be exact, but while you pleasured yourself you couldn’t help thinking of him a little.
You thought about how gentle he was with you in the tub, letting you lower yourself over his cock. He wasn’t like Steven, taking you no matter how hard you cried. Marc was different, but you wondered if that was what made him the most dangerous. He could be the one to make you start getting comfortable, so you vowed to yourself that you’d stay strong, no matter how soft he was with you, or how good he could make you feel.
While you were enjoying your moment of self love, Steven was fighting. They usually fought at night, but at this point Steven was normally home. It seemed to him like there was an influx of crime recently, or maybe he only felt that way because now he had something waiting for him at home and the losers on the streets were keeping him away from you. Either way, doing things the “humane” way was taking too long.
If the fact that he was dependent on Marc, Steven and Jake wasn’t enough, the second reason that Khonshu didn’t care that they were doing something so immoral, was that Steven turned to killing to speed things up. He found that ending the villains who terrorized the streets gave him the ability to finish their work faster, so they could get back to you sooner. Jake liked it too, it meant he and Marc could start killing again without hearing the constant nag of Steven’s good conscience judging him relentlessly.
Your vibe was so loud you didn’t even hear the door unlock. Steven walked in, love-dumb smile plastered on his face until he realized what you were doing. You gasped when you saw him, quickly switching off the toy, sitting up and staring at him wide-eyed. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks immediately while the two of you looked at each other unmoving.
“What a’you doin’ love?”
His white suit was covered all over in blood spatter. You tried to hide the vibrator quickly, as though you weren’t just seconds from mind numbing ecstasy, but he wasn’t dumb. The look on his face turned to one of utter betrayal as he charged forward. You flinched, covering your face in your hands and making yourself as small as possible. He grabbed the pink, plastic thing in his hand.
“Oh no. No, no, no, what is this?” He held up the toy in his hand, turning it around and inspecting it. “Who gave you this? Hm?”
“Steven, calm down, I just gave it to her as an act of goodwill, it’s not a big-“
“Marc…” an annoyed laugh escaped him, sending a chill through your body, “I should’ve known.”
Steven was pissed, to put it lightly. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks while he tried to keep his composure. He looked down at it, and then back at you. This was unacceptable. How could you do something like that to him? He was right there ready to please you any time you needed. He was a warm body, he knew what you liked, and you would choose this thing over him?
“Look at me…” he spoke coldly.
Knowing the punishment would be worse if you didn’t, you removed your hands from your face and looked at him. You wiped the tears from your eyes, seeing him now standing over you with an abnormally enraged expression. His usual soft and loving gaze was filled with fury, forcing terror to pool in your gut.
“Love, why would you ever use something like this? Huh? What do you need this for when you’ve got me?” His expression shifted, he looked hurt.
“I’m sorry, please I’m so sorry I thought it was okay because-“
“It’s not!” He shouted, forcing you to flinch. “S’not ok. I’m better than any piece of fuckin’ plastic aren’t I? Don’t I make you feel good?”
Now you were starting to understand why Marc told you to keep your little toy a secret. You’d never seen Steven so upset, so angry. This was an anger born from deep betrayal, he was hurt. Knowing that he was probably going to bring Jake in to punish you, you decided to be proactive to show your willingness to behave. You could only hope that he would spare you.
Steven, despite his frustration with you, felt the nagging of arousal in his pants as your gaze fell on his groin. Your little hand reached up and brushed over the fabric covering his bulge, involuntarily Steven’s hips moved forward, chasing your touch. You looked up at him with those big eyes, desperation etched in every pore of your face.
“Darling,” Steven’s face softened a little. He cupped your chin roughly in his gloved, bloody hand. “I love you with all my heart, but you’ve really disappointed me today. I need you to know that.”
You felt the panic rushing through your body in a wave. With trembling hands you reached for the button of his pants, but he stepped back. Was he not going to let you please him? Was he not going to let you apologize in the way you knew he’d like? He must’ve been furious with you, more angry than you’d originally anticipated.
“No, no, no…if you think this thing is so wonderful, maybe I ought to give it a go, yeah?” Steven’s lips were curled into a frown, “you just sit there, and watch, and if I see you look elsewhere, we’re going to have an even bigger problem, love.”
He kept the vibrator in his hand while he undid his pants and pushed them down to his mid-thigh. His fat cock bounced as it was freed from the confines of his boxer-briefs. You gulped, watching him intently. You were determined to behave, not wanting to incite more anger from him than you already had. He turned on the toy, and the loud hum filled the room once more.
“There, let’s see what’s so special about this bloody thing.” He pressed it to the underside of his cock and immediately you saw his body tense. “Oh shit.”
“Steven, what's the plan?” Marc asked, tone riddled with nervousness, knowing that Steven could be unpredictable if provoked, “I’m not gonna let you hurt her, you need to just calm down.”
“Well love, this does feel rather good, I wouldn’t lie to you.” He kept his darkened eyes on you. “Doesn’t feel as good as your warm little cunt though.”
Steven was getting hot so he removed his coat quickly and brought the vibe back to his cock. He slid it back and forth from his balls to his leaking head. The slit in his tip was dripping so much there was a small wet spot on the floor below. You were watching like he’d demanded, and he could see you pressing your legs together tightly.
There was a burning in your groin. The sound of the vibrator mixed with the sight of Steven’s weeping erection was forcing your own arousal to build. You…you wanted him. There was no way you’d admit it, but you could feel it like an itch demanding to be scratched. You needed to feel his cock filling you again. Out of everything you’d been through, that feeling alone was what scared you the most. The moment you became content in your situation was the moment that you signed yourself over to this place being your future. You couldn’t let that happen.
“It’s my fault she has that thing in the first place, just let her apologize and move on.”
Steven was tuning him out and instead put all his focus on the delicious feeling of the vibe rolling over his length. Nothing would replace the way your warm, wet walls made him feel, but this did feel good. He saw you shifting uncomfortably, and he recognized that look in your eye.
“Oh, look at…ah-damn…look at you. I can see how worked up you’re getting darling.” He wiped away some spit that dribbled onto his chin. “Bet you’d like to feel me now, yeah?”
The feeling of the vibrator was causing his cock to twitch.
“You better teach her well amigo, teach her like I do.” Jake murmured.
Against your better judgment, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You needed some friction between your legs. You tried to be inconspicuous, bringing both of your hands to your tightly clenched thighs, making it look like you were just cold and trying to warm your hands.
Steven wasn’t stupid.
He snickered, “oh, you look rather pathetic right now don’t you?” He groaned, hips still churning over the noisy toy. “So needy, but you don’t get to have your way. You don’t get to hurt me like you did and still get to feel good.”
He stepped forward on shaking legs and wrapped his fingers around your throat. Steven felt you gulp underneath his palm. You brought both hands to his forearm, holding tightly. You had a beautiful look of terror in your eyes that brought him right to the edge. He squeezed tighter.
“I’m going to come love. I’m gonna-and then-I’m-you’re gonna-mm-so pretty-so pretty-ahh!”
You watched as Steven’s head fell back and thick white ropes spilled from the slit of his head. He was holding the vibrator in a way that most of his spend landed on the plastic casing. His body twitched when the feeling became oversensitive. He pulled the vibe off his length. Steven looked back down at you, face softer than before now that he was satisfied. He looked at the toy in his hand and then at you once more.
“Open your mouth, love.”
Steven watched as you slowly parted your precious lips. He put the vibe in your mouth, rolling it over your tongue.
“Clean it all up darling, be good f’me now. Maybe if you do well I’ll be less harsh when I give you your lesson…maybe.”
You closed your mouth over the toy, bobbing your head to collect every bit of cum that he coated it with. You parted your lips again, showing him that you were willing to drag your tongue over every bit to do a good job. You even leaned forward, taking the stray bits that had landed on his bloody glove into your mouth and swallowing. When you looked up at him, he seemed more than pleased.
“Wow, you’re absolutely perfect, love. I know this was an honest mistake right? You didn’t mean to upset me.”
“Of course not, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, Steven.” You hoped the pleading look was enough to help him understand how apologetic you truly were.
“Oh my sweet darling.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “I love you more than anything, and I truly wish that I could just let it go, but…” you watched, dumbfounded, as Steven took the toy between his two hands and snapped as though it were a thin little twig, “…I still have to teach you a lesson, are you going to be good f’me now?”
Your bottom lip quivered when you thought about how upset Marc would be when he saw you’d failed to keep your little secret from the other two. You wondered if he would want to punish you too. Of course you hadn’t meant to get caught with it, and you didn’t realize that Steven would’ve been so upset if he saw you using it. Running wasn’t an option now, it never was, so you saw no other choice than to nod and obey Steven’s commands.
“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll…I’ll be good.”
A sadistic grin spread over his face. You watched him roll his sleeves up just above his elbows on either side. He walked over to the foot of the bed, you rotated to keep your front facing him at all times. One of his hands rested on his hips and he beckoned you forward.
“Come.”
You didn’t like being called like a dog, but you obeyed anyway, crawling to the edge of the mattress and then sitting back on your heels. Steven looked satisfied with your willingness to follow his instructions so far, though he’d only asked for so little. You were trying to stop your body from shaking but you couldn’t.
“Turn around and get on all fours.” He demanded.
No good could come from turning your back on him. At least when you faced him you could see the blows coming. Steven had never hurt you, nor had he ever treated you this way, so you weren’t sure what to expect. You turned slowly, propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You then felt something cold and metal touch your right side. You flinched away, but Steven had a firm grip on your left hip, holding you in place.
“Now, I won’t lie to you my love, this is gonna hurt…probably a lot…but it’s the only way you’ll learn.” You felt a soft tap on your rear from the metal, “move forward a bit, make room f’me.”
You complied, and then felt the bed shift behind you. It felt like he was playing with a steel pole on your back, rolling it from your shoulders all the way back to your rear like a massage tool. It felt nice, but you knew it was only temporary. The next time you felt the pole it was painful, striking against your left asscheek harshly. You wailed, falling forward onto the bed, feeling sobs start to overwhelm you immediately.
“Come back up here, come on!” Steven was yelling loudly, “not done yet love, don’t make me ask you again, keep yourself up. S’not that bad. I’ve seen Jake do worse.”
You gathered yourself, going back on all fours like he wanted. You saw the stuffed lamb Marc had given you just an arms length in front of you. You reached for it, hoping Steven wouldn’t protest. The plush toy felt comforting as you leaned down and held it close, making sure to still keep your ass in the air. Steven slid his hand over your sore cheek forcing a wince and a hiss from your lips.
“Yes love, hold on tight to that little thing Marc gave you. He’s so nice to you isn’t he? Maybe that’s why you thought you’d get away with somethin’ like this. He’s too soft on you.”
“Someone’s gotta be nice to her. You two don’t give her a chance to fuckin’ breathe,” Marc spoke up in his defense.
Another whack from the metal pole had you screaming and holding onto the stuffed lamb for dear life. You never thought that Steven, out of the three, would be the one to do this to you. Jake made perfect sense, he was dark, cold, and threatening. Marc could be harsh and clearly had a knack for discipline in his own right, but Steven…Steven had always been affectionate, in his own way…until now.
“Wanna hear you say you’re sorry love, tell me how sorry you are for hurtin’ me like that.” He used the baton to hit your side now, right along your ribcage. “Say it,” he spoke in a threatening tone.
“I’m sorry!” You screamed through your sobs, “I’m so sorry!”
“Can see why Jake likes this so much, all those pretty sounds you make…” he forced his cock into you so suddenly that you pushed yourself up on your arms in surprise, “fuckin’ hell. Keep cryin’ darling, keep begging me to-oh my God-keep beggin’ me to stop. Can’t get enough of how it sounds.”
He hit you again. Steven knew he should feel bad, but he couldn’t help the way your pained noises seemed to permeate his ears and peak his arousal. Even more, he was still angry about the vibrator, and wanted to make sure you never thought about betraying him like that again. Your cunt clenched over him the next time he gave you a swift crack against your side. You fell forward again.
“I’m sorry Steven, I mean it. I’ll never touch myself again without your permission, I’ll never do anything like that-ah!” You were interrupted by a blow to the left side.
You felt something warm drop on your lesser used hole. Spit, you thought. He didn’t have to tell you, you knew what he was going to do. The cold pole pressed against your tight ring of muscle. You relaxed, trying to make it less painful, but it didn’t matter how prepared you were, he was going in. You expected to feel nothing but agony when he stuffed the baton into your hole, but to your surprise it felt…good.
Steven noticed the change in you immediately. He felt the way you started to rock your hips back on your own over his cock and the pole he’d pushed deep into your ass. You stopped crying, and your cries were replaced by deep, guttural moans that filled the room. He’d never heard you like this and the sounds excited him more than he could fathom.
“Gonna have to try something like that myself, listen to her…” Jake sounded needy, which Steven didn’t like. It meant his time was running out.
You clutched the bedding in one hand and still held the stuffed toy in the other. His cock filled you up, and the pole made your brain stop functioning almost completely. You’d become so mentally numb that your mouth was stuck gaping and drooling into the lamb.
“Oh darling, that feels good dunnit?”
He didn’t need to hear you say, yes. Your screaming, moaning cry was more than enough to satisfy his question. He looked down, seeing the way your holes were stretched out in their dual penetration made his cock twitch inside of you. He watched your tight rim as it clenched around the pole at the same time your cunt throbbed over his girth. You fell forward again, and when Steven nearly felt himself slip out he’d had enough.
“Alright, open.” He demanded, pulling the pole from your rear.
You whined at the sudden empty feeling. You knew when he said open, he could only be talking about your mouth. You did as you were told, parting your lips. He brought the pole down to your open jaw.
“Cover your pretty little teeth love, or they’re gonna break,” he warned in a dark tone.
He gave you hardly any time to comply before he put the baton in your mouth horizontally and pulled back. He gripped the pole tightly with both hands like handlebars, holding you in place. It gave him the perfect leverage to fuck into you relentlessly without slipping out. This was the most brilliant idea Steven thought he ever had.
“There you go love, made myself a little toy out of you.” His voice was rough while he continued his unforgiving pace. “How do you like that, yeah? You like bein’ my little toy?”
You sobbed, feeling pain in your jaw from the pressure the pole put on you.
“If you choose a stupid-shit-oh-God-stupid toy over me again, I’ll make this pussy into my personal f-fuck toy.” He grunted, pounding harder. “Would you like that? Hm? Treat you like an object instead of the love of my life? Wouldn’t that hurt your feelings darling?”
Despite the agonizing way the pole stretched your lips out, you were close to climax. He was fucking you so hard, and something about the possessive way he called you his toy made your body feel hot. You relaxed into it, finally taking a moment to experience the pleasure of his ownership, and all at once the wave melted over you. Your deep moans filled the room while you came around his thick cock, arching your back as much as you could to feel him deeper.
Steven felt you clenching around him tightly. Your poor body was so weak, he could tell by the way you fell limp so soon after you came. Even with the pole holding you up, you dropped. He tossed it aside with a clank on the floor. Now he was there, sitting back and grabbing your hips tightly, continuing to fuck you roughly. He wondered if you fainted, your body wasn’t moving. It didn’t matter to him, he was going to fill you like you were made to take every last drop of him…and to Steven you were.
His hips came to a stop against your rear, hot white spurts of his seed shot into you. Seeing it fill you up so much it started leaking out the sides was Steven’s greatest pleasure. Your swollen and puffy hole was so beautiful with it split over him he could stare at it for hours. He pulled out of you and watched his spend trickle out onto the bedding. You started to fall over, onto your side, so he let you, now feeling a little concerned with the clarity washing over him.
“Love.” Steven shook you, but you weren’t moving and your eyes remained closed.
“Steven what the hell did you do?” Marc sounded furious.
“Everyone just stay calm, I’m sure she’s f-fine just takin’ a little rest is all…right Jake?” Steven’s body was trembling.
Jake took over, immediately feeling for your pulse. He slumped over, satisfied when the thump of your heart was there. He ran a hand over his face and huffed out a weary sigh. You were just resting, something you clearly needed after everything they continued to put you through. Jake retracted the suit completely, grabbed the broken pieces of the vibrator off the floor and left you in peace.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t really mean to hurt her, I was just…she was just…I mean she made me do it! How could she use that-”
“Enough!” Jake shouted when he got to the living room. He looked in the mirror, a three paneled piece they used so they could all “see” each other while they talked. “She’s been fairly well behaved, despite recent events.” He looked at the panel Steven was occupying. “I think it’s time we discuss giving her some more…freedom…what do you two think?”
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Moon Knight Masterlist
#tfm yandere fic#moon knight#jake lockley#steven grant#marc spector#yandere moon knight#yandere steven grant#yandere jake lockley#yandere marc spector#moon knight smut#jake lockley smut#marc spector smut#steven grant smut#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader
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First light
Summary: Hanukkah is coming up. The system has some complicated feelings about that. You aren't really sure how to help them navigate it.
Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader
Word Count: ~5.3
Warnings: mostly fluff, anxiety, angst mostly from Marc because he’s just like that
A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoy and happy holiday season to everyone who celebrates one this time of year! I want to note here that I am not Jewish, but I researched as much as I could for this fic. If there's anything wrong, or something that shouldn't be there, please let me know and I'll fix it. The reader is written as non-religious and as having grown up without any religion. And as always, please, please, please let me know what you think!
“Flurries,” you point with a soapy hand out the misted window over the sink. “I think it’s snowing.”
Marc doesn’t even look up, his eyes focused on the puzzle on the coffee table in front of him. “It’s not cold enough for it to stick,” he grumbles.
You roll your eyes and grab a tea towel to wipe your hands on. “So sorry it’s not a blizzard, Spector.”
“I’ll take you to Chicago in January and see how excited you are about the snow then.”
You huff out a laugh and cross the room to sit next to him on the couch, plucking up a puzzle piece to slot near the bottom of the picture. “I didn’t even say I was excited. I was just mentioning it.”
“Just mentioning it means you’re excited,” he says, leaning his chin into your shoulder.
You wrinkle your nose and pick up another piece, quickly locating its location along the border before you turn and kiss his nose. “You’re insufferable, Marc Spector.”
“And you’re better at this fuckin’ puzzle than me,” he grouses, watching you fit another piece into place.
You laugh and tuck yourself closer to him, the weight of his chin on your shoulder a welcome one. “It’s because you don’t have a strategy,” you say. “You do the borders first to get started and then move inwards,” you instruct.
“That’s not a challenge.”
“Are you trying to be challenged by a puzzle?”
Marc doesn’t answer, picking up a piece and searching briefly for its place. You like the slow way he does it, it’s relaxing and good, his hand hovering, fingers twirling the piece. Which, you notice, is not a border piece.
He snaps it down and you frown, “I don’t think that’s where that goes.”
“It is for now.”
You don’t bother trying to hide your smile, glad to see him doing something slow and peaceful and constructive for once.
The snow reminds you of something you’d been meaning to ask him, as the holiday season approached and how you’d celebrate, if he, or Jake or Steven, wanted to do anything at all.
You’ve never been big on the holidays. And so, usually, you just take the opportunity to bake and give gifts to the people you care about most. But this year is different, this year you have the system to consider.
You nudge your nose into Marc’s cheek as he incorrectly places another puzzle piece, and you’re sure he’s just doing it to irritate you now. “So, speaking of the snow,” you venture. “The holidays are coming up soon. Did you want to celebrate?”
Marc doesn’t look at you, his gaze focused on the puzzle. “Thanksgiving? Weird to do it here isn’t it?” He turns suddenly and glances into one of the mirrors propped against the wall. He’s quiet for a moment, head tilting to the side, before he turns to you. “Steven’s okay with it but he’s going to complain anyway. Jake wants pie.”
You are not talking about Thanksgiving, and you’re certain Marc knows it. You suspect too that Steven and Jake are reminding him of that. “Okay,” you agree because you’re sure he’s avoiding the topic and you don’t want to push it at the moment. “We can do Thanksgiving if you want.”
You pause, waiting to see if Marc might mention any other holidays but he remains silent. So you kiss Marc on the cheek and promise to figure something out for Thanksgiving. “Any other holidays you’d like to celebrate?”
He hums, “Don’t think there are any other holidays in November this year.”
“Sure,” you answer. “Thanksgiving dinner it is.”
He grips your hand back when you lay it on his shoulder, squeezing tight. “Thank you, baby,” he smiles, tipping his forehead briefly against yours.
~
Thanksgiving comes and goes (with a roast chicken instead of turkey and Marc’s favorite sides from childhood, and pie for Jake), and you decide to string up soft yellow fairy lights around the flat in anticipation of the holiday season.
You figure they’re neutral enough, and they make the place even cozier than it already is and ward away the dark of winter, which you count as a win. It might be an idea to keep them up all year. There have been no further mentions of any holidays, and you aren’t sure how to bring it up again, not sure if you were crossing a boundary or inserting yourself where you don’t belong.
When Steven comes home and sees the lights he grins and points. “Decorating already, are we?”
You bite your lip. “For the holidays, yeah,” you prompt, hoping Steven might mention it where Marc hadn’t.
He nods, still grinning at you, and presses a kiss to your cheek.
But he doesn’t say anything either, and you wonder if it hasn’t occurred to him, or if he was following Marc’s lead in not talking about it.
~
Later that evening, you do a quick google search, to find the exact date that Hanukkah began. You find that you have a little under three weeks to decide how to approach them about it.
You know the system has a complicated relationship with their Judaism, that much you can tell at least.
They don’t talk about it and if they practice in any way, they certainly don’t do it in front of you. Marc’s deliberate avoidance of talking about the holiday season only compounds that fact.
But you know it’s important to them, an important part of their identity, even if they don’t say it.
The Magen David they wear around their neck never comes off. You’ve never seen any of them without it, the one article of clothing that was common to all three of them, even back when Steven hadn’t known about Marc.
You’ve never asked them about it. Because it seems like a closely guarded thing, something kept close to their heart, connected to home and the past in a way you can’t begin to guess at. And Marc’s relationship to his past and his homelife isn’t exactly a good one. You’re not sure that bringing it up won’t hurt him in some way you won’t be able to repair.
So, you’ve never asked. You’d figured that they’d bring it up to you, when and if they wanted to talk about it.
You sigh, listening to Jake puttering around the kitchen, singing in Spanish lowly as he makes a sandwich.
Maybe you shouldn’t say anything about it. Maybe you were assigning undue importance to it, maybe they felt no connection at all to being Jewish and the necklace was just a connection to their past.
Maybe you should just continue as you have every year. But it feels rude, it feels wrong, to just bake and buy gifts and not say anything at all.
You commit yourself instead to learning about Hanukkah.
Just in case.
~
You get caught the week before Hanukkah begins.
Much of your free time recently had been spent googling Hanukkah, the traditions and history, what foods were popular and whether there are any special ingredients you might need to find.
You’re on one of the more helpful websites you’ve found, rereading the story of Hanukkah when -
“What are you doing?”
You snap your laptop closed as you sit bolt upright and turn. Marc could be so fucking quiet sometimes. He’s peering over your shoulder, an apple with a bite taken out of it in his hand.
When you don’t immediately say anything, he raises a brow at you.
“Nothing,” you say quickly.
“Liar,” he deadpans, circling the sofa to plop down next to you, taking another bite of the apple as he slings one arm over the back of the couch. “You were reading about Hanukkah,” he says, crunching as he chews.
He doesn’t ask why, just tilts his head.
You sigh and lean forward to set your laptop on the coffee table. “I was,” you admit, dragging a hand down your face. “The holidays are coming up and I wanted to be prepared.”
“For what?”
You don’t look at him, tugging at a loose thread in the blanket over your lap. “For Hanukkah. In case you wanted to celebrate.” Marc doesn’t reply and you don’t dare meet his eyes, though you can feel his gaze against the side of your face. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I tried but you just kept talking about Thanksgiving.”
When he still doesn’t say anything, confirming your worst fears that bringing it up would make him shut you out, you barrel nervously on. “I wasn’t trying to pry. You don’t really talk about being Jewish and I know that’s probably for a reason. I just…didn’t want you to feel like I was ignoring it.” You flutter your hands in front of you, “I didn’t grow up with any religion so I don’t have traditions I follow. I’m not pushed about what we do for the holidays. I just…didn’t want to do something wrong. And I didn’t know if it would remind you of your family-,”
His hand drops from the back of the sofa to your shoulder, fingers working into the tense muscle. “I’m not upset,” he says, weirdly gentle about it. “It’s okay.”
“Okay,” you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you sure?”
He nods, taking a final bite of the apple before he tosses the core across the room where it sinks into the bin.
You cautiously move closer to him, fitting yourself beneath his arm. Marc tucks you closer, sliding his fingers over the curve of your shoulder, dark eyes on you. “So…would you like to celebrate?”
“How do you usually celebrate this time of year?” He deflects, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze head on.
You shrug. “Like a vaguely Christmassy kind of way I guess? Y’know, like, the capitalist secular commercial version of it. I buy everyone gifts and decorate a mini tree. I usually do a lot of seasonal baking.”
Marc nods, like he’s mulling it over, and stays quiet for a long time.
He stays silent for so long that you start to doze off as you wait for his reply, curled against the heat of him lulling you to sleep. His hand slides idly back and forth over your shoulder, brow furrowed in thought.
“We haven’t…celebrated in a long time.”
You blink groggily, turning your head up against his shoulder to watch his face. His jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Okay. That’s okay,” you slide your hand across his belly to take his other hand. “Do you want to celebrate this year?”
It takes lots of questions to get things out of Marc sometimes, delicate prodding and patience were the name of the game, so he doesn’t get lost in his head, so he doesn’t go non-verbal and spiral to some place you can’t reach.
“I’m not sure I deserve to.”
Your heart constricts and you feel just a bit out of your depth. You know virtually nothing about Judaism, besides what you’ve been able to read on the internet over the last few weeks. It’s impossible to tell what he’s really struggling with - his faith, his family, the abuse in his past? “Why?” You ask, sliding your fingers along the vein in his arm, depressing your thumb against the inside of his elbow. You feel the steady pulse of his heart under your hand.
“Serving Khonshu,” his voice is low and dry. “Coming back from the dead. More than once now. Everything else. All - all the shit I’ve done.” He glances down at you, “My mother, my brother…my family. Everything.”
You reach for his hand again and squeeze it tight. “I wish I could be more reassuring on that front but since I’m just now learning about Hanukkah you can imagine how little I know.” His mouth twitches at that, a badly repressed smile twisting the corners of his lips. You slide your hand down his arm and pat his fingers, some tension going out of both of you. “All I can say is that no matter what, I’m glad you’re here with me. However you made it here, whatever you had to do to survive. I’m glad you made it here.”
Marc’s expression is carefully frozen, a look you can read lodged in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, holding your gaze for much longer than he normally would, searching for something you can’t begin to guess at. “Yeah, well,” he clears his throat, glancing away, “you’re the one thing I’ve done right.”
Heat crawls over your skin, the lingering touch of his stare and the intensity of his words make your skin prickle.
You open your mouth to respond when he continues, your words dying in your throat. His jaw ticks, like it always does when he’s pushing himself to talk about something he’d rather bottle inside and never look at again. “Look, we aren’t…I’m not religious,” he says and you nod, squeezing his hand. “Not for a long time, not after everything. But I am Jewish. We are. It’d be nice to…to try again.”
You nod again. “Okay. Yes,” you agree, tracing the lines on his palm, soothing the tension that’s seeped into his voice again.
“I could tell you the stories though,” he says suddenly, eyes latching onto yours. “I remember the stories. So you don’t have to google. I can just tell you what you wanna know.”
You try not to let the surprise show on your face, and you can tell Marc is trying not to look like he’s eager to tell you. And so you both end up with slightly constipated expressions. “I would like that, if you want to share with me,” you breathe.
He nods and looks away, his arm tightening around you carefully. “Marc,” you say, just so he’ll look at you again, just so he won’t go get lost in his own head, like you know he’s fighting not to. “How do Steven and Jake feel about celebrating? Do they remember much?”
The system’s memories were a fickle thing, overlapped and crisscrossed, with huge holes in other places. “Steven, yes. Jake, no not really.” He’s silent for a moment, eyes sliding to the mirror against the wall. He gives a sudden, dramatic roll of his eyes. “Fine, fuck,” he gripes before looking back to you. “Jake says he remembers.” And then, grumbling, “Claims to remember more than me.”
You giggle and pat Marc against his belly. “Okay, good that’s settled then. You didn’t answer me though, do you want to celebrate?”
Marc hesitates. “Can I get a raincheck on that?”
“Sure,” you say. “We have time. Y’know, you can pick what you want to do and what you don’t. We don’t have to do every tradition or-,” You cut yourself off and he doesn’t answer so you continue, still a bit nervous you were fucking everything up. “We can mix and match with the stuff I usually do. I want to do my usual baking stuff. I still want to get you guys presents.”
Marc kisses the side of your head, “Of course you do,” he murmurs. “That sounds like a good enough plan for now.”
“Okay,” you nod. “We have time. We can figure it out.”
He’s silent for a moment, head tilting to the side. “Steven is anxious that you want a Christmas tree.”
An unexpected laugh bursts out of you, and you bury your head in Marc’s shoulder. “I am totally fine without a tree in the flat.”
“Baby,” And you can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s smiling. “I think Steven kinda wants a fucking tree. Like a Hanukkah bush.”
“Hanukkah bush?” You laugh again and nod toward the mirror. “Okay. Anything. We can do whatever. I have a little mini tree that might work.”
Marc smiles at you when you turn back to him, leaning in to press your nose to his briefly. His eyes track you carefully, expression fading when you pull back.
“It was never the same, after my brother died,” he says abruptly. “My dad tried but it was just-,” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Different. Can’t remember the last time it didn’t hurt.”
You squeeze his fingers gently, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand before you cup his cheeks. “I don’t want it to hurt,” you tilt his head down, palms on either side of his face. “What we do is up to you. It’s completely up to you and the boys, okay?”
He nods and pulls your hands away from his face, eyes on your hands where they curl back around his. You watch him, watch the soft, sweet brown that his eyes have melted down into - something curiously rounded about him in that moment, his face soft and open.
Of course, with Marc, moments like those are fleeting.
Marc’s brow goes hard suddenly, his gaze jerking up to meet yours, pressing a palm to your jaw to tilt your face fully toward his. “Were you just not going to do anything this year? If we didn’t bring it up?”
You shrug, a little helpless about it. “I’m not good at this. I would have eventually, I just didn’t want to -,”
“You won’t. Don’t - fuck, don’t cut yourself short ‘cause of us. ‘Cause of our shit. Not ever.” He leans in so you can’t look away from him. “You wouldn’t have hurt our feelings.”
“Okay,” you whisper, patting his fingers. “I won’t.”
Marc’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours, his expression calculating and alert. His voice is wooden, carefully controlled when he says, “So, should I tell you the story of Hanukkah?”
And even though you’ve read the story more times than you can count, you say, “Yes.”
The hard facade of his face breaks, and he smiles at you. “Good.”
~
“Cariño.”
You don’t turn from the counter where you’re carefully dripping honey into your cup of tea. “Jake,” you answer. You’ve just gotten done baking cookies, some shaped like menorahs and others like Stars of David, with the shapes you usually baked, trees and snowmen and snowflakes thrown in.
“Don’t listen to Marc.” His footsteps are loud as he approaches, a vibrating, irritated energy preceding him.
You start to turn but Jake is suddenly next to you, turning you and pushing you back into the counter. Heat radiates off his skin, burning hot against yours. “Don’t listen to Marc,” he repeats, his head tilting close to yours.
“Well, okay,” you say, trying not to feel crowded and overwhelmed. Jake is always just a little bit intense, but especially when he’s latched onto something he sees as an issue. “But about what, Jake? Marc says a lot of questionable things to me.”
Jake makes a frustrated sound, “About Hanukkah.” He tilts his forehead into yours, eyes boring into yours, “Me and Steven want to celebrate. Marc has to.”
You smile, and lean in to kiss the downward tilt of his mouth. “Jake, honey, seriousness doesn’t suit you,” you say against his lips.
He doesn’t budge. “We are celebrating.”
“You and Steven can celebrate. We can celebrate, me and you and Steven. Marc doesn’t have to if he doesn't want to,” you say gently. “He has complicated feelings about it. I think he feels really disconnected from that part of himself. But you can celebrate. Okay?”
Jake’s shoulders loosen a bit with your words. Jake has never gotten to celebrate, not a birthday, not a holiday. He’s been weirdly packed in about it, and you’re surprised this little outburst has taken this long to occur. “He should though, corazón,” he says, oddly gentle.
“It’s his choice, Jake,” you answer, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We can’t make him. It’s up to him.”
Jake grumbles something under his breath, irritated but satisfied for the moment that he wouldn’t spend another season on the outskirts and in the dark. “You’ll talk to him? He doesn’t listen to us.”
“He’ll come around,” you sweep your fingers over his jaw and Jake leans into your hand. “He’ll celebrate with us, just wait. If nothing else, he’ll help me cook.”
Jake kisses the center of your palm. “You’re probably right about that.”
You smile and reach around him for the plate of cookies. “Look what I made.”
“Saw that, mi amor,” he says quietly.
~
“What about here, dear heart?”
You turn to where Steven stands, hovering almost nervously near the kitchen window. You purse your lips, “It’s safer there, I think, but it’s up to you.” Steven had suggested one of the other windows to prop the menorah in, but you’d had concerns with the amount of books and paper available to go up in flames.
“But…what do you think?”
You turn to him and eye the nervous shape of his hands. “Baby,” you coo. “It’s perfect. Come here and help me with this-,”
“Oh, not a chance. If there’s any way we’ll get Marc to celebrate with us, it’s helping you with the food.”
You wipe your hands on a tea towel and circle your arms around Steven’s shoulders where he’s fiddling with a box of tapered candles, shades of alternating blue and white. “I think we have everything ready, huh?” You lean your head against his and close your eyes when his head tips back against yours.
“Pretty sure, yeah,” he mumbles, still fiddling with the candles. “Jake wants to light the first candle tonight.”
You kiss Steven’s cheek, “Okay. Is that okay?”
“‘Course. Got no problem with that. Just worried about Marc. Don’t want him to-,”
“You and Jake are both so-,”
“We’re just worried,” Steven interrupts. “He’s not talking to us. We don’t want him to be alone.”
You kiss his cheek again, “He’ll be fine. He’s not alone. You know how Marc is. He just needs a bit of time.” Steven nods, his spine softening when you press yourself against his back, hands anxiously fiddling with the matches now.
“He’ll come ‘round anyways. For you.”
“And you,” you remind him. “He loves you and Jake. He just has complicated feelings about everything. It reminds him of home, you know how that is for him.”
Steven doesn’t answer, and you hate to see him so melancholy. “Look,” you pull away and tug him around, taking the matches from his hands. “I found these cute little decorations at the shops a couple days ago and I haven’t gotten to show them to you yet.”
Steven smiles, fits his hand inside yours. “‘Course, love, please show me.”
The Hanukkah bush, or holiday tree, depending on which of the three you asked, is already decked out in white and blue lights, mini menorahs and dreidels and silver baubles, with a Magen David near the top of the tree.
You show Steven the box of blue globes you’d found, and try not to grin at his obvious excitement, but when he kisses you it becomes a little hard to ignore. “How am I doing?” You ask against his lips. “For my first Hanukkah?”
“Bloody well, I’d say,” he says, carefully opening the box of baubles. “Brilliant. As always, love.”
You glance back at the window, the unlit menorah, and the sun's position in the sky beyond before Steven is nudging his shoulder into yours and handing you an ornament to place on the tree.
You smile at him, and he beams back at you.
~
Something deep inside you is satisfied by how eager they are to share this part of themselves with you, even if Marc has been mostly silent and walled off since you talked about celebrating.
You hope he comes around.
At the very least to eat with you.
Jake is waiting for you at the window, candles readied, as the sun finally sinks below the line of the earth. The light in the flat is a low glow, and Jake’s normally intense expression is softened.
You touch the small of his back, passing your hand slowly up and down his spine.
He’s trying not to look excited, and you nudge him gently. “It’s okay to be happy, Jake Lockley.”
A bit of pink creeps into his cheeks and he doesn’t answer you immediately. You stand together in the low golden light until it’s fully dark outside. Only then does Jake strike the match without warning, the flame glowing orange as he touches it to the shamash.
You place the first candle in the menorah and wait for Jake to light it, but he reaches for you instead.
“What?”
“C’mere, mi vida, we gotta light it together.”
You hesitate. “Sure?”
“Yeah. Quit worryin’ about everything,” he says, fitting himself behind you, cupping your fingers with his around the helper candle. “You aren’t doin’ anything wrong.”
For a moment, it’s silent, and neither of you move. You know that this is the moment he’s meant to recite three blessings - which you aren’t sure if he’s planning to. So, you wait for him to guide your tangled hands, fingers warm in Jake’s grip, his body snug and comforting behind yours.
The change is subtle, but you feel it, the lax posture of Jake’s chest against your back going a bit stiff. And you’ll never be sure, but you think it’s Marc’s voice that recites the blessings in Hebrew.
You wonder if Jake plotted this, if he even knew the blessings, if he knew Marc would front to say them.
As soon as the words are out, his spine softens again and Jake’s voice is back in your ear, “And now,” he nudges his nose against your temple. “We light the first candle.” His hand guides yours to the candle, holding the flame there until it catches.
Together, you light the first candle and stick the shamash in the center of the menorah. It happens again, Marc behind you instead of Jake, slowly saying the prayer he must remember from childhood.
And when his voice ceases, it’s Steven there with you, grinning wide and happy. “Jake’s so bloody pleased, love.”
“Me too,” you say, pulling him in close to you, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. “Me too.”
~
“Why don’t you open a present?” You ask, cracking an egg over the grated potatoes in the mixing bowl in front of you, in what you hope will eventually turn into latkes.
Steven is hovering beside you, nervous, because Marc still hasn’t deigned to speak to either him or Jake. “Are you sure?”
“Yes! Yours are wrapped in blue.”
“Eight presents for each night for each of us,” he comments. “You’re too good to us, dear heart.”
You smile and kiss him, kissing away the powdered sugar on his upper lip from the sufganiyot he’d eaten earlier. “I think it’s the other way around really. Thank you for sharing all this with me.”
His eyes melt, and he tucks you close. “Thank you for poking Marc about it. He’s right hard headed when he wants to be.”
“You all are,” you correct. “Nearly ripped my head off when I suggested reorganizing the bookshelves.”
“Well - they - I can find them all! I know where every book is!” He protests and you giggle.
“Go open a present,” you say, giving him a little shove with your hip. “Any of them are fine.”
Steven goes, evaluating each wrapped parcel before he chooses one and unwraps it at the kitchen table.
Of course, Steven has picked the one book shaped gift to unwrap - gasping at the title of the rare book. “From the bookshop a few weeks ago! I went back and they didn’t have it. And you were the one that got it! Sneaky minx, you.”
You smile, “I told you good things come to those who wait.” He’d been so upset it wasn't there when he went back for it, you’d nearly given it to him when he’d come back from the shop empty handed. But this - this is far better. You watch him eagerly flip through the book before you turn back to the bowl.
The soft sound of pages being turned fills the flat and you can’t help but grin to yourself, satisfied. You’re happy. They make you happy, this makes you happy.
You hum to yourself, mixing the eggs into the potato. You’re distracted by the peacefulness of the evening, the low burning candles guttering in the window, the shush of pages being turned.
So, you jump when Marc’s voice suddenly sounds by your ear. “You need flour.”
“Marc!” You scold.
“And baking powder. Makes it crispier.”
You huff out a breath. “Would you be a dear and get it for me then, baby?” You ask, only slightly sarcastically.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he deadpans, moving to the cabinet that stored baking items.
When he comes back, he doesn’t say anything to you, adding the flour and baking powder himself, measuring in salt and pepper with his heart. He doesn’t look at you. “You got the onion in here?”
“Onion?” You ask, frowning into the bowl.
“Yeah, we need an onion,” he informs you, voice even, still not looking at you.
His back is stiff, like he’s worried you’re going to comment on his sudden appearance and he’s begging you not to. “Got it,” you nod, turning to rummaging around for one and holding it up for his inspection of the size.
He nods. “Shoulda been grated with the potato, but you can do it now and squeeze the moisture out and it’ll probably be fine.”
“Sorry,” you say, starting on your new task, “I must have missed it when I was reading the recipe.”
“I should have been helping you with it,” he acknowledges lowly.
You smile, dumping the grated and squeezed onion into the mixture. “S’okay. You’re here now.” You don’t mention you know he was there earlier too, co-conscious and then fronting to say the blessings.
You watch him fold the mixture together before he pauses, squinting over at you. “We should divide this in half.”
“Why?”
“So we can do some with cheese. Or spices.”
“Okay. Half it then.”
Marc seems pleased, poorly hiding the twitch of his lips. “Okay. Gimme another bowl.”
You do as you’re told, and then start measuring out the oil you’ll need to fry the latkes into a pan on the stove. When the oil is hot enough and Marc is carefully dropping the mixture into the pan, he says, “This is nice.” His voice is a bit gruff, grating around the edges. “We should go to that menorah lighting tomorrow. The one in Trafalgar Square.”
“You want to?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Why not?”
You grin, watching the oil pop in the pan. “Maybe you could go to the synagogue too.”
He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch before he speaks up. “Jake wants to.”
“Jake can go.”
“He wants you to go with him.”
“I’ll go with him, if he wants.”
Marc’s head jerks up, eyes meeting yours. “You will?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
But he seems surprised that you would, that you'd put effort into something so important to him, to them. He searches your eyes for a moment, raven gaze deep and dark. Then, “Would you go with me?” He sounds so hopeful, it almost breaks your heart.
“Yes. Steven too,” you confirm.
Marc nods, and glances away from you to expertly turn over one of the latkes. “Okay. Cool.”
You don’t comment, hiding another grin, kissing the side of his head instead as you move away. “I - we - wrapped yours in silver,” he says to your back. “If you wanna look.”
Something about it makes your throat close, a lump lodging there that you can’t quite swallow away.
Maybe it because he's shared something important with you. And you're not sure you'll ever be able to express what it means that he's opened up to you a bit, that he's let you into this part of himself, that he wants to share this with you, and reconnect to something that should be positive and good and warm.
You turn back to him and yank him into a hug, pressing your fingers up his spine until you can cup the back of his neck. He looks startled before you kiss him.
But he kisses you back, and he doesn’t ask why when you whisper, “Thank you.”
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Let Go
For Kinktober - Prompt: Role Reversal
Kinktober Masterlist
18+ Only MDNI
Pairing: sub!Jake Lockley x dom!female reader
Summary: Jake does not let go of control easily, but he wants to. You help him out.
WC: 2.5k
A/N: Yes a posted a different fic for this prompt, I just hated how it turned out and couldn’t leave it alone. I kept the basic bones of it, just made it into something I’m actually proud of.
This work contains: this is porn with feelings, sub Jake but he’s a brat about it at first, reader is a fairly hard dom, power play, use of handcuffs, edging, bj, face sitting, brief fingering, begging, PiV, riding, mild overstim, Jake has feelings. I was feeling soft for Jake today. Please let me know if I missed anything!
It was a rare occurrence for Jake to give control over to someone else, to put himself in an even slightly vulnerable position.
Because Jake Lockley was not known for going down without a fight, or going down at all really.
He was headstrong, and he adamantly refused to take anything lying down, sitting, or standing up. His stubbornness came as naturally to him as breathing. It was how he survived, and in turn made sure the system was safe. He couldn’t let go of the reins if he wanted to.
Then you happened.
It didn’t happen overnight, but after some time he was able to let his guard down around you. You were beyond patient with him, and always tried to create a safe space for all three of them.
And you eventually became Jake’s safe haven. Where he could be himself, and not be on high alert constantly. Behind those steel walls he put up around himself he hid a desire to simply be cared for, but it wasn’t easy to show that.
He loved when you took control over him, but his deep rooted instinct always told him to make you work for it.
And work for it you did.
You always seemed to default to being submissive with Jake, which you chalked up to his more assertive demeanour.
So when he brought up the idea of switching things up in the bedroom, you were shocked. Enthusiastic, but shocked. You had fallen into a more dominant role before with Steven and sometimes even Marc, but never with Jake.
You knew full well that he wouldn’t make it easy for you. You were counting on it.
Thankfully, you loved a good challenge.
Jake let out a grunt as you shoved him against the wall with a thud, your hands pressed firmly against his shoulders.
You both frantically pulled each other’s clothes off, your lips only leaving him to shed your shirts. He yanked your sweats down along with your underwear, and you kicked them off before fiddling with his belt. You got it undone quickly, moving on to unbutton and unzip his jeans. The denim dropped to the ground and you pushed his boxers down with them to let him step out of them.
“I’m in charge tonight,” you leaned in to whisper in his ear, brushing your lips against his skin. “So be good for me and I’ll make sure you're well taken care of.”
He let out a chuckle, and you pulled back to raise a brow at him like he so often did to you.
“Not an ice cube's chance in hell, doll,” he challenged you with a smug grin, so you smiled right back. “So why don’t you get your pretty ass on the bed?”
His hands grabbed your ass hard, pulling you closer against him than you already were. You mirrored the action, squeezing your hands over his bare skin. You walked backwards, pulling him with you until you felt your legs hit the bed. In one swift move you turned the two of you around and pushed him down onto the softness of the mattress, quickly climbing on top of him to straddle his stomach and hold his hands over his head.
“Let’s try this again,” you took on a more warning tone as you spoke, brushing your nose against his. “Behave.”
The defiance didn’t leave his pretty brown eyes, which you expected. He didn’t try to flip you off of him either, so progress was being made.
“You gonna make me?” He asked with a smirk, shifting under you.
“Do you want me to make you?” You countered, pressing down harder on his wrists.
His breath hitched for a split second at your question, but you didn’t miss the little glint of excitement that crossed his face.
“Maybe,” he answered after a moment, his breathing picking up.
You huffed out a quick laugh, letting go of his wrists to lean over to open the bedside drawer. Your hand shuffled through the contents until you found what you were looking for, and pulled them out to hold them above Jake’s face.
His eyes followed the shiny metal handcuffs as they dangled, swinging ever so slightly. He had used them on you plenty of times.
You moved fast and grabbed his left wrist first, closing the ring of metal around him before looping the chain through the slats of the headboard before doing the same to his right wrist.
“There we go, much better,” you teased, tapping your palm against his cheek lightly.
You moved down his body, leaving little kisses and love bites along the way until you seated yourself between his legs
He let out a small gasp as you wrapped your hand around his quickly hardening cock, squeezing lightly to watch him squirm.
“I’d say you like it when I’m a bit rough with you, huh?” You teased as you gathered the bit of precum leaking out of his tip, spreading it across his length with a slow pump of your hand.
He didn’t dignify that with a response, just watched you with his increasingly intense gaze.
He did, however, let out a choked grunt when you ran your tongue across the underside of his cock before taking the tip into your mouth.
You slowly lowered your head until his tip hit the back of your throat, using your hand to circle what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.
Jake tilted his head back with a loud moan as the warm wetness of your mouth surrounded his cock, jangling the chain of the cuffs as he instinctively went to grab your hair.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, watching you bob your head up and down slowly. You looked at him through your lashes, watching as the look of pleasure took over his hard gaze.
You were moving at an agonizingly slow pace, and he knew you were doing it on purpose just to tease him further.
He bucked his hips up slightly to meet your mouth halfway, making you gag a bit. You looked up at him with a muffled growl, placing your hands on his hips to hold them down.
“Stay still,” the look in your eyes seemed to scold him.
Mercifully, you started bobbing your head faster. Jake let his head fall back, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling of your mouth over him. The way your tongue moved mixed with the amount of suction you had perfected was intoxicating.
The expression on Jake’s face while you sucked him off never failed to make your pussy drip; that look of pure bliss. You’d never get tired of watching him slowly get consumed by the pleasure you gave him.
His moans were growing louder and more frequent as you sped up your movements, drowning out the jangling of the cuffs. As you felt his cock twitch in your mouth, you pulled yourself off of him.
It took Jake a second to realize what just happened, and he looked at you with furrowed brows as you sat up with a pleased look on your face.
You wrapped your hand around his spit-slick cock again and started jerking him off at a fast pace, watching with a smile as he hissed and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Oh you’re going to be in so much trouble when we’re done here,” he spat out, and you just chuckled.
“In case you haven't noticed, I’m calling the shots here,” you reminded him, squeezing your hand around him to watch him squirm. “So I’d start behaving if I were you.”
You jerked your hand faster, drawing whimpers and moans out of him. You continued like that until you could tell he was close again, then you stopped.
He let out a frustrated groan, gritting his teeth.
You climbed back up him until you were more or less sitting on his quickly rising and falling chest, all the while he was glaring at you.
“Real cute, mi amor, but-“
You cut him off by squeezing his cheeks with one hand, making his lips pucker out.
“That’s enough out of you,” you spat out, gripping his face hard. “I’m gonna sit on your pretty face, and you’re going to appreciate it. Got it?”
Fuck, you weren’t playing around.
He nodded the best he could, eyes wide and full of lust as he looked up at you. You let go of his jaw, moving up so your wet cunt was hovering right over his face. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, desperate to taste you.
“Tap on the headboard if you need me to get off,” your tone softened a bit, and he nodded silently again. “Show me.”
He grumbled and rolled his eyes but did it anyway, knocking his knuckles against the wooden headboard to make a loud tapping sound.
“Good,” was the last word out of your mouth before you lowered yourself down, pressing your pussy over his waiting mouth.
Jake didn’t waste a second before skillfully finding your clit with his tongue, then latched his lips around you and got to work. He sucked lightly and swirled his tongue, humming at the taste of you.
You moaned loudly and closed your thighs around his head, bracing your hands on the wall in front of you.
This show of power had him achingly hard, bucking his hips up into nothing as he lapped at your folds. Your moans hit his ears like his favorite song; it sent an unexplainable warmth through him to know that he was the one making you feel so good.
He moved his tongue from your clit to your entrance, greedily drinking you in and moaning against you. Your thighs clenched around his head for a moment when you felt his nose bump against your clit, so he buried his face further into you to make you do it again.
Jake got lost in the taste of you, in how you were starting to roll your hips, and of course in the pretty sounds you made.
Which made it that much more jarring when you suddenly lifted off of him.
He sucked in deep breaths, filling his lungs with the air they were starting to crave. Once he reoriented himself, he looked up at you with furrowed brows.
You sat yourself back down across his lower stomach, cupping his face in your hands.
“As nice as you would look with my cum all over your handsome face…” you trailed off as you looked down at him with a pleased smile, running your hands from his cheeks down to his chest. “I’d much rather do this.”
You moved yourself so that your wet pussy was hovering over his insanely hard cock, your slit just barely brushing over his tip.
When you didn’t drop yourself down Jake looked at you with pleading eyes, his resolve starting to crumble around him.
He needed you so damn bad. And he wanted you like this, completely taking control over him. It felt so good to be able to let go knowing he would be safe with you.
“Beg me, pretty boy,” you coaxed him, barely brushing your wet slit against the tip of his cock again. “I know you can do it.”
Jake swallowed hard, clenching his jaw.
“Not gonna happen,” his defiance came back full force, and you looked at him in surprise.
“Alright, have it your way then,” you were eerily calm as you spoke, lifting yourself higher up over him before swiping two of your fingers along your drenched slit to gather your wetness before pushing them into yourself.
You started thrusting them, scissoring your fingers to stretch yourself out nicely. Droplets of your wetness fell onto his abdomen and cock, driving him to near insanity.
“Beg.”
You didn’t stop the movement of your hand, your breathing picking up as you fucked yourself with your own fingers.
“Dammit! Please!” He blurted out suddenly, pulling at the cuffs around his wrists. “I need you so fucking bad, honey. I’ll be good now, promise. You’re killing me here!”
A blush crept up his chest and cheeks, even to the tips of his ears. You couldn’t help but to genuinely smile at the sight.
You knew that was probably the best you were going to get from him, so you decided to show some mercy.
You pulled your fingers from your cunt before shoving them into his mouth, satisfied when he started swirling his tongue around your digits and cleaning them nicely for you.
Not more than a few seconds later, you slowly lowered yourself down onto him. He bit down on your fingers, a muffled moan sounding around them.
You started slowly lifting yourself up and down on his cock, pushing your fingers further into his mouth.
“I knew you’d come around,” you teased through sharp breaths, thrusting your fingers into his mouth in time with the bouncing of your hips. “I just needed to rough you up a bit, didn’t I?”
He nodded around your fingers, his cheeks getting redder by the second. You pulled your wet fingers from his mouth, wiping them off on his heated cheek.
“Awww. Are you embarrassed, sweetheart?” You felt his cock twitch at your words, so you started moving faster. “Or do you like when I treat you like this?”
He nodded again, his eyes screwing shut as he tilted his head back. With his mouth now free, his moans and little whines sounded louder. You knew he was close.
The way he looked under you, desperate and needy, spurred on your own climax. You never thought you would have him under you like this, let alone have him enjoy it as much as he was.
“Shit!” He cursed as he came, tensing beneath you and pressing his head back against the bed. His mouth hang open as you kept fucking yourself on him, his brows knitting together.
Soon enough, you came around him with a satisfied groan. You rode him throughout your orgasm, pulling constant whines from him as you clenched around his sensitive cock.
Once the fog passed, you gently lifted yourself off of him. Finding the keys to the cuffs, you freed his wrists and made sure to press gentle kisses to the red marks they left.
“I’ll be right back,” you whispered to him, kissing his cheek before you quickly got a couple warm washcloths.
He laid there with his eyes closed, his breathing slowly evening out as you took extra care to clean him up. When you started to clean his face, you noticed a tear roll down his cheek.
“Jake, honey,” you couldn’t keep the panic out of your voice, cupping his face gently. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sor-“
“Thank you,” he stopped you, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to the back of it.
“What?” You asked, confused but relieved at the same time. “For what, baby?”
“For letting me let go.”
#jake lockley smut#jake lockley x reader#jake lockely#sub Jake Lockley#there’s not nearly enough subby Jake fics#so this is my contribution#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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Pas de deux (Jake Lockley x reader ) 🌙🩰
A/N: So! Kinda my first fic? Trying to exercise my writing skills. (You won’t believe how many times I had to just write “excersize” for autocorrect to save me.) So I hope y’all can enjoy the product of my practice!
In a previous post, I mentioned Jake crying while watching ballet. But what I meant to say was I had already developed a fic to this very concept. Needed the confidence to post it- which the reception to the first post got! It said Swan Lake, but for the plot’s conflict it’s Nutcracker.
Warnings: Fluff, mild comfort, reference to MK lore but you can pretend it isn’t, reference to Tchaikovsky mourning his sister, No use of Y/N, may be read as the POV of Layla, or yourself, mentions of Marc and Steven, no direct use of Spanish but reference to Jake speaking it, Reader may or may not know Spanish, it’s ambiguous this way for a self insert!, and again, my first full fan fiction. That is a warning. Surprisingly unserious. implied that narrator and the moon guys are visiting the US for this show.
Gender Neutral reader, but with uncomfortable formal shoes because they plague us all no matter
Word count: the word counter website broke so let me know when you get down there kk
You and Jake go to the Opera house in downtown Chicago. However, the loyal servant of the Moon God reacts unexpectedly…
Hours earlier, Jake struggled with his tie while I mulled over walking into the opera house together. His dark mustache furled as I helped arrange the black fabric and romanticized the pair of us strolling down the Chicago street: dressed to the nines, my arm in his, with the Christmas lights illuminating our path to the theater. Jake refused, mumbling something about how he didn’t want to make me walk longer in formal shoes than I had to. Knowing how I wouldn’t say anything, refusing to complain or burden the evening, until my Achilles tendons were shot by the time we got back to the hotel.
Among the three of them, Jake’s love language was having foresight to make life as accommodated and comfortable. But he forgets that he has a place in it.
Right now, in the brisk December evening, I trotted towards the warmly lit-refuge of the Civic Opera House. Jake dropped me off directly in front, rolling away to park his sleek Rolls Royce Phantom somewhere secure.
The exterior was like that of most concrete high-riser buildings. Though at ground level, in stark contrast, a sculpted arc entrance stood on the corner of the street. A light snow casted over the figures shaped into the stone. Tall preview posters displayed the principal dancer for the evening: the sugar plum fairy.
My pace towards the ticket booth was quick in the biting cold. The Opera house clerk smiled.
“Reservations under… Spector?”
“No- wait, yes. Yes.”
At my hesitation, I was rightfully earned a disconcerted expression. Marc must have booked the tickets. Before the words left her mouth, Jake appeared to save the day. Showing his- or Marc’s- ID. The clerk was satisfied and gave us two red tickets for entree. Jake took my arm in his, like a Highschool couple in a 50s movie. Between the regal opera house, the way he supports my arm, and opens the car door- truly old fashioned.
“Thanks, Marc,” I teased. He nudged me with his arm.
“Oh please, he made Steven book them,” Jake took off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. We handed our tickets off, and at last, we were on our way through marble floors and high ceilings to find seating.
Maybe that’s why we both enjoyed viewings in this specific opera house. It was completed in 1929, yet shined as brightly as ever. Velvet red fabrics and amber blown lights. If you weren’t careful, you could become easily motivated to write a romanticized novel.
In a world of my own, I don’t notice Jake looking over my face. But he wasn’t appreciating the interior of the architecture. Maybe the exterior of me.
Some hors d’oeuvres later, we situated in a balcony, closest to the stage. Jake insisted this would be ‘the best spot in the house’. From the balcony overview, patterns in the snow droplet’s sequence could be figured into the shape of snowflakes. Once again, Jake’s love language would make the evening special, by meticulous design. Jake’s prior knowledge of ballet was limited, yet his relationship to the music goes back.
No one would assume that, from what meets the eye. Even if you knew of his nightly servitude to Khonshu- there was less reason to believe he keeps a special mix of Tchaikovsky’s Greatest in his car’s dash. His work isn’t easy, and who doesn’t wind down to music? An avatar to the god of the moon is no exception.
Live orchestra has become a small thing for us. One that Marc chuffs at and Steven… would probably like to be apart of.
The elevated booth was tailored to the best view possible of the tilted stage. Below, forms of people moved to their seats, shed overcoats, and checked the time. Soon, the red curtains would pull apart to reveal the iconic home of the Stahlbaum’s, and delicate Clara center stage. It was a matter of time, and based on Jake’s mild leg bounce, not soon enough. I place a hand over his palm, steadying his nervous habit to a somber sway.
INTERMISSION
We returned to our secluded seats from the main area. Maybe or maybe not, pocketing some cheese squares and fancy crackers in napkins. Jake put his arm over the back of my seat and smirked, “You think I could do that?”
“Do what?”
“The dancing,” He grinned like a ferret. I pause for a moment to process the idea literally. You know what? Maybe. I’ve stayed in the car while Marc or Steven took care of their missions. From what I’ve seen, Moonknight is pretty agile. Mr. Knight is comparably a Gymnast. Making- often unnecessary- flips and turns over bullets and blades.
“Try asking Khonshu when you can take classes- conveniently between delivering justice.”
To which, Jake snickers. He takes his contraband-horderve from the lobby and speaks, “Oh yeah, it will happen. I’ll just borrow Steven’s tutu.” Jake looks aloft and grins, for a moment, it’s like I can hear his alter too.
“THOSE CLASSES WERE A ONE-OFF TIME!”
The second act. Clara and the Nutcracker prince have crossed the forest into a world of her childlike creation. Her and the prince are welcomed by flowers, candy, and snow. It seems like the defeat of the rat king would be the last of the room’s worries. Except for me.
Nearing a majestic finale, the nutcracker prince shares a dance with her majesty, the sugar plum fairy. He takes her hand and holds it, as her powder pink leg ascends. But this isn’t what Jake is thinking about. His eyes are hardly on the scene below, but he is paying attention to the music. The Nutcracker, Op. 71, Act II: No. 14a, Pas de deux. He holds his breath for a moment. A small gesture I might have missed if he didn’t drop my hand when he does so. I glanced at him, not wanting to disturb his fixation to the show.
And maybe I didn’t want to disturb the way his locks messily fell on his forehead and ears. He’s a gentleman, so he wouldn’t wear his hat into the event. But by removing it, the bunched hair underneath fell loosely. Marc and Steven were supposedly relentless about on the way downtown, if his passive looks to the rear view mirror meant anything.
Does a family of birds live in your hat, mate?
Cmon, Jake, everytime I get the body I have to run a comb through it.
After Jake lowered his hands from applause, he took mine in his again. As if he six whole minutes without it was too much. I press my thumb into his knuckles. He pulls my hand closer to him, holding it totally casually to his heart.
The Finale had wrapped up in a roar of an audience. The evening’s dancers made their bows and the orchestra had begun to pack up their bows and sheet music. Neither me nor Jake were one for crowds, but fortunately, the box seats were close enough to a flight of stairs that crew members likely took. We stood and peeked down the flight that turned around the ivory painted walls.
Jake held my arm and smirked, “Do you want to take a shortcut?”
I gave him a puzzled look. “That way? Are you sure there is an exit? We might get a meet and greet with the rat king,” I half-joke. Jake grins and his eyes light up at that risk.
My eyes narrow,
“You want to meet the rat king don’t y-“
“Yes.”
It’s Christmas. Might as well give Jake the gift of following through one of his mischievous schemes- together. Jake is laughing and throughly unserious as we move closer to the landing of the stairwell. I slide my hand down the glossy railing, “If we find this rat thing-“
“When. When we find the rat thing,” Jake interrupts.
I pause and continue, “Yes, my apologies. When we find the rat, are you going to valiantly slay it, and save me?”
Jake thinks for a moment, stopping on the stairs. He responds, “I’ve fought weirder.” I nod agreeably as we continue hand in hand. But he mumbled something I couldn’t hear, perhaps some Spanish intonations, but too low to react to.
But I had a pretty good idea what he meant to say out loud. Jake will show his affection in careful planning, a car ride anywhere, but not typically his words. In those tender instances where he has to resort to sweet nothings, he expresses it in Spanish. The words flow so naturally that they aren’t being filtered by a process of translation. Just his feelings, as they are.
I smile, and pull him into my arm tighter. It was more than likely he was protectively, lovingly ranting about how well he would protect me. How he would welcome the chance to prove it. In the dimly lit corridor we found ourselves in, we located an exit door and push it. I recall the December air and hold his arm closer.
Jake holds up his keys and presses down on his buttons. Immediately after leaving the back door, we are greeted by the flashing headlights of his car in a neighboring lot. Jake looks at my face of surprise and laughs, “You thought I was going to let you walk so far in those shoes?”
While in the car, on the way back to the flat, Swan Lake plays over the radio. I clutch my coat in the warm embrace of the car’s heating system. Jake is tapping his finger along while letting cars through, but he stops as the piece ends and the next begins. The Pas de deux. This time, I don’t miss my chance to ask. My hand grazes his leather coated arm, “You alright?” Jake keeps a deadpan look through the droplets on the windshield, blinking several times. I lean in a touch closer, “Jake?”
“Uhm, I just read where, you know, what’s-his-face, wrote this piece for his sister who passed. It uhm…” Jake, agitated by the way his mouth wants to curl into a grimace in front of me, lays his arm down in a finalizing gesture. He was done talking about it, not without losing clear vision while driving. I hold his gloved hand, and without thinking, hold it to his chest. His shoulders finally lowered. The light turned green. The music filling the gentle silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌙~~~~~~~~~~~~
#moon knight#jake lockley#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockely x reader#fluff#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader
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It's not warm when she's away
Summary: A part 2 continuation to this fic, what is life like with your three kidnapper exes?
Warnings: Angst, yandere dynamics, unhealthy relationship, threat of physical harm, threat of harm to animals (no actual harm tho), yeah this one is heavy, Steven dislocates readers shoulder, forced imprisonment, let me know if I missed anything!
Notes: Suggested by @ominoose ty bb (she made me do this she is keeping me in her basement tied up as I write this sos)
Marc Spector
Arguably the best of the bunch here
And by best I mean most sympathetic to your circumstance, but that still doesn't mean Marc is going to let you go free
No, he lost you once. They all did. He won't be making that mistake again.
He tries to spend as much time with you as he can, knowing that Steven and Jake can be.. pushy, with you.
Watches movies with you, cuddles you in bed, kisses you and whispers sweet nothings into your hair like this was a normal situation.
Does his best to make you as comfort as possible, to make it seem like you never even left them in the first place.
Marc is the one that gives you thr most freedom- he lets you walk around the flat for a start.
You're still trapped, though. Still a prisoner. And as much as you beg and plead, and as much as he wants to make you happy.. you aren't leaving anytime soon.
Jake Lockley
Ah the kidnapper himself.
At first he was the one part of the system you were most afraid of, having been the one to kidnap you, after all.
But now.. he's only second worst. We'll get back to that later, don't worry ;)
Jake has never acted angry with you, ever. Even now.
When he scolds you for running away like you did, his voice is quiet, his tone is of harsh disappointment, and cuts you deeper than anything raising his voice could do.
On the face of it he's the most restrictive
He'd have you hogtied, blindfolded, and gagged 24/7 if not for Marc's protest
He's not happy about it but he settles for having you tied to the bed with Steven's ankle restraint.
Funnily enough he's also the one you see the least of. You would have thought Jake would force himself to front incase the other two let you free. You hadn't realised they were all in on it.
Jake is the type of person to apologise with actions, not words.
He does sympathise with your situation. He loves you, they all do, and he isn't as upset as you would have thought to find you aren't too happy with your predicament
He buys you things- new clothes, toys for Franklin, he makes you tasty food, anything you could ask for.
Another of the reasons he's sympathetic is that he knows he isn't the worst you have to deal with.
Steven Grant
Oh boy
Oh boy oh boy oh boy
Steven is such a two faced bitch
In the beginning he cared the most, was the one fronting more often, getting you anything you could've asked for, and showering you in affection.
But then you managed to break free from the ankle restraint one night.
You had only made it a few feet across the room before you were bodyslammed into the floor, arms twisted roughly behind your back.
Steven had taken this so personally, like a catty, high-school mean girl.
His words were vitriolic, and he shouted them at you with an anger you thought poor Steven simply incapable of.
He even threatened to hurt Franklin if you tried anything like that again, describing it as "only fair", as the way you "hurt" him would be nothing compared to what he'd do to your poor innocent cat.
Remember how I mentioned Marc was the only one who opposed you being hogtied 24/7? Yeah no Steven agreed with Jake.
He isn't above restraining you like that.
Oh and he's so manipulative
It was like a switch had been turned on in his head. He would never had used his tears to hurt you before you left.
But now he knew how to use his big, round eyes glittering with tears to have you yield to the system's whims
Steven scares you now.
Each time he comes home from work, smiling and so happy to see you and Franklin, sends a cold chill down your spin, as you'll never know when he might snap.
Jake and Marc had been the ones to understand that you don't really want to share the same bed as them anymore, and had taken to sleeping on the sofa
Not Steven. He smothers you in affection whether you want it or not, and even has the gall to ask why you're so rigid when he forces you into the once safe haven of his arms
He wasn't stupid, he understood full well why you were scared of him. The body all three men shared was strong, it had dislocated your arm when you'd tried to run away the first time.
The threat of physical harm was not something Steven was above using.
He'd changed so much, was he always like this? Was he always capable of doing this to you?
You'd never know. But at least, if you kept your head down.. things were.. somewhat stable.
#jake lockley#jake lockley moonknight#moon knight#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley angst#moon knight angst#moon knight x reader#steven grant moon knight#steven grant x reader#steven grant angst#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector angst
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Congratulations on your fic-iversary! That's amazing!
Could I request “hey, only i can call them that!” with jake or santi or even miguel
Thank youuuu!
Playing with Fire
AN: Thanks so much for sending this in, I'm so sorry it took so long! I implemented this prompt differently than I normally would—instead of using the dialogue in the fic, I just used the idea of someone calling you by a nickname Jake has for you. Hope that’s okay! Thank you again to @moonknightly for coming up with the title for this. 💗
This is my first time writing Jake, please be kind 🙏
(Un-beta’d)
Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?)
Words: 1,168
Pairing: Jake Lockley x Reader (written with a f!reader in mind, but i'm pretty sure this can be read as GN. please let me know if that's incorrect!)
Warnings: jealous/possessive!Jake, public sex (non-penetrative), frottage/grinding, thigh riding, please forgive any bad Spanish translations, i did try to do some research but i am not a native speaker 😟
AO3
——————
Jake leans against the side of his car, the metal hot against his back even through his clothes. It’s unseasonably warm today, the sun beating down as he waits patiently for your shift to end. He’d ditched his jacket ages ago, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows not long after. Nevertheless, he still feels like he’s standing in an oven. Jake sighs, lips pressing into a hard line as he pulls his cap low enough over his eyes to block out the sun. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, turning his wrist a little to check his watch.
You’re late.
This isn’t uncommon, and normally he’d have no problem waiting as long as you needed him to but, today the heat might just be too much. Just as he’s about to barge in and demand that they let you go, you push through the main doors, laughing brightly. Jake’s body relaxes at the sight of you, his chest warming at the smile on your face.
Until he notices there’s someone beside you.
Your co-worker, Miles.
Jake scowls, muttering under his breath. He hates Miles. He’s too nice, too respectful…too good-looking. What he wouldn’t give to punch that cabrón in his annoyingly symmetrical face. He’s made you aware of his feelings, told you he doesn’t like how friendly he is with you, but you always just laugh, brushing him off by telling him he has nothing to worry about (“He’s married, Jake. Happily married.”).
He trusts you, no question about it. He knows you love him, knows that you’d never stray, never seek affection or attention elsewhere, but Jake also knows how men can be (even married men) and he doesn’t trust this one as far as he can throw him.
Miles makes you laugh again, your head thrown back, the graceful line of your neck on display. Jake’s jaw clenches.
“See you, Sunshine!” Miles chuckles, winking and waving as he walks in the opposite direction.
Jake’s eyes narrow at the nickname, his blood burning almost as much as the sun on the back of his neck.
Sunshine.
Only Jake was allowed to call you that.
Perhaps he needs to remind you who you belong to. His scowl morphs into a smirk at the thought.
Your whole face lights up when you see him and the sight quells some of his aggravation.
It doesn’t mean he isn’t going to still teach you a lesson though.
You throw your arms around his neck when you reach him, pulling him into a kiss with a soft little hum. He happily kisses you back, his arms winding around your waist, hands settling possessively on your ass. Jake digs his fingers into your cheeks through your clothes, gently pulling your hips against his. You make a surprised noise before going slightly limp in his arms, returning his affection. He deepens the kiss, licking into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. Your body is flush with his now, utterly pliant in his arms.
Without warning, Jake spins you around, his mouth swallowing your surprised gasp as he presses you against the side of his car. He ruts against your thigh, slotting his own between your legs, and you moan softly at the pressure. You cant your hips, grinding against his thigh, your breath hitching as the action sends a shiver of pleasure through you. When you finally break a moment later, you’re panting, eyes a little glassy with lust.
“Not that I’m complaining but, what—”
“I missed you, mi sol,” he breathes, his voice low and raspy in that way he knows you like.
He watches with satisfaction as you swallow hard, fingers clenched in the folds of his white dress shirt.
“Looks like you missed me too, hmm?” he whispers, his hands falling to cup your hips as you unconsciously rut against his thigh.
You pull your lip between your teeth, eyelashes fluttering slightly as you nod. Jake leans in, nuzzling your nose, his lips hovering over yours. A whimper escapes you when you grind down a little harder, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He knows you shouldn’t be doing this here, he’s sure you know that too, but at the moment, he doesn’t care, almost hopes someone you know will see, see that you are his.
Jake kisses you again, slow and a little sloppy, rutting his half-hard cock against your thigh. Your lips are slippery against his, your mouth hot and oh so sweet. You groan into each other's mouths as you lazily grind against one another, Jake’s hands pushing and pulling your hips, helping you drag yourself over his thigh. He presses his forehead against yours when you break for air again, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck as you softly sigh his name.
“¿Quieres acabar así, mi sol?” he breathes, panting slightly against your cheek.
Your whimpered “yes” sends a jolt of pleasure through him, one that almost makes him come on the spot. Jake hums, dragging his tongue over his lips as he watches you writhe. You’re so gorgeous like this, lost in your pleasure, lost in him. Still, he hasn’t forgotten why he started this in the first place, that you still have a lesson to learn. Your breath hitches as you near your peak, your body tensing in anticipation of the pleasure that’s about to crest.
Suddenly, Jake’s grip on your hips tightens, enough to halt your movement, his leg dropping a bit as he presses you harder against the car. You gasp, whining at the loss of friction between your legs.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t let other men call you what I call you,” he growls, mouth hovering over yours.
Your eyes widen a little at his words, a slight panic filling them when he starts to pull away. You grab his shirt, holding him tightly against you.
“Jake, please,” you plead, chest heaving a little. “He only called me that because I told him you did, and he thought it was sweet.”
He scoffs, unimpressed.
After a moment, you smile, taking his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing gently against his clenched jaw.
“I’m yours, Jake. Wholly and completely.”
He grunts, trying in vain to avoid your gaze. He knows he’s ultimately gonna cave (he always does when it comes to you).
You’re his, yes, but he is also yours.
You kiss him and that’s all it takes, his body melting against yours in defeat. His thigh returns to its earlier position between your legs, and you moan softly at the delicious pressure. Not long after, he has you writhing again, swallowing your whines and moans as he makes you come apart against the side of his car.
(And if, maybe, you later return the favor by letting him come down your throat, his hand buried in your hair, your name spilling breathlessly from between his lips, well, Jake thinks that’s only fair).
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖
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#jake lockley x you#jake lockley x reader#moon knight fic#moon knight smut#my fic#fic-aversary celebration
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With You Part 2
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Summary: Your fiancé Marc experiences his first hangover in 2 years. Can he face you in the light of day, and admit to you and Steven what he knows about another alter?
Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader, though there is one optional fiancé(e) and muñeca(o). (Reader’s choice). No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, hangover (ish), cursing, cuddles in bed, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, brief reference to past trauma, self-worth probs (I mean, it’s Marc). Let me know if I missed a warning. Banter? If mild sarcasm bothers anyone... Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.
Dividers by saradika
Steven fell asleep right away - for that, you were grateful. But sleep did not come easily for you. As Steven nestled into the crook of your neck, arm slung across your torso, you could only hope he would sleep off that three-quarters bottle of whiskey.
Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you pressed your lips to his temple, waiting until his breathing slowed and steadied before confessing into the stillness of the night.
“Marc...I know you can’t hear me right now...” Your lip trembled as you pulled his body closer, gently twisting his soft strands around your fingers. “But we love you. We’re with you. Nothing will change that.”
You supposed it could be considered odd to be speaking to Marc even though it was Steven who fell asleep tangled up in you. And perhaps it was also presumptuous to speak on Steven’s behalf, to Marc. But you knew it was true.
The next morning, you woke up first, after a few, merciful hours of sleep. You hoped not to disturb the man beside you, carefully slipping away from his grasp. After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, you clambered to the kitchen, cursing yourself for not grabbing your fluffy slippers or a thick pair of Steven’s fuzzy socks. Your damn, drafty flat was going to give you all pneumonia, you were certain of it.
To that end, you started preparing both coffee and tea, unsure of which handsome man would be enduring a hangover this morning. For Steven, you oscillated between a red and a golden tea - hibiscus or chamomile. Marc may have been born and raised in Chicago, but Steven Grant did not mess around about tea.
Finally deciding on the hibiscus, you grabbed the air tight canister of tea leaves - there would be no dreadful teabags (as your darling Brit quoted Dame Julie Andrews) in your flat.
Hopefully Marc would drink the tea, but, just in case, you put on the very impressively American coffee maker before finding the bread for some toast.
After everything was hot and ready to go, you crept back into the bedroom, figuring it all might go cold before your sleepy headed fiancé roused. No matter. You just wanted to be prepared.
You didn’t have to wait long because someone stirred just as you pulled on the fluffiest pair of socks with little goldfish (a Hanukkah present to Steven last year) and threw Marc’s favorite tan hoodie over your white t-shirt. Your legs were still bare and you decided that at least your grumpy, hungover boys might have a silly sight to wake up to, if nothing else.
Easing down beside your love, you gently raked your hand through his bedhead, probably your favorite way to (innocently) touch them.
With a groan, your fiancé squinted, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes, as if a thousand suns were burning them. (It was still dark in the bedroom).
“Oh, god,” Marc uttered, his arm flopping back on the mattress.
You adored Steven, but you were thrilled it was Marc. You needed to speak to him, or at least take care of him.
“Good morning,” you softly greeted, reaching to massage his temples before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Mm-mm, bad morning,” he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in your stomach. His hands somehow conveniently slid right inside his hoodie and underneath your t-shirt, which sent you toppling over, giggling elatedly.
Marc was a very pouty but adorable puppy sometimes. Grumpiness just worked on him. You liked to joke with him that he would make the cutest grumpy old grandpa someday. Thankfully, he was more interested in using your tummy as a pillow at the moment than the heaping shame and anguish from last night.
“Thirsty,” he murmured, nuzzling against you. Damn, it was too bad he didn’t feel good, because he was unintentionally turning you on.
“I got you, baby,” you whispered, prying yourself from his grasp to get his breakfast.
“No, don’t go,” he protested, locking his arms around you, his hot breath falling on the exposed skin of your abdomen, where your shirt had bunched up. “You’re m’pillow.” His words came out all muffled and so, so cute.
God, he was distracting. “Are you calling me fluffy?” You teased. “I was just going to get you some water. And maybe some aspirin?”
“Wanna sleep,” came his mumbled reply. “You left me.”
“To make you some coffee, you baby,” you playfully shot back, finally climbing out of his grasp.
A few minutes later, you returned with a tray filled with tea, coffee, toast, water and painkillers, only to find Marc planted face first in the pillows. How he managed to look so damn good after downing a bottle of whiskey and sleeping five hours, you would never know. As his muscular back expanded with a deep breath, you almost tossed the tray full of remedies to the side and climbed on top of him.
Later, maybe.
After a little coaxing, he finally sat up, taking the prepared tray onto his lap. Simply seeing what you’d done to ease his pain this morning reminded him of his shameful display last night. His eyes flickered over to yours, dropping down to the gesture of care and love.
“You...” He exhaled shakily, “you didn’t have to do all this.”
There was no need to argue over breakfast. You gently smiled in return, rubbing his forearm comfortingly. “I made you coffee, but...maybe you’ll try the tea? Steven says the antioxidants--”
“I was an asshole.” His jaw clenched, his gaze now fixed on your hand. The tenderness of your touch burned him with shame.
“You were?” your eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Hm...”
Marc was used to this from you. Just like you had taken a swig of his whiskey last night, your nonchalant reply should not have surprised him in the least.
You were a champion of the real. He had never met a soul like you, and that’s probably why he was insanely in love with you.
All that mattered to you was the reality of any given situation - what was right in front of you. You were so damn hard to fight with because ... well, you didn’t fight. And for someone as self-punishing as Marc, who spent his youth hearing what a miserable failure of a human being he was, it took him a long time to understand that your steady gentility and raw honesty were not dismissive of his trauma. No, you met it, and him, head on, accepting him and loving him exactly how he was.
You had never asked him to change, never expected him to be anyone other than exactly who he was. After years of self-sabotage, it was unimaginable to him to not have to live up to someone’s standard. He never had successfully lived up to anything, in his mind.
But you were different. The first time you “fought” had blown him away. He snapped at you, feeling inadequate over one thing or another and you simply said, “No.” He thought you were being dismissive of him, maybe even mocking him, but you were as earnest as ever, telling him, “You think that now. That’s okay. I simply disagree.” Then you kissed your thumb and pressed it to the grumpy crease between his downturned eyebrows. “I love you exactly how you are, Marc.”
It was the first time you’d said you loved him and he was just...speechless. You then kissed the corner of his mouth and carried on with the evening. That’s why it was so easy to tell you about Steven.
“I don’t remember you being an asshole,” you shrugged, bringing his mind back to the present. “But I do remember you being upset. And crying.” Scooting a little closer, you twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers. “You wanna tell me about that?”
He watched your hands, pouring a couple pain pills into your palm, picking up the glass of cool water to make him an offering. His eyes met yours and he knew you were there to ease his pain in every possible way.
Still, it was so hard for him. And anything too hard typically led to disassociation.
To gain an extra moment, he took the medicine, gulping down the entire glass of water.
“Now, what sounds best?” You sweetly asked, nodding to the tray, your gentle smile completely melting him.
“I-I don’t think Steven and I are alone...in the body,” he gulped, his eyes wide and worried.
Sitting up straighter, you slowly nodded, reaching to take the tray from his lap and set it safely on the night table, giving him time to say more, if he would.
That’s all he said.
Shit, you suddenly worried you didn’t know how to ask questions without sounding offensive, despite the library’s worth of research you had done on DID. But you weren’t an investigative journalist, you were this man’s fiancé(e). So you would start with him.
“And that scares you, Marc? Upsets you?”
He glared at you. “Obviously.” Then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
You swallowed, trying to proceed carefully. It was so, so good that he was opening up to you. Instead of playing a guessing game, you decided to be your normal, candid self.
“Do you know who it is?”
He sort of did. Another man.
“Does he have a name?”
Lockley. He was pretty sure.
“Have I met him?”
His dark eyes locked onto yours. “I don’t know. Have you?”
Well that certainly explained one reason he was so terrified.
“No, I don’t think so. Does Steven know?”
Marc reluctantly confessed how hard he’d tried to hide it from Steven.
“I knew this was all too good to be true,” he brokenly whispered, eyes downcast once more. “You, me, Steven, free...happy.”
“We are those things,” you agreed, keeping him focused on the here, now - the real. “A change doesn’t mean we weren’t those things, all this time.”
“You don’t understand...” Marc rubbed his eyes in frustration (with himself) and tried to ignore his growing headache. Maybe he really should eat and drink something. He tried to tell you about Khonshu. He was going to tell you everything, and Steven too. But it was too much at once, so you found yourself with Steven once more.
Steven was very impressed with your choice of “hangover tea” and made sure the body got the nourishment, rest and shower it so needed. He missed his morning classes at uni, but did manage to make it to his shift at the university library, which ran from mid-afternoon to early evening.
Since Steven seemed to determined to not miss a shift over a hangover, you decided to go ahead and work your shift at the hospital, as planned. The two of you would meet back at your flat for some supper and then, hopefully at least one of you could get some more information out of Marc.
Things didn’t go as planned.
You returned home, assuming your fiancé would be there, just the same as the previous, fateful, sobriety-breaking night, but no one was home.
You looked around the flat, texted, called. Started dinner. Texted.
Took a shower, called. Called the university library - no Steven.
Shit.
Dinner was cold, you had texted the boys a novel, likely filled up their mailbox with voicemails. It was a desperate look - you were aware, but the worst thing you could imagine, aside from the actual worst thing that could happen to a person, was that maybe Marc was on a bender somewhere? It wasn’t exactly his drinking style, even back in the day, but...
Your feet were going to wear holes in the goldfish socks from all the pacing. It was past bedtime, midnight, 1am...should you call the police?
You were now truly, deep-in-your-bones terrified. In four years, neither Steven or Marc had ever just disappeared like this, not without telling you. Sometimes they could be a little radio silent when Khonshu was involved, but...
Maybe they weren’t them. Maybe it was the other. The new alter. Well, new to your boys anyway. You didn’t know anything about him, but one of the first things you wanted to know was - did he possess the ability to reply to a damn text message?
You got your answer twenty minutes later when you heard the slightest thump come from your bedroom. Hoping you had imagined the sound in your intense worry, you engaged in stupid-horror-movie-behavior and went to check out the sound, in the dark.
The moonlit profile of your fiancé sent a dozen feelings through your mind and heart at once, but as usual, you went with the borderline comical response first.
“Did you just come in through the window?”
Dark eyes snapped over to you as...Marc? pulled a flat cap off his head, loosening his curls. Tossing it to the side, he reached for the fingers of dark leather gloves, pulling them loose one at a time, but saying nothing.
You gulped. “Marc?”
Once the fingers of his glove were loosened, he discarded it and reached to work on the other hand, his body language holding none of Marc’s sorrowful tension, nor Steven’s anxious hunching. He moved with ease, dropping his second glove before pulling off his leather jacket. One you’d never seen, actually. You could tell that even in the dark.
Then he eased toward you confidently, like a panther, reaching to pull loose the tie around his neck. Okay, not Marc.
Once the dark tie was free of his neck, he toyed with it in his hands, wrapping it around one fist as his head cocked to the side.
You forgot to breathe for a second.
He finally let the thin fabric drift down to the floor and reached for the buttons of his white shirt.
Okay, enough. “You’re not Marc,” you uttered desperately, taking one step back. “Are you?”
He matched your step backward with a step forward. Then he shook his head once.
Oh. What had Marc said this morning? “L-Lockley? Is that right?”
He froze.
You decided, in that fleeting moment, to deal with the reality in front of you. You drew a steadying breath, releasing the fear and worry that had plagued you all night. Clearly, he was right in front of you, so he was at least safe. And despite the very distracting sort of striptease thing he just did, he admitted he was another.
So you weren’t going to be afraid anymore and give in to bullshit stereotypes.
You stepped forward. “Do you know who I am? I live here, with you.”
He nodded.
He was frustrating, this one. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes. “Have we met before, Lockley?”
The slightest smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth.
“Jake.”
He inched closer.
“But you can call me anything you want.”
Well, damn. Huffing out a laugh, you quickly regained your footing. “Smooth. Never heard that one before...Lockley.”
His smirk eased into the slightest smile, but his eyes remained dark, boring into yours before tracing down the shape of your body.
“I can see why they’re so taken with you, muñeca(o).”
You always knew the right thing to say with Marc and Steven like 100%, all the time, but damn if this window-crawling, stripteasing man with the velvety chocolate voice didn’t have you stumped.
Showing you a bit of pity, he extended his hand, offering a proper introduction. “Jake Lockley.”
But once you extended your own hand, he gently grasped your fingers, bending over slightly to lay a kiss to your knuckles.
“Pleasure,” you shot back, taking his hand and kissing it right back.
He chuckled lowly as you retreated.
“Listen, Jake,” you said his first name pointedly, “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried tonight. Do you happen to know where my fiancé’s phone is?”
Eyeing you carefully, he reached down to grab his leather jacket, producing Marc and Steven’s phone from the pocket. Handing it over as a peace offering, you sighed, a little relieved it wasn’t lost, only to realize it was powered off.
“Do you always turn off their phone?” You challenged, attempting to turn it on when you realized...
“It’s dead,” he explained, seeming the slightest bit unsure for the first time this evening. “I was going to...I thought you would be asleep.”
You frowned, confused.
“When I got back,” he clarified, his accent clearly American, although from a different region than Marc’s, it seemed. “I thought you would be asleep, like usual, and when you woke up, one of them would be with you.”
“Like usual?” You gasped. “You come in through the window while I’m asleep...like usual?”
Shit, it kind of sounded creepy said aloud like that. Jake knew meeting you would be a disaster. He really should have paid attention to whether you were really sleeping before he ninja’d his way inside.
“Look, cariño, don’t worry about it,” he deflected, returning to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll be gone as soon as I fall asleep.”
“No,” you protested, moving close to him - as close as you dared. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just met you.”
His confident, dark gaze softened, and he almost dared to hope...
“Look,” you tried again, “I just want to know why we haven’t met before. And why Marc is so upset. And why is he drinking again--”
“Marc was drinking? Shit,” he uttered, pacing away from you. Jake had always successfully evaded his alters, and made a point to do so as he continued their life in the service of Khonshu.
He should have seen this coming. Most of the scum he took care of in the dark of night didn’t even make him break a sweat, with or without the healing armor of an ancient god. But as word of a powerful nighttime avenger spread in the underworld of London, threats arose equal to the threat Jake posed.
Just a few days ago, some asshole with powers of his own got the better of him, knocking him out cold. Jake had assumed that Khonshu had intervened but now he wondered...
If Marc woke up in the Moon Knight suit, he would absolutely freak the hell out. Which...now that he thought about it, he had no memory of getting home that night.
This was just perfect. Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.
Now you would never want to know him.
#with you fic#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#gn reader#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfiction#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#oscar isaac fic#mcu#moon knight#marc spector x you#steven grant x you#jake lockley x you
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The Neverending Love || Jake Lockley x Reader
Summary: a brief visit during one of the nights transforms your life
Rating: explicit! (+18)
Warnings: unprotected sex, Khonshu being a dick & Sekhmet being a bitch (strange AU where Khonshu was romantically involved with Sekhmet) 🤭
Word count: ~6,3k
Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem!Reader, Khonshu & fem!Reader, Sekhmet & Jake Lockley, Sekhmet & fem!Reader, Khonshu & Sekhmet
Authors: Fenrir & Cass
A/N: green italics indicate Khonshu, blue italics indicate Sekhmet & orange italics illustrate Jake speaking Spanish. If you'd like another part, please let us know in the comment section below the fic, we'd love to hear your thoughts :)
The loud banging on your door that night was the last thing you expected. This has ruined your plans for a peaceful night of sleep.
Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed and walked to the door, only to be met by a battered man barely standing on his own feet. Another thing stood behind him was a massive figure with a bird skull for a head.
"I need your assistance, Sekhmet!" Figure yelled, slamming the staff to the ground. "Don't pretend you're not here! I recognize this tiny human as your avatar."
This was when your Goddess decided to enter the picture. Her sight wasn't anything out of the ordinary; you were used to seeing a large human-like figure with a lioness head. "What's the point of bothering us, Khonshu?" She growled, exposing her fangs as you cupped the man's cheek to examine it.
"He's been seriously injured. I can't let him go to the hospital or any medical facility, we need to keep our heads down," Khonshu responded by tilting his head. "Will you assist us? Or are you going to let this poor thing bleed to death right now in front of your door?"
"Do you not have your robes? You can heal him by yourself. There's no need to bother me or my avatar," the goddess frowned as she spoke.
Khonshu hit the floor of a staircase with his staff a few times, one hand on his hip. "Suits are for other people. This one didn't get any, so I can't keep him alive. Do you still have any questions before the man bleeds? Maybe a form to fill out? I require your assistance."
Sekhmet laughed sarcastically. "You always lacked even the most basic manners, Khonshu. This will never change," she said as she bowed her head and looked down at you. "Y/N, take him in."
Nodding, you took the man's arm and draped it over your shoulder to assist him in walking into your flat.
Jake could barely move his legs; he felt as if he had lost control of his body, but he managed to follow you inside, grunting with each step.
Khonshu nodded to the goddess as a thank you.
Goddess ignored it and disappeared, only to reappear inside with you.
You assisted the man in getting on the couch and immediately began to examine his body to determine what you were dealing with.
Jake couldn't help but grumble when you touched his belly.
"You poor thing," you said quietly, standing up to get your first aid kit.
"Who'd have guessed Khonshu would choose someone like this as his avatar?" Sekhmet muttered as he leaned over the couch to look at Jake.
You quickly returned to him and moved his shirt up to treat the wound first. "There is a reason for this. You don't pick avatars at random."
"He's my vengeance's fist," Khonshu said. "And he's a natural at it. What did you mean by that, little person?"
The lioness laughed loudly. "If this is how he looks after delivering your vengeance, you made a bad decision. You have to be desperate."
Khonshu yelled, "Apologize! Take a look at your avatar! I won't apologize to you!"
She declared proudly, "Right now, your avatar's life is in my and her hands, so behave."
"PLEASE!" You yelled loudly, looking at both gods. "I want to help him and the two of you arguing over my head make it hard to concentrate.”
"She's right," Khonshu pointed his staff at you. "Smart, little worm."
Jake groaned when you started cleaning his wound.
"You are like a wind," Sekhmet said, sighing deeply. "The soon she is done, the sooner you leave."
With that, the goddess was gone and you sighed deeply, finally being able to focus on man's injuries.
"Who is she?" Jake asked looking at Khonshu.
"She's the avatar, just like you are," the god replied.
"Hi there," you said with a smile. "Bad news, whatever happened, you got it really bad. Good news, you'll survive."
"Yeah, if you'll patch me up and not him," he pointed at the god, "Then I'm more than sure I'll survive, doll."
"Positive fella, I can see," you chuckled and took the bandage to finally wrap his stomach. After that you were a bit closer to cleaning the wound on his forehead. "Other injuries aren't too serious. You will be back on your feet in a few days."
Jake pressed his palm against your cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing the softness of your skin. "I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't get any blood on me," you smiled and gently pushed his hand away from your cheek. When you finished with his forehead, you stood up and went to the kitchen to get a wet towel to clean and wrap his knuckles.
"Where did you get such a beautiful friend, Khonshu?" Jake asked, his brow furrowed and he hissed slightly as he felt a sharp pain spread across his chest and stomach.
"Long story. We won't get into that right now. Maybe I'll tell you a bedtime story one day."
"She is just an avatar of an actual friend, human," Sekhmet said, leaning over Jake as she appeared in the room again. "You should be grateful for our assistance, you pathetic man."
All you could do at this point was sigh deeply while gently washing Jake's hands.
"And I was certain that nothing would surprise me after speaking to a bird skull. Nonetheless, es curioso que aparezcas ahora," Jake retorted, a little harshly.
"Show some dignity, you pitiful, little thing. You ended up at our mercy because of him, and you dare to speak to me like that?" Goddess snarled.
Jake turned around to face you. "I hope your goddess is kinder to you. You deserve to be taken care of."
Khonshu poked Sekhmet in the ribs. "May we talk? Allow them to do their jobs."
"For now, only my avatar is doing any work, but fine, let's talk," she gave a nod.
You laughed when they both left the two of you alone. "She's nice to me. I have a feeling she isn't pleased with Khonshu's presence. If this is the state Khonshu has led you to, I should be more concerned about your well-being."
"Knowing his nature, I'd be surprised if he had other friends among gods. They all hate him, he's a misfit," Jake chuckled a little, a strong cough followed. "And this," he pointed to his body, "It was just an accident, that's on me, not him."
"He should look after you no matter what," you explained simply, putting away the towel that had been used to clean his palms. "You'll stay with me until I'm confident I can let you go."
"It's unnecessary? You've already helped, and believe me, I don't want to hear your goddess's whining."
"It wasn't a request, sweetie, it was a statement," you said, smiling. "You stay here until you're ready to leave."
He supported himself on his elbows. "Gracias."
Meanwhile, Khonshu and Sekhmet went to another room. "Is it really necessary for you to behave in this manner? In my direction?"
"You barge in, demanding my assistance and insulting my avatar. Do you expect me to submit to you?" Sekhmet inquired, crossing arms over her chest.
"I came here to seek assistance. You were the first to spout insults, as you always are."
"You should be grateful that I welcomed you here. Like others, I should condemn you and let your avatar die," she snarled.
"Is there anything I've ever done to you? No, I don't believe so. Besides, our avatars appear to like one another."
"Like," scoffed Sekhmet. "Y/N is overall a nice person, she works as a nurse and helps people, she's fond of everyone."
"Jake doesn't, and it's unusual for him to be nice to anyone, so I can already say he detected goodness in her."
"Someone is rescuing his ass. The last thing he'd do was try to be mean. Particularly to my avatar," the goddess sighed. "I'm actually surprised you decided to come here."
"What else could I possibly do? He's far too valuable to me."
"So valuable that you let him get to this point. Do you still believe someone is attempting to resurrect Ammit? Is that why you're dragging this poor soul around?" Sekhmet inquired, intrigued.
"I don't think so, I'm certain this is what it is, and I'm at least trying to do something about it, to prevent many innocent people from dying. Of course, you and others have different opinions, I'm aware, but you're mistaken."
"You know I can have a different opinion but it doesn't depend on me, sadly."
Khonshu nodded, confirming he understood.
Meanwhile, you were fully done with taking care of Jake's injuries. "There. All done. You should try and sleep now to let your body rest."
As his hand caught yours, he nodded. "Muchas gracias."
Since his hand was so bruised, you squeezed it gently. "No problem. I will get you a blanket. If you will need anything, call me."
"You already helped me, I don't want to overuse your hospitality."
"I mean it," you said, covering him with a blanket. "It should keep you warm and cozy. If you feel unwell or something is happening, just call me. My door will be open, so I will definitely hear you."
"Sólo quería decirte que ni siquiera sé tu nombre," he protested.
"It's Y/N," you smiled. "Khonshu! I'm done with your friend. Check to make sure he does not try to escape."
Khonshu glanced at Sekhmet and thanked her. After making it to the living room, he decided to look at Jake on his own. There was no doubt that his avatar looked weak, bruised, and exhausted. "Lockley, next time, be careful. Only you have left for me."
Seeing you, Sekhmet said, "You should rest. I can tell you're tired."
"I am going, I am going. Don't worry," you said, walking to your room.
Khonshu sat in the chair and crossed his legs. "Rest, Lockley. You're much needed. Gather your strength for what's ahead."
Jake opened his eyes after some time. He looked at his watch and discovered it was only 5 am. In an attempt to find a bathroom, he reluctantly sat up and got up from the bed.
Despite the fact that you were still asleep in your bedroom, the doors were open just as you had promised. Usually, if someone walks around your flat, you'd wake up, but Jake's visit was so late that you really needed sleep.
Jake, noticing the open door, peered in and, seeing you sleeping, tugged on your sheets. He took a look around and decided to limp around the flat. He found the bathroom in the process.
In the end, you sat up and rubbed your eye, a tiny bit awoken. "Jake... Are you okay?"
He stopped by your door as he was returning from the bathroom. "Lo siento, bebé, I didn't mean to wake you up."
"It's fine. I don't have a good night's sleep. You shouldn't be walking like this," you said slowly.
"The patches you applied yesterday made me feel fine."
As you walked up to him, you sighed deeply. "I'm glad you do, but the wound on your stomach didn't look good. You should be very careful when moving."
His breath hitched a bit as he said, "I am. You should also return to bed to get some more rest."
"First, I will help you get to the couch, but I don't like you sleeping on it with an injury like that," you said grimly. "Maybe I'll put you in my bed."
"Don't bother yourself, por favor.”
"If you say so," you sighed, letting him lean on you. "Even so, I don't like that you sleep on the couch."
He remained silent as you brought him back to the living room and let him nestle on the couch.
"Do you need anything? Nothing hurts?"
"Just the stomach. Overall it's alright."
"Well, it wasn't the smallest wound..." You said as you walked slowly to the kitchen. After a short moment, you returned to him with a pill and a glass of water. "This should help you."
He accepted both and easily swallowed the pill, downing the glass of water immediately. "Gracias. I have no idea how I'll repay you. You're so kind."
You shrugged and explained, "The most gratifying reward would be not showing up here in such a state again. This is how I am. Guess it's coming from being a nurse."
"So you're a nurse? That explains your medical knowledge and the gentleness with which you treat others in need."
"Yeah, it does explain some things. Additionally, Sekhmet gives me more opportunities that are more like a curse... But they do help sometimes."
"Lo mismo con Khonshu."
"We both are cursed in some way," you joked before patting him on the shoulder. "Rest some more, Jake."
When you returned back to your bedroom, Jake slipped one hand under his head to feel more comfortable. The wound on his stomach didn't give him a second of rest so he rethought everything that had happened to him.
In the morning, he overslept for the pain vanished sometime after the pill you administered to him.
You slept more than usual, thankfully it was your week off. The first thing you did after getting up was check on Jake, making sure he was fine. The man was fine and still asleep, so instead of disturbing him, you headed to the kitchen.
"Y/N, you've known me for a while, and you know how difficult it is for me to say that but I'm grateful for your assistance," it was Khonshu, peering into the kitchen.
You squeaked loudly and twitched in your place, almost dropping the bread you were holding in your hands. Being used to Sekhmet was one thing, you were not used at all to another Egyptian god hunting you. "Y-You are welcome, Khonshu, but please, don't scare me like that anymore."
He assured, "It wasn't my intention, little human. How did you and Sekhmet get along?"
"Apparently she was lurking around the hospital where I work. She picked me, for some strange reason," you explained. "Why are you bothering this man? He is not well.”
"He's strong and due to his personal issues, I can say he's easily manipulated, it's useful for my purposes."
"He is not mentally stable. I can feel diseases because of the abilities Sekhmet provides me with. His mind is like... One... But varying in three different ways," you shook your head. "What you are doing isn't fair."
"Vengeance is not always fair, my little human. Sometimes it requires a real sacrifice which Jake provides perfectly. The universe isn't a fair place."
"You truly think anyone will believe your silly accusations while your avatar is in such a poor state?” Sekhmet asked, appearing in the room.
"You again? I'm speaking with your avatar who at least knows how to be respectful."
"I am respectful when I have a reason to be respectful. Right now I would hit you so hard that your stupid skull would break," you growled. "You are using this man."
"And it started. Time to vanish for a while," and with that, Khonshu disappeared.
Shaking your head, you began to prepare breakfast and coffee for yourself and your patient. You felt angry and really wished you could do something. With a heavy sigh, you walked to the living room once everything was ready. You set the plates and cups on the coffee table. Then, you sat on the couch next to Jake and gently stroked his hair. "Hey. Time to wake up."
Reluctantly, with a loud gasp, he opened his eyes and looked directly at your face. "Buenos días."
"I didn't expect to have a guest in the middle of the night. I apologize for the simple breakfast."
"I apologize for bothering you."
You scolded him, drinking your coffee. "I'll smack you if I hear something like this again."
He nodded, sitting up. " ¿Dónde ha desaparecido? Nevermind, wonderful. I don't even know where he left me."
"In safe hands. Don't worry. Eat up, you need to regain your strength," you advised Jake to focus on the breakfast and he didn't ask any further questions.
An entire two weeks have passed.
Jake was under your strict care and you nursed him back to life. You were troubled by his mental state, but there was nothing you could do about it. The most difficult part was that Sekhmet's worst dream happened, and you fell for Jake.
"You're back to normal. No bruises, no more wounds, and no scars," you smiled and touched his stomach to make sure he was fine.
Nodding slowly, he looked down at your palm pressed against his abdomen; he was indeed afraid of scarring, but on the other hand, he already has a few so one more would not make any difference to him. "Would it be possible for me to repay your hospitality in some way?"
"I said the night you got here. The most appropriate repay would be not showing up all beaten up," you responded and decided to add a small joke, "And a date maybe."
A frown appeared on his face as Jake fixed his eyes on yours. "A date? With you?"
You blushed deeply, looking at him. Of course, he wouldn't want that. "Oh, it was just a joke," you waved your hand as you walked away.
As soon as you disappeared into the kitchen, Sekhmet lean over Jake. "Don't even think about this human," she huffed angrily.
" ¿Qué tienes en mente? " He frowned, looking directly at the goddess.
She warned, "If you get any closer to her, Khonshu will need to find a new avatar."
"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about or what you're thinking."
"You must know what I mean, pathetic human. I can feel how you look at her and this disgusts me," Sekhmet growled softly.
"Your avatar is pretty, so what can I do? You could have chosen one that was uglier."
The goddess snarled, "Men. All the same. Touch her and I'll bite your head off."
"If she wants this, I can't stop her. I thought all the goddesses were slightly gentler, but you aren't superior to Khonshu," Jake grinned nastily and decided to join you in the kitchen.
"Is everything fine?” you asked, noticing him in the kitchen. "You don't feel well?"
"When would be a good time for us to meet up? Are you available next week?" Jake asked simply, looking over your shoulder at the dishes you were cleaning.
Blinking, you looked at him again, blushing. "Jake, I was just joking. There's no need to, you know..."
He spotted a small magnetic board on your fridge so he approached it, took a marker, and wrote his address down. "In case you change your mind one day, chiquita."
As you watched him, you were able to do nothing but nod.
His belongings were soon gathered and he left.
Such an opportunity couldn't be missed. You wanted to see Jake, talk to him, or simply spend more time with him for some strange reason. Despite Sekhmet's growls and warnings, you packed your bag, wrote down the address, and headed there.
Jake was surprised when he heard an intercom ring - he was even more surprised when he heard your sweet tone. After opening the door for you, he proceeded to put on a simple t-shirt.
You walked up the stairs and along the narrow corridor.
”You are making a serious mistake, Y/N! Khonshu and his avatar should not be associated with us!” The goddess growled, trying her finest to turn you around.
You simply explained to her, knocking on Jake's flat door, "It's not happening. I am just a human. I have my needs too. Please ignore all the stupid arguments you gods have between yourselves right now. Now, leave me alone."
Jake opened the door, smiling mischievously. "Well, well, I didn't expect to see you here. What a pleasant surprise," he shifted aside, letting you inside his flat. "Forgive me, it's a wee bit messy."
As you stepped in, you waved your hand happily. "I couldn't say no since you invited me here. So, here I am!"
Your body was lustrated from bottom to top. You were so sexy that the only thing he could do was a smirk. "Drink?"
"I'd like some tea if it's not a problem. Would it be okay if I stayed maybe a few days? It's a bit of a ride for me to get here."
Jake informed with a sweet tone, "I will prepare the room for you and make you tea."
"Room? Shouldn't I sleep on the sofa, as I made you?”
"You're too precious to sleep on a simple couch," Jake replied before disappearing into the kitchen. "Make yourself at home!"
"Thank you for your kind words," you said as you sat down on the couch, putting your bag down.
Soon, he returned with a cup of tea.
After accepting the cup, you took a sip, humming happily. It was a delicious tea. "Missed me? And I hope Khonshu doesn't mind me being near you."
"Khonshu told me you'd come, but I didn't believe him."
"Surprise!" You giggled. "Sekhmet didn't want me to come here, but I wanted to have a bit of my own life."
"What did she tell you?"
"You make a colossal mistake! We shouldn't be associated with Khonshu! He will ruin your life!" You shouted, trying to mimic Sekhmet's voice. "Am I the only one who thinks that there was something between them in the past?”
"For fuck's sake, I already thought they were ex-couple who hated one another because of their breakup."
"Right! They act like this so much! Perhaps she doesn't want me near you..." You said slowly, tapping your cheek, "Because if we got together, possibly, they would be stuck together again.”
"Us together, huh? Suena perfecto. Khonshu wouldn't have anything against her, since she jumps on him all the time. Isn't she?"
You laughed loudly and nodded, shrugging. She is a woman and a big cat packed in one body, so I guess that makes her a deadly combination for men."
"And he is a man and... well, a dead bird, so I have no idea what to expect."
"I have no idea what to expect as well, but they are gods and we all know that they are always a bit messed up," you whispered.
Jake walked to the kitchen and returned with an ashtray and a bottle of cognac.
The two of you simply started talking while the two gods watched.
"Pathetic," Sekhmet scoffed, seeing how you giggled at Jake's words.
"Lovely. She is happy," Khonshu commented. "He's able to make her giggle like a little girl."
"I know what she feels in him. He is twisted. He will play with her and leave, breaking her heart," the goddess concluded.
"Apparently, he likes your avatar. As soon as he's happy, I'm happy as well, even though it's a struggle."
She scoffed once again deeply, annoyed by Khonshu's words. “Since when are you happy with your avatar? They are nothing more than sacks of meat for you. I don't care if they like each other, just as you didn't care all those centuries ago."
"Maybe you could finally shut up, huh?" Asked Khonshu in a mocking tone.
Hersing, she pointed right at him and asked, "Shut up about what? Did you forget your faults? How did you abandon me and my feelings?"
Khonshu turned his skull head away. "You were always grumpy. What did you expect? Always demanding, never giving anything of yourself."
"I was giving you a lot. You always demanded more than I could give you so don't put the blame on me," she muttered, crossing arms over her chest.
"You know I had some significant feelings for you. You were the one to always push me aside."
"This is simply a lie! You pushed me away!" She roared.
At this point, you were sitting on Jake's lap with your arms wrapped around his neck as the two of you listened to the gods. You couldn't believe anything you heard. "I don't think they are aware we hear them..." You whispered with a smile dancing on your lips.
Jake massaged your hips, smirking wryly. There is no way I can imagine Khonshu having an affair with Sekhmet. Is it even possible for someone like him to fall in love? I was told gods were above us and ordinary human feelings."
"Well it's difficult to believe, but most gods have their positive and negative sides," you hummed softly. Despite always being above all, they tend to fall for the simplest things."
"Hard not to agree with you, preciosa mía."
"Do you like me? Despite me being her avatar?" You asked shyly, getting more comfortable on his lap. "Or do you see me more as he sees her?"
"I like you and have liked you since the beginning."
Blinking surprised, you smiled softly and cupped his face to pull him into a gentle kiss.
He groaned in the kiss and his grasp on your hips tightened. "You taste so sweetly."
Once you pulled away, you giggled, "You taste like alcohol and cigarettes. I think we are giving them another reason to be angry, but I don't give a damn. Not in the slightest."
"We have known each other for less than a few weeks, and I already have you on my lap, clingy as a little kitten. I like it," said Jake, smirking.
"Maybe it's because we are avatars? They were together so now we feel it, in some strange way?" Humming, you moved your hand up his chest. "Or perhaps it's just because you're handsome and my type."
"¿Soy tu tipo? " He teased. "How come?"
"Oh, don't make me say that!" Whining, you blushed deeply, moving on his lap. "You are handsome and I love your voice."
"Is that everything, chiquita? "
"The way you speak..." You sighed dreamily.
"Is calling you some sweet nicknames turning you on, chica bonita? "
Feeling that your cheeks were burning, you covered your face and nodded. This was a bit too much and you tried to slip off his lap, but Jake didn't let you do so.
"Where do you think you're going, gatita? "
"Away. I'm burning like dry wood. It's stupid since I don't even know you that well, but I can't help myself," you sighed.
It might be true what you said before. They were close centuries ago, and because of that, we feel a common attraction," Jake's hand ran over your waist.
"Yes..." You nodded slowly, getting lost in his dark eyes. "But in the end, you know what?"
"¿Qué?"
As you said this quietly, you moved closer to him. "I have nothing against it. I just don't know how you feel about it."
Stroking the curves of your waist, he let out a deep hum. "Aún no lo sé."
With a soft smile, you cupped his cheek. "Let's maybe try then, cariño," you hummed before kissing him.
"Try what?" He kept on teasing you.
"First, you could try and stop being a tease," you giggled, tapping his nose playfully. "Can we be together? Because I really want you, if I may be honest."
"You're so quick to jump to being bold about things."
As you kissed his jawline, you moved on to his neck soon after. "Oh, please. Is that so bad? Please, Jake, please. I need you..."
"Oh, mi pequeña, you need me? Need me in what sense?"
Smiling, you turned on his lap to finally straddle him properly. Using a quiet hum, you moved your palms down his chest and soon under his shirt. "I need you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me hard. I want everyone to know that you fuck me and that you are doing a fucking good job."
When Khonshu heard you say the things you did, he looked at Sekhmet. “I think your avatar is very bold regarding her needs. Cute. If they ever end up together, their babies will be very beautiful."
Jake smiled at you and stroked your cheek with his thumb. "Mírate a ti mismo. Such a pretty girl, such a filthy mouth."
"Please..." You whimpered and turned your head to wrap your soft lips around his thumb, sucking it.
"She will be heartbroken just like I was," the goddess groaned and vanished, tired of the show she was witnessing.
"Maybe she will be the happy one. I already can tell Jake is into her," Khonshu replied before vanishing as well.
Jake observed you carefully. “Eres una perrita mala, Y/N."
"Maybe..." You replied, letting go of his thumb. "I just feel the urge to have you, to fuck you, to be close with you, as close as possible."
"You barely know me," he teasingly said, pulling you off his lap so he could get up. As he did, he took his t-shirt off and tossed it on the floor.
"Despite that, you undressed for me and kissed me," you teased him back, copying his moves while removing your own shirt.
"Did I let you do that?" He asked, his eyebrows cocked.
"I barely know you. "You think I'll wait or listen to your orders?" You asked, raising an eyebrow with a cocky smile.
"If you want to have your tiny pussy fucked, I'd suggest you obey or act like a real slut I know you're hiding beneath the facade of reticence."
"I will be a good girl," you promised with a cocky smirk still on your lips.
He cupped your boobs and gave them a solid squeeze. "I like them. Take your fucking bra off."
As you let out a gasp, you slowly unclasped your bra in preparation for throwing it aside.
"Take your jeans off."
Obeying once again, you got up from the couch and slowly removed your pants, making sure to proudly show off your curves.
"Good girl. Now, tell me what you would like me to do. Leave the panties on, linda."
As you leaned over the couch, you showed off your round ass. "I'd like you to fuck me hard until I can't whimper your name anymore. Oh, Jake!" You moaned his name.
During Jake's tug-of-war with his jeans, you could hear a buckle being undone and some fabric shifting. Soon, his palm palmed your buttock, lightly slapping it.
Gasping loudly in surprise, you looked over your shoulder. "So this is how you like it?" You asked, shaking your butt.
"Shut your sweet mouth, gatita," he spanked you harder and soon grabbed your hair, pulling on it.
"Fuck," you whimpered, biting your lip to prevent yourself from making another remark.
"Who had been a naughty, little nurse, huh?"
As much as it was possible for you, you nodded, looking at him as much as you could. "I was a very naughty, little nurse."
In the process of massaging your ass, Jake finally slipped his hand between your thighs and rubbed viciously the damp stain on your panties before catching them to push the fabric aside. Suddenly, Jake pushed himself into you with full force. But fuck, you were so wet that there’s no resistance, his cock slipping through your soaked cunt all the way down to the hilt with such ease it nearly pulled him to his orgasm simultaneously. It’s apparently all he needed for the final tether of his resolve to snap because he’s slamming into you with such force that the entire couch rocked along the thrusts.
You let out a loud moan, then you exhaled a heavy gasp at the feeling of his cock spreading you. It was a long time since you fucked with anyone, and how you missed it! Trying to steady yourself somehow, you grabbed onto the couch.
Jake rocked in and out of you at a brutal pace that had your thighs trembling already. The hands on your hip bones were pulling you back onto his cock to meet each thrust, somehow pushing him even deeper against something utterly devastating inside you.
Whimpering his name, you grabbed hold of the couch and moved your hips to meet his thrusts. Your bending over the couch made it even better, making you feel his every move. "Fuck, Jake!"
Then he was pressing his forehead to your shoulder blade, back arched over you, and his curls tickling the curve of your neck. He found a different angle at which to hit that blinding spot inside you. His lips were pressing against your skin in gentle kisses underneath your ear. It felt feather light in comparison to the harsh grind of his hips against your own.
You reached out to touch him, simply wanting more of him. The way he pounded into you and hit all the right spots made you see stars. Soon, your walls started to tighten around his cock as you neared your climax.
Suddenly, Jake pulled out of you, knelt on the couch, and attacked your exposed sex with his mouth; the urge to taste you was unbearable.
"What the... Fuck!” You moaned the last part loudly, grasping the couch to steady yourself.
He kept on eating you out, humming from time to time, massaging your ass. "What? Did you think I'd skip tasting that cunt of yours?"
Humming, you looked down at him as you said, "I hoped you wouldn't, but I hoped I could cum around that thick cock of yours. Could we move to a different spot because my legs won't hold me any longer?"
He pulled back and grabbed your hips, pulling you to himself, waiting politely for you to take a more comfortable position.
You sighed deeply as he pulled you away from the couch. As much as you loved him fucking you, this wasn't the most comfortable position. "Time for me to have some fun. Sit on the couch, sweetie."
With an eye-roll, he followed your instruction and sat on the couch.
"Don't roll your eyes, love. Because I can finish myself any time," you said, falling on his lap, clutching his member. Your palm started to gently stroke the thick shaft.
Lockley bit his lower lip to muffle a moan that was about to escape his lips.
"You like it, don't ya? I bet you like it when I play with your tip," you whispered, using your thumb to tease him.
"Stop fucking teasing," he rolled his head back, grunting, his palms grasped your hips strongly.
Of course, you didn't stop. Instead, your other palm moved to his balls. You worked on his cock while massaging his balls. "Make me, baby."
He whined loudly, the sound he made was almost animalistic.
At the sound he just made, you chuckled and sank down onto his shaft. The sweet feeling of him filling you up again made you moan.
One hand was placed on your waist, while the other cupped your buttock and squeezed it slightly.
"So good. Fuck!" You gasped, moving up and down, rolling your hips from time to time. Your hands rested on his shoulders.
"¡Dios mío, eres tan sexy!" Jake gasped and pulled you tighter to his groin to buck his hips into you at a rough pace.
Moaning his name over and over again, you soon reached your climax, cumming around him.
You kept getting fucked until he finally pushed you off, got up, jerked himself several times, and shot his thick cum at your boobs.
Using your finger, you scooped some of his cum and hummed loudly as you put it into your mouth, whispering, "We have a tits lover here."
He leaned down and kissed you, tasting himself on your tongue.
You purred into the kiss, kissing him back. Once he pulled away, you smiled at him sweetly. "I liked it and I want more... In the future."
"Ya wanna stay here?" He asked casually, grabbing his jeans and putting them back on.
Watching him you blinked, surprised by his sudden offer. "Stay? You mean like permanently?"
Rather temporary, just so we can get to know each other first?"
You nodded, laughing softly. "I will gladly. I planned to stay a few days anyway, remember? Or did blew it outta your mind?"
"There will be plenty of nights to fuck things from me.”
"Oh, I bet," you nodded once again and sighed deeply. "Khonshu and Sekhmet will be pissed as fuck."
"You think?"
Suddenly, Khonshu appeared right next to you. "As far as I can tell, the intercourse turned out well and you were happy with how he treated you."
Just as suddenly as Khonshu, Sekhmet appeared as well, but right in front of Jake. Snarling, she said, "Dare to break my avatar's heart and I will snap your neck like a twig."
Jake looked directly at the goddess. "I'm sure you heard her singing for me, dear. We're adults and you gods don't understand something as basic as love, so don't try to stir the shit. ¿Tengo razón?"
Goddess poked Jake's chest, then turned to you, saying, "You don't know what love is. Not with Khonshu by your side. And you better be careful."
Jake reached for your jeans and offered them to you, wrapping a protective arm around you. “We'll soon fuck the shit out of them."
Humming, you nuzzled him, nodding a little. "The only thing that matters to me is being with you, regardless of what they both say."
#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley smut#jake lockley x you#jake lockley#moon knight x reader#moon knight x you#moon knight smut#moon knight imagine#jake lockley imagine#jake lockley fic#oscar isaac imagine#oscar isaac fic#jake lockley drabble#oscar isaac x reader#moon knight#khonshu#khonshu x reader#writers on tumblr#fic rec#fic recs#moon knight Disney+#moonbois#sekhmet
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Group Effort
A/N: Hello and welcome to next installment of my 500 Follower Celebration...let’s get fucknasty! Also, just to be abundantly clear, this is very much pre-Nyla and Reader is engaged to the moon boys. Also Mr. Lockley’s little bit of Spanish will be translated at the bottom of the fic as per usual.
The prompt: You and Marc share your wildest fantasies with each other…turns out you both share the fantasy of you getting gangbanged by the three of them in separate bodies.
Requested by: @kotonei-molyneux & @strawberry1042-blog …great minds think alike 😈😈
Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, with a bit of Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, because we can’t leave them out of the fun, can we?
Word Count: 2.3k
Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶🌶 - Rated E, Minors DNI!
TW/CW: A LOT of dirty talk, handjob, vaginal fingering, talk of group sex/gangbang so mention of nipple play (hello it me), oral (f and m receiving), penetrative sex, anal sex, triple penetration, a little bit of sub!reader, creampie, cum-eating, orgasm denial, exhibition, masturbation, cumshot, talk of internalized slut-shaming, Marc being our dream supportive bf
You weren’t precisely sure how the topic came up, but it surfaced after you and Marc shared a long, steamy lovemaking session. The two of you were lying in bed utterly sated and exhausted, your torso draped over his chest while he played with your intertwined fingers. Much like a magpie, your eye was drawn to the glint of the three-stone diamond engagement ring that had recently made its home on your left hand.
“Hmm, tell me,” Marc hummed into your ear, “what’s your wildest fantasy?”
Despite having spent the better part of the afternoon with your face in Marc’s groin, you blushed. Not because you were shy about talking about sex or your needs, but because your wildest fantasy was dirty. Not to mention impossible and potentially offending to your fiancé.
“What’s yours?” you tried to deflect.
“I asked you first,” he countered. He tipped your chin up so your eyes met. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Ugh, Marc’s molten chocolate eyes and the fact he’d fucked your brains out earlier prevented your normally quick-thinking brain from coming up with a believable backup answer. “I, um…uh.”
“Want me to go first?” Your fiancé had mercy on you, the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you. The only reason he’d brought it up in the first place was because Marc thought it could be a way to bring you two closer.
“Please,” you murmured from where you’d buried your face into Marc’s spectacular pecs.
“Okay,” he began as he stroked your hair, “it’s definitely a fantasy because the last time this happened I was technically dead.”
Out of everything Marc could’ve said, you certainly didn't expect him to say that. You angled your head so you could see him.
“But when I went to the Duat, Steven, Jake, and I were in separate bodies. And if there was ever a way for us to replicate that without the death part, I’d want us to all, uh…I’d want the three of us to fuck you. Drown you in pleasure.”
Your eyes widened, and Marc automatically assumed that he’d gone too far. Before he could backtrack however you said in an awed whisper, “That’s mine too.”
“Really?” Marc asked, his cock beginning to stir at the thought.
“Yeah. I didn’t say it at first because I wasn't sure how you’d feel about it,” you confessed, “I didn’t know if having the other boys involved would like, I don’t know, make you think I wanted you any less.”
“It’s the opposite really,” Marc told you, pulling you in for a kiss, “it means you accept all parts of me.”
You graced him with a beaming grin, your eyes lit from within. “I love you so much, baby.”
“Love you too,” he returned after kissing you again. Then his gaze darkened, “So…what would you want us to do?”
A pink hue stained your cheeks. “Well…um, you know how I love when you play with my tits.”
“Mmmm, I do,” Marc urged you on. “I’m pretty fond of them myself.”
He sneaked a glance down at the aforementioned breasts while you went on, “You are, but you know how Steven is absolutely bananas for them. So in my fantasy, uh, you’re actually eating me out while Jake and Steven are each sucking on one of my tits.”
You couldn’t quite believe you said it out loud. The idea had played a starring role in your solo-time fantasies, not that you had much time for those anymore now that you were effectively seeing three men who each possessed healthy libidos. Whenever one of the men suckled at your nipple it drove you absolutely wild, so you could hardly imagine how mind-blowingly good it would feel to have both peaks pleasured simultaneously, plus Marc’s talented tongue lapping between your legs.
Marc groaned. “Now that is a pretty sight.“ His dick quite liked the image too, hardening against his thigh for the third time that evening.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d love to lick this little pussy while getting to watch them play with your titties,” Marc conferred, his hand tucking in between your thighs to part your folds. He smiled wickedly when he found that you were already wet again for him as his fingertips probed you. “What else?”
You gasped at the touch of Marc’s fingers spreading around your wetness. It made formulating your next thought incredibly difficult, though your fiancé’s hunger to hear more of your filthy fantasies put you at ease. “Uh-ummm, I’d want you all inside me, at the same time.”
“Shit” Marc swore. That was always his go-to spank bank material. You splayed out and utterly stuffed full of him and his alters, their cocks moving in and out you in a frenzy of desire. He was curious about one thing though, so he inquired, “Who would go where?”
Your breath hitched due Marc’s question plus the insertion of his digit inside of you. “Mmmm honey, I know where you’d want to be.”
It was time to level the playing field a bit, you decided. Your hand, previously clenched around the edge of the sheet while you watched Marc’s bulging bicep flex as he fingered you, slithered below the covers.
His hips jerked into your fist when you encircled your palm around his length, stiff and leaking once again. “Your mouth.”
“That’s right, then Jake in my ass, obviously,” you stroked him gently, teasing him with an intentionally light grasp.
“Obviously,” Marc parroted mindlessly, too consumed with pleasure to be jealous that Jake had gotten anal play in with you before he could.
“So I guess that would leave my pussy for Steven,” you concluded with a faux innocence. “You don’t think he’d mind, do you?”
Your fiancé’s eyes rolled back into his head, both from pleasure and from Steven pushing to the front to concur, “Blimey babe, you’re driving us mad…duh-don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you told him. You bit your lower lip as Steven pushed another thick finger into your sopping cunt.
Marc had to wrestle back control of the body, but he was happy to do so in order to hear more firsthand about this little scenario the two of you were concocting together. Also, your hand was on his dick.
“We’d fuck you so good baby,” he rasped. “Won’t be able to remember your name when we’re done with ya.”
You could see it so clearly in your mind, sandwiched between Jake and Steven’s strong chests as they moved their cocks inside of you in tandem while Marc stood over you to feed you his. Your pussy bore down on his fingers, your brain trying to conjure what it would feel like to be that full. Perhaps you could achieve the same effect with toys, yet it’d pale in comparison to having three solid, warm bodies caging you into their hold, making you take it since they knew you craved each and every one of their thick members.
Your grip tightened around Marc’s dick at the thought and your cunt bore down on his fingers.
“Unngh, I’d wanna watch our cum drip out of all your holes,” he grunted.
Oh fuck, you hadn’t even considered that, but your sex-addled imagination was quick to supply the mental picture for you: Marc’s cum dribbling from your mouth, while the other’s boys seed trickled out of your ass and pussy. Was your fiancé trying to kill you?
You keened, “That’d be so hot.” Not your most elegant addition to the conversation, but you were overwhelmed with deliciously dirty thoughts, two digits finger-fucking you, and jacking Marc’s fat erection. “I’d push it out for you so you three could taste it, and us together.”
“Yeah, mmm fuck yeah baby,” Marc’s began driving his hips through the tight channel of your fist, a telltale sign he was close to coming. Your hand moved down the base of his cock and squeezed the base firmly.
When your fiancé let out a strangled shout at his release being denied, you disclosed “There’s something more I’d want to try.”
“Fuck,” Marc cursed again, though you weren’t sure if it from the revelation you had more to say or that you’d started moving your hand again. “Tell me baby.”
You inhaled deeply to battle the part of your head that was told you that you were about to share too much. “Ummm, I…”
Marc’s unoccupied hand cradled your cheek, “It’s okay.”
His assurance allowed you to relax some and gave you the courage to continue. “I, uh…I also think it’d be really hot if you all took turns fucking my pussy.”
Somehow that idea seemed dirtier than the three of them using you at once. Though you definitely weren’t a prude, your sex life before Marc, Steven, and Jake had been pretty vanilla. Satisfying, but not exactly kinky. The thought of a gangbang was one of those kinks that always appealed to you in theory but never in reality, mostly because you couldn’t conceive letting yourself be so vulnerable in front of people who weren’t your partner.
However, if all the participants in the group sex were your partner, the men who you loved equally but individually and trusted, who each cherished and respected you…well then, yeah, you’d be game.
Your fiancé nearly choked on his own breath after you spoke. “Fuck,” he repeated. Marc was aware that he wasn’t exactly contributing anything new to the discourse, but you were short-circuiting his brain.
Jake took the opportunity to push to the front and encourage you on, “Ooooh, you’d like that wouldn't you, nena? Watching us while we watch each other pound that greedy pussy?”
“Uh huh,” you yelped as he moved his thumb to your clit. “I know you all watch sometimes when one of you is with me,” you explained, “wanna experience it for myself.”
The scene ignited a fire within you to think about it. All of them had such deep, expressive gazes and for three pairs of those dark eyes to be trained on you while they each punched little gasps and cries out of you with their dicks drove you completely wild.
“Well that seems only fair,” Jake agreed, infuriatingly casual as you continued fondling each other. “Pero, te diré un secreto, when we watch the other fuck, we’re usually jacking it ourselves.” The filthiness of the image caused you to cry out. “So would you let us stroke our cocks while we play with your cunt? Maybe one of us would need to spurt all over your tetas because we got too impatient and paint all this smooth skin with our cum instead.”
“Oh fuck, Jake, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered as your ecstasy rose.
The mention of your release made Marc reclaim the body once more. “Then come for us, baby. Want you to come thinking about all the ways we’d fuck you silly.”
To get you over the edge, Marc cupped your breast and flicked a nipple. You did exactly as he said, reaching your peak with a wail as the all-consuming bliss of your orgasm wracked your body. You tried to keep pace, rubbing Marc through it as much as you could while your body spasmed from the intensity of your climax.
“Yuh…your turn, honey,” you whispered, your body still floating down from the aftershocks. Your fiancé did as you said, soaking your hand in his spend with a guttural shout.
The two of you were breathless after your respective orgasms subsided. You reached for a tissue from the nightstand on autopilot to clean your hand. After all the dirty talk and shared filth, you had no idea what to say to Marc now that the haze of lust had cleared from your head.
He beat you to the punch. “We definitely need a shower now.”
“You still want to marry me, right?” you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from your lips.
Obviously, there was still some internalized misogyny or slut-shaming, or both actually, that had clawed its way from the deep recesses of your psyche to your mouth. You couldn’t help but think now that Marc knew how dirty you could be that you weren’t “wife material” anymore.
“Wait, what?” he looked at you completely confused.
“Sorry,” one of your hands attempted to hide your embarrassed flush. “It’s just that was a bit full-on and–”
“Well yeah, but honey, I loved every second of it,” Marc guided your palm from your face. “If anything, what we just did makes me want to marry you more.”
“Sorry,” you echoed. You were being stupid and needy and–
“Baby, you don’t need to apologize,” he told you with earnest, open eyes. “Did any of that make you uncomfortable?”
“No, no!” you quickly dismissed his concern. “I’m being silly and old-fashioned.”
“I can’t believe someone so loving, accepting and sexy chose me to marry her,” he murmured. “I mean, that was hot as all shit, but I also really appreciate you trusting me to open up like that. It means a lot to me actually, since I’ve trusted you with so much about my past and stuff.”
“That makes me really happy,” you beamed at him.
Marc pushed himself up to sitting on the edge of the bed, and you followed. He was right, you both really needed to rinse off.
“Honestly, after that, I wonder if Khonshu would grant me a favor so we could make it a reality.”
Your fiancé’s words made you so hot you nearly started sweating, but you also recalled all of the Egyptian deity’s cruelty.
“You’re free of him, let’s keep it that way,” you suggested to Marc as the two of you entered the bathroom. Marc reached to turn on the shower, “Besides, between all of us, I’m sure we have plenty of other fantasies to bring to life. “
Marc flashed you a raunchy grin of approval, then drew you under the spray with him.
A/N: Takes myself to maximum-security horny jail* hope y’all enjoyed! More prompt fills to come!
Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042-blog
Translations:
nena - babe
Pero, te diré un secreto - But, I’ll tell you a secret
tetas - tits
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